“No. I’m having a conversation with my son about things that matter.”
Harry rested his head on Dad’s shoulder. He wouldn’t embarrass him with a hug. Dad had his way of dealing with life; Harry had his. It didn’t make one right or one wrong. It all boiled down to acceptance.
Dad rested his cheek on the crown of Harry’s head.
Harry smiled. Best thing of all? Dad had finally stopped wearing aftershave.
FORTY-TWO
Felix turned off the engine, and Simple Minds stopped playing. What were the chances Harry and Tom would be drawn to the same song three decades apart? Was it merely a quirk of coincidence, or was it a present from the cosmos? Maybe the dead never really left; maybe everything circled round in a big blur, until endings became beginnings and the wheels of life started moving again. Or maybe he just needed sleep.
Extracting himself from Max’s house had led to a new level of exhaustion. Max had insisted on a bear hug, and then Max’s brother and the family dog had wanted in on the action. Apparently, Felix was now something of a star in Max’s world. It was not an unpleasant experience, despite the hugs. Max’s dad, Pete, had even suggested they grab a beer sometime. Felix had thanked him and accepted the invitation—even though he didn’t drink beer, and Pete was definitely one of those backslapping types who favored sports bars.
Felix stared up through the windshield into the clear night. The stars glittered like polished gems; the moon was close to full, with a wisp of cloud streaked across it in the gentlest of paint strokes. Until he’d moved to North Carolina, Felix had never seen nights as bright and clear, nights that looked as if they belonged in a planetarium display. Beyond his sleeping son in the passenger seat and across the bridge, the warm lights of their house beckoned. Felix smiled. He had brought his son home. Nothing had ever felt quite this good.
Felix released his seat belt and leaned toward Harry. “Come on, Hazza. Let’s go see Mom.” Should he not have let Harry sleep in the car? Felix had run every worst-case scenario with the doctors before leaving Cambridge. How long, though, before he stopped obsessing over the chance of traumatic brain injury?
For once, Harry woke with a stretch and a yawn, not a jolt. “I’ll get the bags.”
“Be careful on the bridge,” Felix said.
The tree limb that had fallen in the ice storm had taken out part of the railing. Next weekend he would start work on a new bridge using red cedar, and coat it in polyurethane like the rails in Duke Gardens to achieve that rich color. And he would encourage the ivy to wind up the bridge in the same way it wound round the tree trunks. To represent survival.
“Wow, Dad. What a night! Twinkle, twinkle, big galaxy. Or galaxies. Did you see that? Something orange streaked across the sky. What d’ya think? Meteorite or a comet?”
“Good question. Meteorite?”
“Yeah, that’s what I think.”
Harry gave him a knuckle touch, and they crossed the bridge as Ella’s voice called them home. She was framed in the light of the open front door. Katherine was with her, but she withdrew as Harry rushed forward to hug his mother.
“Gently,” Felix called out before he joined them and closed his arms around his family.
“I love you both so much,” Ella said, and pulled back to ruffle Harry’s hair. “There’s someone inside desperate to see you.”
“Sammie!” Harry squealed, and disappeared.
“Eudora’s here too,” Ella said. “Everyone’s been so worried.” Ella touched his face, her hand freezing. It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but she looked pale.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed. Let’s get you inside.”