ROAR (73 page)

“Kristoffer, if you don’t, I will. I’m dying of curiosity.” Intuition told her they needed to at least open it.

He sighed and walked down to wherever he’d left it, coming back into the bedroom carrying an overnight envelope. Oh, well. Probably just business. He pulled out a sheaf of legal-looking documents, and she was sure of it.

“What the—” He shuffled through several pieces of paper.

She sat up in the bed. “What’s wrong?”

A slow grin spread over his face, and he met her gaze. “Gunnar’s given us a collaring and housewarming gift all rolled into one.”

“What kind of gift?”

Kristoffer held out the papers and across the space, she made out the letterhead of their bank. “He’s paid off our mortgage. The house is ours.”

How did someone pay off a house this price just like that?

“So we’re not house poor anymore?”

“That monthly payment will free up a lot of money for us to travel or do whatever we want and still manage to save a good portion.”

“How will we ever repay such generosity?”

“You don’t. We’re family. But I know just the place to take him for a steak dinner to celebrate.”

He set the papers down and rejoined her in the bed. A strain she hadn’t been aware of had been lifted. They wouldn’t have to worry about scrimping to afford the house they hoped to one day fill with lots of little Larsons.

T
he strains of Miles Davis’s “Blue in Green” played, one of Tori’s favorites, moving through him as he watched the video of Tori’s life pass by on the large-screen TV. Kristoffer had provided Grant with a list of the music he wanted played at the memorial service, and she’d taken care of everything beautifully.

Tori’s mom had given him some baby and childhood photos to add to the slideshow for a more complete life story, but while the photos conjured up memories for him, they weren’t the essence of Tori any more than the mindless shell that had lain in a bed for four years had been. Still, he was thankful he’d worked years ago on the section of images depicting his and Tori’s time together. There had been so many arrangements to take care of this past week, and so many family members and friends coming to the house, that he wouldn’t have had time to do it right.

The day had come to say goodbye to Tori one last time.

Until now, he hadn’t looked at the photos since he’d scanned them and put the photo albums away. Last night, gathered at the house with everyone, he’d given Liz and Ron the actual albums. He held the memories in his heart and this slide show if he needed to reminisce on anniversaries. Her parents weren’t high-tech, though. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to share the images with them before.

Seeing Tori’s life played out before him again reminded him of all the good times they’d had together. Commencement at Penn, wedding, honeymoon to Sonoma, and so many anniversary trips back there. Photos of her at some of her Denver charity events here, hanging out with Gunnar in Breck, and enjoying wine and dinner with friends.

Vibrant, beautiful, and alive. He’d dwelled too much in the last four and a half years on her current state and had forgotten how she’d lived life to the fullest until the instant she’d been taken away from him in the wreck.

“How are you doing, Kristoffer?” Pamela walked up behind him and reached for his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

He smiled down at her. She’d been his rock since Tori’s passing. “Better, thanks to you.” He kissed her cheek. “I wouldn’t have gotten through this week without everything you’d done.”

Pamela smiled back. “That’s what we do when a loved one is hurting.”

A strand of hair had slipped out of the simple bun she’d placed it in this morning. Little wonder, given the way she’d been running around all day. After feeding breakfast to the family staying at their house, she’d barely had time to dress. But, as always, she was stunning in the modest, plum-colored dress. He’d asked her not to wear black. Today was a day to celebrate Tori’s transition. There’d been enough darkness in recent years.

His collar around her slim neck had been raved at by both her mother and his own, but none had been the wiser. She’d just told them it was a special gift from Kristoffer.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been alone when the facility staff called a week ago. While he’d known the day would arrive eventually, hearing she’d passed peacefully in her sleep, rather than having to suffer through another bout of pneumonia, gave him some comfort. Pamela had canceled her appointments that day and stayed home with him.

Tori had finally severed the strings to the broken body that had held her earthbound all these years.

Eva Cassidy’s poignant rendition of “Autumn Leaves” began playing, the last of the prelude music.

“Anytime you’re ready to start, I think everyone we’re expecting is here,” Pamela said.

He nodded. “Let me check with Liz and Ron first.”

Tori had been cremated two days ago, and her ashes sat in an urn on the table in the front of the chairs assembled for the few dozen guests. Having no church affiliation, they’d chosen to have the ceremony in the chapel at the facility so that some of the staff who had cared for her body here over the past two and a half years could attend. Rick had also come, perhaps to make sure he was holding up okay. Krisstoffer hadn’t visited the therapist since July, but was forever in his debt for getting him to let go of the past and stop wishing for a future that could never be. There was still a lot he had to live for, if he stayed in the present.

Pamela’s calm, supportive presence had been there to help him more than anything or anyone else could. Life marched on—and sometimes it even danced along.

In the back, he found Liz standing near the table where she’d set up some of the mementos she’d kept from among Tori’s personal things. “Liz, Ron, if you’re ready, we can begin anytime.”

Liz dabbed a tear from her eye, but her smile hadn’t wavered since she’d arrived at the airport. She’d called this a bittersweet day, which summed it up well.

Unable to help himself, he hugged the woman who had been like a mother to him, too. As he embraced her, he whispered, “She passed peacefully. It’s surreal how quickly she crossed over in the end after such a long ordeal, but she’s free now. That’s all any of us ever wanted.”

“You’ve been a devoted husband, Kristoffer,” Liz said, pulling away and reaching for Ron’s hand. “You made Victoria happier than she’d ever been.”

“It wasn’t hard to make her happy. She had a joy for life until the end.”

Ron cleared his throat. “Let’s do this.” He’d only seen the man cry once, when they’d arrived at the hospital the day after the accident. But he saw a welling in his eyes now as he prepared to say goodbye to his little girl.

Kristoffer took Pamela’s hand again, and they followed Tori’s parents to the front row to take their seats as Sting’s “Fields of Gold” played. It was the song he and Tori had danced to on their first date at a club in Philly and remained her favorite the rest of her life. Although, now the lyrics held new meaning.

He’d only added the song at the last minute after having a vivid dream in the wee hours this morning. In it, he and Tori walked beside each other in a field of barley, much like the song described. But there were differences, too. She held the strings of a huge bouquet of pink balloons filled with helium. Pink had always been her favorite color.

He thought the point of the dream was to let him know that she had been sending him signs that she’d passed on. He’d seen stray pink balloons any number of times—during her last hospitalization, on the beach walk, and finally, the night he asked Pamela to wear his collar. All had been pivotal moments for him, and if he’d been more aware, he’d have been comforted to know she was with him.

But the dream didn’t end there. The golden sunlight bathed the two of them in warmth until Tori broke free, dancing toward the setting sun, laughing with glee, and flinging her arms up while still holding tight to the strings. He tried to follow, but his feet were leaden as if buried in cement, although when he looked down, he saw green grass alongside the grain field.

The next thing he knew, Pamela had joined him, wrapping her arm around his waist and squeezing him in support as they both watched Tori dance with great abandon and joy. Suddenly, she stopped, turned around, blew him a kiss, and released the balloons to the heavens. They floated higher and higher, just as they had on those other times he’d seen them, until they were out of sight. When he looked back at where Tori had stood, she’d disappeared as if enveloped by the brilliant rays. She’d been able to break free the bounds of earth.

He’d awakened abruptly enough to disturb Pamela’s sleep. As he told her about the visitation dream—and he had no doubt it had been a visit from Tori—Pamela hugged and comforted him. He’d cried for the first time all week—not out of sadness, but at the beauty and peace of it. His sprite had cried, too.

Tori had found a way to break through even his logical mind and convey a message she’d tried to get across to him for a long time. He’d suspected Tori might be behind the balloons when that third one flitted by their window at the restaurant. There’d been no other explanation for one to be there at that moment. But he hadn’t mentioned it to Pamela at the time. That night had been about them moving forward.

Tori had given him fourteen wonderful years. He’d never forget her or their time together, but she’d made it clear by the dream and other signs she’d sent that his place was now beside Pamela. Tori had also found a way to say goodbye to him that would make the memorial service less painful. The peace that descended on him in that moment left him able to completely say farewell to Tori and fully embrace his new life with Pamela.

Unable to fall asleep again, he and Pamela had decided to rise early and start preparing breakfast. Their house of love was filled to the brim with every guest bedroom and sofa bed occupied—Tori’s parents, Maribeth, Kristoffer’s mother, and Tori’s college roommate all had their own room in the enormous house. Bryce and Monica, as well as Gunnar, had chosen to drive up for the day rather than stay overnight, or they’d have had to resort to air mattresses.

Mother flying out to Denver weeks before the ski season started had surprised him more than anything, but he welcomed the chance to introduce her to Pamela. As far as he could tell, they hit it off. Mother rarely dispensed compliments, but when Pamela mentioned they were invited to Connecticut for Christmas next month, he knew that was as close as he would get to an “I like your Pamela, Kristoffer.”

Pamela seemed eager to go, if she wasn’t on call. He’d told her they didn’t have to go exactly on Christmas. Any two or three days between the holidays would be fine.

His meandering thoughts were pulled back as the facility’s chaplain read from scripture, but Kristoffer had difficulty concentrating. His gaze drifted to the urn holding the cremated remains of his wife. Should he keep them in there, or should he scatter them? Somehow, after how long she’d been trapped in the broken vessel that had been her earthbound body, he knew instinctively he needed to free her from the urn.

He’d ask Liz and Ron if they wanted to keep any of the ashes with them and then make plans to take the remainder to Sonoma—Tori’s happy place. Maribeth was going to need to head back in a couple of days. He’d talk to Gunnar and Patrick, who had been thoughtful enough to attend the service today, to see if one of them might fly the three of them out there, drop off Maribeth near Carmel, and then head up to Sonoma to spread Tori’s ashes.

Grace, Tori’s college roommate, made her way to the lectern next. She’d flown in from New York City late last night and had to return tonight, but wanted to be here to say goodbye to her friend. According to the program, she’d chosen to read the anonymously written poem,
Let Me Go
.

When I come to the end of the road

and the sun has set for me,

I want no rites in a gloom filled room.

Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little, but not for long,

and not with your head bowed low.

Remember the love that once we shared.

Miss me, but let me go.

Not knowing the author’s name made the words more poignant, as though Tori herself was speaking them. Grace continued to read, but he lost his ability to concentrate again as Tori’s smiling face from the dream last night flashed before his eyes.

‘Miss me, but let me go.’

Done, sweetheart. Be free.

Gunnar walked up front next. He’d asked a couple of years ago if he could say a few words, not long after Kristoffer had told him he’d been working on the ceremony. Of course, he’d said
yes
.

He wore a dark gray suit, white shirt, and a black necktie with rows of gold stripes. Upon closer inspection earlier today, Kristoffer had seen that the stripes spelled out the words United States Army over and over. He was proud to have served his country in that way and in others.

When Gunnar first tried to speak, he had to clear his throat, which made Kristoffer lose it. Gunnar never cried or showed serious emotion. Pamela squeezed his hand, and he held onto hers more tightly.

“Tori was like a little sister to me. My first one.” He exchanged a grin with Pamela who smiled back. “I can’t tell how much I appreciated Tori for coming along and whipping my wild, younger cousin into shape after he’d made some bad choices.” Gunnar winked at someone on the other side of the room, and Kristoffer leaned forward to see Mother grinning.

Everyone laughed, including Kristoffer, who shook his head just the same. He exchanged a smile with the man who had been more like a brother to him.

Gunnar sobered. “She was taken from us too soon. Kris, I know you’ve stopped playing the coulda, woulda, shoulda game. Life doesn’t always go as planned. I’ve lost a lot of people close to me over the years, most of them far too young, just like Tori. But in forty-eight years, I’ve come to understand some things I’d like to share.”

He delivered the rest of his talk looking directly at Kristoffer and Pamela.