Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
JADEN
‘Nyla?’ The emergency coordinator turns to his computer with a frown. ‘Let me check.’
I lean against the counter, push myself off again, run my hands through my hair, massage my neck, bite my tongue.
‘She doesn’t start until four today,’ he says what feels like an eternity later.
‘So she’s not here.’ Damn, where the hell is she?
‘Well, we’re in Canada, not in Europe, so… no, she’s not here.’ He studies me intently. ‘Are you okay? You seem kind of… I don’t know…’
‘I’m great, thanks, I have to go.’ Find Nyla and tell her that I’ve finally figured it out. I raise my hand, my shoulder hurts. ‘See you.’
On my way out, my thoughts are on a roller coaster. Nyla wasn’t home and I didn’t run into any of her roommates either. She’s not at Halifax Harbor Hospital, either.
Where could I look next?
As I’ve done so often in the last hour, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial her number.
She doesn’t pick up.
Not again.
Does she not want to talk to me? Or can’t she?
Only when I step outside do I notice that it’s started to rain. I shove the phone back into my jeans, and at that moment it rings.
Thank God!
I answer the call hastily. ‘Nyla, finally! Where are you?’
‘Hello?’ a male voice asks. ‘Am I speaking to Jaden Reynolds?’
It takes me a moment to understand that it isn’t Nyla on the other end of the line.
Pressing the phone to my ear, I cross the forecourt of the clinic. ‘Yeah, that’s me.’
The man clears his throat. ‘I’m calling about the property you’re selling. It’s exactly what I’m looking for, I just have a few questions that I…’
‘The house isn’t for sale anymore,’ I say, even though I haven’t actually thought about it yet. Still, it feels good to say the words. Right.
I’m going to keep it. It’s part of this life that can still come true. If Nyla still wants me.
‘You’ve already found a buyer?’ Even though the rain is drumming harder and harder on the asphalt, I can hear the caller’s disappointment. ‘If the contract hasn’t been signed yet, I’d like to make an offer. One you definitely won’t be able to refuse.’
‘Sorry, you’re too late,’ I say quickly and get into the car. The man thanks me and says goodbye while I start the engine.
‘Where are you, Nyla?’ I murmur, switch on the windshield wipers, and look around. ‘What are you doing?’
Damn, she could be anywhere.
All churned up inside, I think about where I should look next while the rain beats louder and louder against the windshield. The sound reminds me of that one day when Nyla and I danced in the rain. Right here, where I’m parked now, unsure which direction I should drive.
I could catch a cold. Why should I risk that? she asked me when I reached out my hand to her, inviting her to leave her dry spot under the awning.
She didn’t want to get wet, not for anything. So whatever Nyla has been doing until now, the weather will drive her home.
I’ll wait for her there, but first I should swing by Camee’s house to take down the sign before I have to turn away even more interested buyers.
Twenty-five minutes later I pull up behind a van that’s blocking the parking space in front of the house. It’s still pouring with rain; I pull my jacket over my head and get out.
I only take a few steps before I stop short.
The nettles that were still lining the paving stones yesterday are gone. So is the thornbush on the left side of the house, and the offshoots of the hedge that had reached far into the garden.
I tear the now-soaked For Sale sign off the chair and step onto the property. There I discover garbage bags stuffed with garden waste and a pile of gathered branches.
Confused, I let my arms drop. The hood that has so far protected me from the rain slips down. My hair is instantly soaked, raindrops running down my face.
And then I see her. Kneeling in the pouring rain on the crooked patio slabs, a bucket beside her, into which she is collecting moss that she is painstakingly scraping out of the gaps. Her arms are scratched and smeared with dirt, her cheeks are glowing.
I step up beside her. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
She doesn’t start, just freezes for a moment and then slowly lifts her head to look at me. Our eyes meet. ‘I’m creating Lilly’s garden.’
‘In this weather? Why?’
A smile flashes across her beautiful face. ‘Because it’s what we wanted to do.’
Yes, we did, but that was before… Distracted, I look around, still not understanding.
Now she gets up and wipes her hands on her soaking wet trousers. Then she fixes her eyes on me. ‘I’m not going to force you to let them examine you,’ she says, blinking hard. ‘But I’m also not going to stop holding on to what we promised each other.’
‘Day by day. Moment by moment.’ That’s what she means, and I still remember exactly what she said after that.
We can stop at any time, walk away, try again, hang in there, celebrate small victories, fail, get back up again.
Today, just like back then, I can feel the power of her words, the courage and the hope they carry within them. But I can also feel that they no longer mean the same as they did on the day when Nyla found Camee’s bucket list.
For me, it’s no longer about not committing to something. I no longer need the reassurance that I can stop or walk away or fail. Instead, I want to hang in there, celebrate small victories, and stand up for what means the world to me.
‘Step by step,’ she says meaningfully.
I think of Lilly and Brian, of what the two of them have lost, and then I think of my fear.
That damned fear that I might be ill. And also that the illness could do the same thing to me that it did to my Camee. That I might never leave the clinic again once I’m in there. That I might only be able to imagine life beyond the windowpanes, but no longer take part in it.
And that’s when I realise why I so vehemently rejected Nyla’s words during our argument in the treatment room. Why I couldn’t bear them and what that led to.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, reaching for her hands. ‘I was blind and deaf and didn’t want to… I couldn’t…’
She nods knowingly. ‘The worst part is the fear.’
‘Yeah, but it wasn’t the fear of the illness.’ Or of having to relive Lilly’s last months. ‘Not the fear of the pain, the nausea, the weakness.’
Her fingers intertwine with mine, her expression turning wistful.
‘It was the fear of having to say goodbye to you.’ Which is completely insane and makes no sense at all, but that’s how it was, and now I can finally admit it to myself. ‘It was…’
‘…it was so big that you thought saying goodbye right away to get rid of it would be the only right thing to do,’ she finishes my sentence and steps closer. ‘You knew I would insist on the exam.’
Yeah, I knew that, but not just that. ‘And also that it would end in a fight if I didn’t give in.’
‘That would let you banish me from your life,’ she completes the thought.
My God, how could I have been such an idiot?
Raindrops run down her face, just like they do down mine. I stroke across her forehead, then on to her temples, over her burning cheeks to her lips, which are trembling violently.
‘If there’s a chance…’ My voice breaks. ‘If there’s a chance, I want to believe in it.’
She kisses first the tips, then the knuckles of my fingers. ‘Let’s find out.’
I nod meaningfully and can no longer understand how I ever could have believed that a short life without her would be better than a long one with her, one I had never dared hope for.
Carefully, I wrap my arms around her. ‘Let’s find out,’ I confirm. ‘As soon as possible.’
Hardly have I spoken the words when the sun rises in her face. It is a radiance full of longing. Absolutely everything about her captivates me: the large eyes, the delicate cheekbones, the perfectly curved lips on which a drop is hanging.
She looks just like she did back then, when we danced together in the rain in front of the clinic. ‘Do you remember how we…’
All at once she starts to hum, and that is answer enough. I rock her gently back and forth.
Together we turn in circles, our eyes fixed on each other, moving bit by bit through the garden. Raindrops bead on her skin, gather on her brows, trace the path of her laugh lines.
In her gaze there is nothing but love.
In my chest, the past, the future, and this one moment that will belong to us, whatever may come.
I lean down to her, she rises onto her tiptoes. The garden around us blurs into a wild blend of greens; I no longer feel the rain.
Gently, I press my lips to hers, kissing her as if I were making her a promise.
The two of us.
Day by day. Step by step. Moment by moment.
She kisses me back, passionate, intense, full of longing, and deep inside I feel what this kiss means: that we will go on together, no matter how long or short our path may be.
That neither of us will ever give up as long as there is hope.
And that we will hold on to each other, no matter what happens.