Forever This Time (26 page)

“Do you do grief counseling, too, then?”

“At times. But mostly I tend to get families right after diagnosis, when everybody's reeling and scared out of their wits.”

“That sounds intense.”

“It is. Really is.” She picked at her bread. “But it's good work. Necessary work. So it feels good while it's feeling awful.”

“We know all about awful.” His eyes were serious, probing. “Is that why you do it?”

She paused. “Of course it is. Nothing made sense after … after her. But this? This makes sense. I guess.”

She cringed, feeling like she'd shared too much, but sitting here with Ethan, in the warm garlic-scented restaurant where they'd spent almost every special occasion they'd ever shared, just made her feel all stupidly gooshy inside.

“I know what you mean.” He nodded, then started to reach across the table for her hand. Their eyes met, and instead of touching her, he fiddled with the cloth napkin in the bread bowl, fishing out another piece. He cleared his throat. Was he nervous?

“So you do counseling all day. What do you do in your down time? How do you decompress?”

Good question. How did she? “You know, I'm not sure I really do. Between the free clinic and my practice, I probably do about sixty hours a week, and then I collapse. I taught a couple of intro-level classes at BC last spring, which was ridiculous.”

“Are you scheduled to teach there again this fall?” She could tell he was forcing his voice to sound like he didn't care one way or another.

“Emphasis on
ridiculous
. No. It was too much. I like teaching, but teaching practically for free isn't as fun as it sounds. I did enough of that as a grad student.”

“Do you still bike?”

“Not on purpose. Just when I have a case of dead Jeep.” Josie shook her head. “I'm a little too attached to my limbs to risk them cycling through city traffic.”

She paused as the waiter delivered their food—a succulent chicken Bolognese for her and a lobster ravioli for him. Then she stared at her plate for a moment. “I sound hideously, horribly boring, don't I?”

“You sound hideously, horribly busy, actually. Do you ever go out? Have a social life?” Again she could hear the effort in his voice.

“That I
do
do. I'm a serial dater of incompatible men.”

He laughed out loud. “Define
serial
.”

“At least one date every three months. It's a tough schedule to keep straight.”

They were both quiet for a few moments as they tasted their food. After a sip of her wine, Josie screwed up her courage. “And what about you, Ethan? How's your love life been these past ten years?”

She hated that she braced for the answer.

“Oh, you don't want to know that. Totally inappropriate question.” He winked at her.

She speared a piece of chicken a little harder than she meant to. “I'll just ask Josh. I think I caught a glimpse of him at the hospital yesterday.”

“The man code will require him to give an answer that best benefits me, you know.”

Josie ate another bite of her chicken and washed it down with a long sip of wine. “Are you dating anybody now?”

“No.” He looked at her, his face serious. “I'm finding that non-dates are more fun.”

Half an hour later, after they'd dissected their favorite movies from the past few years, Josie pushed her plate away and rubbed her stomach. “Oh wow. That was the best meal I've had in a long, long time.”

“Want to go walk it off on the paths out back?” Ethan stood up and came around to pull out her chair.

“They're not still romantic, are they? Not strewn with gorgeous flowers and hidden benches?”

“Definitely not. No. It's all gone to hell back there. Full of weeds and pricker bushes.” He winked as he held her sweater for her.

“Perfect. Let's go.”

As they headed out the door, Josie's phone beeped with an incoming text, and she glanced at it briefly just to make sure it wasn't Kirsten trying to get hold of her about a patient. But no. It was from Mom, and oh Lord, it wasn't good.

“Oh my God, Ethan.” She held up the phone, but her hand started shaking too hard for him to read it.

“What? What?” He grabbed her hand to steady it. “What's wrong?” Then he read the text and grabbed his keys, pulling her at a quick walk to his truck.

 

Chapter 26

“We got here as fast as we could.” Josie practically ran into the waiting room, Ethan on her heels. “What's happening?”

Mom was perched on the edge of a chair, smiling and teary at the same time. “He's trying to talk, honey. He's really trying. They gave him a letter board and he's trying to point to letters.”

Josie turned to Ethan, then back to Mom. “Talk? So he's not … dying?”

Mom's eyes widened. “No! Goodness, no! Why would you think that?”

“Your text, Mom. It says
Come to the hospital as fast as you can
.” Josie held out her phone so Mom could read it. “And then you didn't answer when I called.”

“Oh Lord.” Mom pulled out her own phone and tapped a couple of times, then put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Jos, I'm so sorry. The second half of the message says
Dad's talking!
I must not have clicked
SEND
.”

Josie sank into a chair, knees suddenly jellyfish. “It's okay. It's good. I'm
glad
he's okay. But good God, maybe press
SEND
next time, okay?”

Ethan settled in the empty chair next to Josie. “So what did he say?”

“Nothing we can make sense of yet. He keeps pointing at the letters, but he's so unsteady it's hard to tell what he's trying to spell so far.”

“Why are you out here, Mom?”

“They had to do some … stuff in there. Now that he's awake, I feel like he should have some privacy, I guess?” She brushed something nonexistent off from her jeans. “That probably sounds stupid. We've been married for thirty-three years. It's not like I haven't seen all there is to see.”

Ethan smiled. “Well, as a man, I can say that even after thirty-three years, I'd appreciate the privacy if some nurse was doing …
stuff
to me.”

“Diana? Want to come back in?” Gayle stood in the doorway, rubbing sanitizer into her hands, an impish grin on her face. “Hey there, Josie. Move fast and I can sneak you in while Ida's on her break.”

Ethan stood as Josie and Mom started to follow Gayle into the hallway. “I'll just wait out here for you guys.”

“You don't have to, Ethan. Really. Mom can bring me home.”

“I want to.” He picked up an ancient, dog-eared magazine from the table beside him. “I'll be right here.”

Josie tried to ignore the way his simple words made it feel like warm syrup was circling her insides, but it was a feeling so strong—so
good
—that she just wanted to wrap her arms over her stomach and hold it tight.

Gayle bustled Mom and Josie into Dad's room and pulled two chairs to his right side. “Here you go, ladies. This way he can see you better.” She handed what looked like a kids' alphabet whiteboard to Mom, along with a thick black pointer. “Want to see if we can try again?”

Josie looked into Dad's eyes as she settled gingerly into her chair. They were clearer than they'd seemed last time—more focused, less vacant. He was staring right at Mom, and was she imagining it, or was his mouth trying to smile? The right side of his lips was raised just a smidge.

“Look, honey. I brought Josie along this time!” Mom pointed her way, and Dad's eyes moved slowly to lock on Josie. Josie held her breath, not knowing what his reaction might be. He looked at her face, then down at her hands, then slowly back up at her face, and again it looked like he was trying to smile. Then he lifted his right hand off the bed and reached toward Mom.

“You want to try the letters again?” Mom held the board as she curled his fingers around the pointer. “Here. Go ahead.”

With what looked like almost painful effort, Dad skated the pointer over the board, struggling to stop on particular letters. When Mom had guessed three in a row, unsure of whether she was right or wrong, Dad closed his eyes, appearing frustrated.

Josie leaned toward him. “Dad, how about you blink once if we guess wrong and twice if we're right?” His eyes opened wide and he gripped the pointer again. Josie watched the board as he moved the pointer. “
O?
” One blink. “
P?
” Two blinks. “Okay,
P
! Go ahead. What's next?
I?
” One blink. “
J?
” One blink again. “Sorry. Sorry.
U?
” Two blinks. “
U! P-U!
”

Josie wrinkled her nose. “
P-U?
Are you joking with us?” One blink, then a hard tap on the board. “Okay, sorry. Keep going.” He tapped and blinked as they guessed, and by the time he put down his hand, exhausted, Josie felt warm droplets of water running down her cheeks.

“
Punkin.
You spelled
punkin,
Dad.” Her voice came out in a sob. “That's me.”

Two blinks.

*   *   *

“Okay, you are banned from the dairy aisle, Mom. You have
got
to start eating something besides yogurt.” Josie pushed the cart through the doors of the grocery store on Sunday morning. “Holy cow. This place is as big as a stadium!”

“Not quite the same as Gloria's Quik-Stop, hm?” Mom smiled as she looked up at the cavernous ceilings. “You should have
seen
the development board meetings before this place was approved. Half the town thought it would destroy the village character forever, and the other half couldn't wait to have a grocery store big enough to actually need wheeled carts.”

“How long's it been here?”

“Just a couple of years, actually. And as much as I appreciated hearing the latest on Gloria's dermatology issues each time I shopped, I'm more than happy to not know about them anymore.”

Josie smiled as she bagged up apples and plums and grapes and bananas for the cart, tossing in a melon and broccoli and green beans as they wheeled through the produce section. Mom peered in. “That's an awful lot of fruit.”

“Fruit is good for you. Quite possibly better than yogurt, even.”

“Sacrilege. Stop picking on my yogurt.” Mom elbowed her playfully as they rounded the end of the aisle and started up the next one.

Thirty minutes later, Josie wheeled the cart toward the registers and started placing groceries onto the belt. As she pulled items from the cart, she realized Mom was biting her lip, trying not to smile too widely.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“You're going to chomp through your lip. What's funny?”

“Not funny. Just nice.” Mom pointed at the brimming belt and still half-full cart. “You've got enough food here to stay for a month.”

Josie paused with two jars of peanut butter in her hands and looked at the groceries. “This
is
a lot of food.” How had she managed to pull so much stuff off the shelves in such a short period of time?

Moreover,
why
had she loaded so much food into their cart? Now that Dad was showing signs of improvement, she could think about heading back to Boston sooner, right?
Right?

Mom laughed out loud. “Don't look so scared. Maybe we can learn to cook while you're here.”

“That might be good.” Josie exhaled slowly, loading the rest of the food on the belt. “Especially since given my dining choices thus far, I'm going to get
fat
while I'm here. I really need to get some exercise before my butt resembles Sno-Cone Sally's.”

“At least your old bike works, though I really wish you'd use my car.”

Josie paused to pay the cashier, then rolled the cart toward the doors. “I think Ike is holding my Jeep hostage so I won't leave town. He keeps saying the part isn't in yet.”

“Well, remember, it takes longer to get stuff up here than it does in the city.”

“I don't think it takes this long to get a part to Alaska, Mom.”

Mom raised her eyebrows as she popped the trunk of her Camry. “You never know, I guess. Maybe someone else asked him to take his time.”

“Right.” Josie grinned at Mom, but felt her smile falter as she saw Mom's lips press together in what looked like anger. “What's the matter?”

Mom's eyes darted over Josie's shoulder, and then she shook her head like she was trying to clear it. “Nothing. Nothing. Just thought I saw a ghost there for a minute.”

Josie glanced over her own shoulder, then froze as she saw the woman staring their way.

“Get in the car, Jos.” Mom pulled the cart away from her hands and steered it toward the corral right next to them. “Come on. You don't want to talk to her.”

Josie couldn't stop staring at the woman, who also seemed frozen to the pavement. Then a loud squawk from inside the woman's tiny car startled them both, and the woman tore her eyes away and opened her car door.

The car sped out of the parking lot and before Josie realized she'd stopped breathing, Mom's arm was over her shoulder, turning her around toward the Camry. “Don't think about her. She hasn't changed. Not one bit.”

Josie stumbled into the passenger seat, breathing faster than she should, but she couldn't slow down. As Mom slid into the driver's seat, Josie turned to her. “How can the state keep giving her foster kids? She doesn't deserve children.”

“No.” Mom shook her head emphatically as she turned the key in the ignition. “She doesn't. She didn't then, and she doesn't now. She certainly never deserved Avery.”

Josie heard a sound that resembled a pathetic whimper come out of her mouth, and she pressed her hand to her lips as a memory crowded into her head.