From the corner of my eye I see Sam swipe quickly at her eyes. I act like I didn’t see it.
“And I remember while he was telling me all this, you started to cry. Oh my stars! You were so loud that I could hear you plumb through the phone. They cleaned you up while he talked to me, and then he put me on speaker so I could talk to your mom. She was so tired, exhausted after giving birth to you, but she was so happy. So happy. And so was your dad.”
“He thought I would be a boy? They named me Sam anyway.”
“Yep. Your dad said he’d been calling you Sam in his head for so long that he couldn’t think of you as anything else. He used to sing to your mom’s tummy, and he talked to you all the time. So they named you Samantha instead of Samuel.”
“My mom called me Sammy.”
“Yeah, but she was the only one who did. To your dad, you’ve always been Sam.” I suck in a breath and let it out in one big sigh. “Anyway,” I say loudly, “your dad loved you even before you were born, and he loves you now. He’s never stopped loving you and he never will.”
“He’s going to die. Just like my mom.”
There’s no emotion in her voice. And that breaks my heart.
“Yes. He will.”
“Did you know already?” She gives me a look that is so much like Lynda that it hurts.
“I found out about ten minutes before you did.” Which still pisses me off, but it is what it is. “Your sister doesn’t know yet.”
Sam stares at the lake again. “She’s only six.”
“Right. But it was important to your dad that he tell you first. He wanted you to know.” I have no idea what he was thinking, but it sounds right. “He wanted to explain it in a way that you could understand.”
“I don’t want him to die.” There’s a tiny quaver in her voice now.
I force out a chuckle that I don’t feel. “I don’t think he wants to either. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if he could change it, he would.”
She bats at a gnat that keeps trying to fly up her nose. I recognize it as an excuse to show annoyance, to mask the frustrated huff and snuffle. “I was pretty mean to him just now.”
“He’ll get over it. He’s probably already over it.” In fact, he’s probably waiting at home for her, anxiously trying to figure out what the hell he’s going to say to her.
“I should probably go tell him I’m sorry.”
“Probably.”
She looks up at me. “Do you think he’ll be mad?”
“No, sweetie. I don’t think he’ll be mad at all.” If he is, I’ll kill him. “Are you ready to go home now?”
She nods.
“Good, because there’s a snake over there.” I point to the bushes right next to us. She jumps up and walks as quickly as she safely can back down the dock toward the shore. I follow.
At the last minute, she turns to me. “What’s going to happen to us?” she asks. My heart breaks all over again for this child who suddenly has to grow up through no fault of her own. “Where will we live?”
And I know in that moment exactly where they’ll live. It’s clear as crystal. I know who will love and care for them because no one can do it as well, as completely, and as truly as I can.
I slip an arm gently around her shoulders. Her fragile shoulders that are expected to bear a burden that would crush an adult. “We’ll have to talk to your dad about that. But no matter what, no matter what, you will be loved and taken care of, all of you. I promise.”
She nods. Then she gets on her bike and rides back toward the cabin. I follow, wondering how my heart still has room to beat inside my chest. It feels so much larger somehow.
We find Aaron and Eli sitting quietly on Aaron’s front porch. Sam rides right up to the porch, hops off the bike, and lets it fall unheeded on its side in the grass. I watch as Sam runs up the steps and straight into her father’s arms. He holds her tightly against him and over her head he mouths the words “Thank you” at me. I give him a single nod, and they turn and go inside together, closing the door behind them.
Eli picks up the bike she dropped and turns to push it back home. I get off my bike and Eli and I walk silently together to put the bikes up. He doesn’t say a word. We walk all the way into the cabin, and he says nothing.
“Eli…” I say, and my voice sounds like a croak. And he still says nothing, but he turns and opens his arms to me, and I fall into them. He holds me close as I finally cry. I’ve held it in for so long. It needs to come out. So I give in and let the flood happen. And through it all, he only makes tiny little shushing sounds. He holds me tight and he doesn’t let me go. Not once for the whole time does he let me go. And as soon as I can talk coherently through my sobbing, I tell him.
“I’m tired of hating you, Eli.”
“I’m kind of tired of being hated,” he replies with a little chuckle.
And when we go to bed, he pulls me into his arms, and I hold him tight. “Is this okay?” I ask him.
“It’s okay, Bess,” he says quietly. And he kisses my forehead, turns out the light, and he lets me hold him. That’s something I haven’t done in a really long time.
I fall asleep pressed against him, and I sleep harder and deeper than I’ve slept in ages.
30
Eli
I wake up the next morning to the sound of running water. Bess is in the shower, and the door is cracked enough that I can hear the water hitting the shower curtain. Years ago, Bess would sing when she showered. I remember how I used to tease her about it, but she never stopped. Then one day, either she stopped singing or I stopped noticing she was singing, because I haven’t heard it in a long time.
But over the spray of the water, I hear the faint hum of her voice. Bess is singing in the shower.
The water turns off, and I sit up in the bed. Bess pokes her head into the room. She has a towel wrapped turban-style around her hair, and another is wrapped around and tucked between her breasts. “You’re up,” she says, her face bright and shiny with no makeup. Her cheeks are rosy from the warmth of the shower, and her skin is dewy from the water. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay.” I swing my feet over the side of the bed and look at my watch. “Are you going with Aaron today?”
She shakes her head. “He texted me and said he wanted to take Sam with him instead. He wants her to have an opportunity to ask any questions she wants to ask of the doctor.” She shrugs. “I still wanted to go, but he said it would be best if it was just the two of them.”
“She needs this time with her dad,” I remind her. No matter how involved Bess wants to be, Aaron is Sam’s father, and she needs to be as involved in this process as she can be. It’ll help to ease some of the pain later on, if she feels like she’s a participant rather than an observer.
“Hey Eli,” Bess says, and her cheeks color prettily. “Can you close your eyes so I can get my clothes?”
I grin. “Make me.”
She laughs lightly and says, “Please.”
So I make a show of closing my eyes and covering them with my hand.