Harmony Moonbeam leans forward and yells into my ear, her voice muffled by the sound of water. "Ah, to be young again! Being old like me, it really puts things into perspective."

The glistening mist hanging over the falls announces our arrival long before they come into view.

"You're not that old." I crane my neck in the seat and turn around to look at her.

"Oh, I'm older than you think." She winks at me. "Meeting you two lovely people made me reflect perspective, you know? My own life. My own mortality."

Dave parks the Pontiac in one of the designated spaces and we get out. He is helping Harmony navigate the paved path. A grin tugs at my lips as I watch him trot beside Harmony's wheelchair. He maneuvers it with surprising gentleness, his brow furrowed in concentration, but his touch is steady and sure.

And to think he only accepted to take her with us because I insisted.

"Faster, Dave!" The kooky old lady is whooping and yipping, leaning back in her chair. Her weathered face is tilted upwards as she drinks in the spectacle.

"As you wish, milady." Dave salutes her like a soldier, and increases the speed.

The sight warms me from inside out. Here is this gruff, closed-off guy I met under um... less than ideal circumstances. And he's showing such unexpected tenderness towards an eccentric stranger.

My impression of David Rivera is shifting and shimmering with every passing second.

Maybe I've been too quick to judge him after the diner episode. Maybe, just maybe, there's a kind heart buried beneath all that cynicism.

We follow the throng of tourists for a while along a well-worn path. As we round a bend, the majestic Horseshoe Falls I've only ever seen in pictures before, burst into view. A breathtaking curtain of cascading water seems to stretch endlessly.

"That's it." Dave takes a deep breath. "Whoa. I can't believe I really did it. I'm here again, after so many years."

The rumbling of the water is a physical presence that vibrates in my chest. Guardrails prevent me from getting right to the edge, but the wind whips a fine mist onto my face, carrying the invigorating scent of churning droplets.

Dave suddenly stops and turns around. A mischievous glint flickers in his eyes as he points at a narrow uneven path leading closer to the edge. "Just a peek?"

Hrmpf. That looks a little dangerous. Is that even an official path?

He offers me a reassuring smile. "It's the spot that I told you about. Where I came with my Dad, when I was eight. I promise it's totally safe."

"Come on! Let's go!" Harmony cups her hands around her mouth and calls for us. "What's the hold up?"

"Oh, fine." I shrug. "It's just that..."

"It's just what?" He raises a single brow, his whisky-brown eyes twinkling with naughtiness.

"You always look to bend the rules."

"And you always look to respect them," he fires back with a tease.

"Fair enough. We did the diner your way, you took in Harmony because I asked you to. Now I guess it's my turn to budge."

"Oh? I like this dynamic, Lewis." Dave nudges me playfully. "Then next time when we have to make a big decision, it's your turn again."

"I'll hold you to that promise." I fake-threaten him with a forefinger.

As we approach the viewpoint, a cool spray mists our faces, leaving my skin damp and slightly chilled. I stand there, mesmerized, my breath catching in my throat at the raw power and beauty of nature. A wide grin spreads across Dave's face and my heart constricts in my chest.

A childlike wonder replaces the guarded expression he'd worn for two days now.

He leans back, his gaze fixed on the cascading water.

"Funny," he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. "This place brings back a lot of memories."

It's my turn to perform a playful nudge.

"Spill it, Mr. Mystery. What kind of memories?"

"Just a little kid stuff, really. That's all there is to it."

"I wish I could have had this kind of memories with my dad," I sigh with envy. "His favorite place ever, the one he always talked about was Red Rock Canyon."

"That's close to Las Vegas, right?" Dave lifts his head. 

"Yeah. He told me he visited it as a journalism student, and he always wanted to see it one more time with us. All three, as a family. But we never had the opportunity yet. At least you saw the Falls with your dad. And you were so young." 

Harmony, who's been unusually quiet, swivels her head towards him, a flame of interest sparking in her eyes. "Eight, you say? A pivotal age, wouldn't you agree?"

Dave shrugs, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice. "Maybe. All I remember is this feeling of awe, standing here just like this, watching the water fall on and on and on. Watching the water fall forever."

His gaze drifts back to the churning water, a distant look in his eyes. "My dad," he continues, his voice softer now, "he whittled me this little wooden duck. Said it would help me float if I ever fell in."

A soft chuckle escapes my lips. A whittled duck for a life vest? It's a strangely endearing image.

"And what happened to the duck?" Harmony inquires, her voice gentle and frail.

Dave's smile turns wistful. "Well, being eight and all, I thought it would actually float. So, I tossed it in right over... there." He points to a particularly turbulent section of rapids.

I wince, picturing the tiny duck getting battered by the powerful current. "Oh no! Did you get in trouble?"

Dave shakes his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Nah. No way. My dad wasn't angry about it. He just laughed. He said... sometimes you gotta let things go, even if they're precious."

"Your dad was a wise man." Harmony says what I cannot.

"He was. Back then, at least. He's not... He's not the same person now. Maybe that's what I'm doing here. Letting the past go. Getting ready to face what's in front of me."

The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air. A sense of sadness; yet, a hint of acceptance, seems to emanate from him.

I reach out, my fingers brushing lightly against Dave's. The touch sends warmth through me, a spark of unexpected, unspoken connection. 

I want to say so many things, like "I'm sorry, I hope it all works out. I know it must be hard for you now that your mom remarried," but nothing comes out, so I squeeze his hand again.

"Thank you." He turns to look at me, his voice raw and huskier than usual.

"Ah, the Falls," Harmony murmurs and leans back in her chair. "Such memories. Letting go. Yes, sometimes that's all we can do. I too, came here to ... let go."

"You were here before?" I wonder why it's so easy for me to spontaneously talk to her but not to David Rivera.

"I was. With Rita." Harmony's green eyes, usually sharp and alert, soften as she gazes at the cascading water. A hint of a smile graces her weathered face, a smile that speaks of memories and a deep connection to this place.

"Who is Rita?" Dave asks, tilting his head.

"The woman I loved. My partner of over thirty years. She died, you know, why just last night. In a sterile hospital room bed next to mine. Couldn't do anything to stop it. She just... slipped away."

"In the bed ... next to yours?" I blurt out.

"Yes. Hospitals used to scare me before I witnessed firsthand how many times they've saved me from dying. They're useful, but boring, you know? And when Rita died and they didn't save her... Well that's when I decided that they aren't even really all that useful."

Dave and I exchange a surprised glance and I know we're both thinking the same.

She left the hospital?

"Oh, don't give me that look." Harmony waves us off with a single move of a trembling hand, the embroidered birds on her shawl opening their beaks in a reprimand. "I couldn't stay there. The walls felt like they were closing in. I needed to escape, to come to this place one last time. To say goodbye."

All the alarms are going off in my head. Someone will be looking for her! And we just casually picked her up and brought her here. We've as good as kidnapped this poor old woman.

Dave raises his hand at me in a I'll-handle-this fashion and then steps forth. His voice is gentle as he speaks. "So Niagara Falls. Why here?"

"We used to come here every year. It was our place, a symbol of the love that flowed between us, just like this water."

The weight of Harmony's words hangs heavy in the air. I just stand there, my heart overflowing with sympathy for this woman facing such profound loss.

"I wanted to be here, at this place that holds so many happy memories, to whisper one last farewell to her spirit. To feel her presence carried away by the very force of nature that mirrored our love – powerful, ever-changing, and eternal. To tell her I'll be coming soon."

"Please, don't say that," I try to comfort her just like when she said she was old. "You have so much more left to..."

"Live? Oh, three months tops, dear girl. Stage four cancer. And add some Alzheimer into the mix. Try beating that combo." She lets out an eerie giggle. "You know, my memories were all that I had. Rita, the freckles on her back that I loved to kiss. Those freckles that looked like stars. The smell of her hair when she would hug me. Now even that is fading. I'm even losing myself."

"I just..." Tears are flowing down my face and I'm not even sure when I started crying. Hell, I don't know what I can say, or do, to make it all better.

Suddenly, strong arms close around me. Dave has pulled me close to his chest, like a silent anchor for the storm of feelings swirling within me. His hug is firm, solid, and a gesture of such powerful support that transcends words. It's an embrace born out of shared humanity. A silent acknowledgement of the pain we've both just witnessed. I simply lean into him, the familiar scent of his cologne momentarily grounding me.

"When I saw you two youngsters in that beautiful Blue Pontiac..." Harmony coughs.

Dave straightens up a bit with pride.

"I just--I think I was falling in love with the idea of you. Because you are at that time in your life when everything is so meaningful, and the highs are, like, so very high, you know? And who doesn't want to go back in time to that first love? To be young and dumb and– when you are older, the highs are never as high again, but the lows just keep getting lower. And in the end, everything just floats in the middle. Maybe that's the disappointment of t– time! Disappointment of time."

"What can we do for you now?" I ask.

I'm so glad I am getting involved. Dad would be proud. It was exactly the thing he advised me to do when he sent me my birthday letter.