The Homecoming (29 page)
Before Shawn stopped in to see his dad, he went next door to get the lowdown from Mrs. Fortini and Katherine. He had missed seeing Dr. Matthews by ten minutes. They had filled him in, trying to sound encouraging and optimistic. They weren’t very convincing. Since his dad refused to come in to the hospital, Dr. Matthews said he could only make educated guesses about what had happened and what they were facing. He said his father’s already weakened heart was made much weaker by the attack, and it seemed like his body was starting to shut down. This attack came all on its own; his father hadn’t been doing anything strenuous or difficult. Just reading the morning paper, still in bed.
Shawn opened the front door quietly, in case he was still asleep. The elder Collins awoke as the door shut.
“Shawn,” he said through a cough. He didn’t even try to sit up. “So glad you’re home.”
It was hard not to react at the sight. It was his father, but it was almost like seeing someone else, his body transformed by a losing battle with life itself. “I’m here, Dad.”
Shawn set his things down and walked over to his bed. Instantly, fond memories of his childhood, moments spent with his father in this very room, began floating upward. Sitting on his father’s lap in his favorite chair, as he read him the funnies on Sunday afternoons. The year they put together a Lionel train set before Christmas. His bed occupied the very corner where the family Christmas tree stood every year. “How are you feeling, Dad?” Shawn asked, taking his hand. His father squeezed his hand weakly in return.
“Not too good, son. Better now that you’re here.”
“You were doing so good for so long.”
“Doctor said I’ve lasted much longer than he figured, back when I took that fall.”
“Are you in any pain?”
“It’s not too bad, tired mostly. No energy to do much.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“Had some soup just before you got here, so I’m fine.”
There was a stool beside the bed. Shawn pulled it over and sat down. “How about if I tell you some of my adventures flying fighter planes? Get your mind off this whole heart thing for a while.”
“I’d like that. Imagine . . . my boy. A bomber pilot, a war hero, and now flying fighter planes. I’m glad you went off on your own, Shawn. Made much more of your life than you would’ve if . . . well, go on now, tell me a story.”
Shawn choked back tears. They just sat together for the next hour or so and Shawn talked, trying to keep his dad’s mind off the boredom of being stuck in bed and . . . other things. He had no shortage of exciting mishaps and near-misses with fellow pilots. His dad had a mechanical background, so Shawn included the finer points of the differing engines and performance specs for each plane he flew.
At one point, he could tell his dad was nodding off. “Say, Dad,” he said loudly. His eyes snapped open. “Has Patrick been by to see you since, you know, your heart attack?”
“I don’t think so.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to bring him by.”
“I don’t want to scare him, son. Seeing me like this.”
“You and I both know, Dad, he’s a pretty tough kid. He’s seen things a lot scarier than his grandfather looking tired and weary.”
His father smiled. “All right, I really do want to see him.”
Shawn looked at his watch. “It’s not far from his bedtime. Katherine said he’s been sleeping over there since this happened. Okay if I bring him back, and we can sleep upstairs tonight?”
“Sure. She and Mrs. Fortini been treating this place like a funeral parlor.”
“You be okay a few minutes till I get him?”
“I’ll be right here.”
“Sit here beside me, Patrick. I want to talk with you a bit before we see Grandpa.” Shawn sat on the top step of Mrs. Fortini’s front porch. It had cooled a little in the last hour.
“Is Grandpa okay?”
Shawn put his arm around him. “Well, that’s the thing. See . . . his heart is very old and it’s not working too well right now.”
“Is he gonna die?”
Shawn sighed. “He might . . . could be real soon.”
“But he’ll go to heaven, right?”
“I think so, Patrick. I’m praying for him so he’ll be ready. That way he can meet Mom and Grandma when the time comes.”
“And Jesus,” Patrick said.
“And Jesus most of all. Does it make you sad to talk about this?”
“I don’t feel too sad right now.”
“That’s good. You think you’d be okay if we walked over there for a visit? Maybe start sleeping back in your room tonight?”
“I miss Grandpa. And I made him this.” He wrestled something out of his pocket. It was a wooden cross, similar to Shawn’s.
“You make that all by yourself?”
“Yep, even the notch in the middle.”
“He’s going to be so proud. Let’s head over, then.” Shawn reached back and picked up Patrick’s little suitcase. As they walked down the driveway, Shawn said, “He’s going to look a little skinnier, you know. Because he’s sick.”
“He’s been getting skinnier for a while now. I’m used to it.”
Shawn had forgotten. He was the only one who hadn’t seen his father for weeks. As they walked, he marveled at how well Patrick was handling this, how strong he was for a little boy. When they got to the vestibule, Patrick ran up the steps and burst through the front door like it was any other day. Shawn was just about to stop him, but he was already through the door. “Look what I made you, Grandpa!” he heard as the spring snapped the storm door shut. He walked in. Patrick was already leaning on the bed, holding up his gift. His dad was wide awake and smiling.
This was a good idea.
“You made that for me? All by yourself?” His dad held up the cross. “And look at that notch, just like I taught you.” He put his hand gently around Patrick’s neck. “Come here.” Patrick leaned forward. His father raised himself up a few inches and kissed him on the forehead. Patrick looked back at Shawn; his face was beaming.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” his father said. “It means my bag of tools belongs to you now.”
“Really?”
“I think you’re ready.” He coughed hard a few times and looked away.
“Are you okay, Grandpa?”
“Well, Patrick, I’m not sure.” The cough subsided. “But I’m happy, and that’s better than okay.” He looked up at Shawn, then back at Patrick. “I’m happy because you’re here with me, and your dad’s here.” Tears welled up in his father’s eyes. “We’re all together like we should be.”
“Maybe we should let Grandpa get some sleep,” said Shawn, walking over to the bed. “I’ll get him set up for the night, Dad, then come back and see how you’re doing.”
“That’s good, Shawn. I am feeling sleepy. That’s my full-time job now.”
“You head upstairs, Patrick, and brush your teeth. I’ll bring your bag up.”
“Good night, Grandpa,” Patrick said at the foot of the stairs.
His father held up the cross and smiled. Patrick ran up the stairs. Once he was safely out of sight, Shawn began to cry. He walked over to his dad and gently laid his head on his chest. “I love you, Dad.” As the tears flowed, Shawn tried to cry quietly.
“I love you too, Shawn.”
“I don’t want you to go. I didn’t get enough time with you.”
“Shawn, don’t be sad about that,” his dad whispered. “You did your duty. I’m proud of you. Every spare moment you could be here, you were.”
Shawn stood back up; he didn’t want to hurt him. He wiped his tears on his sleeve.
“You know one of the things I’m most happy about?” his father asked.
Shawn shook his head no.
“Your mom, she would be so happy if she were here. That’s what I was thinking about a moment ago. Seeing us all together.” “She really would,” Shawn said. “But I really need to let you get some rest. You’ve had enough excitement for one night.” They hugged again, and just before Shawn went upstairs, he thought about something his father just said.
And it gave him an idea.
By the time Shawn awoke the next morning, Patrick was already dressed and eating breakfast next door with Katherine. Mrs. Fortini was downstairs sitting with his father. They had conspired to let Shawn sleep in. He decided before he went downstairs to use the opportunity to execute his idea.
For the next forty minutes, he searched his dad’s room, looking for a letter written to Elizabeth from his mom just before she died. He remembered reading it shortly after returning from England two Christmases ago. She told of how much she appreciated the things Elizabeth had taught her about the gospel, and how that understanding had taken away all her fears of facing God when she died. Shawn was sure that letter would help his father now. Shawn was partly convinced his father might already be in a good place from little things he’d said here and there, and especially the changes in his life. But he wasn’t absolutely sure. Who better to explain the gospel to his father now than his own wife, in her own words?
But where was it? He couldn’t find the letter anywhere. His dad would never throw out something like that. After searching through his room, he tiptoed up to the attic. He searched through a handful of places his father might have put it but didn’t find it there either. Just as he came down from the attic, Mrs. Fortini called up to him.
“Shawn, you all right up there? I need to send up a rescue mission?”
Shawn laughed. “I’ll be right down.”
“That breakfast I made is getting cold.”
“Say, Mrs. Fortini,” he said, walking down the steps, “after I eat, let me take a turn with my dad. I’m sure you’ve got things you need to do.”
“Sure, Shawn. Whenever you’re ready, just come over.”
He looked at his father, who was sound asleep. “Thanks,” Shawn said and headed out the door. He said a quick prayer to release his frustration about the letter and tried not to think about how to approach his dad later on, without the letter’s help.
Shawn came back to the house just after 10:00 a.m. and relieved Mrs. Fortini. Just before leaving she’d asked him to try and get his father to sip on some fresh tomato soup she had made that morning. “He loves my tomato soup,” she’d said. “And tell him I went to a good deal of trouble to get those tomatoes.”
He sat in his father’s favorite chair, reading the Bible, his thoughts regularly interrupted by imaginary conversations with his dad. He was rehearsing various opening lines, ways to transition from small talk into perhaps the most serious conversation they would ever have. His tension was not unfounded. The last time he tried to share the gospel with him went horribly. It ended with his dad throwing him out of the house and began a bitter feud that lasted for years.
“Is that you, Shawn?” he heard his father say in a voice just barely above a whisper.
Shawn stood up and walked to the bed. “I’m right here, Dad. You hungry? You slept right through breakfast.”
“Maybe in a little while.”
“Mrs. Fortini made fresh tomato soup. She said to tell you she had to kill someone to get those tomatoes.”
He smiled. “Now I know I’m dying.”
“What?”
“Turning down Mrs. Fortini’s tomato soup.”
“Well, it’s in the icebox. I can heat it up when you’re ready.” Shawn dragged the stool next to his father’s bed. What should he say? How could he shift the conversation?
“Shawn, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for some time now.”
The question caught Shawn off guard. “What is it?”
“It’s about Katherine.”
“Katherine?” This was totally unexpected. Shawn wondered if he’d ever heard him call her by her first name before.
“I don’t have much time left, I can feel it. Lately, when I’m awake enough to think straight, I keep thinking about you and Patrick after I’m gone. Do you ever think about Katherine?”
“In what way?” Shawn asked, but he knew what way.
“I can hardly believe I’m saying this, considering the way we started, but I think she’s a pretty special lady.”
Shawn was stunned. “Dad . . . at best, I’d have thought you just tolerated her.”
“That’s ’cause I’m a stubborn old stinker, as Mrs. Fortini likes to say. But I’d hate to see you and Patrick all alone. I’ve seen how they are together. She’s really taken the sting out of his sorrow, the way she loves him. And Patrick . . .” Tears started to fill his eyes. “He deserves the very best.”
Shawn could hardly reply. He took a deep breath, trying to suppress his emotions. “I think I know what you’re saying, Dad. I’m just having a hard time getting past Elizabeth. I can’t imagine replacing her with anyone else.”
“Then don’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean don’t replace her. I’m no expert on these things, but I’ve watched my heart go places this last year I didn’t think possible. Elizabeth will always be in the same place in your heart, probably all your life. It’s a room you should always cherish. I’ve got a room just like it for your mom. But you’re young. So build a new room, one for you and Katherine. That’s what I’m saying.”
Shawn didn’t know what to say. All his life he wanted to have conversations like this with his dad. “Dad . . . I hear what you’re saying. And I will think long and hard about it. I’m not just saying that.”
“That’s all I ask. Guess talking serious for a few minutes is all I can handle. I’m feeling sleepy again.”
“Dad, before you nod off, there’s something I want to talk to you about. It’s another serious thing, so you’ll probably sleep the rest of the day when we’re done.”
His dad opened his eyes.
“I really don’t know how to say this, it’s just . . . like you said, this could be
the time
. I’ve been putting off talking about this. The last time we did, it didn’t go so well.” His father turned, looking straight at him, but there was no anger in his eyes. “I just need to know that you really are ready . . . if it is time.”
“Do you think I might not be?” his father asked weakly.
“I don’t think so. It’s so obvious that you’ve changed so much, but I just want to be sure about a few things, and we’ve never been able to talk about them before. I tried to find that letter Mom wrote to Elizabeth just before she died. She said what I wanted to say so well. I thought it would help you hearing it from Mom. But I looked for over an hour, can’t find it anywhere.”
