A Walk Along the Beach

by Debbie Macomber

  Harper’s eyes found mine and we grinned at each other. That was the perfect description of Mom. She’d read to us from the time we were infants. One of my first memories was Mom giving me a book. I could remember sitting in her lap as she read to all of us each night. Books were her world.

  “When we first met, Claire wasn’t interested in dating anyone in the military,” Dad continued. “ ‘Here today, gone tomorrow’ is what she said. I ate at that Denny’s every night for a month before she’d agree to go to dinner with me.”

  “Don’t tell me you took her to dinner at Denny’s,” I said, joking with him. I loved hearing the details of Mom and Dad’s courtship. We all knew our father had been in the military and that he’d met Mom while stationed at Fort Lewis, but not how they’d met or how long it’d taken him to convince her to date him.

  “No, I took her to a little seafood place by the ocean.”

  “Oceanside?”

  He nodded. “Seeing how much she enjoyed being on that beach, I said if she’d agree to marry me, I’d move us here.”

  “Dad, you mean to say you proposed on your first date?”

  He chuckled. “Yup. That woman had my heart wrapped around her little finger. If she’d wanted to move to the moon, I’d have found a way.”

  “How long did it take for you to convince her to marry you?”

  He grinned as if proud of himself. “In less than six months she had my engagement ring on her finger. We waited until I was released from the Army and she got that degree she wanted so badly, and then we married. I found work in Oceanside and she taught at the junior high until Lucas was born.”

  He grew serious then, his eyes sad. “I always thought we’d grow old together. I assumed I’d be the one to die first; it generally happens that way, me being five years older and all.”

  “One never knows,” Harper whispered, her breath wispy.

  “It was always my job to provide for the family. Your mother wanted to be at home with you children. I encouraged it. Oh, how she loved you; she took such pride in each one of you. When she died”—he stopped for a moment, but was able to continue—“I felt that I’d somehow failed her. It was my job to care for her. To see to her needs, to be her protector. That’s what a loving husband does. It was why I found solace in a bottle after we buried her. I’d failed her, failed all of you. Countless nights I sat, wondering if there was something I’d missed, something I should have seen before that aneurysm.”

  “Daddy…”

  “No, please let me finish.”

  Seeing how hard it was for him to speak of our mother, I moved closer and sat in the chair next to his. Seated, we were eye level with Harper.

  “After we buried your mom, it didn’t seem more than a blink of an eye and we learned Harper had leukemia. Getting hit with that news was too much for me to take. I’d failed Claire and then I’d failed Harper.”

  “No…” Harper stopped him. “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s a father’s job to see to the welfare of his family. First Claire and then my sweet baby girl and I could do nothing. I let you all down, and honey, I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” Harper whispered.

  “Willa, you carried the load that was mine. I was selfish and unfair, a weakling when you needed me to be strong. If it wasn’t for you our entire family would have imploded.”

  My throat was thick. I leaned toward our father, and he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed.

  “I’m here,” he said. “You need me, you call, and I’ll come. You two girls and your brother are my world. I’m nothing without you. I’ll never touch a bottle of liquor again; you have my word on that.”

  “Dad.”

  “No, I mean it. I went back to AA and have a sponsor. I can’t do this alone, and I know it. I’ve got God on my side and a whole meeting full of men and women who have made it and are here to help me along the way. I’m finished burying my pain in the bottom of a bottle. The only thing alcohol has given me is more grief, more self-pity, more headaches, and more wrong turns. I’m on the right path now. I’m ready to be the father I should have always been.”

  “Love you, Dad,” Harper said.

  “Love you,” I repeated.

  He nodded. “Lucas and I had this talk a while back, said I’d give the same one to you two. Told him to love his wife the same way I loved Claire and he assured me he already did.”

  He stood then, and, leaning down, kissed Harper’s cheek. “Rest well, baby girl. I’m meeting Lucas and Chantelle for dinner.” He looked at me. “Join us, Willa. Your dad’s treating.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay with Harper a while longer.”

  This was the best conversation I’d had with our dad in more years than I could count. Maybe ever.

  I could see that his visit had exhausted Harper, and she quickly drifted off to sleep. I welcomed the solitude and settled back in the comfortable chair, tucking my feet beneath me. My head swam with gratitude for the turnaround our father had made. His steps toward making restitution showed his determination to carve a new path. Knowing and loving him, I was convinced he was sincere and hoped he would pull through, no matter what the future held.

  Seeing that Harper was resting comfortably, I left the hospital around nine. Lucas agreed to come get me. Before I headed back, Dr. Carroll found me and said Harper was talking less and seemed to tire even more quickly in the last couple of days. I wasn’t sure what that meant and was too afraid to ask. Lucas and Chantelle were talking to Dad when I entered the apartment. They were happy, animated, chatting away. They greeted me warmly when I arrived.

  “Did you pick up dinner at the hospital?” Chantelle asked.

  I nodded. By the time I’d gone down to the cafeteria, the choices were few. I’d ended up with an apple and a cup of lukewarm vegetable soup. It was plenty.

  “How’s Harper?”

  “Sleeping.”

  The call came in the middle of the night. It must have been around two. I didn’t bother to check the time when I reached for my phone, noticing only that it was the hospital.

  “Yes,” I said, instantly alert.

  Because Dad was sleeping in the spare room, I was on the sofa. As if aware a call in the middle of the night wouldn’t be good news, both Lucas and Chantelle came out of their bedroom.

  Chantelle tied the sash around her silk robe and Lucas stood bare-chested in flannel bottoms, waiting, listening, their eyes steady on me, waiting.

  My eyes held theirs as I listened, gasped, and covered my mouth, holding back the confusion and fear.

  “I was with her only a few hours ago,” I argued. What could possibly have happened to change everything so quickly?

  The nurse made no sense. Her words were plain enough, but I couldn’t take in what she was saying.

  “Yes…thank you for letting us know.” I ended the call.

  Dad stood in the doorway leading to the spare bedroom. “Willa,” he said, “what’s happened?”

  It took me a moment to answer as I mentally reviewed the short conversation. “When I left, the nurse told me Harper was stable and resting comfortably.”

  “That’s what you said earlier,” Dad reminded me.

  “She’s being moved to ICU.”

  “What?” Lucas asked, finding it as hard to assimilate as I had.

  With no time to lose, I grabbed my jeans.

  “You’re going to the hospital?” Dad asked. “Now?”

  Nodding, I shoved my legs into my pants as quickly as my body could move. “Harper asked that I come right away.”

  “I’m going with you,” Dad insisted.

  I was in a hurry. “Then I suggest you get a move on, because I’m not waiting for you.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Lucas added, racing back
to his room.

  “I’ll drive,” Chantelle offered.

  Twenty minutes later, we rushed through the hospital doors. All these weeks, I’d held on to the hope that my beautiful, vivacious sister would recover. Reality hit me in the face as we headed to the intensive care floor. The doors swung open and I paused, breathless and afraid of what awaited me on the other side.

  CHAPTER 27

  Willa

  Harper was in the ICU for a week. All we could do was wait and watch. Dad was with me, Lucas and Chantelle, too. We took turns going in and spending time at her bedside, although she was mostly asleep.

  I heard from Sean every day. I didn’t answer his phone calls or listen to his messages, and so he resorted to texting me. I didn’t want to read them, but I couldn’t resist. He felt bad about our last conversation. He was sorry. He hated that he wasn’t with me. He apologized repeatedly. I didn’t answer. My decision had been made. All I knew was that Sean was in Chicago, finishing up the assignment with some guy named Doug.

  It wasn’t like I missed him. It’d been so long since Sean had been part of my daily life that he felt like someone I used to know. When I thought about him, I sometimes forgot what he looked like. He had his priorities and I had mine and they were vastly different.

  On the eighth day after Harper had been taken to Intensive Care, Dad and I were in a waiting area when John came out of her room with tears glistening in his eyes.

  At that moment, I realized. It was over. There was no hope. Harper was lost to us. As hard as it was, I knew I had no choice, I had to accept it. While she’d been barely conscious, I’d still held out hope, riding a roller coaster of optimism that even at this point there was a chance she’d survive.

  John knelt down in front of us and took both of my hands in his. It took him a moment to compose himself before he was able to speak.

  “Harper’s blood counts have drastically dropped.”

  He didn’t need to tell me this wasn’t good. “They can go back up, can’t they?” My words were full of angst, of hope, desperation.

  “Willa,” Dad said, his voice soft and gentle. “It’s time to let her go.”

  “No,” I sobbed. “Please, no.”

  “Willa.” John’s voice cracked as he said my name. “She’s ready. All she needs now is for you to give her permission. She loves you, and she doesn’t want to disappoint you. It’s you who’s keeping her hanging on. For her sake as well as your own, let her go.”

  I frantically shook my head. “I can’t…I can’t…” My heart was pounding so hard and fast it felt like it would explode through my chest.

  “Willa.” It was Dad again. Tears filled his eyes and he wiped his forearm beneath his nose as he sucked in a harsh breath. “Harper needs you. Give her this. Let her rest in peace. She needs you to help her to do that.”

  “I don’t think I can,” I said, weeping.

  “No, Willa, you can…You must. It’s time.” Dad’s voice was gentle yet strong, determined. “You did everything you could. You’ve carried this weight around ever since we lost your mother. It’s time to give it up. I’m here. Lucas and Chantelle are here. We’re all with you; you don’t need to do this alone any longer.”

  The tension in my chest was tight, so tight I found it hard to breathe.

  John’s hands increased the pressure around mine. “She wants to see you, then your dad, then Lucas and Chantelle.” His voice trembled when he added, “I don’t believe she has much longer.”

  Unable to remain seated, I stood and started to pace. I pressed my fingertips against my lips, as if they could hold back the sadness and grief that threatened to overwhelm me.

  “I’ll go in with you,” Dad offered. “If you want.”

  I nodded, and his hand was at the small of my back, guiding me to the door. We stood in front of it for a long moment. “I don’t know that I can do this,” I whispered, hardly able to find my voice.

  “You can,” Dad assured me. “You’re the strongest woman I know.”

  Strong? Me? I was falling apart inside, my heart so heavy I could barely function.

  Dad cupped my shoulders and I leaned against him, convinced I would have collapsed without his tight hold on me.

  “Your sister needs you, Willa. I’ve never known you to disappoint Harper, and you won’t, especially now.”

  His words gave me courage, more than I thought I had. As if my arm weighed two tons, I lifted it and slid open the glass door that led to the little sister who was so much a part of me. My best friend. My roommate. My lifelong companion. My very heart. We had been through everything together.

  When we entered the room, Harper opened her eyes to look at me.

  “It’s okay, baby girl,” Dad said as we approached the bed. “You gave it all you had. I love you so much. You fought the good fight. You’re near the finish line now.”

  She blinked to let him know she’d heard him and did her best to smile.

  “When you see her, you tell your mother I have always loved her. It’s taken me longer than it should have to learn to live without her. I know she’ll forgive me for being weak. Be sure and tell her I’m much better now.”

  I remembered when we stood at Mom’s grave site and Harper mentioned how she’d felt Mom’s presence with her when she’d been close to death after she developed leukemia. It left me to wonder if she’d felt our mother at her side this time, and I suspected she did.

  Harper’s smile widened ever so slightly. “Love you, Dad,” she whispered.

  “Love you, Harper. So much.”

  Her gaze shifted to me. Waiting. Wanting.

  I felt that pull as if being drawn by a powerful magnet. Harper was waiting, looking for me to release her, to give her permission to surrender. As difficult as it would be for me to say the words, to set her free, I knew I had to do it.

  As I struggled to find my voice, my mind flew back to the day we’d left Lucas and Chantelle’s engagement party and come to this hospital full of hope and spirit, determined to win this second battle. Determined to defeat this foe, claim victory, and walk away triumphant. In my mind I saw Harper leading the next Relay for Life. She would walk to encourage those facing this fight and show that with modern medicine and faith, they, too, would survive.

  Instead, despite her valiant struggle, the hope, prayers, dreams, optimism, and determination, we had lost. My sister’s ravaged body barely resembled the woman she had once been. Her fighting spirit was gone, replaced with acceptance.

  “You gave it your all,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “We both did.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Harper whispered, looking to me. “I wished with all my heart to live. You wanted it…I did, too.”

  “Oh Harper, don’t be sorry. You tried.”

  “You’re the best sister a girl could ever have.”

  I smiled though my tears. “Ditto.”

  “I never got that wedding, did I?” she said sadly. “I would have loved to have been a bride.” As an encouragement, I’d talked up all we would do when the time came for Harper to get married. We had it all set, the color theme, her dress, who her bridesmaids would be. She wanted me to be the maid of honor. Those dreams had helped pass the long hours when she’d first arrived at the hospital. Like everything else we saw for the future, it was for naught.

  I knew she was thinking of the physician she had come to love: John Neal. In another time, another place, they would have made a perfect couple. How sad it was for Harper to have found love in the last weeks of her life. Cancer had robbed her of that and of the family she might have had.

  I bit my lower lip, trying desperately to hold back my sobs. My sister’s eyes continued to hold mine. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” she said, her voice trembling. “How I wish I could be there to see it, to be the aunt to your children.”

 
I hadn’t given a thought to my own future. Until this moment it had been tied to Harper. Ever since she was born, the two of us had been linked together. She’d encouraged my relationship with Sean, but that relationship was over. I’d never told her and was glad I hadn’t.

  “You’ll always be a part of me,” I assured her.

  My heart was breaking. I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t supposed to be the way it ended. This shouldn’t be happening, and yet it was. There was nothing left for me to do but accept this horrible truth and let my sister go.

  Even with all the wires and tubes attached to her, I took Harper’s hand and pressed it against my tearstained cheek.

  Lucas and Chantelle came into the room, almost silently, reverently, as though they didn’t know what to expect.

  “Hey,” Lucas whispered, standing close to our father. Dad’s arm went around his son. Chantelle stood at my side.

  “Hey,” Harper repeated, her voice growing weaker.

  “Love you.”

  “You…too.” Her eyes went over each one of us. “Love,” she whispered.

  That was her last word.

  Her eyes closed. I could actually feel her slipping away. Part of me wanted to grab her, hold her back, keep her with us. I swayed with the weight of my grief. Chantelle gripped me around the waist and kept me upright.

  We stood together as a family, arms around one another, surrounding Harper. Her spirit was gone. Technology was all that was keeping her alive.

  Dr. Carroll joined us, and when Harper breathed her last breath, he pronounced her dead, noting the time.

  A wailing sound filled the room and I realized it came from me as I doubled over, sobbing with grief and pain and loss so profound it seemed impossible that a single being could hold up under it.

  My sister was gone from us. Despite all the medical advancements. All the care. All the love. We lost.