And Haley needed that discussion. She felt uncharacteristically uncertain. It wasn’t just hormones. She had mixed feelings about the job prospect in Illinois. It was a great opportunity and a dream come true in many ways. It sounded ideal. On the other hand, she liked the team at this hospital and felt at home in Queens. It was her space and her life, such as it was. No matter how she looked at it, joining the rest of her family felt like a surrender of her independence, or maybe even of her identity. Her mom was sure of Haley’s ultimate decision, but her mom’s conviction that Haley had very little to leave behind in New York rubbed the wrong way.
She didn’t like that Garrett had interfered at all in the process. It was a bit disconcerting to find that she didn’t admire him as much as she’d believed she had, and she certainly didn’t love him anymore. She felt as if the North Pole had suddenly moved.
If she took the job, it would be for the job.
Not long ago, that would have been a good enough reason.
Haley felt that Queens was home, even though it had only become home in the last decade. She certainly didn’t have deep connections in the neighborhood. She worked a lot. She had a rescue cat and an almost empty apartment.
But it was her life and that had to count for something.
She couldn’t bear the possibility of never catching a glimpse of Damon again. She knew she had to talk to him about the baby if there was one, but decided to duck the issue until she knew for sure. Taking the job in Illinois would eliminate any future possibilities with him. Even though Haley doubted they had any chance of a future, she didn’t want to make a final, irrevocable choice.
Maybe she was more of a romantic than she’d realized.
On Saturday morning, Haley rode the subway downtown and walked the last few blocks, like she always did, because she couldn’t bring herself to take the subway all the way into that station. It was a clear cold day and she was glad she’d wrapped the rose in clear plastic. It was in a plastic vial with water and still looked good.
A lump rose in her throat as she approached the memorial, just the way it always did, and she walked all the way around once, just the way she always did. She tipped her head back and looked up at the sky, where the towers used to be, then looked down into the darkest hole of the memorial where they had ended up. She swallowed and made her way down one side to the place she’d come to visit.
She remembered the names that meant she was getting close. She murmured them under her breath, then moved to walk closer to the edge. She took off her glove and trailed her fingertip along the cold lip of the memorial for the last ten feet.
And there it was.
Her father’s name, carved into the stone.
Every year, a part of her wished that she would find his name gone. She imagined that it could be like a movie, that she would discover a gap where his name had been, then turn around in shock, only to find her father behind her, watching. His arms would be folded across his chest; there’d be love shining in his eyes and a smile upon his lips. She’d cry out with joy and run to him and he’d lift her high, swinging her around even as he complained that she’d become so much bigger. Then she’d hug him so tightly that she might never let go, smell his skin, feel his warmth. She’d lay her cheek against his chest, the way she’d done when she was a little girl, and she’d hear his heart pounding beneath her ear.
But her dad’s heart didn’t pound anymore.
And, just like all the other years, his name was right where she remembered it.
Haley traced the letters with her fingertip and cried silently, just the way she always did. She cried because he was gone. She cried because he had died doing what he loved and what he believed to be right. She cried because there were so many things she wished she’d told him, and so many things she would have loved to have been able to tell him since his death. She cried because her most vivid memory of her father always came to her right before she found his name, on this place, on his birthday. She felt his presence strongest here, so strongly that if she closed her eyes, she could imagine that he was standing beside her, listening.
Could she bear to surrender that?
And so, just like every other year, Haley leaned against the stone, tracing his name repeatedly with one fingertip, and talked to her dad.
Damon almost didn’t see Haley.
It was crowded at the memorial that Saturday, probably because of the day of the week and also because of the good weather. He assumed she’d be at the place where her father’s name was engraved, but didn’t look up the surname Slater to discover where that might be. Instead, he walked around the perimeter of the memorial, feeling its effect as he had every other time he’d visited. He was three quarters of the way around when he saw her.
She clutched the rose in one hand, and was rubbing the stone with the other. She’d taken off her glove and he could see that her skin was red with the cold. She was crying, too, oblivious to everyone around her.
He watched her for a long moment, his own heart breaking to see her so upset. He couldn’t fix anything and he thought for a moment that it might be better just to leave her to her grief. Then he remembered his dad’s advice about sharing energy and giving strength to others to help them heal. Damon figured Haley might need some of his.
He walked toward her slowly, not wanting to startle her.
She didn’t even look up until he was right beside her, then she was startled. She blinked in surprise, as if she thought her eyes deceived her. She’d had a good cry, because her eyes were red and puffy. “Damon?”
“Hi.” He offered the long-stemmed red rose he’d brought, packed in clear plastic and tipped with a vial of water. “I thought you might need another one.”
“But how did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t. I guessed.”
“But how?”
“They said there was only one day you wouldn’t take a shift for anyone else. I figured it had to be a special day for you. I wondered if it might be your dad’s birthday.”
She nodded and teared up again, then fished in her jacket pocket for a tissue. She blew her nose, watching him. “So, why did you come?”
She hadn’t taken the rose.
“Because I owe you an apology, again, and because I wanted to thank you.” He had a wrapped gift in his messenger bag for her, so indicated the bag. “A different kind of thank-you.” He eyed her, wondering what she was thinking and why she hesitated, but to his relief, she finally accepted the rose.
She studied it, avoiding his gaze, but at least she didn’t turn away.
“Thanks for pushing me to arrange the service,” Damon said, reassured when Haley stole a glance at him. “People were so kind and it helped.”
“I’m glad.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out and invite you.”
“I was out of town.”
Damon nodded. “I have all this energy from the service for my mom, and I thought you might need some.” He took off his glove and offered his hand to her.
Haley hesitated only a second before she put her hand in his.
“You’re cold,” he chided, then gathered her into his arms. Haley didn’t fight him, just curled against him, her hands and the roses between them. He felt her shiver. “You’re really cold.”