“They had a knitting thing in town.”
“Knitting?” He frowns. “Since when do they knit?”
I shrug. “Since now?” I avoid his gaze as I adjust his bedsheets.
If he’s suspicious, he doesn’t press. He’s too tired to question much these days. “Jonah gonna stay here again tonight?”
“Yeah, I think so. If that’s okay with you?” I stopped going over there at night two weeks ago, when it became clear that my dad shouldn’t be left alone. So Jonah took it upon himself to strip my dad’s double bed and clean his room, and insist that he would be coming over here instead. We’ve been staying in there ever since.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I want him here in case . . .” His voice drifts.
In case he dies at night. That’s what my dad’s saying.
“It’s not happening tonight, Dad.” Jane spent a lot of time walking us through what to expect. The shortness of breath, the organ shutdown, the mental deterioration.
All of us, including my dad, know it’s coming and soon.
But not tonight.
I turn the TV on to the sports highlights for him. “I’ll be back in a sec with your pills,” I say, adjusting his covers and planting a kiss on his forehead.
I’m in the kitchen getting my dad’s nighttime medications ready when Jonah’s Escape pulls up into the driveway. Throwing my shoes on, I dart outside into the chilly evening, not bothering to get my jacket.
I breathe a shaky sigh of relief. “You made it.”
Mom takes one look at me and, with a hand over her mouth, begins to cry.
“Hey Calla, would you mind grabbing me some water?” my dad calls in a croaky voice.
“Yeah, sure.” I reach for the glass I’ve already filled, along with the pills.
My mom, as stylish as ever in a simple black turtleneck, fitted jeans, and collection of jewelry, wordlessly slips them from my grasp. With a deep, shaky breath, and one last thoughtful glance at the mallard ducks, she makes her way into the living room, her socked footfalls soundless against the normally creaky floor.
In fact, she’s said very little since climbing out of Jonah’s SUV. This must be utterly surreal for her, to be back in Alaska after twenty-four years.
To see my father again, after so long.
Jonah wraps his arms around my torso from behind as we watch the reunion, one my father knows nothing of, that Agnes and Mabel intentionally stayed away for, to give them space. “Your mom is smokin’ hot,” he whispers into my ear, too quiet for it to carry over the sportscaster’s droning voice.
“That’s because Simon didn’t hide all her makeup like some psycho,” I whisper back.
Jonah pulls me tighter against him as we watch her quietly round the hospital bed. I’m trembling, I realize.
Probably because this is the first time I’ve ever seen my parents in the same room, that I can remember, and it’s on my father’s deathbed.
“Hello, Wren.” Mom’s eyes glisten as she holds the glass out in front of her with two perfectly manicured shaky hands, gazing down at the man who stole her heart so many years ago. Who she has spent almost as many years trying not to love.
Jonah’s body stiffens, and I realize he’s holding his breath along with me, as we wait three . . . four . . . five seconds for my dad to say something.
Anything.
My dad begins to sob.
And just like that, I sense a circle closing. Back to the beginning, and near to the end.
A calm washes over me, even as I turn and cry into Jonah’s shirt.
Chapter 26