Epilogue: Good Things Come…

He had houses all over the world, but this one felt like home more than any of them. Close enough to get to the city when he needed to feel the excitement and thrill of life, when he needed to work, yet far enough away for him to escape, raise his family, stare out at the open water that he loved so much.

Today he sat on the porch, the sounds of his grandchildren playing on the beach, his daughter in the house on the telephone, his son upstairs in his loft jamming on the electric guitar. Nick took a deep breath and the salt air filled his lungs and his nose and he closed his eyes.

Randa had been gone now for four years, but it seemed like an eternity to Nick. 62 years. They had been together for 62 years, married for 61 of them. She had passed peacefully in her sleep of a heart attack. Nick had awoken with his arms around her in very much the same position he had held her in their entire life. He knew she wasn’t breathing when he awoke, but he held her there for at least an hour. Kissing her still smooth skin, running his hands through her hair that was only just beginning to gray. It seemed as if they were both eternally young, traveling the world in their later years, in between Nick’s never-ending drive to stay atop the musical world. And so when the moment finally came for Nick to say good-bye he kissed her on the forehead and then on the nose, and finally on the lips and told her that she had saved his life and that he would see her again soon.

Nick continued living the way he always had. Making music, making laughter, loving his family.

Four years later, on this beautiful day, Nickolas Gene Carter was 86 years old. He closed his eyes as the breeze nestled against his body. His hair was white, his skin wrinkled, but his eyes and his air and his every mannerism still screamed youth eternal.

The twins ran up to him hand in hand. They looked so much like Aaron and Angel that it sometimes choked their grandfather up. Today he grinned at them from ear to ear as they jumped on his lap, both of them yelling “Abuelito!” with their hands extended and hugging him. Little Nick slid down his leg and nestled his head on his Grandpa’s knee. Erin stayed on her grandfather’s lap and rested her own head against his chest. Nick put either hand in both of their dark hair and told said, “I love you, my peanuts.”

The two children giggled and said, “We love you too, Abuelo!” Erin began to slide down his knee as well and the twins sat at his feet. “Take us out on the boat!” They commanded him.

“OK, OK.” Nick said, smiling. “In a few minutes. Let Grandpa rest for a little while.” The two scattered back toward the beach.

Erin, though, stopped short and turned to her Grandfather. “Grandpa, is that lady standing behind you Grandma?” Nick had shut his eyes beginning to take one of his daily catnaps, but now he snapped them open.

“What lady?” He asked, turning, seeing nothing, only feeling his skin begin to prickle.

“The lady with the long brown hair, the real young lady. She’s behind you a lot. She’s gone now, though.” Erin didn’t wait for an answer. She ran up to Nick one more time, kissed him on the cheek and scampered off.

Nick closed his eyes. A lump formed in his throat. He heard a whisper, the most beautiful voice he had ever known. I had been coming to him often lately. “I’m right here.” I told him.

“It’s time to go home, Sunshine.” He whispered to me, moving his hand onto mine that sat on his shoulder.

Nick closed his eyes and fell asleep in the warm Florida sunshine for the last time. He was taken home by the sound of the waves and his grandchildren playing, the sounds of his son playing one of the songs he had written on his guitar, the sounds of his daughter’s beautiful laughter, the thought of seeing his dear Miranda once again, and the feeling of being finally whole, his twin soul, his spirit guide, there by his side, as I always had been.