Over time, he began to take longer naps, up to two hours at a time, and when he woke, he often felt pain in his stomach. One evening while cooking chili for dinner, he suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain and doubled over, knocking the pan from the stove, strewing tomatoes and beans and beef across the kitchen floor. As he tried to catch his breath, he knew something was seriously wrong.
He made an appointment with a doctor, then went back to the hospital for scans and X-rays.
Afterward, while Steve watched the vials fill with the blood necessary for the recommended tests, he thought of his father and the cancer that had eventually killed him. And he suddenly knew what the doctor would tell him.
On the third visit to the doctor, he found out he was right.
You have stomach cancer, the doctor said. He took a long breath. And from the scans, its metastasized to your pancreas and lungs. His voice was neutral, but not unkind. Im sure you have a lot of questions, but let me start by saying its not good.
The oncologist was compassionate and yet was telling Steve that there was nothing he could do. Steve knew this, just as he knew the doctor wanted him to ask specific questions, in the hope that talking might somehow make things easier.
When his dad was dying, Steve had done his research. He knew what it meant when cancer metastasized, he knew what it meant to have cancer not only in his stomach, but also in his pancreas. He knew the odds of surviving were next to nil, and instead of asking anything, he turned toward the window. On the ledge, a pigeon was settled near the glass, oblivious to what was going on inside. Ive been told that Im dying, he thought while staring at it, and the doctor wants me to talk about it. But theres nothing really to say, is there?
He waited for the bird to coo in agreement, but of course, there was no response from the bird at all.
Im dying, he thought again.
Steve remembered clasping his hands together, amazed that they werent shaking. If ever they should shake, he thought, it would be at a time like this. But they were as steady and still as a kitchen sink.
How much time do I have?
The doctor seemed relieved that the silence had been broken at last. Before we start going into that, I want to talk about some of your options.
There are no options, Steve said. You and I both know that.
If the doctor was surprised by his response, he didnt show it. There are always options,
he said.
But none that can cure it. Youre talking about quality of life.
The doctor set aside his clipboard. Yes, he said.
How can we discuss quality if I dont know how much time I have? If I only have a few days, it might mean that I should start making phone calls.
You have more than a few days.
Weeks?
Yes, of course
Months?
The doctor hesitated. He must have seen something in Steves face that signaled he would continue to press until he knew the truth. He cleared his throat. Ive been doing this a long time, and Ive come to learn that predictions dont mean much. Too much lies outside the realm of medical knowledge. A lot of what happens next comes down to you and your specific genetics, your attitude. No, theres nothing we can do to stop the inevitable, but thats not the point. The point is that you should try to make the most of the time you have left.
Steve studied the doctor, aware that his question hadnt been answered.
Do I have a year?
This time, the doctor didnt respond, but his silence gave him away. Leaving the office, Steve took a deep breath, armed with the knowledge that he had less than twelve months to live.
The reality hit him later as he was standing on the beach.
He had advanced cancer, and there was no known cure. He would be dead within the year.
On his way out of the office, the doctor had given him some information. Little pamphlets and a list of websites, useful for a book report but good for little else. Steve had tossed them in the garbage on the way to the car. As he stood beneath the winter sun on the deserted beach, he tucked his hands into his coat, staring at the pier. Though his vision wasnt what it once was, he could see people moving about or fishing by the rails, and he marveled at their normalcy. It was as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
He was going to die, and sooner rather than later. With that, he realized that so many of the things hed spent time worrying about no longer mattered. His 401(k) plan? Wont need it. A way to make a living in his fifties? Doesnt matter. His desire to meet someone new and fall in love? Wont be fair to her, and to be frank, that desire ended with the diagnosis anyway.
It was over, he repeated to himself. In less than a year, he was going to die. Yes, hed known something was wrong, and perhaps hed even expected the doctor to deliver the news he had. But the memory of the doctor speaking the actual words began to recur in his mind, like an old-fashioned record skipping on a turntable. On the beach, he began to shake. He was scared and he was alone. Head lowered, he put his face into his hands and wondered why it had happened to him.
The following day, he called Chan and explained that he could no longer teach piano. Next he met with Pastor Harris to tell him the news. At that time, Pastor Harris was still recovering from the injuries hed suffered in the fire, and though Steve knew it was selfish to burden his friend during his convalescence, he could think of no one else to talk to. He met him at the house, and as they sat on the back porch, Steve explained his diagnosis. He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but he failed, and in the end, they cried together.
Afterward, Steve walked the beach, wondering what to do with the little time he had remaining. What, he wondered, was most important to him? Passing by the churchat that point, the repairs hadnt been started, but the blackened walls had been torn down and hauled awayhe stared at the gaping hole that once housed the stained-glass window, thinking of Pastor Harris and the countless mornings hed spent in the halo of sunlight as it streamed through the window. It was then that he knew he had to make another.
A day later, he called Kim. When he told her the news, she broke down on the phone, weeping into the receiver. Steve felt a tightness in the back of his throat, but he didnt cry with her, and somehow he knew he would never cry about his diagnosis again.
Later, he called her again to ask whether the kids could spend the summer with him.
Though the idea frightened her, she consented. At his request, she agreed not to tell them about his condition. It would be a summer filled with lies, but what choice did he have if he wanted to get to know them again?
In the spring, as the azaleas were blooming, he began to muse more often on the nature of God. It was inevitable, he supposed, to think about such things at a time like this. Either God
existed or He didnt; he would either spend eternity in heaven, or there would be nothing at all.
Somehow he found comfort in turning the question over in his mind; it spoke to a longing deep inside him. He eventually came to the conclusion that God was real, but he also wanted to experience Gods presence in this world, in mortal terms. And with that, he began his quest.
It was the last year of his life. Rain fell almost daily, making it one of the wettest springs on record. May, however, was absolutely dry, as if somewhere the faucet had been turned off. He purchased the glass he needed and began to work on the window; in June, his children arrived.
Hed walked the beach and searched for God, and somehow, he realized, hed been able to mend the fraying ropes that had tethered him to his children. Now, on a dark night in August, baby turtles were skimming the surface of the ocean, and he was coughing up blood. It was time to stop lying; it was time to tell the truth.
His children were scared, and he knew they wanted him to say or do something to take their fear away. But his stomach was being pierced by a thousand twisting needles. He wiped the blood from his face using the back of his hand and tried to sound calm.
I think, he said, I need to go to the hospital.
31Ronnie
Her dad was hooked up to an IV in a hospital bed when he told her. She immediately began to shake her head. It wasnt true. It couldnt be true.
No, she said, this isnt right. Doctors make mistakes.
Not this time, he said, reaching for her hand. And Im sorry you had to find out like this.
Will and Jonah were downstairs in the cafeteria. Her dad wanted to talk to each of his children separately, but Ronnie suddenly wanted nothing to do with any of it. She didnt want him to say anything else, not one more word.
Her mind flashed on a dozen different images: Suddenly she knew why her dad had wanted her and Jonah to come to North Carolina. And she understood that her mom had known the truth all along. With so little time left together, he had no desire to argue with her. And his ceaseless work on the window now made perfect sense. She recalled his coughing fit in the church and the times hed winced in pain. In hindsight, the pieces all fit together. Yet everything was falling apart.
He would never see her married; he would never hold a grandchild. The thought of living the rest of her life without him was almost too much to bear. It wasnt fair. None of this was fair at all.
When she spoke, her words sounded brittle. When were you going to tell me?
I dont know.
Before I left? Or after I was back in New York?
When he didnt answer, she could feel the blood rising in her cheeks. She knew she shouldnt be angry, but she couldnt help it. What? Were you planning to tell me on the phone?
What were you going to say? Oh, sorry I didnt mention this when we were together last summer, but I have terminal cancer. Hows it going with you?
Ronnie
If you werent going to tell me, why did you bring me down here? So I could watch you die?
No, sweetie. Just the opposite. He rolled his head to face her. I asked you to come so I could watch you live.
At his answer, she felt something shake loose inside, like the first pebbles skittering downhill before an avalanche. In the corridor, she heard two nurses walking past, their voices hushed. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a bluish pall over the walls. The IV
dripped steadilynormal scenes from any hospital, but there was nothing normal about any of this. Her throat felt as thick and sticky as paste, and she turned away, willing the tears not to come.
Im sorry, sweetheart, he continued. I know I should have told you, but I wanted a normal summer, and I wanted you to have a normal summer. I just wanted to get to know my daughter again. Can you forgive me?
His plea cut her to the core, and she let out an involuntary cry. Her father was dying, and he wanted her forgiveness. There was something so pitiful in that, and she didnt know how to respond. As he waited, he reached over and she took his hand.
Of course I forgive you, she said, and it was then she began to cry. She leaned toward him, resting her head on his chest, and noticed how thin hed become without her even being aware of it. She could feel the sharp outline of the bones in his chest, and she suddenly realized that he had been wasting away for months. It broke her heart to know she hadnt been paying attention; shed been so caught up in her own life that she hadnt even noticed.
When her dad put his arm around her, she began to cry harder, conscious that there would soon be a time when this simple act of affection would no longer be possible. Despite herself, she remembered the day shed arrived at his house and the anger shed felt toward him; she remembered storming off, the thought of touching him as alien to her as space travel. Shed hated him then and she loved him now.
She was glad she finally knew his secret, even as she wished she didnt. She felt him running his fingers through her hair. There would come a time when he would no longer be able to do this, when he would no longer be around, and she squeezed her eyelids shut, trying to block out the future. She needed more time with him. She needed him to listen as she whined; she needed him to forgive her when she made mistakes. She needed him to love her the way he had this summer. She needed all of it forever, and she knew it wouldnt happen.
She allowed her dad to hold her and wept like the child she no longer was.
Later, he answered her questions. He told her about his father and the history of cancer in his family, he told her about the pains hed begun to feel as the New Year rolled in. He told her that radiation was not an option, because the disease was present in so many of his organs. As he spoke the words, she imagined the malignant cells moving from one spot in his body to the next, a marauding army of evil that left destruction in its wake. She asked about chemotherapy, and again his answer was the same. The cancer was aggressive, and while chemotherapy might help slow the disease, it couldnt stop it, and it would leave him feeling worse than if hed done nothing at all. He explained the concept of quality of life, and as he did, she hated him for not telling her earlier. Yet she knew hed made the right decision. Had she known, the summer would have unfolded differently. Their relationship would have taken a different course, and she didnt want to think of what it might have become.
He was pale, and she knew the morphine was making him sleepy.
Does it still hurt? she asked.
Not like it did. Its better, he assured her.
She nodded. She tried again not to think about the malignant cells invading his organs.
When did you tell Mom?
In February, right after I found out. But I asked her not to tell you.
Ronnie tried to remember how her mom had acted back then. She had to have been upset, but either Ronnie couldnt remember or she hadnt been paying attention. As usual, shed been thinking only about herself. She wanted to believe she was different now, but she knew that wasnt completely true. Between work and spending time with Will, shed spent relatively little time with her dad, and time was the one thing she could never get back.
But if youd told me, I would have been around more. We could have seen each other more, I could have helped you so you wouldnt be so tired all the time.
Just knowing you were here was more than enough.
But maybe you wouldnt have ended up in the hospital.
He reached for her hand. Or maybe watching you enjoy a carefree summer while you fell in love was what kept me out of the hospital in the first place.
Though he didnt say as much, she knew he didnt expect to live much longer, and she tried to imagine life without him.
If she hadnt come to stay with him, if she hadnt given him a chance, it might have been easier to let him go. But she had, and nothing about what was happening was going to be easy. In the eerie quiet, she was able to hear his labored breathing, and she noticed again how much weight hed lost. She wondered whether he would live until Christmas, or even long enough for her to visit again.
She was alone and her father was dying, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it.
Whats going to happen? she asked him. He hadnt slept long, maybe ten minutes, before hed rolled to her.
Im not sure what you mean.
Will you have to stay in the hospital?
It was the one question shed been afraid to ask. While hed dozed, shed held his hand, imagining that he would never leave this place. That hed spend the rest of his life in this room that smelled of disinfectant, surrounded by nurses who were no more than strangers.
No, he said. Ill probably be home in a few days. He smiled. At least I hope so.
She squeezed his hand. And then what? Once were gone?
He thought about it. I suppose Id like to see the window completed. And finish the song I started. I still think theres something special there.
She scooted her chair closer. I mean whos going to make sure youre okay?
He didnt answer right away but tried to sit up a little in the bed. Ill be fine, he said.
And if I need something, I can call Pastor Harris. He lives only a couple of blocks away.
She tried to imagine Pastor Harris, with his burned hands and his cane, trying to aid her father if he needed help getting into the car. He seemed to know what she was thinking.
Like I said, Ill be okay, he murmured. Ive known this was coming, and if worse comes to worst, theres a hospice associated with the hospital.
She didnt want to imagine him there, either. A hospice?
Its not as bad as you think. Ive been there.
When?
A few weeks ago. And I went back again last week. Theyll be ready for me whenever I need it.
Yet another thing she didnt know, yet another secret revealed. Yet another truth portending the inevitable. Her stomach roiled, nausea settling in.
But youd rather be at home, wouldnt you?
I will be, he said.
Until you cant?
His expression was almost too sad to bear. Until I cant.
She left her fathers room, heading for the cafeteria. It was time, her dad said, for him to talk to Jonah.
She was dazed as she walked the corridors. It was almost midnight now, but the emergency room was as busy as always. She passed by rooms, most of them with open doors, and saw crying children accompanied by anxious parents and a woman who couldnt stop vomiting.
Nurses bustled around the main station, reaching for charts or loading up carts. It amazed her that so many people could be sick this late at night, yet she knew that most of them would be gone by tomorrow. Her dad, on the other hand, was scheduled to be moved to a room upstairs; they were only waiting for the paperwork to go through.
She weaved through the crowded waiting room toward a door that led to the main area of the hospital lobby and the cafeteria. As the door swung shut behind her, the noise level dropped.
She could hear the sound of her footfalls, could almost hear herself thinking, and as she moved, she felt waves of exhaustion and nausea coursing through her. This was the place where sick people came; this was the place where people came to die, and she knew her father would see this place again.
She could barely swallow as she reached the cafeteria. She rubbed her gritty, swollen eyes, promising herself that she was going to keep it together. The grill was closed at this hour, but there were vending machines on the far wall, and a couple of nurses sat in the corner, sipping coffee. Jonah and Will were seated at a table near the door, and Will looked up as she approached. On the table stood a half-empty bottle of water and milk and a packet of cookies for Jonah. Jonah turned around to look at her.
That took you long enough, he said. Whats going on? Is Dad okay?
Hes doing better, she said. But he wants to talk to you.
About what? He put down his cookie. Im not in trouble, am I?
No, nothing like that. He wants to tell you whats going on.
Why cant you tell me? He sounded anxious, and Ronnie felt her heart contract with dread.
Because he wants to talk to you alone. Like he did with me. Ill walk you over there and wait outside the door, okay?
He got up from his seat and headed for the door, leaving her to trail after him. Cool, he said as he passed her, and Ronnie suddenly wanted to run away. But she had to stay with Jonah.
Will continued to sit, unmoving, his eyes fixed on Ronnie.
Give me a second, okay? she called to Jonah.
Will stood up from the table, looking frightened for her. He knows, she suddenly thought.
Somehow he already knows.
Can you wait for us? Ronnie began. I know you probably
Of course Ill wait, he said quietly. Ill be right here for as long as you need me.
Relief rushed through her, and she gave him a grateful look, then turned and followed Jonah. They pushed open the door and headed into the otherwise empty corridor, toward the hustle and bustle of the emergency room.
No one close to her had ever died. Though her dads parents had died and she remembered attending the funerals, shed never known them well. They werent the kind of grandparents that visited. They were strangers in a way, and even after theyd passed away, shed never remembered missing them.
About the closest shed ever come to something like this was when Amy Childress, her seventh-grade history teacher, was killed in a traffic accident the summer after Ronnie had finished taking her class. Shed heard about it first from Kayla, and she remembered feeling less sad than shocked, if only because Amy was so young. Ms. Childress was still in her twenties and had been teaching only a few years, and Ronnie remembered how surreal it had felt. She was always so friendly; she was one of the few teachers Ronnie ever had that used to laugh aloud in class. When she returned to school in the fall, she wasnt sure what to expect. How did people react to something like this? What did the other teachers think? She walked the halls that day, searching for signs of anything different, but aside from a small plaque that had been mounted on the wall near the principals office, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Teachers taught their classes and socialized in the lounge; she saw Mrs. Taylor and Mr. Burnstwo of the teachers Ms. Childress often ate lunch withsmiling and laughing as they walked down the halls.
She remembered that it bothered her. Granted, the accident had occurred over the summer and people had already mourned, but when she went by Ms. Childresss classroom and saw that it was now being used to teach science, she realized she was angry, not only that Ms. Childress had died, but that her memory had been erased so entirely in such a short period of time.
She didnt want that to happen to her dad. She didnt want him forgotten in a matter of weekshe was good man, a good father, and he deserved more than that.
Thinking along those lines made her realize something else, too: Shed never really known her dad when he was healthy. Shed last spent time with him when she was a freshman in high school. Now, she was technically an adult, old enough to vote or join the army, and over the summer, hed harbored his secret. Who would he have been had he not known what was happening to him? Who was he, really?
She had nothing to judge him by, other than memories of him as her piano teacher. She knew little about him. She didnt know the novelists he liked to read, she didnt know his favorite animal, and if pressed, she couldnt begin to guess his favorite color. They werent important things and she knew they didnt really matter, but somehow she was troubled by the thought that she would probably never learn the answers.
Behind the door, she heard the sounds of Jonah crying, and she knew hed learned the truth.
She heard her brothers frantic denials and the answering murmurs of her father. She leaned against the wall, aching for Jonah and for herself.
She wanted to do something to make this nightmare go away. She wanted to turn back the clock to the moment the turtles had hatched, when all was right with the world. She wanted to stand beside the boy she loved, her happy family by her side. She suddenly remembered Megans radiant expression when shed danced with her father at the wedding, and she felt a piercing ache at the knowledge that she and her dad would never share that special moment.
She closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears, trying to block out the sound of Jonahs cries. He sounded so helpless, so young so scared. There was no way he could understand what was happening, there was no way he would ever really recover. She knew hed never forget this awful day.
Can I get you a glass of water?
She barely heard the words but somehow knew they were directed at her. Looking up through her tears, she saw Pastor Harris standing before her.
She couldnt answer, but she was somehow able to shake her head. His expression was kind, but she could see his anguish in the stoop of his shoulders, in the way he gripped the cane.
Im very sorry, he said. His voice sounded weary. I cant imagine how hard this is for you. Your dad is a special man.
She nodded. How did you know he was here? Did he call you?
No, he said. One of the nurses called me. Im here two or three times a week, and when you brought him in, they thought Id want to know. They know I think of him as my son.
Are you going to talk to him?
Pastor Harris eyed the closed door. Only if he wants to see me. By his pained expression, she knew he could hear Jonahs cries. And after talking to the two of you, Im sure he will. You have no idea how much he was dreading this moment.
Youve talked about it?
Many times. He loves the two of you more than life itself, and he didnt want to hurt you.
He knew the time would come, but Im sure he didnt want you to find out like this.
It doesnt matter. Its not like it changes anything.
But everything has changed, Pastor Harris countered.
Because I know?
No, he said. Because of the time youve spent together. Before the two of you came down, he was so nervous. Not about being sick, but because of how much he wanted to spend time with you, and wanted everything to go well. I dont think you realize how much he missed you, or how much he really loves you and Jonah. He was literally counting the days. When Id see him, hed say, Nineteen days, or, Twelve days. And the day before you arrived? He spent hours cleaning the house and putting new sheets on the beds. I know the place isnt much, but if youd seen it before, youd understand. He wanted the two of you to have a summer to remember, and he wanted to be part of that. Like all parents, he wants you to be happy. He wants to know that youre going to be okay. He wants to know that youll make good decisions. Thats what he needed this summer, and thats what youve given him.
She squinted up at him. But I havent always made good decisions.
Pastor Harris smiled. All that shows is that youre human. He never expected perfection.
But I do know how proud he is of the young woman youve become. He told me that just a few days ago, and you should have seen him when he spoke about you. He was so proud, so happy, and that night, when I prayed, I thanked God for that. Because your dad really struggled when he moved back here. I wasnt sure hed ever be happy again. And yet, despite everything thats happened, I now know that he is.
She felt the lump in her throat. What am I supposed to do?
Im not sure theres anything you can do.
But Im scared, she said. And my dad
I know, he said. And though both of you have made him very happy, I know your dad is scared, too.
That night, Ronnie stood on the back porch. The waves were as steady and rhythmic as always, and the stars were flickering with pinprick intensity, but everything else about the world around her seemed different. Will was talking with Jonah in the bedroom, so there were three people here as usual, but somehow the house felt emptier.
Pastor Harris was still with her dad. Pastor Harris told her he planned to stay through the night, so she could bring Jonah back home, but she felt guilty nonetheless for leaving.
Tomorrow, her dad had tests scheduled during the day and another meeting with his doctor. In between those things, he would be tired and she knew hed need his rest. But she wanted to be there, she wanted to be at his side, even if he was asleep, because she knew the time would come when she couldnt.
Behind her, she heard the back door squeak open; Will closed it gently behind him. As he approached her, she continued to gaze out over the sandy beach.
Jonahs finally asleep, he said. But I dont think he really understands whats happening.
He told me hes pretty sure the doctor will make his dad all better, and he kept asking when his dad could come home.