Pall in the Family (25 page)

On Saturday morning, I waited on the bridge for
Mac. The sun was bright, but the light filtered through the trees on the water below. The stream bubbled brightly under the bridge. It had been a long time since I'd felt this light and free. I realized I was happy. I was going to see Mac, and the dream that I thought predicted his injury or death had been wrong. I had been wrong. He was going to be fine.

I spotted him coming along the path. He wasn't using his cane, since he'd given it to Vi, and seemed to be moving more easily without it. He walked up to meet me at the top of the small rounded bridge. He put out his arms and smiled. It was a smile I had seen so many times before, mostly when I was asleep.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey.”

I went to him and he folded me into his arms. I breathed in his pine-and-lake-breeze scent. We stayed like that for a long time.

“Mac, I need to tell you something.” I pulled away to look at his face.

“Do I want to hear it?” He smiled down at me.

“That letter you wrote. The one you gave to Tish?” I wasn't doing this right. His smile faded.

“We don't need to talk about it. Let's just start from here.”

“But you need to know.”

“Ancient history.” He drew me back into his arms.

“The thing is . . . I just got it.” I felt his arms stiffen.

“Just got what?”

“The letter. It was part of Tish's will. She left me your letter and said she was sorry to have kept it, but the time wasn't right for us.”

Mac let go of me and turned toward the bridge wall.

“So, all that time I thought you had chosen your psychic life over me—”

“I thought you were mad that I didn't tell you about Dean,” I said to his back.

His shoulders started to shake. I panicked for a moment—I'd never seen Mac cry. I didn't think I was ready for that. I looked around, trying to come up with a distraction so I could pretend I hadn't seen.

He turned, and I saw that he was laughing. Laughing so hard he was crying.

I stamped my foot. “I don't know what's so funny about wasting eight years when we could have been together.”

“It's not that. It's just, well, we can't fix the past.” He shrugged. “I wasn't mad about your involvement. I just didn't know how to handle it.” He rubbed his eyes and appeared to be trying to pull himself together. “When you told me that you had dreamed we would be married, I knew we would have to get away from here if we could ever live a normal life without the psychic influence.”

“Why didn't you ever call, or come back?”

“Well, I wrote that letter and thought that if you wanted what I wanted you'd come to me. I was a coward.” Mac turned toward the stream again. “I didn't want to tell you in person and risk watching you choose this place over me.” He turned toward me. “I won't make that mistake again.”

“I'd have had a few things to say to Tish if she were still alive.” I crossed my arms and glared at the stream, which now seemed brightly irritating.

“I brought something to show you.” He put his arm around my shoulder and turned me toward the path.

We looked back down the pathway in the direction of the parking lot. I didn't see anything. Mac whistled. A large brown dog turned the corner onto the trail. I recognized his dark droopy face as he came limping along the track through the trees. His left front leg was wrapped in white, and another bandage crossed his chest. Andrews waved from the other end of the trail. Baxter sped up a bit when he saw me, and I ran down the path to meet him. I was so happy to see him I didn't even mind the drool. He slobbered and wagged his tail so hard his whole body moved with it. I buried my face in his fur and didn't let go until my entire sleeve was wet. We walked slowly back to Mac, Baxter limping and flashing his doggy smile at me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I should be thanking Baxter. He did the one thing I was trying to do all along.”

Suddenly I was in his arms and I felt all the pain and stress fade away. It felt better than I remembered. It felt like home.