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(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 21: "Coda"

June 2030

I gaze out the window, watching fields of green streak past. The car is quiet, the silence almost oppressive. It's easier to face the scenery beyond the glass. The sky is grey, just as I always imagine England to be. Rain drops cling to the windows, the windshield wipers sloshing lazily.

It's almost as if the weather was welcoming us, befitting our moods.

I turn slightly, glancing over my shoulder. Trey is sitting in the backseat, his chin resting on his balled fist. His expression is stone, but he's found the same view from the car windows that I have. His other hand stretches across the car seat with his infant daughter in it to hold his wife's hand. He's been quiet for hours, barely speaking except for whispers to Hadley.

The car slows and I look up. The others are already turning up the long drive and I sigh, feeling a pressure in my chest. We're the last car in a small procession that began at Heathrow and is ending here, at Lavenham Hall.

Gravel crunches beneath the car's tires, an oddly comforting sound. Walnut trees line the drive, framing the approach to the stately country home. "When I would visit in the summers," I hear Trey say softly, "she would stand there to wave Helena and I off when we went riding." I turn, following his gaze out the driver's side windows to a stone gazebo in the misty distance.

Our car turns in before the home and slows to a stop. I look through the window, watching the uniformed servants holding umbrellas over Colin and his two daughters. I watch them for a long moment, trying to recall the last time I saw his family. Probably at Trey's wedding. Sean and his wife, Tessa, are shepherding their three children out of the second car. Caitlin is already standing with Colin, her arms around him, as Cole stands respectfully behind her.

With a sigh, I open the car door and slowly swing my legs out. More and more things take real effort from me now. With a low grunt, I pull myself out of the leather seat and slowly stand. Fine rain continues to fall, dancing on the cool breeze around me. My eyes turn up, moving over three floors of bricks and white trimmed windows. My hand rests on the open door as a shudder goes through me. This is where Olivia lived for the last thirty years of her life.

This is where she died.

I feel the car rock and I look over, watching as Hadley climbs out with the baby in her arms. Her champagne red hair dances on the wind, a sharp counterpoint to the grey sky. Our eyes meet and she sends me a half-smile. Then, she looks down pointedly at the car and nods slightly.

As she turns away and walks up to the house, I carefully go around the car to the driver's side. I open the back seat door and lean down slightly, ignoring the stiff bones in my legs. "Trey?" I ask softly, touching his arm.

But, the young man just shakes his head. I see his throat working as he continues to gaze at the back of the front seat. "I-I'm not ready to go in yet. Not without her being inside." He turns slowly, his blue eyes full. The eyes he inherited from Olivia, his mother. The mother he'll never know about. His chin trembles as he looks up at me and sighs, "I just can't."

"This way, Gregory," Colin says and I follow him. He's aged considerably since I last saw him two years ago in Philadelphia when my grandson, Thomas, graduated from high school. It was the last time I saw Olivia too. Now, Colin leans heavily on a cane and breathes hard as I follow him down the hall.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing our daughters watching us. The concern is evident on their faces, Caitlin standing between Susannah and Charlotte. I meet her eyes and smile, hoping that it brings her some measure of comfort. But, I'm not sure it does. I'm an old man now. The tables have turned and my daughter is now the middle-aged one, concerned for me as if I was a child.

It's my first time in this house and I look around, looking for some trace of Olivia. But, I don't find it. It's Colin's ancestral home, steeped with the Sutherland family history. Olivia is only a small part of that. A footnote, I think sadly to myself.

"Perhaps it was foolish," I hear Colin say, his voice flat as he looks over, his complexion ruddy. "But, I expected to die first. I was older than her."

I nod as the two of us walk in step as the wood beams pop and creak beneath our feet. "I once thought the same thing too," I admit softly and he nods, exhaling deeply. None of our children understand, though their obvious worry is clear. But, they just can't comprehend the sad bond that Colin and I share. We're the only two people in the world who knew what it was like to love Olivia with every fiber of our being. We're the only ones who feel a painful ache in the face of living in a world without her.

The silence ends when Colin turns suddenly. "This," he says breathlessly, "is the morning room. It was Olivia's favorite."

Finally, I find a trace of her.

The room is done in pale blue and white. Framed family photos are scattered on every surface. The tall windows open onto the gardens and I can easily imagine her, lounging on the sofa as she gazed through the glass. A large bouquet of hyacinths sits on the end table and I reach out, fingering the petals gently. She's dead, but I can feel her as we stand quietly in this room.

"It's just here," Colin says, disturbing my interlude. I turn, following him as he lifts his arm, using his cane to point at the wall above the fireplace. "Olivia wanted a view. So, it faces the garden." I look up, gazing into Olivia's smiling face. The oil painting brings her back to life as she sits, her hand resting on the dog that lays in her lap. "I commissioned it a year after we were married," he explains quietly, looking up.

"She had a dog," I say softly, suddenly remembering the way Spike moped around the house after she left. He lived out his days in Caitlin's house as Trey's pet.

"That was Joy, her King Charles spaniel," he says. "She followed Olivia everywhere. A constant shadow." He looks back up, sighing. "As lovely as the portrait is, it never quite captured-"

"Her spirit," I say softly. It's a three-quarter view of her, the regal pose underscored by the ornate frame holding the painting. Her cheeks blush and her violet eyes are bright against the pale background. Her dark hair is loosely knotted and pulled back from her face. Diamonds cling to her throat and ear lobes. It's her, but it's somehow not her. I exhale deeply, feeling a feather breeze brush against the back of my neck.

"Yes," Colin replies tightly. "Future generations won't know that though. They'll just see another portrait of an ancestor they never knew." He gasps, choking back a sigh, and I reach out, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "They won't know anything of how glorious it was to live in the warmth of her love or in the sun of her smile."

I look back up at the portrait, nodding. He's right. In one hundred years, she'll just be another face on the wall. Her mysterious smile will linger, frozen in paint for all eternity. She'll mean nothing to them, just like the paintings on the wall mean nothing to us.

"Anyway, I wanted you to see it," he continues quietly. "I thought it might...help." He looks over, his brown eyes clouded with age. His shoulder is delicate and brittle beneath my hand. We're simply two old men at the watershed of our lives. I've always thought it unfortunate that life could give so much and then take it all away, piece by piece.

Alex, fifteen months ago. Now, Olivia. I never thought I would outlive the women in my life.

"Thank you," I say softly, clasping my hands together. As I look back up at the painting, my hands tremble and I hold them tighter. But, Colin can have the portrait. I'll keep the Olivia that lives in my mind, the one with beauty and spirit. Behind me, I hear him say something and I turn. "What was that?"

He coughs, one that shakes his entire body. "This was her desk," he gasps as he fumbles with the pocket of his cardigan. He pulls out an inhaler and sucks on it, breathing deep. I nod, nearing it. It seems like something she would choose. The antique rosewood gleams in the pale light as he pulls open one of the many drawers. "She kept your letters here," he explains after several moments, looking up at me.

I meet his gaze, expecting to find an accusation in his expression. But, there's only resigned sadness. Slowly, he reaches out and pulls open each drawer as I take a tentative step closer. My breathing runs shallow, seeing faded envelopes packed neatly into stacks and bound with ribbon. She was nothing if not meticulous. "I always knew," I hear him continue softly as my hand hovers over the top most drawer, "that a piece of her remained with you."

"Colin-"

"Just as I knew she loved you until her dying breath."

The edges of the envelopes ripple beneath my fingertips. Over a quarter of a century of words are encased in this desk, written by me with more honesty than anything I've ever done. Through these letters, Olivia and I experienced the best and truest part of our relationship, despite the thousands of miles separating us. It seems almost painful that she and I could belong to each other the most, even as we shared our lives with other people.

Maybe we can finally be at peace...if I go?

"I know that I'm not a great man," he continues and I slowly turn to him. "I know that any love she and I shared was nothing compared to your extraordinary love." He says this so matter-of-factly and without malice that I can't help but feel small next to him.

He sighs as I look back down at the envelopes. "Colin, she loved you. You're a better man than me," I admit. I pick up one of the bundles from a middle drawer, eyeing the postmark stamp on the top envelope. March 30, 2014. "You never would have put her through any of what I did. You were what she needed."

"Perhaps." The floor cracks beneath his feet and I hear him shuffling away. "She would want you to have them back," he says over his shoulder.

Leaving me alone with my letters, a sea of words, and an ocean of truth churning beneath the watchful portrait of Olivia.

The grass crunches beneath my feet as I wander away from Lavenham Hall. Olivia was memorialized in a quiet funeral, perfumed with the beautiful sorrow of the Ave Maria and Sean's touching eulogy. He stayed up late with me the night before, rehearsing the words he would speak to honor her. Grey streaks through his dark blonde hair now, but he's still the little boy who wants to do his mother proud.

I sigh deeply, wanting to get away from the crowd who came to Colin's following the funeral in the village. I don't know her friends here. I don't relish being introduced as "Lady Lavenham's first husband". It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

"What are you doing here?"

I turn, seeing Trey leaning against a thick oak tree. He shoves his hands in his pockets and wanders over, sighing deeply. "I could ask you the same thing," I say, watching him. His tie is loose, hanging limply around his neck.

"I needed to get out of there," he admits, his eyes dancing up to mine. "It was a little too much."

I nod. But, Olivia's death was felt by everyone. Colin loved her. His children were fond of her and his ten grandchildren adored her. They're all grieving her as much as my children and grandchildren are. "Walk with me," I say simply. "None of my doctors were thrilled I made this trip. The least I can do is appease them by getting some exercise."

He nods, but follows along in silence. I sigh, not knowing what to say to him. Since Trey moved to Washington D.C., I haven't been able to see him as much as I would like. He's made a success of himself, working as a lawyer for the State Department. My son, the legal diplomat. Yet, I've never seen him like this. Ever since he was a child, he was an energetic and talkative boy. Now, he's pensive and quiet, looking down at the ground instead of up.

He loved Olivia, as much as any grandson loves his grandmother. When he was a boy, he never wanted to go to sleepaway camp like all of his friends. He only ever wanted to spend his summers in England with Olivia.

We come to the edge of a field and we lean our arms on the wood fence, gazing out at it. The sky is a merry shade of blue, dotted with puffy white clouds. It's warm, but a slight breeze rushes through the wheat. He exhales deeply. "I always thought it felt like her, Pop. Here and in Sunset Beach."

I nod and glance over. When he was a teenager, he began shortening Nana and Poppop into Nan and Pop. But, only for him. Sean's three children never picked up the habit. "Her whole life was either England or California."

The faint sound of bleating sheep reaches us and I watch as they graze in a distant field. A moment later, I feel Trey's hand on my arm and I look up. His blue eyes are dulled with tears as he grips me. "I know," he says in a broken whisper. Two words that have the power to send my world spinning on its axis. Only one thing would make him say that. My hand clenches the wood post as I hear him explain, his voice cracking, "I've known for a long time. You and I don't need to pretend. Not now. Not today."

I watch as his face crumbles and he looks away, choking back a sob. My mouth is bone dry as I lay my trembling hand over my son's. My head throbs and one thought stands out in the sudden chaos: I don't know what to say to him. In the darkest hour of the night, the only time I ever allowed myself to imagine the possibility, I always thought that if this day ever came, Olivia would be here with me. She would know what to say to our youngest child so that he could understand why we let him go. She could do it. I can't. So, I sigh deeply and admit, "Your mother would know what to do next. She always did." Trey looks over slowly, his face pale, as I gently ask, "How did you know?"

He shrugs, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "It was," he sighs, "little things. You both were so different with me. Different than the way you were with Tommy, Peter, or Alice." His eyes glaze as he whispers, "She...she was like Mom – I mean, Caitlin – but...more."

I nod. Olivia loved Sean's three children as much as I do. But, Tommy and the twins received a different kind of love from us. They're our grandchildren. Trey is our son. The son we could never acknowledge, except in our letters. Until now. "But," I say as our eyes meet, "there was one thing – something – that made you realize she was more than your proud grandmother."

Trey nods and turns to me, watching intently. "It was the summer I was sixteen," he begins quietly. My eyes flutter, instantly doing the math. He's known the truth for half his life. He's known for all these years and he never said a word. "She came into the bedroom I was staying in. She thought I was sleeping and I guess I was until the creak of the door woke me." He closes his eyes and I watch, mesmerized, his face animated as he continues, "My eyes were closed, but I knew it was her. I could smell her perfume. Something floral. Her fingers were cool as they grazed my forehead and she brushed my hair back."

I shiver, remembering the touch of her fingers against my own forehead when she would wake me up in the morning. "Then," I hear him continue, his voice dropping, "she said, 'Darling boy, you'll never know how much I love you'." His eyes open slowly as he looks back at me. "It was the way she spoke when she thought I couldn't hear her. Her voice..." He falters and my blood turns to ice as he whispers, "Suddenly, I knew. Somehow, it all made sense. She's my mother...and you're my father."

There was no concrete evidence and yet, he knew. Despite everything, he managed to discover the truth. As Trey rubs his face, I say slowly, "I'm sure you have at least one question for me."

Barely a heartbeat goes by. "Why? Why didn't you raise me?"

With a sigh, I turn back out to the wide expanse of the field. A stronger breeze gusts and I look down, feeling Olivia as clearly as I did when I stood in the morning room the other day. "You were kidnapped from your mother and I on the day you were born. We were told you died."

He nods, his blue eyes burning into mine as he steps closer. He had to have heard whispers of the "lost child", the one whose death destroyed my marriage to Olivia. But, that doesn't matter. That she once worried I wasn't the father of her youngest child doesn't matter. Only the truth matters. Olivia, who always begged me for honesty, would want me to tell it to our son now. "You were given," I continue, "to Caitlin because she needed a child. She didn't know how to tell Cole that she lost theirs." Trey is quiet, listening with rapt attention as I say softly, "Your mother and I were the reason she miscarried." That awful day, when I thought for terrifying minutes that Olivia was lost to me forever. Then, for agonizing months, we thought Caitlin was dead too. "But, we never knew that you, Caitlin's baby, was our son until years later."

"How?" he croaks, taking another step closer. "How did you find out?"

It was a simple day, one chance accident that changed everything. "Do you remember the car accident that you and Caitlin were in when you were six?"

I watch as Trey's hand falls to his thigh, where his seventeen stitches once were. "Yes."

"You needed a transfusion from one of your parents and the truth just...unraveled." Trey is quiet, his head tilted as he absorbs the information. I wait, seeing the way my son's mouth tightens. Olivia used to look at me that same way right before she would get angry with me.

"All these years," he mutters, stabbing the ground with the toe of his shoe. "Was it just easier to leave me with Caitlin and not tell anyone?"

Easy? God, nothing about the last twenty-six years has been easy. The truth has been in the pit of my stomach like a lead bar. It's always with me. "No," I sigh, shaking my head. "It was the hardest thing in the world for your mother to get me to do."

He looks up, surprise evident on his face. "It was her idea?" I nod, watching as he slowly shakes his head. "For all this time...I thought- I mean, I imagined dozens of ways, but-"

"Your mother wouldn't take another child from Caitlin," I explain in a whisper. "Even if it was her own child to claim." I look down slowly, remembering the way Olivia sobbed in my arms the night she convinced me. The way her tears soaked my shirt and burned my chest. "And," I continue, "as much as it killed her – killed us – she wouldn't change her mind. Sh-she said it was our chance to be the kind of parents we always wanted to be."

We are the lambs led to slaughter.

"You trusted Mom?" Suddenly, Mom was Olivia, not Caitlin.

With the simple truth rising in me, I answer, "I always trusted her. I still do." I feel his eyes on me, questioning, as I continue, "She's the love of my life." He looks down, nodding. I watch as his shoulders shake slightly. Gently, I reach out, putting my hand on my son's shoulder. A moment later, his arms are around me as he hugs me tight. "And, she loved you, Trey. How she loved you. Y-you were her darling boy," I whisper, evoking her pet name for him as his tears soak the collar of my shirt. He grips me harder as I cup the back of his head. "You've had the life she always wanted for you."

He looks up suddenly, tears staining his cheeks. "Say it." I start to shake my head, not understanding, until he says, "Say my name."

I reach up slowly, cupping his face. "Gregory Arthur Richards, Junior."

He nods and hugs me again, sighing. Another gust of wind blows over us, stirring our hair as I hear him say, "I wish Mom was here for this. I wish she knew that I knew."

A flash of white dances in my vision as I reply, "She knows."

Trey stands back, watching me carefully. "Who else knows?"

"Sean and Colin," I admit with a sigh.

He looks away and a long moment of silence pulses between us. "Hadley knows too," he adds in a whisper. I nod, not really surprised. They've been together since college, their lives interwoven for years. "I couldn't marry her," he continues as he turns back to me, "without her knowing the truth about me. I couldn't start our life together with a huge lie between us."

"That's alright," I say as his hands settle on my shoulders.

Trey smiles bashfully, channeling the memory of his late mother. "We've been talking about something for a few months now," he says. "I didn't know how to bring it up to you, but now, after Mom- well, it just seems right."

"Go on," I reply, nodding encouragingly.

"Hadley and I want you to come live with us in Georgetown. No more rattling around that big house in Sunset Beach all by yourself with only the maids for company."

I shake my head. "Trey-"

"You're my father," he insists quietly, our eyes meeting. "I want to spend every day with you."

Before time runs out. I'm not getting any younger. I tire easily. I'm always cold. I still flinch in surprise at the old man who looks back at me in the mirror's reflection. His thin white hair. His sunken eyes. His weathered and wrinkled skin. "But, you work...you've got a child to raise..."

"I'll still be able to work if you move in with us," he says quietly, grasping my shoulders. He crouches down, forcing me to catch his gaze. A small grins comes to his face as he asks, "Who else is going to help me show Liv all the James Bond movies? You've got to help me teach my daughter the important things in life." I nod, thinking of the dark-haired baby girl with blue eyes. "But, listen...full disclosure: D.C. is nothing like southern California. The winters are awful and the traffic is a hell only Dante could imagine."

"Trey-"

"But, we'll be together," he insists. "Hadley and I want to share our home – our life – with you. You'll get to see Liv grow up. Please?"

"I will," I say simply. He grins, wrapping his arm around me as we turn and start walking back up to the house. The heavy truth that I've lived with in my stomach for the last quarter-century is gone, imploded as quickly as it first appeared. "Trey," I say softly as we near the brick home, "Caitlin can never know the truth about us. Ever. That was the way Mom wanted it."

He's quiet for a long moment before he nods slowly. "She would be heartbroken," he agrees quietly. He glances over as he continues, "She- they were good parents to me. I can't- I won't take that away from them."

I nod, proud of him. Olivia would have expected nothing less of him.

A pebbled path runs through the garden and we step through the opening in the privet. "There you are!" Hadley calls out as she nears us. Liv is perched on her hip, watching us quietly. His wife looks up as the baby reaches her arms out for Trey. "Well?"

"Yes," he says simply, holding their daughter against his chest.

Hadley beams and hugs me gently. "I'm so happy you'll be moving in with us, Pop!" she exclaims, her southern drawl rising and falling like an ebbing body of water. "We're going to make our ground floor guest room your room. It's just lovely and there's not too many stairs for you to worry about," she explains, gesturing excitedly. She smiles up at Trey as she reaches for his hand. "We think you'll be very happy there."

I watch them for a long moment, grateful that Trey has a wife like her to ground his life and make him whole. The way Olivia completed me. I suppose it was fitting that Olivia's diamond, the one I gave her when I proposed, now rests on Hadley's finger in a new setting. "It sounds wonderful."

Trey smiles, looking between us as the baby starts to babble. "Could you give us a minute, Had?"

"Of course," she replies, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. With another smile to me, she turns, walking back through the garden and up to the house.

He watches her leave and then looks down, pressing his forehead to his daughter's. I watch them, feeling like a circle has both completed and started anew. "She looks like Mom, don't you think?" he says softly, gently tickling her chin. The baby giggles, her chubby arms flailing in delight.

"Yes," I agree. "You, Caitlin, and Sean look like your grandmother, Barbara. Your daughter looks like her grandmother."

Trey nods, cupping the back of his daughter's head as he looks over. "Did I ever tell you what Mom said when I told her the baby would be a girl and we wanted to name her Liv?" I shake my head, even though he did tell me, as I watch the baby gnaw on his tie. "She was quiet for a long moment and then she said, 'Well, darling boy, at least it's more modern than Olivia'."

I nod as a warm feeling spreads through me. "It was my name for her."

"I know." He looks up and smiles. "Thanks for letting me borrow it." Liv begins to fuss as he asks, "Do you really think Mom knows?"

There is nothing left in me. Only truth. "I feel her," I murmur.

"Alright, Liv. Alright," he says as she begins to whimper. He turns to me, an apology dancing on his face. "I've got to get her down for a nap." He reaches out, squeezing my shoulder as he asks, "Wait for me?"

I nod, my hand reaching out to catch him before he leaves. "When you come back, I want to tell you about something Mom left for me. I think she'd want you to have them."

He grins. "Ok. I'll be right back, Dad."

Dad.

Dad.

It's finally me.

Olivia would want him to have the letters. If he has nothing else of us, he'll have my letters. And, when I leave this world, he'll have Olivia's letters too...because I saved every one.

As he walks away, I hear him trying to settle the baby, his voice calm and soothing. A moment later, they leave the garden, getting farther from me and closer to country house. The sudden quiet surrounds me and I turn, looking around the garden. From a nearby tree, a bird chirps merrily as a butterfly flutters past me.

I meant what I said to him. Olivia does know. I can feel it. The flowers sway in the breeze and my eyes narrow, seeing another flash of white. The pebbles crunches beneath my feet as I move towards it. The shadow of Lavenham Hall fades away as I hear someone humming. I turn and stop abruptly behind a rose bush. My heart slows for a brief moment before it begins to thunder in my chest.

Olivia's fingers gently snap the rose from the bush. I'm riveted as she slowly raises it to her nose. She's ageless and her dark hair floats on the breeze. Her skin has a luminous hue to it, a sharp contrast to the red rose.

"Liv?" I ask quietly.

She looks up, her blue eyes gazing at me over the petals. As she lowers the flower, I see a sweet smile on her face. A moment later, she nods and I smile back at her, understanding.

My stardust melody, the memory of love's refrain

THE END.