“What are… you doing? Why are… you here?”
Every word is labored as if he’s running a marathon while speaking.
Tag steps behind me. “Ben, this is your daughter, Amber. You remember Amber. She’s been telling us all about the wonderful trips you took together.”
“No daughter…”
My eyes close. I don’t know why I was expecting this visit to be any different.
“Benji?” Dad says.
I open my eyes. Dad is staring at Quinn, who’s still in the doorway.
“Dad, that’s Quinn.”
A tear rolls down Dad’s cheek. “Benji. Come… here.”
Quinn is completely confused. Tag leans down next to my ear. “It can’t hurt,” he says. “He’s dying, Amber. Why not let him have this?”
I nod. Tag asks Quinn to come stand by the bed. He does, although reluctantly.
“My… boy,” Dad says. “So… big.”
Quinn locks eyes with me. “It’s okay,” I say.
Dad reaches out for him. Quinn gives him his hand. Dad holds on to it like I hoped he’d hold mine. “Where… mother?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” Quinn says.
“You… stay.”
“Yes. I’ll stay.”
“Good… boy.”
He drops Quinn’s hand and goes still. I cover my mouth. “Is he?”
Tag touches him. “No. He fell asleep.”
I get up and run out of the room. I lean against a wall and let the tears flow. Both men follow. “I thought maybe he’d remember me,” I say. Quinn hands me a tissue, and I explain what just happened. “Before my parents adopted me, they tried for ten years to have a child. Five years into it, they got pregnant and had a boy. They named him Benji. He died in his crib at five months old.”
“Does he mistake you for Benji?” he asks Tag.
Tag shakes his head.
“As far as I know, that’s the first time it’s happened. Maybe that means…” I gaze back at his room and swallow a lump.
Luis approaches. “You need a break. I’ll sit with him if you want to get a bite to eat.”
“You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Quinn says. “It’s nearly four.”
I ask Luis, “You’ll come get me if anything happens?”
“Of course.”
In the cafeteria, I sit and stare at my mostly uneaten food while Tag and Quinn bond over more talk of baseball. I peruse the other tables, wondering if anyone else is here to say goodbye to a loved one.
“Tell me about this town,” Quinn asks. “You’re a Calloway and this is Calloway Creek. What’s the story? All Amber has told me is that your family doesn’t own the town.”
“No, that would be the McQuaids,” Tag says. “Or they think they own it anyway. Nobody does, not since it became incorporated. But back in the mid-1800s, it was called McQuaid Plat. It was named after my great-great-great grandfather’s best friend, Lloyd McQuaid, who plotted and recorded it in 1867. Then in 1879, he lost a poker bet to his friend and my ancestor, Samuel Calloway. Samuel got to rename the town.”
Quinn laughs. “That’s one hell of a bet.”
“It was.”
“Ms. Black?” Luis says from the entrance. “Come with me, please.”
I run over. “Is he?”
“Not yet. But he’s close. If you have anything to say to him, now would be the time.”
Tag and Quinn flank my sides as I walk back to his room. He’s sitting up more than he was earlier, and he’s staring out the window. I don’t cross the threshold. How do I say goodbye to a man who doesn’t even recognize me?
I clear my throat, and his head turns. I immediately notice he looks younger than he did just an hour ago. And something in his eyes—they seem clearer. “Amber,” he mumbles.
“Did he say my name?” I ask Luis.
“He did indeed.”
“But, how?”
He smiles. “It’s called terminal lucidity. It doesn’t happen to all hospice patients, but I’ve seen it before. It usually happens right before they pass. It could last a minute or an hour.”
“Daddy?”
I race to his bedside and kiss his forehead. And for the first time in forever, he lets me.
“Sweet… Amber.”
He gently squeezes my hand. He looks upon me like he used to when I was young and he would come home after a long shift, happy to see me. I can’t believe the gift I’ve been given. I have my dad back. I know this means he’s going, but I also know this is a moment I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.
Chapter Fifteen
Quinn
The look on her face is everything. Her dad recognizes her, and though I feel like an intruder of sorts, I’m honored to be a witness to this moment.
They share hugs and smiles and words. His breathing becomes more labored the more he tries to talk.
“Shh, Daddy,” she says, adjusting his mask. “It’s okay. I know what you want to say. You love me. I love you too.”
He becomes quiet and gazes back out the window. He’s doing that a lot. He pulls his mask down. A look of surprise comes over him, and a smile brightens his entire face. “Julie… Benji.”
Amber glances over her shoulder at the window behind her. There’s nothing there, of course.
“You see Mom and Benji? They’re waiting for you, Daddy. It’s okay. You can go to them. I’ll be all right. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He reaches up to touch her cheek, then his hand falls limp onto the bed. The machine next to him starts beeping. Luis steps around the bed and turns it off. Amber slumps onto her father’s chest and cries. The urge to go to her has never been stronger. I want so much to comfort her, but I know it’s not my place.
Tag gives me a push forward. He nods to her. His permission is all I need. I go over and put my hand on her shoulder. She stands and leans into my arms. I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to love and lose a parent. I know her life hasn’t been ideal, but at least she’s had him, even if only for small segments of time.
Amber pulls away, leans down to kiss his cheek, and then leaves the room. A woman at the nurses’ station informs her about paperwork that needs signing. She talks with her for a minute and then turns. “I’m ready to go home now.”
On our way out of the facility, Amber sees Piper sitting on a bench. Piper stands. “Quinn called me last night. Amber, I’m so sorry about your dad.”
The two women walk toward each other. For a moment, I think they might embrace, but Amber hesitates and disappointment spreads across Piper’s face.
Piper follows us back to Amber’s house. Well, it’s her dad’s house, but ever since he got diagnosed, she’s lived here. It’s a modest home. Not one you’d expect a heart surgeon to own. Then again, Amber told me he wasn’t the typical surgeon. It makes me wonder how he left her financially. I imagine the memory care place was super expensive. Will she have to sell the house to pay the bill?
Hours later, Amber picks at the dinner Piper prepared. She glances around the dining room. “I’ve lived here for a while without him, so why does it only seem empty now?”