my lips from hers, kissed her on the forehead, and then turned so I still had my arm wrapped around her, still had her tucked up against me, but so she could see the crowd.
Her cousin Ginny was walking over to us, and she took the mic from Edie’s hand. “What Edie is trying to say is, we love all of you, and we hope this new year, this new chapter you all are starting…that we’re all starting…” She looked to the side of the room where some tall, half-kid, half-man was grinning at her. “We hope it’s full of happily-ever-after moments that stay with you for another fifty years.”
The room burst into applause again.
“I’m not the singer of the family,” Ginny said, “but my daddy made sure I could carry a tune. Shall we sing?”
The room broke into the familiar “Happy Birthday” song, the tune carrying itself around the brick and wood walls. The people smiling and laughing and singing. I understood how Edie wouldn’t want to lose this. As I looked out at the crowd, I found my grandmother, her face teary-eyed and smiling, and I realized we didn’t need to choose, Edie and I. We just had to accept.
After the song, a huge cake was wheeled to the front of the room, and all the people celebrating their fiftieth were asked to come forward and carve a piece of it. The cake was passed out, and the DJ started the music again as the buzz of the room became louder and louder.
My grandmother made her way from the back of the room to our side. She smiled at Edie and the baby with such warmth that it socked me in the gut.
“I see she has the Drummond nose, poor darling.” She kissed Edie’s cheek and ran a finger over the baby’s skin. “And you look absolutely lovely. Are you sure you just had a baby, darling?”
My grandmother was right. Edie looked lovely. Tired, but more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. Her hair was up in a twist with curls framing her face, and she was wearing a white dress covered in sequins on the top and tulle on the bottom. Like the snow fairy from The Nutcracker. A dance she must have done a thousand times as a ballerina.
“I’m… I’m so glad you could come,” Edie said to Margery. I knew that wasn’t what she’d started to say. She’d been about to say she was surprised my grandmother had come at all.
“I’m sorry we were late,” Margery said in return before drifting off to find herself a glass of wine I knew she needed as much as I did. We’d finally made it.
I looked down at Edie.
“Can I hold her?” I asked.
Edie looked down at the baby, hesitating. I couldn’t blame her, but she finally moved, and I took our daughter in my arms. She was so tiny, so indescribably precious, that my eyes filled with tears again.
“I’m sorry I missed your birth,” I whispered to her. “But I promise, I’m not going to miss another moment of your life. Not one moment that you let me have with you.”
When my eyes met Edie’s over the baby’s head, I saw the tears fall again.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t hold her in for a few more days,” she choked out.
“I tried to get here sooner. I had to buy a jet just to get us to New Jersey.”
Edie’s mouth dropped. “You bought a jet?”
I chuckled. “No one was flying out. Definitely not to Tennessee. Not with the weather. By the time I found a crew, New Jersey was the nearest even they would bring us. Margery and I drove straight from the airport, but the snow socked us in somewhere east of the state line.”
“I left you so many messages,” Edie said, her voice wavering again, but knowing she left them had a weird sort of relief flowing through me. At least I’d had a chance before I’d even shown up.
“I lost my phone. I bought a disposable, but with Myra in Tahiti, I was clueless on how to get anything synced up. I’m asshole enough to not know your number by heart. Tell me it right now. Write it on my wrist,” I said, showing her my left one. “I’m going to have it tattooed in place so I’m never without it again.”
Edie rested her head on my shoulder. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought…”
I hugged her as tight as I could with the baby