Please Love Me, Mr. George novel Chapter 331

She paused and nodded. “Of course!”

Diana said that she didn't like white chrysanthemums. They were so white that it made her feel uneasy. They weren’t as exciting as sunflowers.

I picked out a handful of sunflowers, and let Clarie held them. Grandpa George didn’t have any particular preference for flowers, but he was deep and steady, so I picked out a bunch of yellow anemones.

My grandmother’s favorite was the crested flower at the edge of the yard in HL Area. She said the flower was tenacious, though not dazzling, but after a few seeds had been planted, it could grow with the wind as long as a heavy rain fell.

The cemetery was enlarged and the steps were long. It was foggy in early autumn, so we walked on the steps for a long time. It had been four years, and if it wasn’t for the area code, I’d forget where it was.

There seemed to be a lot of people here to pay respects to their loved ones. I took Clarie to worship two elders before arriving at Diana’s gravestone.

I saw the man standing in front of the grave. His figure was like jade and his face was cold. In four years, he had lost his initial warmth and seemed to grow colder.

It was said that some people in this world would become more and more warm and moist as time spread, while some people would become more and more silent and colder, because time added to their pain and memories. Some because of memories of gentle, some because of memories of despair.

As for Mario, I didn’t know which one he belonged to. Four years later, I still didn’t know what kind of relationship he had with Diana.

My eyes fell on the white Platycodon grandiflorum quietly placed in front of the tombstone, and I froze for a long time.

The flower of platycodon grandiflorum had two kinds of flower words, one was eternal love, the other was hopeless love. Two extremes of flowery language.

The ancients said that when things went to extremes, they would go in the opposite direction. Love was grand and too much of a good thing. Only reasonable and normative love could go a long way.

“Mom!” Maybe she’d been standing for too long, Clarie said suddenly, looking at the picture on the gravestone. “Is Mommy Diana dead?”

The child’s childish voice interrupted Mario as he stared blankly at the gravestone. He looked back, his eyes on me, a little stunned.

Perhaps sensing that I wasn’t the speaker, he turned his eyes on Clarie again.

They looked at each other for a moment. The father and daughter, the inextricable relationship. He pursed his lips and frowned.

After a long pause, he looked at me. “Whose child is...”

“Clarie, give the flowers to Mommy Diana.” I said, cutting him short.

Diana didn’t want to give her baby to Mario, and I certainly didn’t want either. It was for her own sake and Diana’s last wish.

Clarie nodded. She was too young to seem to understand adult parting. Placing the sunflowers in front of the gravestone, she looked at the yellow pictures on the gravestone.

She was about the height of a tombstone and could look at the photo level without bending over. Mother and daughter met, looking into each other’s eyes as if in a circle of time, and embraced and wept.

“Mommy Diana, mom says you’re very important to her, and mom is very important to me, and you’re going to be very important to me.”

Her speech was strange, and her logic strange, too. But her voice was soft and very distressed.

Mario was not stupid. He knew about my miscarriage. And he should know in his heart that Clarie was not mine.

His gaze at Clariewas so quiet and deep that he must have guessed most of it.

I didn’t think I ever told him Diana was dead. I thought he was here because someone told him.

He looked at me. “What’s her name?”

The baby’s name, obviously. “Clarie Kennedy!” I said, my eyes resting on the gravestone as Clarie wiped the dust off the photo with her tiny hands.

It was hard to watch.