120 days... (3 page)

Remembering as a kid how much Evan looked up to him, chased after him, wanted to be him when he grew up, Ethan was overcome with grief, yet the tears wouldn’t come. He didn’t know what to do next, so he buried himself in work, again, until one day the call came. His brother had died.

The tears he’d never allowed to have power over him, for all those months, finally broke loose and ran down his cheeks. He was truly, for the first time in his life, alone in the world. There was no one to share the grief with.

With the back of his hand, he wiped at his eyes. He didn’t have time for the emotion, he had an appointment to get to, and there was no putting it off any longer.

Getting in his car, he clutched his brother’s journal in his hands before carefully placing it on the seat next to him. This was all he had left. He’d skimmed through it up in the lawyer’s office. His brother had documented his death journey, and Ethan’s plan was to read it.

Day 1

Ethan-

I’m making this journal for you, hoping you will know and understand why I had to do this. I hope this will bring you peace and closure after I’m gone.

You are my brother, you raised me, and we’ll always be a part of each other.

I love you,

Evan

Ethan’s red-rimmed eyes took in the rising sun the following morning. He’d spent all night reading about his brother’s last eighty-three days alive. On paper, he sounded like he was as happy as someone dying from cancer could be; though, he had to wonder about this ranch, this Last Resort. Exactly what was it, and what was their deal, their scam? No way could they do everything they did. It had to be too good to be true. He knew Evan had a list of charities he gave his money to. He wondered exactly how much went to Last Resort. He wanted to call the lawyer to see exactly when Evan had changed his will, and was it during his stay at Last Resort, or before he went up there, but it was too early to make the call. He made a quick note to call him in a few hours.

Needing to be proactive, he started doing his own research on Last Resort. On the surface, everything looked on the up-and-up, but there was no way a place like that existed only to help people. There had to be more to it. They had to be in it for the money. His mind whirled with all the different ways they would be scamming dying people out of their life-savings.

Leaning back in his chair, he thought. Since everyone there was dying, it wouldn’t be hard to make them feel like they were given everything they wanted, but in reality, were they? The news was filled with stories of nursing home or caregiver abuse and money disappearing. This would be no different. He remembered back to the time after his parents had died and the neighborhood they’d lived in, the only one they could afford. Everyone was running one scam or another. You learned pretty quick how to read people and know when they were flat out lying or only stretching the truth.

He paced around the room, trying to think of what his next move should be. Something was pulling him toward the place where his brother died. He needed answers and he knew the only way to get them was to go there himself and ask. There was no way he was going to rely on someone else’s information, open to interpretation.

Knowing his instincts would be valuable in this situation, he needed to figure out exactly how he was going to play it. He’d learned years earlier, you need to show a certain amount of cards to make the other person feel at ease, like there was no way you could be lying to them. You gave less information than you took from them and you showed no mercy. That was how he’d built his wealth.

He walked back to his laptop and clicked on the
Job Opportunity
section of their website. They were hiring for a few different positions. He wasn’t qualified to be a nurse or a chef, but the general caregiver description sounded like something he could do. They needed someone who could drive the guests around, help with planned activities, spend time with the guests and do some light maintenance around the place.

Stopping, he snapped his fingers and knew just what to do. Going into his room, he started to pack clothes, ones he didn’t often wear. Jeans and t-shirts replaced his suits, which cost thousands of dollars. Boots replaced Italian loafers. As luck would have it, Last Resort was looking for a new employee, and he was going to be it. This way, he’d be able to see firsthand where his brother spent his final days and find out exactly what kind of scam the owner was working.

Samantha Truman looked out the window at the sunrise, said a silent prayer, and gave Elizabeth Munns’ hand a squeeze before setting it gently down on the bed. She knew Elizabeth couldn’t feel anything anymore; she was gone, but she still deserved to be treated with dignity. The melanoma took this sweet twenty-year-old’s life, and it broke Sam’s heart.

Carefully and systematically, she went through her checklist, knowing what to do, when to do it, and how to do it by heart. When everything was as it should be, she sat down in the chair and picked up Elizabeth’s hand again and held it while waiting for the coroner to arrive.

This had been an especially hard week on her, this loss, so close to the last, was always difficult. Elizabeth had made it one-hundred-and-seventy-six days, better than the average, but that still didn’t change the outcome. The outcome was whomever showed up at the Last Resort, died at Last Resort.

It was a sad fact of life that so many people ended up with a terminal disease and had no family to depend on, no one to be there for them during their final days. Or they had family, but didn’t want to burden them with the end. Last Resort was here for them, a place where they could go to fulfill their last wishes and be surrounded by people who were just like them. She had activities planned everyday based on what her current residents wanted to do. Anything from movie marathons to rock climbing, their final dreams were given to them for as long as they were physically able to participate, then they were modified to be less demanding, but still catered to what they were interested in.

Sam had lost both of her parents to cancer within two years of each other. They had some extra money, but that didn’t help stop the disease; however, it did give her the start-up money for the Last Resort. She bought an old ranch near the coast in northern California, a short drive north from San Francisco, and set about renovating the old farmhouse and outbuildings to living quarters, which were set up for all her guests’ needs, from the time they were able to walk through the front door, to when they were wheeled out, no longer breathing.

Once Elizabeth was attended to, Sam left the small building knowing the cleaning crew would be in later to get it ready for the next guest. That was another sad truth. There was always going to be another person ready to replace the one who’d just died. They had a waiting list. Sam was trying to figure out how to add more cabins without disrupting the current guests or losing the family feel of the place.

Her mind flitted from one task to another, cataloging what she was going to have to do and when, trying to keep her heart from crying out. Deep down in her gut, she knew how she was supposed to spend her life, helping people, but this didn’t mean their deaths didn’t affect her. It was hard not to get attached to the people who came to her, to her resort, but she couldn’t help herself.

They were lonely. They were sick. They were dying.

Like all humans, they just wanted someone who was there for them, to care for them in the end, to make them feel like they mattered. Whether they were young or old, not one story was any more tragic than the other, because in the end, they were all heartbreaking.

Walking through the grounds, she purposely steered clear of the garden. She couldn’t go there at the moment. She also made sure she took the long way back to her office, hoping not to run into anyone. All she wanted was a good thirty minutes alone when she could cry and grieve for Elizabeth before carrying on with the rest of her day. That was all she could allow herself, any more and it would destroy her. She’d learned the hard way she couldn’t grieve as she really wanted to for each and every one of them. She wasn’t strong enough.

Sneaking in the backdoor of her office, she sat down in her chair and spun it around to look out the big window, which faced the Pacific Ocean. She could barely see it; the marine layer was still hanging around, but Sam knew it was there. She closed her eyes and thought of Elizabeth’s spirit finally free from the pain and sickness, flying and laughing over the ocean, dipping her fingers in the cold water as she frolicked with the whales.

She opened up and let the grief come, which came in waves. Over and over it silently raged through her body until she was spent, leaning back in her chair with swollen and dry eyes, staring at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, she turned her chair around to get to work and froze. A man stood in her doorway, watching her.

Day 2

Ethan–

Well, I’m all settled in. You should see this place. It’s beautiful. In reality, you’re surrounded by death here, yet everyone is happy and very helpful. ‘We’re not dead yet’ is the motto.

From the front porch of my cabin, I can just make out the ocean. I know I’m going to be spending a lot of time in the fresh air around here, maybe even go hiking since I can’t really run anymore.

Is it strange that I feel more alive now, knowing I’m going to be dead soon, than ever before?

Evan