Where We Fell (9 page)
Authors: Amber L. Johnson
EPILOGUE
MY MOM’S FACE IS PINCHED, tight, and on the verge of
being dangerously red.
“You can cry,” I tell her, pulling her to my side
for a squeeze.
“I’m not. Nope. I’m not going to.” Her voice cracks
and I have to make a very concerted effort not to smile.
“I’ll be thirty minutes up the road. Eighteen, tops,
if Dad turns on the siren.”
My dad rolls his eyes and puts the last of my things
in the back of the car. He motions me over, hands me a twenty, and looks away
before I can see that his eyes are red, too. “For gas,” he says, letting his
gaze rest somewhere toward our roof. “Don’t speed.”
“Thanks.” I wait for him to gather his composure,
pushing my fists into the front pockets of my jeans as the seconds pass. “I’m
gonna be fine.”
“Yeah, I know that, son.” He finally turns toward me
and roughly pulls me to his chest. My hands are stuck in my pockets so it’s a
little more awkward than it should be, but I let it happen. Before he can break
the embrace, another set of arms surrounds us both.
“I love group hugs,” Hannah squeaks under my
shoulder as my dad moves to let her in. And then my mom has gotten into the mix
and I wonder if the neighbors are as amused by this public display of affection
as I suddenly am.
“Okay, okay. Enough.” I’m released from my parents’
hold, but Hannah slips in against my side, and I hold her close as we both
stare back at their feeble attempts to keep themselves intact.
I’ve had every conversation imaginable with the girl
safely tucked beneath my arm.
“What if your cancer comes back?”
“What if
you
get it? It seems to
run in your family . . .”
“Then I’ll kick its ass. Just like you
did.”
“Ditto.”
Or:
“Stella has me on speed dial. She’s
already told me to limit your bacon intake to one meal a week.”
“I’m pretty sure my mom can’t tell me
what to do at college.”
“She can if she’s blowing up my phone
every day.”
“Get used to it. Stella’s going to be
calling you for a very long time.”
Lastly:
“Do you think Coco is going to be
irritated with the amount of time I’ll be spending at your place?”
“Do you think Kayleigh is ever going to
make eye contact with me when we go on double dates?”
It’s an amazing thing, having a future. Knowing that
tomorrow is going to come, and another tomorrow will show up after that, until
there are no tomorrows left. I’ve been afforded a second chance in more than
one respect. And that list I made? Maybe I’ve accomplished everything I
originally set out to do.
I run in the bitter morning cold, until I can’t feel
my nose or fingertips anymore.
I hold Hannah in my arms on her doorstep.
And without doing it on purpose, I’ve done something
nice for my parents. I packed my stuff and am leaving their home as a healthy
teenage boy about to start his first semester of college. In some strange way,
I’ve given them what they always hoped for: a future for their son.
Hannah presses into my side and rubs her face on my
sleeve. “We should head out. I heard we might actually get snow.”
“We get sleet. We always get sleet.” I chuckle and
wrap her in my arms, checking the thick clouds overhead for verification.
She hugs my parents and they give me their final
I-love-yous before the two of us settle into the heated interior of my car.
Hannah’s hand slides over the console and her fingers interlock with mine as I
turn and give one last wave and pull out of the driveway.
We’re not guaranteed much in this world, but if
you’re lucky, someone might come along and will show you exactly how much life
there is to live.
In the back of my car sits a book filled with
pictures of a summer where death was as close as a heartbeat.
In the passenger seat sits a girl that made it worth
the fight.
And ahead of us, through a slightly frosted
windshield, there’s a whole new chapter we’ve yet to start.
About
the Author
Amber is a full-time
mom, full-time wife, is employed full time, and writes when she can. She
believes in Happily Ever Afters that occur every day - despite the obstacles
that real life serves up on a regular basis. Or perhaps they're sweeter simply
because of them. She always has two rubber bands on her wrist, a song in her
head, and too much creamer in her coffee cup that reads 'Cocoa' - because she's
a rebel. If she's not at her desk, with her boys, or behind the computer, she's
supporting live music with her arms raised above her head and eyes closed,
waiting for the drop.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the
following individuals who without their contributions and support this book
would not have been written:
To Kathie Spitz who has edited
(almost) everything my fingers have typed for the last four years. And who
graciously offers advice and comfort in the most trying of times.
To Lori Wilt who has read and
re-read (and read again) the words I’ve put out into the world. I never knew a
simple email could align the stars to gift me with one of my best friends in
the universe.
To Stephanie Alexander who said,
“Please write this” and cheered me on every last step of the way. She’s the
reason I write, and the reason I never gave up.
To Angela Vanburen and Mary
Latunski, my nurses who suggested samples, sunny days and right-sided ports.
These ladies made sure I kept it authentic, and my gratitude is unwavering.
To Annie Rockwell for making a
masterpiece out of three simple pictures.
For the friends that I made read
this, thank you for making time for me. I’m forever indebted.
To April who put her degree to
use and told me she was in my corner when I needed it most.
No amount of thanks would be
enough for the invaluable support and mentoring given to me by the wonderful
Sydney Logan. Her encouragement and step-by-step advice has meant the world to
me, and I'm a hundred percent sure you wouldn't know about this book without
her.
And lastly, to Sara McClung who
granted me the opportunity to have her look over ten pages and gave me
invaluable feedback that ended with, “I’d buy this.”
And to you because you gave this
a chance. Thank you.
