Unconditional

by Linda Rettstatt

  “No. I didn’t sleep very well.”

  I let out a breath. “Neither did I. David, we have to talk this through.”

  “I take it you haven’t changed your mind?”

  “No, but—”

  “Meg, I love you. And I was hoping to spend my life with you and Ryan. It may sound selfish or narrow-minded to you, but I’m not willing to share you with another man. Not even Thomas.”

  “For godsake, David, he’s dying.”

  “I don’t know that Thomas will ever be dead to you. This…attachment you have to him isn’t healthy. I’m afraid he’ll be a ghost living with us forever. I can’t deal with that.”

  “Thank you, Dr. O’Neill, for that succinct analysis.”

  “Meg… It wasn’t how I intended to sound. I just… We need to cool things for a while.”

  “You mean until Thomas dies. Right?”

  “I mean until you have time to grieve the loss of him in your life and put things into perspective.”

  I bit my lip, not wanting to utter the next words, but hearing them come out of my mouth all the same. “I need you, David. Please don’t do this.”

  “I’m being honest. I can’t pretend I’m okay with what you’re doing. I’m sorry Thomas is dying, but…” Silence breathed through the phone. Then he said, “I have to go. Take care, Meg.”

  Ryan began to cry and I crossed the hall to retrieve him from his crib. After changing his wet diaper, I held his warm little body against mine and sat down in the rocker. “Shh. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be all right.” But the ache in my heart said otherwise.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Christmas was surreal—pretending everything was fine when Thomas’s family or my parents were present, then sinking into the dark reality of what the future could hold when I was alone. Not that it wasn’t apparent to everyone that Thomas was not fine. We danced around the topic like the proverbial pink elephant in the room. I focused on Ryan and his wide-eyed stare at the tree, the lights, and the presents.

  I had avoided any discussion of David with Thomas. I knew he would tell me not to move in with him and to hold onto David. But I had been so surprised by David’s reaction, the side of him I’d never seen, that I wasn’t sure I wanted a future with him. Only Audrey knew and, apparently, David had told Preston. Even Preston thought his brother was being unreasonable.

  Thomas called on January third to say he had talked with his mother and sisters about his prognosis. I confirmed that I’d be moving in at the end of the week.

  Thomas ended up at the ER the following afternoon after Elena had found him passed out. We were told he collapsed because of a high fever. They admitted him and administered high doses of antibiotics. I thought it strange that this collapse occurred after he’d told his family about his illness—like maybe he was giving in. Or giving up?

  Thomas was to be released from the hospital two days later after receiving IV antibiotics. His immune system was so compromised that exposure to a cold could hospitalize him again. Elena said she would stay with him. I saw the panic in his eyes. Thomas loved his mother, but her hovering would make him crazy.

  “Ryan and I are moving back into the house. Thomas needs his son close by,” I said.

  No one argued, but Elena looked stricken. I put an arm around her. “You can care for both of them during the day, and I’ll be there at night, should Thomas need anything.”

  Thomas clutched her hand. “Mom, I need to be with Ryan as much as possible. And I’ll worry about you working yourself to death. At least this way, I know you’ll get a break at night. Please?”

  She nodded and smiled sadly.

  Before leaving the hospital, I talked to the doctor about Thomas’s immediate care needs and what we could expect in the coming months.

  “His condition will deteriorate. We’ll do all we can for pain management, but you should contact Hospice and make arrangements for their services.” He passed me a business card for Hospice.

  “Thank you.” A vise squeezed my insides.

  The following afternoon, I let myself into the house and called for Thomas.

  “Upstairs,” he answered.

  I bounced Ryan on my hip. “Let’s take you up to Daddy.”

  He grinned and shrieked with anticipation, “Da!”

  “Hey, who’s shouting out there?” Thomas asked as I stepped into the open doorway of the bedroom. Thomas sat on the bed dressed in a pair of grey sweats. The color blended with his skin tone. His gaunt face stretched into a broad smile at the sight of his son.

  My heart ached when I looked at him. “What time did you come home?”

  “They released me at noon. Maria and my mother picked me up. They just left. Mom would still be here if I hadn’t told her you were on your way and Maria hadn’t said she had to get back to her kids. I’m sorry you had to take Ryan to work with you today.”

  “Are you kidding? Nikki loved sitting with him. My patients were frustrated because they could only look at him through the sliding glass window. I wasn’t taking any chances of him being exposed to something he’d pass on to you.”

  Thomas stretched out his arms. “Come here, son.”

  “Keep him with you while I unload the car.”

  “Meg, I’ve been thinking. You don’t have to do this. I sleep through the night. And if I can’t sleep, I watch TV. I’m not feeling that bad. Not yet.”

  Ryan fisted Thomas’s shirt and pulled himself up, the mattress shifting beneath his feet. Thomas smiled—the smile that first tilted my heart almost ten years ago.

  I glimpsed the healthy man I’d fallen in love with. “We’ve had this discussion. I’m staying here. You guys can spend more quality time together that way.”

  Thomas’s eyes darkened. “I already have ‘time’ with my son. It’s not yours to give.”

  I turned away so he wouldn’t see my tears.

  He let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m having a bad day, but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Take a look at this.”

  He tossed papers to the bottom of the bed, and I picked them up. “What is it?”

  “A release form. Apparently Francisco found a publisher who wants to publish his memoir. He wants a release so he can ‘tell our story.’”

  “You have got to be kidding. I knew that son-of-a…” Ryan stared wide-eyed at me, so I modulated my word choice. “…gun was going to pull this crap.”

  Thomas laughed. “I didn’t. What the hell did he write that could be that interesting to a publisher? And who’s going to buy the book? He’s a nobody.”

  “Holy crap! Did you see the title?”

  “Francisco’s Lovers from A to Z? Well, I knew I wasn’t the first. And I guess I’m not the last. I’m number twenty. T is for Thomas. I wonder if J for Julian signed off on this.”

  “This isn’t a memoir. It’s a dirty little expose of his…his…sexploits.”

  Thomas laughed harder than I’ve heard him laugh in weeks. “Where did you pick up that term?”

  I laughed, too. Not because I saw the humor in my words, but because I enjoyed hearing his laughter. “What else would you call it? Sexual exploits.” I leveled my gaze on him. “You’re not going to sign that, are you?”

  He shook his head. “Of course not. Let him find another ‘T’—Ted or Tim. I’ve got my legacy right here.” He traced his palm across Ryan’s head.

  Ryan clutched Thomas’s shirt in both of his tiny fists and bounced on his sturdy legs. “Da, Da, Da.”

  With unusual energy, Thomas swept him up and held him in the air. “Yes, son. I’m your Da.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” I was overwhelmed by the scene of father and son sharing such a normal moment together. These moments were like diamonds—rare and precious. I wanted to capture them, store them up for when Ryan came home from school one day and said, “Tell me about my dad.”

  I hauled my suitcases, a stack of books, and Ryan’s toys in from the car. Then I rummaged in my smaller bag for my d
igital camera. By the time I returned to the bedroom, Thomas was lying down again, with Ryan snuggled in beside him. Our son’s eyelids drooped while Thomas read him a story. Emotion clogged my throat. I lifted the camera and snapped several shots.

  Then I crossed the hall to the bathroom and ran the water while I cried.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Dammit, Thomas. I’m doing my best here. Is it too much to expect you to do the same?” I picked up the tray of barely touched dinner and stormed out of the bedroom. In the hall, I leaned against the wall, shaking. I wasn’t angry with Thomas. I was angry with the cancer that ate away at him and with the fear that had consumed me lately. I feared the moment when I came into the room and found Thomas unresponsive.

  Apart from these momentary outbursts when either Thomas or I gave in to our fears, we slipped into an easy rhythm. Elena arrived every morning at seven-fifteen. She took over the household for the day, feeding Ryan while I showered and dressed for work.

  I returned home at five-thirty to a dinner already prepared. I’d finally convinced Elena to stay and eat with us before she drove home to her empty house. I spent the evenings with Thomas, laughing at Ryan’s newly attempted efforts at walking, then running in a stumbling sort of way—watching our son explore his world. After tucking Ryan into bed, I sat with Thomas and watched TV until his eyelids fluttered and closed.

  Once both of the guys were sleeping, I went downstairs and turned on the TV. I watched Leno, Fallon, and then switched to QVC programming until I was bleary-eyed. Then I would go to the bathroom and cry while I brushed my teeth.

  On one of those nights when I emerged from the bathroom, Thomas called to me.

  I stopped at the bedroom door, hoping he couldn’t see the redness in my eyes. “You need something?”

  “Lie down with me for a few minutes. Please?” He turned onto his side, and I spooned back against his frail frame. His hand searched for mine. “Thank you.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Nights are the hardest time. I become a frightened five-year-old, scared of the dark and certain of the monsters under the bed waiting to snatch me as soon as I go to sleep.”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  He kissed my hair, his exhale ruffling strands against my ear. “Meg, will you promise me one thing?”

  “Of course.”

  He tightened his hold on me. “Make sure Ryan knows I never wanted to leave him. Make sure he knows that he was wanted and loved by his father.” His voice broke.

  I couldn’t speak, so I nodded and clung to his arm draped across me. Finally I whispered, “I promise.”

  I laid in the dark silence while Thomas’s breathing deepened in sleep. I should have gone to my own room then, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay there and pretend, for just a little while, that everything was normal. I needed to hold onto Thomas for as long as possible.

  In April, winter gave up its last gasp and spring burst forth in yellows and purples. I stopped by the florist on my way home one evening to get flowers to take my grandfather’s grave. Giving him flowers on his birthday became a tradition when I’d first presented him with a fistful of bright yellow dandelions at the age of four.

  Thomas was in the kitchen talking with his mother when I arrived home. “You shouldn’t have,” he said with a grin, eyeing the bouquet.

  “Good, ’cause I didn’t. Tomorrow would be Grandad’s birthday.” I kissed Elena’s cheek. “What are you cooking? It’s smells wonderful in here.”

  She smiled. “I followed your mother’s recipe for beef stew. I’m not staying for dinner. I have a meeting at the church.”

  “Thanks, Elena. Take some with you for later.” As I poured a glass of water, Ryan’s garble sounded from the monitor on the table. “I’ll get him.” I rushed up the stairs, eager to see my son. He was growing fast and I feared I was missing so much.

  I was changing Ryan’s diaper when Thomas walked into the nursery. “We took him for a walk today.”

  “You did? Are you sure you should have gone out? It’s still kind of cool.”

  He grimaced. “It won’t kill me. I needed the fresh air. Actually, I feel pretty good today.”

  I studied his face. His cheeks had a pinkish glow and the veil that had dulled his eyes had lifted. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” I snapped the legs of the baby’s corduroy pants and lifted him. He laughed and reached for my earrings.

  Thomas followed me as I headed downstairs. “I’d like to go to the cemetery with you tomorrow.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “If I didn’t think it was a good idea, I wouldn’t suggest it.” His face darkened. “Why the hell does everyone keep second-guessing every damn thing I want to do. Sometimes I feel like I’m already dead and you’re all just waiting for me to lie down.”

  I gasped. “Thomas! How can you say something like that?”

  “It’s true. You all treat me as if I’m going to snap in half if I so much as move too fast or bend too far. I know how I feel and what I can do.”

  I sat Ryan on the floor where he immediately began to work his way to his feet with the help of the sofa and proceeded to toddle across the room to get his monkey. I drew in a breath and then faced Thomas. “Okay, sorry. I just want to keep you as healthy as possible for as long as possible. I’m sorry if it’s made you feel—”

  He shook his head. “Never mind. Just…let me do what I feel I can do. Okay?”

  “Okay. But the cemetery…” I paused. “I’m going there first thing in the morning. Come with me, and I’ll bring you home before I go to the office. Unless you feel like having breakfast out somewhere?”

  He brightened. “That would be nice. I’m so sick of being cooped up in this house. I don’t see why I can’t drive.”

  “The doctor said it’s not a good idea with the meds you’re taking.”

  “What, is he afraid I’ll have an accident and kill myself?”

  I stared at him, willing back my tears. “No. He’s afraid you’ll kill someone else. And I don’t want to hear you talk like that.” I took a breath. “I should have offered to take you out at least for a drive now and then.”

  He waved a hand. “No, it’s not your job to read my mind. I should have asked.” He turned toward the kitchen. “I’ll set the table.”

  After dinner, Thomas dozed on the sofa while I got Ryan ready for bed. When I returned downstairs to finish cleaning up the kitchen, Thomas wakened.

  He stood in the arched doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room. “I’m going up to bed.”

  I watched him drag his feet as he headed for the stairs. I thought the worst thing that could happen was losing Thomas to his new lifestyle. I was wrong.

  ~ * ~

  I resisted the urge to take Thomas’s arm as we made our way through the sloping grass. Thomas weaved and reached for my hand. We stood at the foot of Grandad’s grave and I stooped to arrange the bouquet of flowers in the vase. I kissed my fingertips and pressed them to the headstone. “Happy Birthday, Grandad.”

  “He was a great guy,” Thomas said.

  I leaned against Thomas. “He taught me so much. My relationship with Grandad was special. He loved me through all of my little failings and my big rebellions.”

  Thomas hugged me. “You’re like him in that way. I’ve never seen anyone able to look past so many transgressions.”

  I sighed. “It’s not as easy as you think.”

  “That’s why it means so much more.” He took a step back. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

  I told Grandad about Thomas’s illness and tearfully asked him to look out for Thomas when he saw him. I had a sense of dread that it would be soon. Then I talked about Ryan. When I turned to leave, I saw Thomas sitting on the stone wall that surrounded a fountain at the top of the hill. He gazed out across the cemetery, and I imagined what was going through his mind. I joined him at the wall. “You okay?”

  “It’s peace
ful here, don’t you think?”

  A chill rolled down my spine. Is he longing for this peace now? I took hold of his hand and squeezed. “You know you can talk to me any time, about anything.”

  “There are some things you don’t need to hear.”

  “I’m a therapist, remember? I’ve heard it all.”

  He gazed at me, a slight breeze ruffling his hair. “Don’t pretend you can be objective about this. And don’t worry. I’ve had time these past months to make my peace with myself, with my family, and with God.”

  I was startled at his mention of God. We were never active in the church. Never discussed faith, until Ryan’s Baptism.

  “And I hope I’m at peace with you,” he continued.

  I swallowed hard. “You’re right. I don’t think I want to hear this.”

  “Meg, I’m dying. I feel the changes. I need to know you’ll be okay. You and Ryan.”

  I looked away, fixing my gaze on an alabaster angel that topped a headstone.

  “We have to talk about things. About what’s going to happen.”

  The angel blurred and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Thomas continued. “The house and everything will come to you, as well as my savings and investments. You can do whatever you like with the property. It might be a little weird for you to live there, so—”

  I leaped to my feet. “Stop it! Just stop. I don’t want to do this.”

  Thomas nodded. “I don’t, either. But you need to know where things are. My attorney has a copy of my will. There’s another copy in my safe deposit box. I want us to stop by the bank and have your named added onto that and my accounts so you can access them. I already arranged for my funeral.”

  A sob ripped through me and sent me to my knees. Thomas dropped down beside me, pulling me into his arms. “I hate that I’m causing you so much pain.”

  I burrowed into his embrace. “What am I going to do without you?”

  He sighed, then tipped my face up and locked eyes with mine. “You’re going to live. You’re going to have a long and happy life with our son. You’re going to help him become a good and decent man. You’re going to love someone who loves you back with all his heart. And, sometimes, you’re going to remember me. And that will keep me alive for Ryan.” Then he kissed my forehead.