When I finally had the courage to get out of the car, I walked first to the empty, crumbling slab where my father’s house sat and then past it to the field, then past the tree line, and down the short embankment to the creek, where our now-dilapidated dock still stood. I ran my hand over our initials. J & E FOREVER.
On my way back toward the road, I was startled by two figures standing near the old shed. It was a woman in her fifties, and behind her, several feet away, stood a much older woman, maybe in her eighties. The younger of the two said, “Can I help you, ma’am?” She was wearing an apron. Her long, gray hair was braided down her back, and her hands were on her hips.
“Um, I was just wondering if you knew of a Jackson Fisher? If maybe he still lived here?”
“He does,” she said unemotionally.
“Are you his wife?” I asked.
“Who wants to know?” came a raspy voice from the old woman, who was scrutinizing me.
“My name is Emerson, and I grew up here, in the house that used to be next door.” I pointed.
The older woman put her hand over her mouth and gasped.
“I’m not his wife. I’m his caretaker, Alicia,” said the younger woman.
The old woman came closer to me, bent, and looked right into my eyes. “It is you.”
In that moment, I recognized her too. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Leila, but I’m actually surprised you made it this long.”
“Me too.” Her voice and expression softened. She leaned in closer.
“Why does Jax need a caretaker?” I asked.
“Because he’s sick, darling.”
I felt a searing ache deep in my chest. “Sick with what?”
“Lung cancer,” Alicia’s voice came from behind.
I didn’t take my eyes off Leila. “But you were the smoker.”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” she said.
“It should have been you.” I used the line she’d used on Jax after Brian had drowned. I was so angry and so sad for Jax that I could feel a part of me dying with him already, and I hadn’t even seen him yet.
She looked down at the ground. “You’re right. I deserve that, but look at me. I’m an old woman full of regrets.”
“Me too,” I told her as I fought back tears.
I traveled there to see a place I thought had long since been abandoned, but he was still there. What was he waiting for? I wondered. “I saw his book. Did he ever write anything else?”
“No, just the one book,” Leila said. “After the book failed, he got a job at the glass factory and worked there until he got sick earlier this year.”
“Does he have a family?”
“Just me.”
I became extremely emotional. Tears were running down my face, and I was having a hard time breathing. Pulling my sunglasses on, I said, “How long does he have?”
Alicia came up next to me and said, “The doctors say it could be months. Could be weeks. Could be any day now. Basically, they don’t know.”
I fell to my knees, dropped my head into my hands, and cried. Leila, as old as she was, knelt down next to me and held me. Why did he have to be sick? Why couldn’t Jackson have gone on and made a beautiful life for himself? I thought I was saving him when I called out to the police that night. I thought loving someone meant letting go, but by the time I learned that loving someone means fighting for them too, it was too late.
For years, I’d fantasized that Jackson had gone on to be rich in life and love and family. I’d dreamed that the old house I was facing on my knees would be demolished, along with all of our past pain, but it wasn’t. It was still there waiting for me.
“Can I see him?”
16. About Life?
My eyes were swollen, and my throat ached from being on the verge of tears the entire time I was reading.
Lying in bed, I thought about Trevor and how in the beginning of our relationship he was all passion and flowers and gifts. Even though he wasn’t always willing to share his feelings verbally, I knew I meant a lot to him. When I would call, he came. I thought, maybe after rehab, he would go back to that wonderful guy he was when I first met him.
I thought about Jase and our history, and I wondered if it would always be there, lingering, like a creaking wood slat in the floor, to remind us of what we had endured. I texted him late that night.
Me: You up?
Jase: Yes
Me: Can I call you?
Two seconds later, my phone rang. “Hello,” I said.
“Hi.”
“When I saw my father, he told me to tell you thank you and that he was sorry.” I got choked up. “He’s sober now, and he was kind.”
“How are you so strong, Emiline?”
“Maybe you taught me.” I sighed. “Trevor checked into rehab today.”
“That’s good. You did the right thing by calling him out on it. I’m sure he’ll be grateful to you when he’s clean. Sometimes people who love us make us do hard things because it’s what’s right.”
“I’m almost done with the book.”
“What, are you reading, like, five words an hour?” he teased.
“I’m savoring it, jerk.” There was silence, and then I heard him try to stifle a yawn. “You sound tired. Is Andrea there?”
“No, she has her own room, silly. It’s late here, but I don’t want to get off the phone with you.”
“Go to bed, Jase. I’ll talk to you soon.”