“And you said yes?”
Mama laughs. “Well, of course, silly girl! We had you, didn’t we?” She closes the lid, turns the key to lock the box, and thenholds the key on her palm. “This key,mija, it is worth more to me than anything else in the whole world, except your papa and you.”
She hands me the key, and this time I look at it more carefully.
It is just a brass key, plain, burnished, simple. There is but one simple set of teeth on the stem, rounded, old, worn. The bow of the key, where one holds it to turn it in the lock, it is the most beautiful part of the key. It is a circle, but within the circle is an ornate flower blossom, symmetrical, four petals at the four compass points of the circle, connected by delicate filigree, at the center a knotwork design.
“I don’t think there are many women in the world who can say they have the literal, physical key to their husband’s heart on a ribbon between their breasts,mija. Which makes me the luckiest woman in the world, because your father’s heart... it is what makes my own continue to beat every single day.”
I jerk my hand away, gasping.
The memory sears me, sits heavy in my heart. God, the love my mother had for my father... it is staggering.
And this key, the ornate, diamond-encrusted thing on the pedestal, it reminds me of that key. Obviously so, because it sparked such a powerful memory merely by touching it.
Logan lifts the necklace in his hands, moves to stand behind me. I feel my mother, in that moment, I feel the way she would move, if my father were to fasten a necklace around her throat. She would gather her thick hair, black as raven’s wings, in her hands, drape it over one shoulder, tilt her head forward. Papa would fasten the catch with his thick but nimble fingers, and then he would gather Mama’s hair in his hands, and she would lean back against him, look up at him, craning her neck to peer into his eyes.
My hair is too short to gather into my hands, to drape over my shoulder, but I feel Logan behind me, feel his fingers working to fasten the clasp. And I am my mother in that moment, leaning back against the man I love, twisting my head up to look into Logan’s face, feeling the love in his eyes.
Logan accepts a little hand mirror, and I look at the key, hanging just so between my breasts. It is a beautiful thing, the key. Made of platinum and white gold, with hundreds of tiny diamonds lining each side from bow to stem. The petals of the flower within the bow are each large teardrop diamonds, and the center of the blossom is a stunning square yellow diamond.
Logan spins me in place. His eyes ask the question.
“This, Logan. Please?” I wish I could explain the meaning, but I cannot. Not yet. I need a moment or two to process the memory, to internalize it.
I just need a moment alone with the memory, before I share it.
I hear Logan speaking to the clerk. The price staggers me—twenty-two thousand dollars. I expect him to haggle, at least, but Logan pays it without a squabble, handing the woman a card to swipe, signing a slip, and then he’s guiding me outside.
I lift the key, gaze at it. “I’m sorry, Logan, I didn’t know it would cost that much.”
He laughs. “Are you kidding? I’m glad you found something you like.” He tips my chin up so I’m looking into his one bright blue eye. “I have money, Isabel. Plenty. More than plenty. You could shop for weeks and not put a dent in it. So don’t apologize.”
“All right. I just was shocked when she told you the price.”
“It means something to you?” He says it somewhere between a statement and a question.
I nod. “Yes. I . . . remembered something else.”
“You don’t have to share it, if you’re not ready, Is. I’ll never pry, okay? I’m just happy you’re not only making new memories with me, but getting old ones back too.”
I am near tears. Blink them back. “I don’t know how to thank you, Logan. For the necklace, but also for—today. The ferry ride, getting a few memories back. I cannot tell you what it means to me.”
“That’s thanks enough, Isabel. I love you. Anything I can do, I will.” He shrugs. “But honestly, it just seems like luck, sort of, you know? I wasn’t setting out to get you your memories back, since there’s no way to know what will or won’t trigger something.”
“It’s not luck, Logan. It’s you. You...” I have to think hard about what I’m trying to say. “You’re bringing me to life.”
He touches the key where it rests between my breasts. “Aside from what it obviously triggered for you, it’s apropos, you know? Because I don’t feel like I’m bringing you to life, I’m just... opening doors for you. Unlocking the life that was already there, so you can live it.”
He takes my hand, and we walk for a while. Finally, while in line in the Godiva store, picking out chocolates, I feel ready to share the memory.
So I tell it to him as I remembered it, and I can recite my mother’s words verbatim.
When I’m done, Logan and I are outside again, munching on truffles. Logan is quiet a few beats, and then he laughs softly, shakes his head. “Goddamn, that was smooth. Your pops hadmoves, Is. He literally proposed to her with the key to his heart? That’s romance right there, man.” He bends close to me, licks chocolate off the corner of my mouth, and then kisses me. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to come up with anythingthatromantic, but I’ll sure as hell try.”
“I don’t think anyone could live up to the standard my father set in that regard, Logan. And I don’t need you to try. Just be you. Love me, and that will always be so much more than enough.”
He tugs me flush against him, his palm warm and strong against my spine. “You make it easy to love you.”
