33. Jess
Jess stepped into the hallway and Glory slipped past her, on her way to join her sisters in the waiting room.
A nurse with pretty lavender scrubs and sympathetic eyes stepped forward to greet Jess.
“Hello, Mrs. Steele,” the nurse said kindly. “I’m Tina. I’m so very sorry for what your family is going through.”
“Thank you, Tina,” Jess said.
“I’m going to bring you into Mr. Steele’s room,” Tina went on. “He can’t speak, but he can hear you just fine. We have him on plenty of painkillers, so he isn’t suffering.”
“Thank you, for telling me,” Jess said, willing herself to be brave.
She willed herself not to look at Silas as she was led into the room, because she was afraid she would break down in front of the nurse. But the moment she stepped inside, her eyes went right to his. Silas gazed back at her in perfect stillness. His face was serene, but his brown eyes were filled with bottomless sorrow.
“Hello, Silas,” she said softly, moving to the chair by his bedside. “I’m glad to see you.”
Her husband made no attempt to speak, but his eyes followed her every movement.
She sat and reached for his hand. His skin was papery thin, but his hand was still larger than hers, and warmer than she’d expected.
Silas closed his eyes, and she wasn’t sure if he was happy or if he was just resting. She took the opportunity to take him in fully.
His once strong frame was narrow and thin and there were hollows under his eyes. A drip that she thought must be for pain relief was hooked into a line in his hand.
All her adult life she had loved and looked up to this man, who loved her back and protected her in return. Seeing him so helpless ripped her chest with pain in a way that even his leaving hadn’t.
When she looked back at his face again, he was gazing at her once more.
“I guess you’re thinking I must have something to say about all this,” Jess said, her voice breaking a little. “Well, you’re right.”
But the words wouldn’t come.
Silas blinked, his eyes pleading.
Jess touched the sea glass necklace that she wore and felt a little bit of Mary’s strength, like a long-distance hug.
“What you did was unforgivable,” Jess said simply. “Of course it would have been hard for me to see you sick, but it’s what I vowed, in sickness and in health. That promise meant something to me, and you made me break it.”
His lips moved, but no sound came out.
“I would have treasured every moment with you, but you didn’t have faith in me that I had the strength,” she told him, stray tears escaping in spite of herself. “It was my privilege to be by your side, as your wife. You took that from me, Silas Steele. And that’s unforgivable.”
He glanced down, but not before she saw that his eyes were misty.
“But I forgive you anyway,” she told him, realizing suddenly that she meant it.
His eyes met hers again, and his mouth quirked without quite managing to smile. But there was the ghost of a squeeze of his dry hand around hers, and she knew that he understood he had been forgiven.
“I loved you from the moment we met,” she told him honestly. “I loved your overgrown rhododendrons and your darkness as much as you loved my light. And we have the most amazing daughters. You leaving brought the rest of us closer than ever, so I guess that’s the silver lining to all this.”
She told him about Driftwood Key for a little while, how the girls had all wound up there with her, and how nice it was to work in the flower shop and have a bonfire on the beach with the girls, or sit around the dinner table at Mary’s house.
He closed his eyes again, and this time she knew he was at peace.
“I know the girls want to see you too,” she told him softly. “Be ready for them to give you a piece of their mind first though, just like I did.”
He opened his eyes again, taking her in like he was trying to memorize her one last time.
“I’ll give them a few minutes with you, and then I’ll be back,” she promised him, bending to press her lips lightly to his forehead.
She managed to get out of the room and back to the waiting room before the tears came fast and hard.
“Are you okay?” Liberty asked, grabbing her by the shoulders.
“Yes,” Jess said. “Of course. You all can go in now.”
The girls all looked to each other, then moved as one toward Silas’s room.
“Glory, wait,” Jess managed, grabbing her youngest’s arm.
“Yes?” Glory asked.
“I already told him he messed up,” Jess said, managing a half smile. “You can still say it if you want, but I thought you should know you don’t have to unless you want to. He knows.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Glory said.
There were tears in Glory’s eyes now, and Jess felt a pang, wondering if they were for her father after all.
Jess patted her back and watched the three girls head into the room together, feeling suddenly alone.
As if on cue, Everett moved beside her and took her hand.
He stood quietly, a calm presence, the squeeze of his hand so strong and vital compared to his brother’s.