CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The call came on the night my residency was completed.
I’d gone out with my co-workers to celebrate at our favorite restaurant and bar in Baltimore.
I’d gotten more on the drunk side of tipsy.
We’d laughed and walked down the sidewalk under the starry sky and full moon.
We’d shared stories of a year full of memories.
And what a year it had been. I’d learned a ton. I’d lost patients and cried in broom closets so no one would see. I’d made friendships that felt as if they’d last a lifetime. I’d dated. I’d remembered who I was.
I didn’t need Tim. He wasn’t good for me. Not as a romantic partner anyway. But as a friend? I missed him desperately. There were a hundred things I wanted to tell him on an almost daily basis. I’d tried to push those feelings down.
But they’d never gone away.
The hurt hadn’t gone away, either, but it had lessened. It had helped that several men had wanted to date me—successful, good-looking men. The kind of men who knew how to treat women, and they’d made me feel desirable again. Wanted. Appreciated.
It had been a balm to my spirit, my soul, and my ego all at once.
My roommate and I had laughed all the way up the stairs to our apartment in the city center. We’d been continuing our celebration, opening a bottle of wine as soon as we got inside. We enjoyed it on the balcony that overlooked the still busy streets down below us.
And my phone had rung with a number I didn’t recognize. I let it go to voicemail, and I didn’t even think about checking it until it rang again. And then again.
That’s when I started to get a strange sense of foreboding. I answered.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Martin?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Natalie Martin?”
I frowned. “Yes—who’s this?”
“Sorry. My name is Lark Hansbury. I’m your father’s… nurse. I—well, I hate to do this over the phone, but your father is very ill.”
I sat my glass of wine down on the wrought iron patio table with a distinct clink. “What? I don’t understand.”
I’d been more in touch with my father than I’d ever been before. We’d started calling each other at least weekly if not more often. We texted almost daily. And now I was hearing he was sick?
“Your father didn’t want to tell you, and he made us promise not to tell you until there was no alternative.”
What the hell? I was suddenly very, very sober. “What’s wrong with him?”
My roommate looked very concerned and mouthed “what’s wrong?” to me.
I held up a hand to her.
“Your father has stage four melanoma. He’s… well, he’s being admitted to hospice next week.”
I felt dizzy. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
She was quiet for a minute. “He didn’t want you to come home and mess up your opportunity at Johns Hopkins. He’s very proud of you.”
I closed my eyes. He was proud of me.
He was dying.
“What’s his prognosis?”
“The doctor gives him anywhere from six months to a year, but he’s gone downhill quickly in the past couple of weeks. My personal feeling is that he might not have that long.”
I nodded then realized she couldn’t see me.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll make arrangements to come home. I’ll be there as soon as possible. I have to get packed up.”
“Oh, don’t leave your residency…”
“I actually finished today.”
“Today?”
“Yes.” The timing wasn’t lost on me. He’d somehow managed to hold up until I was finished. People were incredible. “Thank you for calling, Ms. Hansbury.”
“Of course. I look forward to meeting you.”
I hung up and turned to my roommate. “You remember how I couldn’t decide which job offer I was going to take?”
She nodded, her eyes wide.
“Well, the decision just got made for me. I guess I’m going home to Indigo Falls. I’ll be accepting the position at Halliwell Hospital.”
She smiled sadly. “Not here, huh?”
“No. I’m sorry. I would’ve liked to stay, but…”
“I heard. I’m so sorry about your dad.”
I nodded, fighting back tears. It was funny. I’d felt so distant from him all the years I lived under the same roof with him. It took me moving hours and hours away for us to develop a connection.
And now he was dying.
***
The next week was insane. I accepted the job in Halliwell, glad that it was so close to Indigo Falls. I’d be able to see Dad a lot and still get adjusted to my new job.
I packed up all my things, said goodbye to all my friends, rented a small U-Haul and headed out of Baltimore.
Anne and Gilbert were chilling out in their travel tank.
These tortoises had been everywhere with me, and they’d given me a sense of home no matter how out of my element I’d felt at different times in my life.
After the job offers I’d received from prestigious hospitals up and down the East Coast, I never expected to be going back to my hometown.
But that’s what happened. Life has a funny way of putting circumstances in your way that you can’t really turn away from.
I moved back into my dad’s house. I stayed in my old room. I wondered if Anne and Gilbert felt like they were back home. I… didn’t. I felt kind of lost. I walked around the empty house, shocked at the changes.
Dad had packed everything up. He’d gotten rid of almost everything but kept several boxes worth of things he must’ve thought I’d want. Most of it was my mother’s. Very little of his belongings were left.
He’d left a folder on the island in the kitchen.
There were important documents inside, like the deed to the house, the deed to his car, his life insurance policy, his bank account information, his retirement investment portfolio, and a living will.
I closed it, disappointed that he hadn’t written a note or anything, but then realized there was a sealed envelope under the folder.
Natalie,
I’m sorry for not telling you I was sick.
I kept thinking I’d beat it, but it kept coming back.
Then it spread to my lymph nodes, and that was pretty much it.
I knew my time was short. I owe you so much more than what you got from me.
I know it’s not a good excuse, but when we buried your mother part of me went with her.
I was just never the same again. With her support, I was a good father. Without her, I floundered. Terribly. You deserved better, Nat, and I’m so very sorry for that. It’s the biggest regret of my life. But something inside me just broke when she died.
I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger for you.
I want you to know that I’ve always been proud of you. You flourished, even without a strong support at home. I’m thankful for the Summers family for treating you like one of their own. Lean on them in the coming months. You’ll need someone.
As you can see, I’ve left you everything, of course.
I sent many things to Goodwill but kept anything I thought you might want.
It’s packed in a way that will make it easy for you to keep or donate.
Whatever you decide is fine. Look through the portfolio.
The house is yours. It’s been paid off for a while now.
My car is newer than yours and is also paid for.
It’s nicer too, to be honest. You’ll notice I bought the one I wanted to get you for your graduation before you left for Baltimore.
I guess it was my underhanded way of still getting it for you.
If you don’t want it, though, sell it. If you want to move, sell the house.
They’re just things. You need to make your own home, so do that wherever you want, Nat.
You’ll also see that you’re pretty much taken care of financially.
I hoarded like Ebenezer Scrooge since your mom died.
I should’ve spent more on you all those years.
But, well, you have it now. The life insurance will help, too.
You’ll have the freedom to travel for a while before picking where you want to settle down.
Natalie, I know something happened between you and Tim Summers.
I don’t know what it was, but I know it must’ve been bad for you to turn away from him so completely.
Just know this—life is too short for grudges.
If you still love him, as a friend or more, try your best to get over whatever happened and remember all the good times the two of you had together.
I always liked him. Of course, if he’s turned out to be a complete bastard, disregard everything I just said. I just want you to be happy.
I’m so thankful for the past year. The conversations, the texts, the one magical visit I was able to make, all meant so much to me. I feel like we got each other back even if it was for a short time. Sometimes the most precious things are.
I love you, Natalie. I always will. I’ll be looking down on you from above.
Love, Dad
I was crying by the end, and the tears kept coming for quite some time afterwards. I cried for missed time, for the part of him that broke, and for the time we got to be together. I hoped I had a couple of months with him, at least.
***
I didn’t. I’d had a couple of weeks. That was it.
And he was only lucid for a couple of days of that.
But those days had been great. He’d known I was there, and we talked.
We said everything we needed to say to each other and then spent some time laughing and going over old memories with Mom.
It was wonderful, considering he hadn’t really talked about her since the accident.
The rest of the time, I held his hand and talked to him. I didn’t leave his side except to run home and take a shower and change clothes. Lynne and Pete dropped by off and on to bring food and comfort.
I was with him when he died, peacefully. He’d had to be on a good bit of pain medication by then, so he wasn’t in pain at the end.
I couldn’t help but think, as I sat by Aunt Sabine on the front pew of the church he hadn’t attended once since Mom died, that I’d heard both my parents take their last breaths. I didn’t know if that was a curse or a blessing.
I spoke at the funeral. I barely even knew what I was saying as I stood there.
But the preacher didn’t even know him, and I couldn’t stand for no one who knew him to talk about him at his funeral.
So, I shared good memories and ended with the trip he took to see me in Baltimore.
It felt wonderful to be able to relay such good times with the people who came to the church.
There weren’t many. He hadn’t been exactly social after Mom died.
Many of the people were there for me, and they knew how things had been.
To talk about holding his hand and jogging to catch a ferry out to my favorite restaurant while we laughed in the rain was wonderful. The smiles on my friends’ faces were genuine, and many of them were smiling through the tears on their faces.
Right before I sat down, I made eye contact with Tim Summers.
I swear it felt like the world stood still for a half hour while we stared at each other.
It was probably only fifteen seconds or so, but it still felt like it was noticeable to the congregation.
I pulled it together, smiled, laid a peony on Dad’s casket—Mom’s favorite flower—and sat down.
At the gravesite, there were only a few people. It was just me, Sabine, Imani, my roommate from Baltimore, and the Summers family.
Sabine held one of my hands and Lynne held the other as they lowered his casket. They’d held me as I cried.
Afterwards I stood around talking to everyone. It had been a year or more since I’d spoken to some of them.
Including Tim.
“Well, I’m going to go on back to the house to get food ready, if that’s okay,” Lynne said. She was, of course, hosting a small get together at the Summers’ house. I’d already brought Anne and Gilbert over ahead of time so that they could have some outside time while we all sat around and talked.
They didn’t get much of that in Baltimore.
I hung around after everyone else left. I wanted to say a few words over Dad’s grave after everyone left.
When I turned to walk to my car, Tim was leaning against his truck.
I paused for a moment, then started walking towards him.
He had no business looking as good as he did, and I felt a little guilty for noticing at my dad’s funeral.
He could fill out a suit, that was for sure. He looked a bit older, like he’d grown up some while I was gone. He looked like a grown man. There was nothing of the boy I’d loved so much left in him. At least not that I could see.
He was still the best-looking man I’d ever seen. I was hoping I’d overplayed his physical beauty in my mind and that time away would show me that he wasn’t really all that handsome. Yeah. That didn’t happen. I kept trying to do that, and it never worked.
“Hey,” I said.
He smiled at me. “Hey. Are you doing okay?”
I shrugged. “It hurts, but yeah. I’m okay. I had some time with him at the end, and we spent a lot of quality time together over the past year.”
“I’m glad.” His blue eyes studied me. They’d always seen too much, and it made me uncomfortable. I looked away.
“Nat.”
I looked back, my eyebrows raised in question.
“I’m sorry. I swear I’ll do my best to make it up to you, but in the meantime, can we be friends again?”
I gave him a half smile. “You’re trying to catch me in a moment of weakness, huh?”
He looked horrified. “No! That’s not what I was trying…”
I started laughing. “Calm down. I was just kidding. I didn’t expect you to fall for it.”
“Well, you are the same woman who threatened to call the police if I showed up at your apartment in Baltimore.”
I felt my face turn pink. “That might have been a little over the top.”
“You think?” He grinned.
“Maybe,” I said and suddenly he was sticking his hand out, and before I knew it, we were doing our old, complicated hand shake we’d made when we were about twelve years old.
It felt strangely good to do it again, and we both laughed at the ease with which it came back to us.
“You want to ride to the house with me? I’ll bring you back to your car afterwards.”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll follow you.”
He looked disappointed. “Okay.”
He had the wrong idea. “It’s not that I don’t want to ride with you. It’s that I don’t think I can handle coming back to the cemetery again for a while.”
“Oh, of course. That was stupid of me.”
“It really was,” I joked.
He laughed, and the twinkle in his eyes was so familiar it felt like coming home.
Had I completely forgiven Tim Summers? No. But I could be friends with him again.
In fact, I think I needed his friendship.