Forcing myself to stay strong, I assured her, “You won’t.”
Poppy glanced away. “I once read that souls forget their life on Earth when they pass. That they have to forget or else they would never be able to move on, to be at peace in heaven.” Her finger began tracing patterns on my fingers. “But I don’t want that,” she added, almost inaudibly. “I want to remember everything.”
Looking up at me, she said with tears in her eyes, “I never want to forget you. I need you with me, always. I want to watch you live your life. The exciting life I know you’ll have. I want to see the pictures you’ll take.” She swallowed. “But most of all, I want my thousand kisses. I never want to forget what we shared. I want to remember them always.”
“Then I’ll find a way for you to see them,” I said, and with the breeze that wrapped around us, Poppy’s sadness floated away.
“You will?” she whispered, hope clear in her gentle voice.
I nodded. “I promise. I don’t know how, but I will. Nothing, not even God, will stop me.”
“As I wait in our grove,” she said, with a dreamy, distant smile.
“Ja.”
Settling back down in my arms, Poppy whispered, “That’ll be nice.” Tipping her head, she said, “But wait a year.”
“A year?”
Poppy nodded her head. “I read it takes a soul a year to pass on. I don’t know if that’s true, but in case it is, wait a year to remind me of our kisses. I don’t want to miss it … whatever you do.”
“Okay,” I agreed, but I had to stop talking. I didn’t trust that I wouldn’t fall apart.
Birds flew from tree to tree, becoming lost from view in the blossom. Clasping our hands together, Poppy said, “You gave me this, Rune. You gave me this wish.”
I couldn’t respond. My breathing hitched as she spoke. I wrapped her tighter in my arms, then with my finger under her chin, brought her to my mouth. The sweetness was still there on her soft lips. When I drew back, she kept her eyes closed, and said, “Kiss nine hundred and thirty-four. In the blossom grove with the blossoms full. With my Rune … my heart almost burst.”
I smiled. As I did, I felt an ache of happiness for my girl. We were almost there. The end of her adventure was in sight.
“Rune?” Poppy called.
“Mm?” I replied.
“You’ve stopped smoking.”
Exhaling, I answered, “Ja.”
“Why?”
Pausing to compose my answer, I admitted, “Someone I love taught me life is precious. She taught me not to do anything to jeopardize the adventure. And I listened.”
“Rune,” Poppy said, a catch in her throat. “It is precious,” she whispered, “so very precious. Don’t waste one single second of it.”
Poppy lazed against me, watching the beauty of the grove. As she inhaled a deep breath, she quietly confided, “I don’t think I’ll see prom, Rune.” My body stilled. “I’m feeling real tired.” She tried to hold onto me tightly, and she repeated, “Real tired.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled her close. “Miracles can happen, baby,” I replied.
“Yes,” Poppy said breathlessly, “they can.” She brought my hand up to her mouth and kissed each of my fingers. “I would have loved to have seen you in a tux. And I would have loved to dance with you, under the lights, to a song that made me think of you and me.”
Feeling Poppy begin to tire in my arms, I held back the pain this image conjured up and said, “Let’s get you home, baby.”
As I went to stand, Poppy reached for my hand. I glanced down. “You’ll stay by my side, won’t you?”
Crouching down, I cupped her cheeks. “Forever.”
“Good,” she whispered. “I’m not quite ready to let you go, not just yet.”
As I pushed her home, I sent a silent prayer to God, asking Him to give her just two more weeks. He could bring my girl home after that; she was ready, I’d be ready. Just after I gave her all her dreams.