Before hospice stepped in, she’d been in constant fear that he would roll out of bed. Hospice had helped her get a hospital bed, and then she’d moved him from the bedroom at the back of the house to the living room up front. Now it was easier for her to care for him, and cook and do laundry, as well. And, with the hospital bed, she no longer had to be afraid he would fall.
Still, every sound he made had her up and checking to be sure he wasn’t choking, or if she needed to change his diaper before he messed up his bed. Even though he was a shadow of his former self, he was still heavy. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold on, and seeing Bowie after all these years had been a bitter reminder of what she’d lost.
After tossing and turning for hours, she got up and dressed, ran a brush through her hair and then tied it back out of her face. Her feet were dragging when she went to start the coffee. She needed to eat, but the thought of food turned her stomach, so she started the coffee and then went to check on Marshall.
His chest was barely moving, but his eyelids were fluttering. She wondered what he was seeing. Mama, she hoped, or maybe angels.
Daddy was dying.
She didn’t want him to be afraid.
*
It was after ten when Bowie drove into Eden in Stanton’s truck. It smelled like Stanton’s aftershave, and there were bits of paper with notes he had written to himself all over the seat. Bowie picked them up and dropped them into the console without reading them. It was hard enough to accept he was gone without all the tangible bits and pieces he’d left behind.
Bowie had his mother’s list in his pocket, but his thoughts were on Talia. If he was honest with himself, he was afraid—afraid to find out that her father’s illness had nothing to do with her telling him no.
The supermarket was busy, and because he didn’t know the layout of the store, it took longer than he’d intended to get everything. More than once someone stopped him to ask about his mother and send their condolences. After the sixth or seventh time he got cornered in an aisle, he understood his mother’s reluctance to do this herself.
When he finished, he added a six-pack of root beer for Jesse and headed for the checkout lane with the shortest line to wait his turn. By the time he got checked out, his stomach was in knots. Going to see Talia was scary. It might put their past to rest or stir up things best left unsaid. It was all an unknown, and Bowie didn’t like feeling uncertain.
He loaded all the sacks into the backseat of his dad’s truck, and then got in and drove out of the parking lot. His heart was thumping all the way through town as the knot in his belly grew tighter. When he finally found the house he pulled in behind a blue Ford Taurus and parked.
His throat was dry. His hands were sweating. He wasn’t sure how he felt emotionally, but it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. Still, waiting wasn’t going to make things any easier, so he got out and headed for the front door.
*
Talia was nearly finished bathing her father when she heard a knock at the door. She frowned as she glanced at the time. Erin was really early this morning. Maybe her schedule had changed. She dropped the washcloth back in the basin and drew the sheet up to her father’s waist, then pulled the guardrail back up.
“Someone is at the door, Dad. I’ll be right back.”
She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smoothed her hand down the front of her shirt. It was wet in places, faded and old, but it served the purpose. She opened the door and then froze.
It wasn’t Erin.
It was only a few seconds, but in the space of time it took for her and Bowie to meet each other’s gazes, every moment of their past flashed before her eyes.
Then he spoke, and the shock ended.
“May I come in?” he asked.
She took a deep breath as the sound of his voice rolled through her. The urge to strip where she stood and lie down beneath him was so strong it made her ache.
“I’m bathing my father.”
“I’ll wait somewhere until you’ve finished...if you’ll let me in.”
She told herself to stay cool, stay calm, and then she stepped aside.
“If you insist,” she said. “As you can see, Dad’s in the living room, so feel free to have a seat on the sofa. I can hear you from there.”
Bowie didn’t know what he’d expected to see, but it wasn’t Marshall Champion’s frail, emaciated body laid out in that bed like a corpse. But instead of sitting down, he followed her back to the bed.
Talia was shaking, uncertain what to do. If she picked up the washcloth again he would see her trembling. She didn’t want him to know he still had the power to touch her like that, so she grabbed the guardrail instead before she faced him across the bed.
“I am so sorry about your father,” she said. “I was horrified to hear what happened. Please, give Leigh and your family my condolences. I would have taken food over, but as you can see, my time is not my own.”