“I’d never do that. It’s yours as long as you want to stay here. Can I ask one thing in return?”

“Of course.”

He stepped away from the car so Mrs. Shea would not overhear. “Don’t let my son grow up unloved. I need this from you, Roxanne. Promise me. When I die, please—”

“You’re not going to die!”

He put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me so close I could smell the baby-smell still on his cheek. “I want you to be part of Aaron’s life. Never let this little boy feel himself alone or uncared for. Love him, Roxanne, look after him. Irene doesn’t much love her own children; how can I ask her to love mine? Please teach him how to love others, how to be strong and loyal. Teach him how important it is to love. Teach him how to be careful about whose heart he breaks, and who he lets go of.”

The regret in his voice was heartbreaking, but his words rang for me with an echo reverberating from the past. Life is short and love is long. Love is demanding and rewarding and aggravating, sometimes angering, but it is never finished or over, or done with, not even in death . . . Julia’s letter asking me to love Leon no matter what he had done.

“Wait here just a minute, will you? I’ll be right back.” I raced up the stairs to the living room, and in the desk drawer I found the letter, the request that three years before I had ignored. I ran back down to PCH and placed it in his hand. “It’s a letter from Julia. She wrote it the month before she died. She sent it to me via Mr. Wilkie. She forgave you, Leon. She wanted you to know that. She wanted me to tell you she’d forgiven you, and I should have told you. I should have given you this letter years ago, but I couldn’t. I was too angry with you. I could not . . .”

“Can we forgive each other, Honeybee?”

“Of course. Of course we can. She wanted us to look after each other.”

“And Aaron. Will you look after him? You’re the only one I trust. Will you do that?”

“Yes. I promise,” I said, blubbering openly now. “Of course I will love him.”

“Good.” He kissed my forehead and looked at me with the old affection that so used to cheer my heart. “I trust you to do the right thing. To be brave. You’ve proved that.”