“Papa!” she squeals as she jumps up from the sand and throws herself into his arms.
He hugs her tightly and twirls her around in the sand until she’s giggling so loudly that I can’t help but join in.
Bevy leans close to me and rests her head on my shoulder. “That’s our great-granddaughter, Beverly. Named after me, of course.”
Bevy and I laugh as we continue watching.
“And Mister Trip, are you the one getting my granddaughter all dirty this morning?” Jefferson asks the little boy.
Trip grins up at him and pushes himself up from the sand. “It wasn’t my idea, it was Bevy’s. She wanted to play in the sand, but I tried to tell her not to get dirty.”
“He’s lying, Papa! It was all HIS idea!” Beverly argues, her little bow-shaped mouth turning down into a pout.
Jefferson ruffles Trip’s hair and holds his hand out for the little boy while he tightens his grip on Beverly in his arms.
“You two bicker like a little old married couple!” Jefferson says with a laugh. “Come on, let’s get you guys cleaned up before your parents see.”
Jefferson starts walking towards a house that I didn’t even notice before now, a little yellow cottage right on the water. Just then, the front door opens and I see Fisher and Lucy walk outside and smile at Jefferson.
“Dad, thanks for wrangling up these two little troublemakers,” Fisher tells him with a laugh as he takes his daughter from my son’s arms.
“Beverly Ann, how did you already get your dress dirty?” Lucy asks with a chuckle as she gives Jefferson a kiss on the cheek and he wraps his arms around her in a quick hug.
“It was Trip’s fault!” Beverly replies indignantly, pointing down at the little boy still clutching Jefferson’s hand.
Lucy and Fisher move out of the doorway as another couple steps out onto the porch. Bobby and Ellie share a look before turning their gaze on the little boy.
“Trip, are you causing trouble again?” Bobby asks him as he squats down in font of the boy.
“No, Daddy, I swear! I’m being good, just like always,” Trip replies with a smile.
Everyone laughs as Bobby scoops little Trip into his arms and they all move into the house together, Jefferson patting Fisher on the back as they trail in last. When the door closes, I shake my head in disbelief.
“Bobby and Ellie named their son after you, isn’t that nice?” Bevy asks. “I have a feeling those four are going to have their hands full with little Bevy and Trip, what do you think?”
I turn to face Bevy and pull her into my arms. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. How is this possible? How did we just see that?”
She smiles at me, her hands sliding up my chest before clasping together behind my neck. “I told you, time moves differently here, Trip. A blink of an eye for us is years for everyone else. Our great-granddaughter and Bobby and Ellie’s son are both five years old now. Jefferson and our daughter-in-law spend so much time at Fisher and Lucy’s house that Fisher jokes about building them a house right next door. Thanks to you, Butler House Inn is thriving better than ever and I have it on good authority that little Miss Beverly is going to be a big sister soon.”
I can’t erase the look of awe and wonder from my face after what I just witnessed. Lucy and Fisher have a beautiful little girl they named after my Bevy, and Bobby and Ellie have a handsome young son they named after me. Most surprising of all was seeing Jefferson with them, happy and relaxed and full of love for everyone around him and hearing that he spends as much time as possible with his family.
“Full circle, my love. Full circle,” Bevy tells me.
“That it is, my Bevy. That it is.”
We clasp hands and turn away from the little yellow cottage, heading back down to the beach.
“I need to ask you something serious, Bevy,” I tell her as we continue walking.
“No, I won’t let you win a race. I already beat you to heaven, I believe that makes me the grand champion of races forever and ever,” she says with a laugh, tilting her face up to mine.
Her laughter is contagious and I find myself laughing right along with her until I remember what I wanted to ask her.
“All of those journals you wrote, year after year… Be honest, you were a little bit disappointed that you stayed on the island with me and never got to be a famous singer, weren’t you?”
I don’t know why this is so important to me. I’ve died and gone to heaven, literally. I have the love of my life at my side once again and from the looks of it, our family is going to be just fine. Now that we have all of eternity stretched out in front of us, I just want to know the truth, once and for all, so I can stop wondering.
“You never read my journals?” she asks in shock.
I shake my head.
“Wow, I’d have definitely read yours if you went first.”
I laugh. “It’s a good thing I never kept journals, then. Or died first,” I laugh.
It feels strange joking about something that haunted me and tortured me for fifty years, but the pain in my heart is gone. The misery of losing her and living without her simply isn’t there anymore. I remember each of those fifty years, but it doesn’t hurt like it did before. I feel nothing but happiness.
Bevy suddenly stops walking and turns to face me.
“Close your eyes,” she tells me.
I close them, but lift one eyelid just enough to peek at her.
“I said close them, Trip Fisher!” she scolds with a laugh, smacking me lightly in the chest.
“Hey, I just had a heart attack, don’t hit me in the chest!” I complain with a chuckle, but do as she says.
Bevy grabs both of my hands and gives them a squeeze just as a breeze floats over my face. In seconds, I can clearly see every word contained within her journals floating behind my eyelids. Each passage corresponds with a memory from our time together and they play out like scenes in my mind, but it’s the words she wrote the day after we got married that stand out the most.
“I knew I’d never make it as a singer in California, but it was never really my dream. My dream was always the man sitting on the couch across from me, reading the morning paper. My dream was always Trip Fisher. I told him I was leaving, hoping that he would chase me. And he did.”
I open my eyes to find Bevy looking at me with her head tilted to the side and a soft smile on her face.
“I just wanted you to chase me, Trip Fisher.”
“I would chase you anywhere, Beverly Fisher,” I reply.
Bevy suddenly lets go of my hands and takes off running down the beach, shouting over her shoulder as she goes.
“Race you to the lighthouse!”
Her hair flies behind her as she runs and I laugh as I follow her.
Keeping my promise, I chase her anywhere, even in Heaven.
The End
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Tara Sivec, Worth the Trip
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