driveway," she says. "Is it that bad in the house?"
"No, not at all. The nurse had some stuff to do, and I just came out to give her some space."
"How long ago was that?"
"Not sure. Maybe half an hour."
"He awake?"
"He was when I left."
"How's he feeling?"
"About as well as can be expected," he says, looking up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why didn't you tell me how long you'd been back in touch with him?"
"Oh, that." she says, suddenly looking concerned. "I don't know. I guess I didn't want you to know."
"Why not?"
"When it happened, when Susannah first got in contact with me, I felt like I was betraying a tacit agreement I had with you or something."
"An agreement about what?"
"To keep our distance from him. For Mom."
"But he was sick. Didn't you think I'd want to know?"
"Sure I did. And, after awhile, I did want to tell you. And I tried. For the past several months, I've tried to get in touch with you."
"You could've left a voicemail or texted me."
"Simon, seriously? We haven't talked in almost a year. I had no idea what your situation was, or how you felt about him, or me for that matter. It was something I felt like—if I were going to tell you—I wanted to be able to have a back-and-forth about it."
"I'm not blaming you. I just wish I'd known sooner, that's all. I know it's my fault."
"It's nobody's fault."
"Still, I shouldn't have been so distant from you."
"It's not too late for us to change, you know."
"No, it's not. It's just too bad we're going to have to lose him before I finally figured it out," he says, looking away from her, turning back toward the water.
"Boy, it is nice out here, isn't it?" she says, looking out at the lake.
"It is. If it weren't so hot, I might actually want to just stay out here the rest of the day."
"You could always jump in."
"I could," he says. "Strange that it never even occurred to me to get in the water. When we were kids, just sitting here would've been unthinkable. We wouldn't have been able to stop ourselves from getting in."
"We've either learned to be disgusted by what's in the water, or we've lost all sense of play."
"Which do you think it is?"
"Probably a little bit of both," she says. "Plus, when you're younger you have your parents to sweat all the details of a swim. As kids, swimming seems like a no-brainer because we didn't really think about the mess of it."
"Did we ever have that? Did Mom and Dad ever seem very good at sweating the details?"
"Mom sweated the details too much. So much so that she was handicapped by them. She would've never been able to come here with us."
"I guess not," he says, staring back at the endless water ahead of them. "You think we'd make better parents than they were, or are we doomed by genetics to be as depressed and avoidant as they were?"
"I don't think so. I think we'd be fine as long as we're aware enough of all their bad traits," she says, sitting beside him and leaning into his body a bit. He likes feeling the weight of her body. It steadies him somehow. "I'm about to find out you know."
"What?"
"I'm pregnant."
"You are? No kidding?"
"No kidding."
"Maggie, that's great," he says, and he feels a rush of joy for her. He puts his arm around her, squeezes her close. "How long?"
"I'm about twelve weeks along."
"That must be what Scott was talking about today."
"He told you?"
"He implied that there was something I should know. I assumed it had something to do with Dad," he says. "Does Dad know?"
"No, I haven't told him, yet. I don't know how it'll make him feel. Will he be happy or heartbroken?"
"You should run it by Susannah, see what she thinks."
"You think?"
"She seems to know him pretty well, seems to have his best interests at heart."
"Maybe I will," she says, and turns toward the water.
"You think we should go back?"
"Probably should," she says, standing up from the grass, wiping some wisps from the back of her pants.
Simon stands and grabs her hand as they start back toward the house. "I'm really happy for you, Maggie. This is a good thing."
"It feels good. I only wish he could… You know."
"I know," he says, and they walk silently for a minute before Simon asks, "Whose car is that?
"The red one? That's Laura's," she says. "You like her, don't you?"
"Yeah, sure. She seems nice."
"Come on, Simon. You're so transparent."
"I have been thinking about her a lot," he says. "I know it's silly. We've only just met."
"But she's captured your imagination."
"That she has," he says, as they approach the stairs of the porch.
"And Rachael?"
"That's over."
"You're sure?"
"It was a long time coming, trust me. I'm happy to have it behind me."
Maggie grabs his arm, stops him on the steps. "Remember that Susannah and Laura are both emotionally attached to Dad in a particularly strong way."
"I would imagine so."
"No, I'm serious. I've seen the way Susannah looks at you. You look a lot like dad, only twenty years younger. There are so many similarities between you two that it's disorienting. Even when I first saw you the other day, it threw me for a second. And it's always been that way. No one would ever doubt you were his son. It's self-evident."
"You're exaggerating. People don't get confused in that way. We're obviously different."
"Sure you are, but to people who are about to lose someone they love so dearly, they might become desperate enough to find anything to fill those impending holes. Like I've said, I've seen it. Since you got here, Susannah has been looking at you in a particularly warm, hopeful way."
"And Laura?"
"Well, she, too, is very close to him. And he's very fond of her. I think he may have even been trying to play a little bit of matchmaker with you two."
"He's not been very subtle about it."
"All I'll say is make sure that she knows you're not him. It seems obvious, I know. Just don't feed any illusions if you think they're there."
"I think you're making too much of it," he says, walking up the stairs of the porch. But he can't quite shake thinking about yesterday evening with Susannah, when she closed her eyes and asked him to hum a song to her, a song he assumes his father has hummed to her many times in the past.
"I'm happy you're going to be around again. I've missed having you around," Maggie says.
"What gave you the idea I was staying? I haven't agreed to anything, yet."
"Maybe not on paper, but you're staying," she says, walking through the door he's holding open for her.
He follows her into the hall and through the door of their father's room. Inside, Susannah and Laura are standing at his bedside, and they both synchronously turn toward Maggie and Simon and smile.
The radio is off now and the mood in the room should be dismal, but with the sun shining, and all the smiling, everything seems so bright and warm.
"He still awake?" Simon says, hardly above a whisper.
"I'm still here," his dad says.
As Simon moves to the foot of the bed, his father's face is beatific. He's glowing, and not just from the sun that's shining through the window. It occurs to him, as he looks into the smiling, shining face of his father, that this is what the end must look like, and, suddenly, he's sure that death is coming soon. And, in that moment, it seems alright—natural, even.
"Is your sister here?" Sy asks.
"Right here, Dad," Maggie says, approaching the bed from behind Simon.
"This is wonderful. Everyone I love is he
re. Now, if you guys would just move around a little bit, you're starting to make me feel like I'm on exhibit."
"Right," Susannah says, taking a seat on the chair near the bed.
Laura backs away from the bed and moves toward the back wall, where she leans with her arms crossed, suddenly seeming self-conscious.
"Maggie has something she wants to tell you, Susannah," Simon says, never taking his eyes off his dad.
"Simon," Maggie says, shooting him a surprised look.
"Oh, okay," Susannah says, standing up from the chair. "Do you want to go out to the living room?"
"That's fine," Maggie says, still staring at Simon. Simon just smiles at her.
As Maggie and Susannah leave the room, Simon turns to his dad.
"What are you smiling about? What'd you do?" Sy asks him.
"Nothing."
"Looks like you put your sister on the spot."
"Just a little."
"So, Laura," Sy says, changing the subject. "Simon tells me that he's taking the job."
"He is?" Laura says, taking a step toward the bed again.
"That's good news, right?"
"It's great," she says, and she genuinely does seem happy, though she seems careful not to make eye contact with Simon for some reason.
"There's still a few things that I need to clear up before anything's final."
"Just paperwork," Sy says. "Everything will be fine, I'm sure. And you guys will work great together. I know it. My work couldn't be in more capable hands."
There is a noise that comes from the other room, something approaching a squeal.
"What was that?" Sy asks, turning to the door and then back to Simon. "You mind going out to see what happened?"
"No, it's alright," Simon says. "They'll be back in a second."
"I couldn't tell if that was a good noise or a bad noise," Sy says.
"I think we're about to find out," Simon says, hearing Maggie and Susannah coming down the hall.
Laura fades back into the back wall. Simon moves toward her, stands beside her as she crosses her arms again. It's not particularly encouraging