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Chapter 20

"I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Patrick sat beside the grassy mound, his eyes settled on the gray granite headstone before him. In one hand he held a single pink carnation. He was silent for a moment and let his other hand run along the etched lettering, his fingers carefully tracing each letter.

In Loving Memory

Annabel Elizabeth Connelly

October 28, 1966- September 5, 1986

A gentle breeze nipped at his neck. "I can't believe I'm actually saying that…to you," he chuckled, his gaze falling to the freshly cut grass. "I've fallen in love again. Her name is Lizzie. You would like her."

He was quiet again and not a sound was to be heard except for the gentle chirping of birds in a nearby tree. Patrick heaved a long sigh.

"This is difficult, Annabel. I always thought it would be just you and me… forever. Do you remember when I sat behind you when we were nine and I used to pull your hair in class?" he chuckled. "Or how I gave you that drawing of your cat on your twelfth birthday, and I think it was then when you were finally able to stand the sight of me." His voice became very soft. "Or how I kissed you for the first time in the empty field behind the supermarket?" He shook his head, trying to pull himself from his memories. "In nineteen years I haven't been able to let you go. I guess I never had a reason to…till now. I love you and part of me always will. That will never change. But Lizzie… she's the one. She's the one I'm meant to be with."

Patrick drew a deep breath as if he were expecting a bolt of lightning to strike him at that very moment. Instead he was overcome by a feeling of comfort that drizzled over him like a warm spring shower. It was powerful yet fleeting and he shuddered from the emotional release. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

A grateful smile crossed his lips and he eyed the name on her headstone as though he were face to face with his deceased wife."Thank you."

At that moment he caught sight of the pink carnation in his hand. "Oh, by the way, as always, this is for you- your favorite flower." Gently he set it down leaning the delicate stem against the monument.

With another long sigh he got to his feet, his eyes never leaving the headstone. "Annabel…Time to say goodbye."

Her face was like stone; hard and cold. Her eyes were daggers, sharp, brown, and ready to attack at any given moment. All at once Patrick was thrust back in time three months prior when he'd sat at that very same table in Lizzie's flat like a wild animal being watched by threatened prey.

The drags on her cigarette were slow and deliberate. Clearly she was enjoying this. Just to sit there and watch this man squirm brought a somewhat amused glint to her eye.

Patrick was in desperate need of the older woman's approval. And Nell knew it.

His only saving grace was the nearly ten-year-old boy who sat beside her. Thank God for Frankie. Frankie had sat there through Patrick's speech, nodding and smiling his approval, bouncing up and down in his chair barely able to contain himself.

Nell, however, remained unimpressed.

Patrick couldn't remember the last time in his life he'd felt this nervous. In his career, he'd been threatened to be turned down, burned down, and shut down. Daunting as those experiences had been, nothing compared to this. His happiness depended on the approval of one woman- Lizzie's mother. As Nell sat expressionless before him, he could feel his stomach twisting in knots and a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.

It seemed like an eternity before she finally spoke.

"So let me get this straight," she began, putting out the rest of the cigarette and twisting it in the ashtray. "First, you kiss my daughter just before you are about to become engaged to another woman..."

Patrick swallowed hard. He wondered if this might come up.

"Then once Lizzie finally finds the courage to tell you that she loves you, you ignore her for the following two weeks…"

Ouch. Well, when you put it that way…Reflexively he reached into his empty pocket for his cigarettes. He even considered asking Nell for one but quickly dismissed that thought. Instead he cleared his throat, wiped his forehead, and willed himself to stay calm.

"And now," she continued coolly, one eyebrow raised, "you're asking if I'll give you my blessing to marry her?"

Frankie's head snapped back and forth between his grandmother and Patrick as he watched the verbal match taking place like an intense game of tennis.

"I love her, Nell and I've realized I don't ever want to live without her."

"Aye, you say that, Patrick, and the words come out so easily, but Lizzie's been through enough. She needs a man who's going to be there for her…" she paused for a moment and her gaze turned to her grandson. "And for Frankie." She turned her eyes back to Patrick. "I'm not so sure if you're that man…"

Frankie gaped at his grandmother and nudged her slightly.

Patrick had to admit to himself that they hadn't gotten off to the best start. He had suspected that she might not be as forgiving as her daughter. "Nell, I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am that man."

"What if I say no?" she challenged.

A confident smile overcame his face and his turquoise eyes were filled with mischief. "I never give up."

She cut in, shaking her head. "I think it's just too soon. Maybe a little more time-"

"Time," he uttered, shaking his head in turn. There were a thousand thoughts floating around inside his mind like a swarm of bees, and for just a quick moment he had to close his eyes and sort them. "Before my wife passed away I thought we had all the time in the world." His gaze turned downward and his voice became quiet. "We had one year as man and wife. And then I lost her." A lump had formed in his throat.

Her expression softened slightly as she noticed the tears beginning to form in Patrick's eyes.

"I would've given my soul to have her around for just one more day. When she died I thought that I'd never love again but then after nineteen long years of barely living your daughter came along. She brought me back to life. Nell, I don't know how many days, or weeks, or years I'll have with Lizzie, but I don't want to waste any more time. If Lizzie will have me, with your approval, of course, I'll never take another day for granted. I will love your daughter with all my heart until the day I die..." He wiped the stray tear that had fallen and his eyes turned back to Nell's.

She sat there quietly with eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes were focused on the wall behind him and she appeared to be lost in thought.

The silence was killing him. "Nell?"

When her eyes snapped up to meet his, they were glazed with tears. "Call me Ma."

"If you don't want anyone to read it, then bloody put it away!"

Lizzie shook her head at her mother, rushing around the kitchen, pulling her purse onto her shoulder. "No, Ma. I've already told Frankie and now I'm telling you to leave it alone. If I don't leave now I'm going to be late for work. So please just don't touch it."

"It's Saturday, Lizzie. Why are you working today?"

"Because Maureen asked me as a favor and it's only for the morning," she replied, still rushing about like a chicken with her head cut off. "Mother? Don't touch it," she said again, noticing Nell's gaze upon her notebook.

She gave her a look that made Nell feel more like the daughter than the mother. Quickly Lizzie rushed to her coat and hurried out the door.

Nell's eyes fell upon the composition book sitting temptingly in the middle of the dining room table. It was bad enough that her daughter wouldn't share what she'd written, but now it was even worse that she had to leave it there in plain view, almost taunting her.

An unnatural curiosity had developed and she could barely resist poking at it. What was it anyway? A diary? What? What??

For the next few hours Nell kept busy all over the flat; cleaning the bathroom, folding some laundry, but always wandering back to the kitchen to put on some tea or light up a cigarette.

And there it was- the blasted notebook. Standing there within arms reach of it she shut her eyes tightly as if she could will the hateful thing to disappear. Her eyes flew open and she cursed.

"For God's sake," she muttered. Her hand reached out to a drawer and pulled out a doily. Gingerly, she set out the lacy fabric and laid it right on top of the notebook, covering it.

She smiled at last. "Much better," she said. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought. Contentedly she hummed and went back to her laundry.

"Did you get it? Did you get it?" Nell nearly squealed to Patrick and Frankie as they walked in the front door. Her face was alight with excitement as she rushed the two males in.

Patrick was carrying a large arrangement of roses that almost covered his face. "We got it alright," he replied, moving the flowers from his view and making eye contact with the boy. "Right, Frankie?"

Frankie's own face lit up as he nodded happily.

"Those are beautiful," Nell stated with a sneaky grin. But before Patrick could respond she spoke again. "Let's see it! Let's see it!" she demanded, rubbing her palms together in anticipation.

The older woman stood before the pair anxiously looking more like an impatient child.

Patrick turned to Frankie, blowing the roses away from his lips. "Show Nana, Frankie."

The nine-and-a-half-year-old smiled and pulled something from his pocket. In his palm sat a black velvet ring box. With a smile he lifted the top and his grandmother gushed over the delicate band.

Tears began to form in her eyes and she looked up at Patrick. "It's a beauty. She would be crazy to say no to that," she told him nodding and handed him the ring box. "Are you going to ask her tonight?"

"Aye," he said with a smile. "Wish me luck. Where should I put these?"

Nell pointed in the direction of the dining room table. "You don't need luck, Patrick."

She turned to Frankie who'd just grabbed a stack of books. "Are you ready for the library then, Frankie?" He responded with a quick nod and Nell called out, "We're leaving."

Before they opened the door, Patrick called out, "Thank you, N-. Ma."

Nell smiled to the man who'd captured her daughter's heart. In reply she simply nodded and she and Frankie walked out the door.

All alone in Lizzie's flat he stepped towards the table, setting the arrangement down right in the middle on top of a doily. But as he stepped back to admire the flowers he noticed the large vase did not sit perfectly flat. He removed the arrangement, pulling the notebook out and shoved it to the side, setting the vase on top of the doily. Taking a step back he nodded to himself, satisfied with its placement.

He took a seat at the table and pulled a card and pen from his coat pocket. For just a moment he sat quietly, pondering what to write. As he put the pen to the card, his elbow knocked the notebook over, turning his attention to the open pages and a pressed red rose that had fallen out of it.

The dried flower piqued his curiosity. One arm leaned over to pick the notebook and the rose back up when a few words on the page grabbed his attention. Minutes had passed and he found himself fully engrossed in the pages of Lizzie's words. It wasn't until the jarring sound of his mobile phone startled him, bringing him back to the present.

"Hello?" he answered into the small device, his attention still half focused on the page he was on. "Right, Eddie. I'll be there in an hour." Patrick snapped the notebook shut placing the flower back in it and quickly finished writing out Lizzie's card.

Lizzie unlocked the door and walked inside, calling out to her mother. It was quiet and she peeked inside the rooms to discover she was all alone.

As she came around the corner to set her purse down the brilliant flash of color caught her attention. Her mouth dropped at the exquisite arrangement that had managed to occupy most of her table. The three dozen red long-stemmed roses sprinkled with baby's breath nearly took her breath away. Quickly she made her way to the kitchen, her mouth still hung open, and was in awe of the incredible bouquet that graced her table.

Her eyes found the card leaning against the vase and she couldn't wipe the smile from her lips. She pulled off her coat, hanging it on a chair, and brought her nose to the sweet fragrance of the flowers. Quickly she dropped into the chair and simply gazed at her name on the envelope written in Patrick's neat cursive. In a daze she held the card to her heart and breathed a happy sigh. Gingerly her fingers opened the envelope and she read the card inside.

You are cordially invited to join me for dinner and a dirty game of Scrabble. Please be ready at 6:00pm sharp; a cab will be waiting to escort you.

With Love, Patrick.

Chills ran down her back, and a warm excitement filled her body at just reading his words. He was sending for her tonight and the thought of it made her toes curl.

She stole a glance at her watch. 12:30. There was time to prepare; possibly buy a new dress, even paint her nails. Lizzie stood up from the chair giving the arrangement one last whiff and excitedly set herself to getting ready.

In her bones she could feel it. Tonight was going to be a very special night.