December was always hard on me. I always knew my late wife was full of magic and it was especially years after her death did I realize how much. I was under her spell of absense whenever the last month of the year came along. The month brings winter's first days of twenty-four hour cold, rainy days and my tears always flow with the beat of the rain's music at night. I'm seventy-two years old and the same tears I shed at forty-two are still as fresh.

"Brother," Zandra comments all the time. "Time still hasn't healed your wounds?"

Oh the things I wish I could say to her when she tells me that! I don't think she ever loved her husband or else she wouldn't be saying that to me. I never commented on her when it came to her husband leaving her so I can't help but feel bitter when she feels free to speak her mind against my feelings. If I was ever like that to anyone in mourning, I apologize from the bottom of my heart.

"Atticus," Ava, my secretary, pages me over the phone. "Jean's on the phone and would like to speak to you."

"Send her through, Ava," I say as I push line 2.

"She's coming."

"Thank you."

I haven't seen or heard from her since Thanksgiving. I wonder what in the world she has to tell me.

"Atticus?"

"Hi, baby. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Good as to be expected, sweet."

"How's your arthritis?"

"Not bad today."

"Well, anyway, I wanted to tell you that I have a date for the wedding."

"All right," I say right before I take a pause. She was seeing somebody new already? Hank had hurt her badly and I'm surprised to hear that she's moving on easy. "Who is this fellow?"

"I already know you like him."

"I liked Hank, too."

"Oh, Atticus," she scowls. Doesn't take a lot to get my daughter uptight sometimes.

"I'm sorry, baby. Who is he?"

"Charles Harris."

She had me stumped there. I could have swore that I have met him before but I couldn't put my finger on him.

"Oh, come on, Atticus! You remember Dill!"

"Oh!"

Charles Harris was always "Dill" to me. I should have known but for Christ's sake, I still call my children by their nicknames.

"Did you talk to Jem about him coming?"

"He knows I'm bringing a date but he doesn't know who. Can you keep it a secret until tomorrow night when we fly in? I want him to be surprised."

"Well, he'll definitely be surprised."

"I know! I'm so excited!"

"I'm happy you're happy, baby. Does he treat you nice?"

"Atticus, it's Dill!"

"Oh, sorry, I forgot."

"That's okay. Anyway, I'm gonna let you get back to work. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Bye-bye."

"Bye-bye, baby."

I inhale deeply as I hang up the reciever. I put my hands up to my mouth as I feel myself exhale. I'm having one of those moments where I can only breathe.

"Atticus," Jem says as he barges in out of nowhere. I literally jump out of my desk chair.

"How many times do I have to tell you to knock?"

"Sorry," he tells me, feeling bad. I feel bad when I make my children feel that way.

"It's okay," I say, calming myself down. "What do you want?"

"Jean was on the phone?"

"Yes, yes she was."

"What's up with that?"

"She just figured that I should know she was bringing a date to your wedding."

"Oh, yeah. I woner who it could be. She said that once I meet him it would be like I knew him all my life."

"Maybe you have."

"Do you know something I don't?"

"I'm seventy-two years old; there's a lot of things I know and you don't."

"Fair enough. Well, I'm gonna go back to my office now. I just wondered why she called."

"That's all right. See you later."

I have to breathe again once Jem leaves my office. I slump back into my chair which causes only ten thousand papers to fly all over the place. I'm too tired to pick them all up so I just put my head down on the desk and pretend that didn't just happen. Doesn't Scout know that lawyers are terrible secret-keepers? Doesn't Jem understand personal space? Do I know why I feel as old and tired as I do?