by Sarra Cannon
I pick up the photo and shake my head. Now I remember why I haven’t been back here much. It’s too hard to think about him being gone.
“When did he pass away?” she asks softly, looking over my shoulder at the photograph.
“Three years ago,” I say. “He was going in for what they said was a routine surgery to put a stent into an artery. He called me the night before he went in. He was so scared.”
Tears threaten to spill, and I take a deep breath. I can’t let myself go back to those dark thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I put the picture back on the kitchen counter. “He’s everywhere in this place,” I say. “I miss him so much.”
“Who does it belong to now?” she asks. “Your mom?”
We walk back through the living room to the two small bedrooms in the back.
“No, he left this place to me,” I say.
One of the bedrooms still has two sets of bunkbeds, ancient remnants of those summers my mom and her sisters spent here. I slept in those bunkbeds so many times I lost count.
There’s a leak in the corner of the room and water is dripping onto the old wood floor.
“Crap,” I say. I run back into the kitchen and grab a large pot to collect the water. I position it under the leak, and it starts a high-pitched tinkling sound every time a drop hits the metal. “Looks like it’s been leaking for a long time. Must be a problem with the roof.”
The wood underneath the pot is warped and obviously water damaged. The small rug thrown across the floor smells mildewed, too, and probably will have to be thrown out.
“I bet Knox would be glad to take a look at it,” Jo says. “It’s probably an easy fix.”
“I can probably do it myself,” I say. For some reason, the thought of Knox having to come out here and take care of the problems with this place makes me angry. It’s an irrational feeling, but this is my place. My responsibility.
I glance up at the ceiling and listen to the water dripping. Just one more thing I’ve screwed up.
“How come you don’t come out here very often?” she asks. “It’s a really beautiful cabin. Very warm.”
I smile. “It’s freezing in here.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she says, bumping my arm as she moves into my grandfather’s bedroom. “It has a well-loved feel to it, like there are a lot of happy memories here.”
“There are,” I say, feeling the tears sting my eyes again. I can’t believe I’ve let things get so bad around here.
A thin layer of dust covers every surface. There’s a second leak in the hall bathroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were plumbing and electrical issues after it sitting here unused for so long.
“If you fixed this place up, you could easily move out here instead of living above our garage,” she says.
“You ready to get rid of me so soon?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
“Hardly,” she says, pressing her lips together to hide a smile. Her cheeks flush, and with the light from the lantern, she looks so vulnerable and beautiful.
An image pops into my mind of us coming out here on Sundays and in the evenings after work, spending our mornings out on the lake or the dock. Maybe sitting on the back porch playing cards or checkers and watching the leaves change.
“I think you could make a life for yourself here, that’s all,” she says. “This place could really be something special with a little bit of love.”
I look around and know that she’s right. This place has always been special, and I’ve been avoiding it for far too long. Maybe it was fate that brought us back here in this rainstorm. A place for new beginnings and a fresh start.
“Hey, look at this,” she says. She sets the lantern on the bedside table and grabs something from the closet.
“What?” I ask.
She’s so excited, I half expect to see a stash of gold nuggets or something, but when she turns around, my heart stops. She’s holding my grandfather’s old guitar case.
She places it carefully on the bed and snaps it open.
I hold my breath, memories rushing back. The honey-colored guitar sits inside the case, as perfect and well-worn as the day he died.
“Did he play?” she asks. She runs her hand across the smooth surface of the Gibson guitar.
I move next to her to sit down on the bed. My heart is so tight in my chest, I can hardly breathe.
“He did,” I say. My voice cracks, and I have to look away.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asks, placing her hand on mine. “Did I upset you somehow?”
I shake my head and close my eyes, images of my grandfather sitting on the front porch playing through my memory.
“I’m okay,” I say, squeezing her hand. “It’s just hard coming face to face with all these memories.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad,” she says. “Want me to put it away?”
I look over at the old guitar, half its strings missing now. God, I miss him so much it’s physically painful. My grandpa was my anchor in a chaotic life where there was never enough to go around. He always had time for me. Lord knows what might have become of me if he hadn’t been there for me every time I needed him.
And the one time he needed me most…
Tears finally push through my resolve and I have to stand up so that Jo won’t see. Crying in front of a woman isn’t exactly the sexiest thing a guy can do. I don’t want her think I’m weak.
“Colton?” she asks. She moves behind me and places her arms around my waist.
The warmth of her against me means the world in this moment.
“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s too late to hide these emotions from her. The tears are flowing freely, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
She holds me tighter, placing her head against my back. “It’s okay,” she says. “I understand how difficult it can be to lose someone you loved so much. Do you want to talk about it?”
This is usually the type of thing I avoid talking to any girlfriend about. I want to be the one who makes them laugh. Someone they can have a good time with without worrying about things getting messy or emotional.
But things have been different with Jo from the very beginning. I want to open up to her, but we’ve just gotten started. I don’t want to bring her down when things were just getting good and happy between us.
“No. It's nothing, really,” I say. I force a smile and turn around, taking her in my arms. “Let’s go back by the fire. You’ve got to be getting cold.”
“A little,” she says. She lifts up and kisses me on the cheek. “Just know that I’m here for you if you need to talk about it.”
I walk over and shut the guitar case, letting my hand linger for a moment on the clasp. The last thing I want to do is burden her with my sadness. Especially tonight.
“I can think of a few things I’d love to do more than talking,” I say, spinning toward her. I pick her up and she screams, laughing.
“Wait, grab the lantern,” she says.
I turn her all the way around and go back for the lantern. She’s laughing and the dark mood is gone just like a shadow in the light. I dare a glance at my grandfather’s cherished guitar, sending up another apology to his spirit as I carry her out of the room, where we make love until the rain finally stops.
Chapter Twenty
The rain lets up just as the sun is peeking above the horizon. We gather our things and make a run for the boat. I almost slip on the muddy banks of the lake, but Colton holds tightly to my hand.
I laugh, realizing my cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much in the past few hours.
I’m sad to see the cabin disappear through the trees as we make our way back down the lake, but I hope we’ll come back soon. Right now, it’s the most magical place in the whole entire world.
We tie the boat off at Knox’s dock and quietly make our way back to Colton’s truck. Knox is home, but we
don’t want to wake him up. He’ll see the boat and know we made it back safely.
When we get back to my house, Colton walks me to the door and pulls me into his arms.
“Thank you for one of the best nights of my life,” he says. “I’m never going to forget this as long as I live.”
“Me, too,” I say, looking up at him. He’s got a little stubble growing on his face and his hair is wild from laying by the fire snuggled against me all night. He’s never looked so good.
“You going to be okay working tonight?” he asks, kissing my forehead.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “It’ll probably be slow, anyway. You know, if you want to come by and hang out for a while.”
“Definitely,” he says. He pulls me into a kiss, and my heart feels so light I think it might simply fly away.
“Try to get some sleep,” I say. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He kisses me again, and then holds onto my hand as long as he can before I disappear inside.
I practically float to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. The sun is fully awake now, and even though I barely slept a wink last night, I feel more alive and awake than I can remember ever feeling before.
I haven’t opened my heart, or my body, up to a man in so long, but it’s not at all what I expected. I thought I would be a nervous wreck. But instead, I feel like I’m a brand new person.
I’m happy, and all I want to do is crawl under the warm covers and dream happy things.
I down the water and carry what’s left of the bottle toward my room, but something stops me before I go inside.
The light in the bathroom at the end of the hall is on, which is odd. Dad never leaves that light on. Is he already up?
I walk down the hallway to let him know I’m home, but as soon as I turn the corner, the water bottle falls from my hand and I scream.
I rush to my father’s side, panic tearing at my heart.
He’s lying on the floor, a large gash on his forehead bleeding a pool of bright red across the tile.
“Daddy?” I say, lifting his head into my lap. “Daddy, can you hear me?”
I lean down and put my cheek against his face, thankful when I feel a rush of warm breath against my skin. I pull the towel from the rack and place it against his wound. It isn’t bleeding too badly, but it’s impossible to tell how long he’s been lying here.
Oh God, the whole time I’ve been with Colton, my father’s just been bleeding on the bathroom floor?
“Daddy,” I say louder, stroking his cheek. His eyes flutter open, but close again. I look around, trying to figure out what happened. He must have fallen and hit his head on the edge of the bathroom counter.
I feel his forehead, checking for fever, but he doesn’t seem to be hot.
My hands are shaking, and I don’t know what to do. He wouldn’t want me to call an ambulance, but I have no idea how long he’s been out or if he has a concussion.
My cell phone is still dead but there’s a cordless in the kitchen, and as much as I hate to leave him, I don’t have any choice.
“I’ll be right back, Daddy,” I say. I rest his head gently on the towel and run to the kitchen for the phone.
Someone is beating on the door, and I dial as I run to open it.
Colton is standing on the front steps, his eyes wild with worry. “I heard you scream,” he says. “What’s wrong?”
I leave the door open as I run back toward the hallway. “It’s my dad,” I say. “I came home and he was passed out in the bathroom. I think he hit his head. I’m calling 9-1-1.”
“I’ll talk to them,” he says, reaching for the phone. “You just sit with your dad.”
I nod, tears now streaming down my face. Dad still hasn’t woken up, and he looks so pale lying there on the floor. I never should have left him here alone when he’s been acting so strange lately.
Guilt weighs heavy on me as I hear Colton telling the 9-1-1 operator our address.
The one night I decide to let loose and have fun and this is what happens? It’s like fate is punishing me for thinking I could ever have any sort of normal life.
I belong here with my father, and he means more to me than anything else in this world. If anything were to ever happen to him, I would never forgive myself.
“They’re sending an ambulance right away,” Colton says. He brings a blanket from the couch in the living room and rests it over my father’s legs. “What in the world happened? Did he slip and fall?”
“I don’t know,” I say, barely able to contain my hysteria. “I have no idea how long he’s been like this. I can’t believe we were out all night while he was just here by himself.”
Colton touches my arm. “It’s not your fault,” he says. “Accidents like this happen. You couldn’t have known he was hurt.”
I pull away faster than I mean to. “I should have checked on him earlier,” I say. “I know he hasn’t been feeling right lately, and I should never have left him alone.”
The sound of sirens in the distance brings fresh tears to my eyes. How could this be happening?
“I’m sure it’s nothing too serious,” he says calmly. “Just a bump on the head. They’ll get him in and check everything out, make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. It’s going to be okay. I can’t see how this would be related to what’s going on with his hands. Arthritis wouldn’t make him fall. Everything’s going to be fine, Jo.”
“How can you know that?” I snap.
I close my eyes and sit down hard against the cold tiles.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” I say. “I’m just scared. I’ve never seen him like this before.”
I don’t want to say it out loud, but there’s a part of me that knows there’s more to this fall than just an accident on the way to the bathroom. He’s been acting strange a lot lately, having a hard time picking things up with his hands or running credit cards at the bar. I’ve seen him trip up and nearly fall a few times in the past couple weeks, and I just dismissed it at the time, but the worry has been there in the back of my mind, brewing.
What if this is really something serious?
I’m shaking so hard, my teeth are chattering. I simply couldn’t handle it if anything happened to my father. He’s everything to me.
Colton sits on the floor in the hallway and places his hand on mine. I keep one hand on the towel pressed against my father’s forehead to stop the bleeding. The gash doesn’t look too bad, but any kind of blow to the head is bad news.
The ambulance can’t get here fast enough, and even though I can hear the sirens wailing, it feels like it’s taking them forever to actually arrive.
When they finally pull up and the flashing lights pulse across the dark hallway, Colton stands and lets them in the front door.
I recognize the paramedic who comes down the hallway. We used to go to school together, and his father is good friends with my dad.
“Josh, thank you so much for coming,” I say. “I don’t know what happened.”
Josh drops his bag in the hall beside the bathroom door. “How long has he been out?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I was caught up in the storm all evening and just got home and found him like this,” I say.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to need you to step out here so I can get into the bathroom and check his vitals,” Josh says.
I nod and wipe the tears from my face with the back of my hand. I carefully step around my father’s body and move to stand beside Colton. He puts his arm around my shoulder, and I lean against him. My knees feel weak and I’m completely unsteady.
Josh checks Dad’s temperature and blood pressure, takes a look at his wound and quickly bandages it up. His partner—a woman I don’t recognize who looks several years older than us—wheels a gurney down the hallway.
“Vital signs are strong, but he’s unresponsive, so I think we need to take him in,” Josh says. “Do you want to come with us in the ambulance or meet us there?
You’ll need to fill out some paperwork at the hospital.”
“I’ll come with you,” I say. I run into my bedroom and grab my purse. I stuff my wallet, keys, and phone into it and grab my hoodie off the back of my desk chair. There’s no time to change clothes.
“I’ll meet you there,” Colton says as they put my father into the ambulance.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just call you this afternoon.”
“I want to be there for you,” he says softly. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
I swipe at my tears and nod. “Thank you,” I say.
I wonder if I should call Knox, but I hate to wake him up this early in the morning. Maybe Colton’s right and this will turn out to be nothing serious. Just a slip and fall, nothing to worry about. He’ll be home by lunch.
I think it like a prayer, trying to convince myself that everything is going to be okay. But in the deepest part of my heart, there’s a nagging terror that says nothing is going to be okay ever again.
Chapter Twenty-One
I ride to the hospital with my father’s hand in mine. He opens his eyes a few times, but closes them again. Even when Josh tries to get him to keep his eyes open, it’s as if the weight of them is just too great.
“Does he have a concussion?” I ask.
“Yes, it appears that he does, but we’re going to do everything we can to keep him awake and get him talking,” he says. “It’s good you found him when you did. I’m pretty sure this happened recently.”
I hear the words he’s saying, but all I can think is that it’s bad I didn’t find him sooner. That I wasn’t with him last night. Knox had told me on the phone that Dad left the bar early because he wasn’t feeling well. I should have made Colton bring me home, even in the rain.
When we get to the hospital, they take my father away to a room to see the doctor, but hold me back so that I can fill out all the insurance forms and information in the waiting room. I hate for him to be out of my sight even for a few minutes, but they assure me they’ll come for me as soon as they can.
