by Karen Booth
“Oh, uh, yes. Sure.”
“You see, this has been a very difficult pregnancy and she’s under a lot of stress right now. These appointments are of paramount importance. We must make sure that the baby is doing well.”
“Of course. You can tell her we can talk tomorrow.”
“I’ll have to see if that works with her schedule. She’ll send you an email. Does that work?”
“Whatever you say. It was wonderful to talk to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You too.” I hung up and put Claire’s phone on the dresser.
“I can’t believe you just did that.” Her mouth was agape, her finger pointing at the cell phone, which was now out of reach. “Seriously. What in the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that you and I need to have a serious heart-to-heart about this job. I can’t sit idly by and be unconditionally supportive when it’s so obvious that the amount of stress you are under right now is not good for you or the baby.” I took a seat next to her. “You two are the most important things in the entire world to me. It’s my job to keep you both safe.”
“Chris, I’m a professional. I can deal with this. If you’re asking me to quit my job, the answer is no. It’s too good an opportunity. It’s a lot right now, but that’s just because of everything going on with my dad.”
“No. This isn’t worse because of your dad. It’s worse because it’s worse. This is a toxic situation. You think that because she gave you a title and said you’d have more control, but you’re more stressed and worried about your work now than ever. It’s too much. I really think it’s too much.”
“You never wanted me to take this job in the first place. Be honest. You didn’t.”
The little voice in my head nagged me. I hadn’t wanted her to take the job. “Okay. Fair enough. I wasn’t thrilled about it. Is that what you want me to say?”
She shook her head. “I knew it. I knew it from the first time I mentioned it. I can’t believe you would be so selfish. My career is important to me. You should understand that as well as anyone.”
“I know that very well. I want you to do whatever it is that you need to do to feel fulfilled. I just don’t think this job is a good choice for our life right now and I don’t think it’s the only thing out there for you. There are lots of things you can do with your writing. I know it.”
“What am I going to do? Go back to freelancing? Be at the mercy of stupid Entertainment Weekly or Rolling Stone or whoever decides to cut my story to bits? Spend my days hustling editors to get the good stories?”
“I’m not suggesting you go back to that. It doesn’t sound like that’s what you want to do.”
“It isn’t what I want to do. At all. I’m tired of it.” She began to cry and I felt as though my heart was being torn out of my chest. “I’m tired of everything right now. I’m stuck in this bed and I can’t do anything. I look like the broad side of a barn. I feel like a mother hen sitting on her eggs.”
“I know it’s hard. I really do.”
“And everything with my dad.” She buried her head in her hands. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if he isn’t able to hold on until the baby is born. I can’t do that again.”
“I know, I know.” More than anything, I longed to tell her that her dad would be fine, that he’d be here to meet the baby and spend time with his new grandchild, but I was certain of no such thing. “The important thing is that whatever happens, we get through it together. It won’t be the way it was when you lost your mum. I’ll be here.”
She looked up at me, lips pursed, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m going to lose him, aren’t I? I’m going to lose him and that will be that. I never will have had the father-daughter relationship I wanted. It’s too late, isn’t it?”
“Come here.” I climbed over her and leaned against the headboard, pulling her into my arms. Her shoulders quaked, she wept quietly. “You and your father have a good relationship, you really do. Don’t get wrapped up in what you thought it was supposed to be like, or comparing yourself to your sister. The reality is that you’re here for him right now and she isn’t. I don’t think you realize how important that is to him.”
“You really think so?” Her voice was nothing more than an unsteady whisper. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“None of us wants to say goodbye. But at least you have the chance to.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Jellybean, does Chris know you’re in here?”
Shit. My dad stood at the door to the nursery, looking in on me as I sat on a pillow on the floor, folding baby clothes. “You’re home early.” Crap. They’re home early. Panicked, I pushed up from the floor, easier said than done. “Is he here?” I knew full well what Chris’s opinion of me being out of bed would be. It wasn’t like I’d been truly stupid and gone out for a run, but that would be no excuse. Chris saw to it that the bed rest order was carried out to the letter of the law, even if it’d been a while since I’d had any spotting.
“No, no. You’re fine. He dropped me off and then he was going to take your car to the Volvo dealership. Sam said it was making a noise.”
I eased back on to the pillow. “How is he going to get home?”
“He worked something out with Bryce.”
“Oh. Okay. That was nice of Bryce.” Being stuck in bed all day long, sometimes it felt as if I didn’t know what was going on in my own house. My car acting up was news to me, but then again, I hadn’t driven it in months. “Will you keep my secret? I can’t sit in that bed all day long. It’s making me nuts. I want to be able to do something to get ready for the baby.”
“Tell you what. Let me help and I won’t say a peep.”
I smiled. We were both as feeble as the other—together, we made a great team. “Deal.”
He toed off his shoes, which surprised me. My dad never took his shoes off in front of other people. It was probably too much like letting his guard down. He sat next to me on the floor. “Put me to work.”
I scooted the laundry basket closer to him. “I’m just folding t-shirts and sleepers and baby socks.”
“Show me how you want this done. I don’t want to be the grandpa who messes this up.”
I laid out one of the t-shirts and showed him my technique—sleeve, sleeve, fold. “One, two, three.” I flipped it over. “Done. Baby t-shirt.”
“I think I can manage that much.” His hands shook as he worked, but he was able to do it almost as neatly as me. Not that I cared. At least we were having this time together.
I’d done everything I could not to stare at him lately, but it was difficult. Another pound lost, the hollows beneath his eyes darker, the shaking on his right side more pronounced. Oddly enough, the other striking feature was that he seemed to smile more. With everything facing him, he was markedly less grumpy than his normal self. Who knew this is what it would take? “How are you feeling today, Dad?”
“Pretty good. Headache was bad this morning, but it’s a little better now. And I’m tired, but that’s every day. I’m used to it.”
“Those pain pills they gave you should take care of the headache.”
“I don’t like to take them unless I really need it. They make me groggy.”
“Dad. There’s no reason for you to suffer.”
“I’m not. I’m fine.” He shook it off as if it was a triviality, fishing a single, tiny white sock from the basket. “Now this is adorable.” He sifted through the laundry until he found a match.
“I know. Right? So teeny tiny.” I stuck out my lower lip as he folded the socks in on each other. “I forget how little everything is. It’s been a while.”
“It certainly has, hasn’t it? I remember when Samantha was this small. She sure brought a ray of sunshine into our lives, didn’t she?”
As if it had happened last week, I could see my dad sitting in the chair in the corner of my hospital room, holding an impossibly small and wrinkly Samantha, smiling at her through tears. He and I had
both been so sad at that time, so torn up over losing my mom, that the pure joy of a baby seemed absurd, as if it wasn’t meant for us. She bound us together. She healed us. She kept us strong when she wasn’t even able to hold up her own head. “She really did.”
“And she’s all grown up now. Such a wonderful young lady.” He nodded and kept folding, as if we were having the most weightless conversation imaginable. “I’m looking forward to her graduation very much. I will be a very proud man that day.”
I had to fight back the tears, choke them down—Sam one step closer to leaving, my dad doing the same but in a very different way, all while the baby was getting bigger and stronger every day. Maybe that was why I was so tired, looking forward to each new day as it carried Chris and me closer to the baby’s arrival, all while dreading where it was taking us with Sam and my dad.
“Are you doing okay with the fact that she hasn’t been around the house as much lately?” I didn’t necessarily want to go down this path, but we were beyond ignoring the elephant in the room, which was so refreshing. The first forty years of our father-daughter relationship had been built on the premise that we should talk about everything except what was truly important.
He nodded and looked at me. “I understand why she doesn’t want to be around me anymore. I’m not the same Grandpa she loves. Frankly, I don’t want her to remember me this way either.”
He’s so sweet. “So you know it’s not just because she wants to spend more time with Bryce.”
“I may be forgetful, but I think I have a pretty good handle on what’s going on around here.”
He’s so strong. “I can’t believe how calm you are about this. You’ve made peace with it, haven’t you?”
“I have and I haven’t. Don’t think I don’t think about it, wonder if I did the right thing by not seeking treatment.”
“Are you regretting your decision?”
“I only regret it because it’s made your sister not want to talk to me, but I can’t live to make Julie happy.” He arched his eyebrows and shrugged. “I tell you what, I look at that picture of me and your mom on our wedding day, the one in my room, and I know that this world isn’t meant for me anymore. That life that I once had, the one that I loved so much, is gone.”
It hit me—exactly what he’d lost the day my mom slipped away. “It makes me so sad to hear that.”
“Don’t be sad. I had seventeen years to try to get over losing your mother. That day never came.” He reached over and patted my knee. “I need to know more than anything that you’ve made peace with this. I know this is difficult for you. I don’t think there’s any question that your mother’s death may have hit you harder than any of us, and that includes me.”
“How can you say that?” What he’d said seemed impossible.
“Let’s just say the timing couldn’t have been any worse for you. You were a young woman and had a little baby, all on your own. You needed your mom and she wasn’t there. I know I was a poor substitute.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks. “No, Dad, you weren’t a poor substitute. Don’t say that. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” I realized then that all of the years that I’d spent butting heads with him didn’t mean we didn’t get along. It was our dynamic. When it came down to it, we’d really needed each other. I took a deep breath. At least I could see this while he was still here. “Dad, this isn’t right. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Ladybug. Really.” He shook his head, laughing quietly. “You’ve been like this since you were a little girl.” He puffed out his chest. “You always had such a strong sense of right and wrong. You certainly never liked seeing the injustices in the world go by without a fight.” He took another t-shirt out of the basket, folded it, and added it to the stack. “Life is the way it’s supposed to be. We don’t get to choose half of what happens, it just happens. It happens when it wants to and how it wants to. If we get hung up on the way things are supposed to be, we’ll never be happy.”
I gripped a bundle of the baby’s socks in my lap. “I don’t want you to go.”
He nodded, seeming resigned. “I don’t want to either, Ladybug, but I’m tired.” He sighed. “Look, enough of this talk. I want you to do something for me.”
“Anything. Anything you want.” With the back of my hand, I wiped the tears from my cheeks.
“You know that I left everything to you and Julie, to split down the middle. Promise me you’ll keep the house in Asheville, at least for a little while. I’d like to know that you and Chris and the baby have a place to get away that’s nearby. Maybe you and Julie can go up there together. Both families. That’d make me happy.”
I nodded. “Sure. Of course.”
“And after I’m gone, there’s a box in the attic that I want you to have. Your sister has no business doing anything with it. It has a project that I started when you were a little girl and I never finished, although I tried very hard to. I think you’re the right person to do something with it.” He cocked his head to the side. “Finish it.”
My forehead crinkled with confusion. “A project? What? Like woodworking?”
“No. Not woodworking.”
A project? My mind scrambled for the sorts of things my dad liked to tackle—putting up shelves and fixing plumbing. “I don’t understand. I’m not exactly handy.”
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one. It’s a cardboard banker’s box. It has my name on the side of it. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what it is?”
“I don’t really like to talk about it. I was never very good at it, even though I really wanted to be.” He took the remaining t-shirt from the basket. “Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done in my life that I never finished. You know I always finish everything.”
Some mystery hobby I never knew about? “Did Mom know about it?”
“She did. She kept pushing me, but I could never see my way through to the end. It’s not an easy thing.”
“This is all way too cloak and dagger, Dad.”
“It is precisely that.” He patted my knee. “You’re the perfect person to finish it. You’re the one with the ability and most importantly, you have the determination. It will take a lot of determination to get it done.”
He’s so damn stubborn. “I still don’t know why you won’t just tell me what it is.”
“Trust me, Ladybug. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Stay in your lane, Chris. Stay awake.
“North Carolina is pretty in the morning.” Graham drummed along to the radio on the dash of my pick-up.
I blinked and yawned. The sun was just now coming up. “How can you be so bloody chipper after taking the red-eye? It destroys me.”
“Unlike you, I have no problem sleeping on the plane. One little sleeping pill and I get my five hours.” He finally stopped the incessant percussion lesson and sat back in his seat. “All I need.”
Bastard. “Right now, all I need is coffee.” We stopped at a local spot with great coffee and even better breakfast, sitting outside on the patio that although it overlooked the parking lot, was pleasant enough.
Graham tucked into his eggs with vigor. “So, we’ll go back to the house and fetch Richard, then on to the studio?”
“Yeah. That’s the plan.” I crunched away at a piece of bacon. “He really wanted to go along. He’s proud of it, which is very cool. He worked hard.”
“It’s nice that you two were able to work on it together.” He slapped me gently on the arm. “Real father-son project, eh?”
“I’m very happy we had a chance to do this, especially after getting off to such a rough start.”
“Hey, remember, you and I were mortal enemies when we met in primary school.”
“Mortal enemies for a week, and that was only because you lied to Mrs. Hammel and told her that I’d thrown that spitball.”<
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“I was just protecting myself. I seem to remember you got your revenge in the schoolyard the next day.”
I grinned and nodded—more than thirty years later and I still felt a swell of pride at the moment I’d decked Graham. We were best mates two days later. “That I did, didn’t I?”
“I’ve been trying to get even ever since.” He took a sip of his coffee. “How’s Richard doing, anyway?”
“He’s hanging in there. It’s Claire who’s having a harder time with it. She’s physically miserable, she and Sam are squabbling, and she’s still struggling with her new job, which is making me barmy. I wish she’d just quit. It’s not going to work, but she has a very hard time quitting anything.”
“You have to admire that.”
I blew out a breath. “I do.”
The two women sitting at the next table had been looking at us off and on during breakfast, but now one of them had apparently become emboldened enough to ask the question. “Are you?” She pointed at Graham then at me. “Graham and Christopher? From Banks Forest?”
Luckily, in this scenario, Graham liked to take charge. “We are indeed, dear. Can I sign something for you?”
She scrounged in her purse, producing a crumpled piece of paper and a pen. “That would be so awesome. Thank you so much.”
“What’s your name?”
“Kim.” She nodded, smiling, her long blonde curls reminding me of Sam.
Graham signed the paper, taking up the majority of the available space, then handed it to me. “We’re going to be recording a new album very soon.”
“You are? That’s so amazing. I’d heard some people say that Christopher had moved here, but that sounded a little crazy.”
“Crazier things have happened.” I handed her the paper.
She held it up in victory. “Thank you so much.”
Graham watched her walk away, then turned back to me. “So, do you think we’ll be able to sit down and look at the calendar today? Now that the studio is done, I’d like to be able to block out our recording time. I’m having dinner with Terence in New York tomorrow night. Would be great if I could let him know what we’re looking at.”
