Under the thirty-foot ceiling of the great room, Bryce gazed at Kelcy with tenderness and concern, feeling the weight of his illness. She held his frail, leathery hand as he lay on the sofa, golden light washing over him through a wall of glass. “I brought you whiskey and carrot cake.”

He managed only a wheeze. “Doll, you’re always spoiling this old Texan. A man should go out satisfied, and I’m quite pleased with you and William.”

She concealed deep distress behind an unfailing smile and stroked his clammy forehead. He was slipping away, but she clung to his hand. “I called everyone like you asked.”

He’d marked a century, but as always, Kelcy didn’t dwell on the gloaming of his life, only on its glitter. “The bells toll for me, but I still have something to say. Tell me again, what have I taught you all your life?”

She was a veterinarian and the mother of two, and she wanted to placate the man who had buttressed her childhood. “Get up, look up, show up, and never give up.” 

“I taught you that when you were a showjumper, but I meant it as a lesson in life. Since William is my grandson, it may be selfish of me to ask, but more than ever, you need to do that with him.”

She fastened her gaze to a point in the distance as if she were sharing a secret with the universe. “I’m afraid for us.”

He blinked. “I knew I wouldn’t live forever, but I aimed to leave what I could behind. I’m not speaking of my estate, but of love, of a family that builds great things together.”

“I love William with everything I am.”

His eyes watered. “Whiskey now, hon.”

Bryce patted his eyes dry, helped him raise his head, and brought the whiskey glass to his lips.

“And William loves you in that same way, but something is wrong. I’ve seen it for a while. You try to hide it, but I didn’t make it to a hundred by being blind and deaf.”

 “We’re not doing so hot, I won’t lie to you, but we made it this far.”

 It was an effort for him to raise his hand and touch her flaming red locks. “You look the angel you are.”

 “In this light, even fallen angels glow,” Bryce said.

 “Which is why I look so beautiful right now, I’m sure.”

 She snickered and kissed his barbed cheek. “One of the thousands of lessons you taught me is that life must be deep, if not long. You leave ripples in your wake. Few people can say that—and we live in the desert.”

 “You and William are one, as the river and sea are one.”

 She smiled through drizzling tears. “I do what I can.”

“It may be unfair to put it on you, but you’re the river without which the sea runs dry. I’ll go easier if you tell me you know that you and William are gifts to each other.” He licked his drying lips, his face paling. “William always came to you, even when you were little, Bryce. You’ll have to wait him out. Can you do that, doll?”

 She doubted what she could still do. Life was fraying, and with it, her tolerance. “I don’t mind scaling mountains, but usually I can see the summit. Now I’m in a fog.”

“Listen here… People die twice—first to themselves, then to the world. Seems to me the sooner a person dies to themselves, the later they die to the world. At thirty-eight, darlin’, it’s time you found out that true strength is in surrender. Your mama can tell you a lot about that.” He signaled for more whiskey, and she helped him. “What if, for once,” he asked, “you didn’t organize or prepare anything, and let life fall where it may, hmm? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I’m yet to find out.” She shrugged, petrified of letting go. A face from her past surged to the forefront. Two decades past, her brother Gideon's death still loomed over her, an opaque, weighty burden—akin to sin—a curse she couldn’t shake.

“You’re gonna find out and more. I have a ton of faith in you.” Kelcy nodded toward the portrait of his grandson by the Kiva fireplace, one of Peyton's many paintings of him. “He needs you more than ever. He wrestles with himself… with his values, even. Give him time.”

Kelcy gasped, which made Bryce wish her mother would arrive.

“Remember these words when he makes you angry enough to want to deck him one.”

She clenched her palm, nails digging in—a reflex when scared. “There hasn’t been a moment in my life when I didn’t love William.”

“You’re too smart, but it’s not love that keeps a marriage going.”

She knew exactly what did. “I’m very much committed to William. Don’t you worry.” She suspected Kelcy doubted William’s commitment, not hers.

He fixed her with his wizened blue gaze. “Marriage lasts only when you change alongside it.”

She heard her mother hurrying over with the children. “In the great room, Mom!” she shouted.

Her children rushed in ahead of their grandmother and skidded to a stop at their great-grandfather’s side.

“Are you really dying, Great Papa?” Little Kelcy was ten years old, a replica of his father. Same straight brown hair, big chocolate eyes, and a smile that melted stone.

 “Yes, and there’s nothing to be afraid of, big guy. My number’s up, that’s all. You have your father’s courage and your mother’s stamina. You’ll go far in this life.”

“How about me?” asked a seven-year-old girl with chestnut waves and green eyes. “Do I go far, Great Papa?”

“To the moon and back if you choose to, Sedona. You have your father’s passion and your mother’s swiftness, and, dare I say, your great papa’s wit. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

“And she has her grandmother’s grit,” Peyton said, kneeling beside Kelcy, on a Native rug with diamonds, crosses, and band patterns. Old enough to groan when bending down, Peyton remained vibrant, her blonde hair trendy.

Bryce eyed her mother proudly.

Gone were the days Peyton pleaded with parting loved ones to stay. Now in her winter years, she modeled what she taught. She’d impressed upon her daughter that the best gift to give the departing was the knowledge she stood strong on her own. She’d known Kelcy for over forty years. “A part of me will die with you, Kelcy,” Peyton said, “and a part of you will remain alive within me. Together, we’re the circle of life.” She unholstered a fat cigar and placed it in his hand. “If there's a wait at the Pearly Gates, this will keep you busy, dear old friend.”

 He gave her his puckish smile. “Little lady, you made room for me for decades now. I’m not afraid. What’s that Leonardo quote of yours?”

 In the words of Da Vinci, Peyton said, “‘While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die.’”

 “I love you all very much. Now where in God’s name is William? He’s missing out on all my last-minute manipulations.”

 For a moment, laughter replaced tears, and hope overtook desolation.

“Here, Grandpa.” Fit as a colt, William crossed the vast space with long, confident strides.

Peyton shifted to a nearby chair, freeing space for her son-in-law by Kelcy's sofa.

 William pressed his cheek to his grandfather’s chest, as he used to when he was knee-high.

 “If you’re checking my ticker,” Kelcy cracked, “I’m still alive.”

 At forty-five, William was even more handsome than he’d been at twenty. He brushed back a stubborn lock of hair from his eyes. “You’ll be out in the open with all there is, more alive than ever.” He’d spent hours discussing life after Kelcy with his grandfather, the man he loved and admired most.

 As Kelcy lay dying, he touched his grandson’s square jaw. “What a pile of crap.”

 “It’s what you said, Grandpa!”

 “Well, I take it back.”

 Peyton laughed and clapped. “Ten out of ten for Kelcy Loving, better known as loving Kelcy.”

  “Kids, there’s carrot cake in the kitchen,” Kelcy said. “Go get some with Grandma.”

  Peyton stood, bent over, and kissed him. “We wouldn’t be able to mosey on down the road had it not been for our own Teddy Roosevelt.” Her tears were streaming, and she kissed him again. “You make us proud, grateful, and incredibly loved.”

 “You transformed my life and you sure as heck changed William’s. Now, you’ll be the one to point out who’s being stupid and who’s being too smart. Take it from this Teddy, whisper, but carry a big stick. William needs it.”

 She laughed, squeezing William’s shoulder. “Sleep sweet, old friend.”

“You go on now, little lady.”

Peyton nudged the kids for a final hug with their great papa before leading them out.

“You two try to hide it,” Kelcy said, “but you’ve been different this last stretch. I can’t leave this world with you being stupid and too smart all at once. And I know I’m being indulgent, but promise me you’ll continue to put each other first. Not little Kelcy and Sedona. Not the ranch. But each other.”

William rubbed his wife’s back and pulled his straight brows together. “We will, Grandpa.”

 Kelcy pointed to his glass of whiskey. “Bury me in a barrel of that stuff or cremate me, but don’t let them stick me in the columbarium down in Texas. Keep me close to you. Spread my ashes on this ranch.”

“Whatever you want, Grandpa.”

“And Bryce, I left my classic Cobra Mustang sports car to you because you need to step on it a bit more. Risk has an upside, hon.”

Had she been risk averse? She didn’t believe so, but she found it difficult to recall the last time she’d rolled the dice. “We’ll cherish your every word. Go with love, dear Kelcy.”

He’d been given permission to vacate his throne. He shut his eyes as his breath grew shallow. A last whisper of air escaped his lips, fading into silence. His jaw slackened and surrendered.

Bryce and William embraced each other and sobbed. William mopped his tears on the heels of his palms. “Things will never be the same,” he said.

She rose, more than one kind of grief clashing in her chest. “Things haven’t been the same, period.”