A Song for Rory

by Cerella Sechrist

  He leaned his head back against one of the barrels, his emotions twisting in confusion. He wanted her. He needed her. But because he loved her, he didn’t know if he could ask this of her. He didn’t think he could ask it of anyone, much less the woman who had already poured so much of her life into his.

  “Sawyer?” she whispered.

  “Sawyer! Where are you hiding at?”

  Gavin and the guys were calling him.

  “I love you,” he said. “I love you more than you know, Rory.” He couldn’t make her any promises about the future. All he could offer her was that one, simple truth. He loved her.

  “Sawyer—”

  “The guys are calling me. I have to go.”

  “Can we talk about this more when I get back?”

  “I don’t want this ruining your night.” Or your life. “You just focus on having a good time with Harper and the girls.”

  “But—”

  “I better go. The guys are waiting.”

  He ended the call before she could respond, and then he put his head in his hands and let the weight of worry settle on his shoulders once more.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “SORRY, PERLE, BUT I’m not interested.”

  His manager scoffed. “Sawyer, darlin’, you best quit burying your head in the sand. This is no different than the press release. People are going to start reporting on your situation whether you like it or not. At least, if we take the bull by the horns, we have some say on how and when the news gets out.”

  Sawyer pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to keep his tone even. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Sorry, sugar, but that’s no longer an option. The word is out, and your fans want details.”

  He knew she had a point. Booking him on a national talk show to discuss his father’s diagnosis was probably a smart move. It would bring more attention to him and his music. He supposed, looking at it from Perle’s perspective, all of this was a potential gold mine. Even though it bothered him, he knew Perle was right. He couldn’t keep trying to hide from the world. His reality had changed. At some point, he would have to change along with it.

  “What are the details?”

  Perle filled him in on the when and where of the interview. He’d have to fly to Los Angeles for the taping of the show.

  “Which brings me to my next point,” Perle said. “When are you coming home, Sawyer?”

  His gut reaction was to retort I am home, but he knew that wasn’t fair. Perle had been more than patient during his hiatus in Findlay Roads. He couldn’t stay here forever, at least not without giving up on his career as a Nashville star.

  “I’m in a wedding tomorrow,” he announced, buying himself more time.

  “Not your own, I trust? Because I’d want to sell the photos—”

  “No,” Sawyer interrupted, his heart aching at the thought. “No, not mine. A friend’s.”

  “So you’ll be back in town on Monday?” she persisted.

  His first thought was of Rory. How he’d say goodbye. How he’d explain. He wasn’t sure where they stood anymore, him and her. He wasn’t sure about anything.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “I need you back here, Sawyer,” she insisted. “I understand your need for a break, but it’s been weeks. We have studio time scheduled, and we need to coordinate with the guest artists who will be performing on your next album.”

  “I know, I know.” When he’d first come to Findlay Roads, he’d been looking forward to more studio time, getting back to the heart of the music. He’d been hoping to get inspiration from Rory and the promise of a new beginning with her. It was hard to believe how much he’d lost in such a short time. “I’ll be back sometime next week.”

  “I’m going to hold you to it, darlin’.” She launched into another agenda item, reviewing some deal she’d landed for one of his singles to be featured as the theme song of a new television show. In some distant part of his consciousness, he recognized that it was a boon, but he had a hard time wrapping his head around the details. Everything felt foggy and that made him worry that his mind was somehow compromised, and that this was only a hint of what was to come.

  “Listen, Perle, that sounds great, but I’ve got to run. Email me everything I need to know. I’ll shoot you a text when I’m back in town.”

  She began to protest, but he rushed her off the phone with the promise to check in soon. When he ended the call, he placed his face in his palms. It was comforting, in a way, to know that good things were still happening for him.

  But what about the future...and Rory?

  What would happen when he left Findlay Roads and returned to Nashville? What kind of life could he offer Rory now? For all his fame and fortune, he couldn’t promise her any sort of stability. Asking her to love him felt selfish. And how could he ask her to give up everything—her life in Findlay Roads, her job, her proximity to family—to move to Nashville and...what? Be a witness as he started to lose himself? Become his nurse and caretaker? That was never the life he planned for himself, and it certainly wasn’t a life he was prepared to offer Rory.

  * * *

  SAWYER WAS SITTING outside when his dad found him. He hadn’t bothered to dress after his phone call with Perle so he was still wearing his pajamas. He’d gone outside after their conversation, dragging a lawn chair out beneath the oak tree in the backyard. It was the same tree he and Chase had climbed as children, the one his dad had attached a handmade swing to so they could sway back and forth beneath its branches in the summer breeze. The swing was gone now, but Sawyer still saw it in his mind’s eye. He became obsessed with the image, trying to recall every detail. It had been painted a royal blue, but the color had faded with time. The paint began peeling, and beneath it were chips of pale yellow wood. There had been some sort of trim on the edges, but he couldn’t remember if it was orange or red. His drummed his fingers on the lawn chair’s armrest as he tried to recall such a vague and forgotten detail. Orange or red? They had played on that swing for hours at a time. Why couldn’t he remember the color of the trim? It was an inconsequential detail but one he felt he should know. He dug his fingernails into his palm and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Red. It had to have been red. His dad had an old workbench in the garage that he had painted with the same color. Definitely red.

  But what if it hadn’t been?

  “Sawyer?”

  He opened his eyes, surprised at the sound of his dad’s voice. He’d been so caught up in trying to pinpoint the memory that he hadn’t heard his father approach.

  “Oh, hey, Dad.”

  “Hey there.”

  His dad started to sink to the ground but Sawyer got up and insisted he take the lawn chair instead. Sawyer settled himself on the ground and did a quick inspection of the older man from the corner of his eye. He found it strange that his dad didn’t look that different. If he studied hard, he could guess that his skin was a bit too pale, and his eyes a little bloodshot...but other than that, he still looked like Ford Landry. He wondered if that would change, as time went on. If the disease would immobilize his dad’s countenance like it would paralyze his mind.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” Sawyer asked.

  It was an awkward question. It wasn’t as if his dad had stomach pain or a fever or headache.

  “I’m all right,” his dad assured him. But Sawyer wasn’t reassured. He wasn’t all right. He’d never be all right again.

  But Sawyer didn’t want to say this aloud. So instead, he just said, “Good.”

  They sat in silence for a bit longer.

  “Your mom told me you’re going to be a groomsman in Connor’s wedding, and that you’ll be paired with Rory.”

  “Yeah.” After his conversation with Rory, he wasn’t
sure how he felt about that anymore. When he had first come back to town, he couldn’t have imagined anything better. Now, he worried Connor would regret asking him.

  “I’ve missed that girl.”

  “Me, too,” Sawyer admitted and then experienced a moment’s panic, wondering exactly which point in time his dad was talking about. Did he know they were in the present day or was he living in a past where Sawyer and Rory had been on the road for a while?

  “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

  Sawyer blinked. “What? What do you mean?”

  “You came here to win her back, didn’t you?”

  Sawyer felt a swell of relief at this question. At least they were living in the same moment. But he didn’t know how to reply to the question.

  “Seems to me you’ve been avoiding her lately.”

  Sawyer shifted uncomfortably on the grass, surprised that a man with Alzheimer’s could be this observant.

  “I know I embarrassed you in front of her the other day, son.”

  Sawyer’s attention jerked to his father’s face. His eyes were clear but there was a hint of sadness in them.

  “Your mom told me what I did.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. You didn’t know.”

  Ford didn’t respond right away. When he did, his words were thoughtful. “This disease is a funny thing. It steals in subtle, immeasurable ways at first. Like forgetting the time of year and not even knowing you did until later, when someone tells you.” He looked right at Sawyer. “You’re right, I didn’t know. But I wish I had. I’m sorry.”

  Sawyer felt tears rising and looked away. He didn’t want his dad to see him cry.

  “It’s not going to get any better, you know,” his dad said. “And I don’t think it’s going to get any easier, either.”

  Sawyer blinked back the tears and swallowed hard so he could face his dad once more.

  “I know, Dad,” he admitted.

  “I’ve taken care of my will. I named you executor when the time comes.”

  “Dad—”

  Ford touched a hand to his son’s head, as if bestowing a benediction on him. “I’m not out of this fight yet, Sawyer. I don’t intend to be for some time. But no one puts off death forever. And when it happens to me, I’ll be ready for it.” He drew a breath, removed his hand. “I’ve had a good life with a woman I love and two amazing children, who have made me so proud. My only regret is not telling you that more often.” He waited for Sawyer to look at him and held his gaze. “I’m proud of you, Sawyer. More than words can ever say. I admit, I was a little uneasy with the way you did things for a while. All that time chasing your music, never settling down, you and Rory both traveling all around the country just so you could keep performing the songs you loved.”

  He nodded, his expression turning introspective. “But it turns out you were wiser than I was.”

  Sawyer’s lips parted in surprise. These were words he’d never expected to hear his father say. “Wiser? You’ve always been the wisest man I’ve ever known.”

  “Pshaw.” His dad scoffed. “You’re the one who recognized how important it is to pursue your dreams. I’m the one with Alzheimer’s, yet you’re the one who knew long before I did that life is too short not to go after what you want. You didn’t do things the way people expected, but you forged your own path. And look where it got you.”

  Sawyer hesitated. “You’re giving me way too much credit. I didn’t do things as smartly as I should have.”

  “The way you and Rory split up, you mean?” He gave a short nod. “I don’t know a single person who doesn’t have regrets in life, not even the ones whose dreams came true. The point is, you’re trying to make things right. You came back for her, and I’m trusting you admitted your mistakes and asked her forgiveness.”

  “Yeah.” For all the good it had done them. He’d won Rory’s heart but feared he was destined to break it again.

  “People go after a lot of things in life. I suppose you’ve seen your share of it while living in Nashville. We pursue fame, fortune and transient things that never last. Not enough of us pursue what really matters. Like love.”

  “Love.”

  “Love,” Ford confirmed.

  The word held bitter connotations for him now.

  “Go after Rory,” his dad said.

  “I’m not sure that’s the wisest thing.”

  “Why not?”

  Sawyer raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I’d think you, of all people, would know why. How can I ask Rory to marry me, knowing what might happen? If I love her, how can I do that to her? It would be like punishing her for loving me.”

  Ford fell silent, and Sawyer felt a twist of guilt. He hadn’t considered how the words might sound to his father, who was already living with a disease that was only a possibility for Sawyer.

  “Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like you’re a burden or anything.”

  “But I will be.”

  “Dad—”

  “Sawyer, it’s okay. I know what the rest of you are facing. Sometimes, I think Alzheimer’s must be harder for the people who watch you go through it. They lose you, everything that makes you who you are, in the most slow and agonizing death, while your outer shell remains. It’s a double death. The loss of this person you love, your memories and moments, and then, in the end, the physical death. It is a cruel way to go, and not just for the person dying.”

  “And you think you’re not wise?”

  Ford offered up a sad smile. “I think facing your own mortality can make anyone a little wiser.”

  They sat in silence for a bit until Ford cleared his throat.

  “Listen, son, I wanted to say... I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  Ford scratched the back of his neck. “I know what you’ll say, and you’re right. It’s not my fault. This disease isn’t something I chose. It’s not what I want, for me or for my family. But somehow, I can’t help feeling partially responsible for the position it places you and Chase in, knowing that one day...” He trailed off.

  “We don’t know what will happen, Dad.” Sawyer spoke the words, even though they weren’t much comfort.

  “Perhaps not,” Ford conceded, “but I see how it’s weighing on you. And I just need you to know that if there was any way I could spare you this...I would.”

  Sawyer’s chest tightened with sadness. “I know that. And I don’t blame you for this. Neither does Chase.”

  Ford gave a brief nod of his head. “You’re good sons. I love you both so much—” He broke off as his voice cracked, and Sawyer reached for him, grabbing his hand in his own.

  “We’re going to be here for you, Dad. No matter what the future brings.”

  It took Ford a minute to bring his emotions back under control. “I appreciate that. I do. But I’ve also made arrangements for long-term care, to minimize the burden as much as possible. I don’t want you worrying about me all the time. You need to live your own life, Sawyer. Marry Rory. Keep making music. Cherish all of your days while you have them so that when they’re gone, you have as few regrets as possible. Promise me that?”

  Sawyer hesitated. He could only promise his father so much. He wanted to marry Rory. He wanted to keep making music. But what if those choices were taken from him?

  When he didn’t answer immediately, his dad continued, “I need you to know that I don’t have any regrets. Not a one. Life offers no guarantees, and uncertainty is no reason to give up on the things that make life worth living. If I had to live my life all over again, there’s not a single thing I’d change.”

  Sawyer swallowed. “Not even now, seeing what Mom is going through?”

  His question didn’t seem to bother his dad. Ford looked hard at him. “Marriage isn’t easy, even on the b
est of days. But it’s a commitment. For better, for worse. Sickness and health. Your mom and I didn’t take those vows lightly. We considered what the worse and the sickness might look like. We might not have imagined this, but we didn’t commit to each other blindly, either.”

  “But if you’d known about the Alzheimer’s before you got married. What would you have done then?”

  Ford considered, growing sober. “I’m not sure I know, Sawyer. I don’t know what either of us might have decided in that case.” He rallied, drawing a deep breath. “But love makes all the difference, doesn’t it? If you love someone, you don’t give up on them. Rory won’t give up on you. Ever. You have that girl’s heart, you always have.”

  The words should have buoyed him, shored him up. But they only made him more melancholy.

  “Don’t cheat either of yourselves by worrying about a future that might never happen.” His dad released a sigh, a signal that he had exhausted himself on the topic. He made one more effort, though, and added, “Make me that promise, son. Promise me you won’t give up on yourself, or Rory.”

  Sawyer chose his words carefully, not wanting to make a vow he couldn’t keep. “I promise that I’ll live my life the best way I can, not knowing what the future holds.” It was the most he could give.

  “Good. Now, stop wasting time hanging around here. Go get that girl of yours and do something fun.”

  “You’re just looking for an excuse to take a nap,” Sawyer teased as his dad’s eyes slid closed.

  “You’re right about that,” Ford replied. “This sunshine is putting me to sleep.”

  Sawyer smiled, but he didn’t move. He just sat there beside his father as he dozed, trying to embed this moment into his memory to hold against the days ahead.

  * * *

  RORY MET SAWYER’S gaze across the small distance separating them in the backyard of the Moontide Inn. Harper and Connor were listening intently to the minister as he explained when they’d be reading their vows and exchanging rings, but Rory had tuned out the instructions to focus on Sawyer.

  Her feelings were conflicted as she looked at him. He wore a casual, button-down flannel-print shirt, and his hair was tousled as if he’d run his hands through it a dozen times. He was watching the minister with an intent expression on his face, hanging on to every word as if this was his own wedding rehearsal. Rory’s heart lurched at the thought. She knew he’d been struggling lately, especially after their phone conversation during the bachelor and bachelorette parties. But she was still hoping for him to come around. She’d made her decision. She wanted to be with Sawyer, no matter what. She wanted to marry him and care for him, should it come to that. She’d done her own research on EOA. The disease could strike at any time, as early as one’s thirties, which she knew was Sawyer’s greatest fear, but also into one’s fifties or sixties. Most cases developed when the patient was in his or her forties or fifties.