More awkward silence.
“I called Mom.”
He nods slowly, as if he knew I would. He doesn’t ask what she said, though, or how she took it. He probably can already guess.
“And I canceled my flight.”
He sighs and starts shaking his head. “You didn’t have to do that, Calla. I’d rather you go back home with only good memories. Not with what’s coming.”
“Well, I’d rather you go to Anchorage and try to slow this down, but neither of us is going to get what we want, are we?” I step closer, to take a seat on the bed. “Are you scared?”
He looks down at his hands. “Scared. Angry. Sad. Full of regret. A little bit of everything, I guess.”
I hesitate, but then reach over to place a tentative hand on top of his, absorbing its warmth.
What do you know? My mom was right. We do have the same knuckles, the same finger lengths, and, beneath my gel tips, the same short nail beds.
It’s a moment before he reacts, placing his other hand over mine. He squeezes. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I really wish it wasn’t going to end this way.”
“But it is what it is,” I say, echoing his words from that first night. My eyes stray to that folder again, to the HOSPICE label and the tagline, Providing End of Care Support to You and Your Loved Ones.
A painful ball in my throat swells. “So, what needs to be done?”
“Ah, don’t worry about—”
“No, Dad. There’s no avoiding this anymore. Besides, maybe talking about it will help me to start wrapping my head around it.” How the hell do I do that? I’m twenty-six years old. Two weeks ago I was drinking martinis and struggling to find the perfect captions to go with pictures of my favorite shoes. I didn’t even know this man outside of my imagination.
Now I’m about to help him prepare for his death.
He purses his lips. “I don’t want to die in a hospital, if I can help it. There was a lady here earlier who gave me that pamphlet. She’s going to come out to the house next week and talk about options at home. Pain relief, that sort of thing.”
“Okay.” He’s going to be in pain. Of course he is. How much pain, though? What’s that going to be like to watch? Will I be able to handle watching it? I swallow the rising fear, push it aside. “What else?”
“The funeral arrangements, I guess,” he says with reluctance. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t bother, but I know Agnes will need it. I don’t want anything fancy, though.”
“So . . . no to a gilded casket and string quartet?”
He makes a soft sound that might be a laugh. “Definitely a pass on those.”
“Okay. What else?”
“I’ve already started the ball rolling with the lawyer so, that’s taken care of. I’ll be leaving most of my money—”
“I don’t need to know about any of that. You do whatever you want with it. It’s yours.” The last thing I want him thinking is that I’m sticking around for an inheritance. “But what do you think you want to do about Wild?” That’s an entire company to deal with once he’s gone.
“I talked to Howard from Aro Airlines about an hour ago. That’s that regional airline that wanted to buy Wild. I mentioned them before. They’ve made me a good offer. I think I’m gonna take it.”
“You said they’d swallow Wild up, though.” My family company that’s been around since the 1960s, that my dad wouldn’t leave, will no longer exist.
It’s odd; I hated it for so long, and yet the idea of that makes me sad.
“Eventually, probably. But to tell you the truth, it could be good for the villages and this whole part of Alaska in the long run, even if it is called something different. Anyway, they’re willing to keep everyone on staff, and that’s my only real concern. They want Jonah to run it, too. Give him a COO title or something like that. I’ll have to talk to him about it. Not sure that’s what he has in mind.”
“He already said he’d do it.”
“I know, but it’s a whole different ball game, being tied up with a big company like that. He’d have board members to answer to and all kinds of new processes and policies.” He smiles. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but Jonah doesn’t do too well with rules and authority, and people telling him what to do.”
“Nope. Haven’t noticed,” I mutter wryly, earning his soft chuckle. “Either way, he’d do it for as long as they need him to.” There’s no doubt in my mind about that.