Page 89 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope

“I love you, Ophelia. Fiercely, unconditionally, until the stars die.”

I know this isn’t goodbye, our journey has just begun, yet I find myself memorizing the curve of his jaw, the softness of his lips, and the depth of his eyes.

“Until the ocean dries.”

Epilogue

Wynn

The raftersof the abandoned opera house are riddled with holes. Rain dribbles down onto the old pews and fills the air with musk and mildew. Tables oddly fill the space here—angled in nonsensical ways, some even stacked—placed by ghosts, one might think.

Pothos, English ivy, Boston ferns—so many plants in an assortment of containers: terracotta, hanging baskets, cement planters. Roses, succulents, and cacti.

Alive.Thriving in this forgotten place.

Quite the collection, watered by the drops of rain that fall through the holes in the roof.Someone saved these plants.

A smile begins to grow across my lips. A wish.

“Mommy, who put all these plants here?” Lanny asks, his face lit up with curiosity. Liam stands at my other side, hands in his pockets, staring at the one beam of light that dapples through the dust and lands on the other end of the room. He’s crying silently, with a large smile pulling at his lips.

Tears fall from my eyes too as I stare at the empty stage of the opera house.

A baseball cap and a long mauve ribbon rest at its center. A crumpled piece of paper that looks like a list of sorts. Perhaps forgotten by a passerby, or maybe a monument.

But something in the air is heavy. My mind is mischievous with hope.

Lanston.

“I knew you were up to something,” I whisper to any ghosts who will listen.

Liam meets my eyes with the silence he’s always had in them. His gaze is knowing. “I didn’t pin him for a crazy plant lady type of guy,” he jests.

I burst into laughter and the tears fall just as fiercely.

“The Night We Met” by Lord Huronplays on a radio outside the building. It’s a slowed version, and the singer's voice is lower and more somber.

We stay for a while, quiet and still. Soaking in the atmosphere, for I fear it will be the last time I’ll feel it.

Lanny tugs on Liam’s sleeve and begs to get ice cream as we promised. I smile that fate brought us here. I’m not sure who left the drawing of this opera house, two lovers dancing in the shadows, pinned on the board at Never Haven, a short letter with beautiful words of dying stars and drying seas.

But somehow I’m certain it was meant for us.

The three of us leave.

As the two most precious people in my life walk ahead of me, I turn for one last glimpse, hopeful to feel his presence. A sign. Anything will do.

The weight of my hand spreads over my chest, my heart stilling.