The woman gave Erin an apologetic look. Erin knew the mother’s look all too well. She had seen it for years on her mother’s face every time her dad would slam Tony for some reason. Too timid to defend their sons in the presence of their husbands, both of these women carried the burden of loving their husbands and their sons, yet they could be true only to one. The husbands won.
Erin felt as if she had just been handed a revelation. She understood as never before the complicated dynamic that had been at work in her family under her nose. No wonder Tony struggled as he did for so long. He knew he was a disappointment to his father because Tony didn’t push hard enough to develop his mediocre athletic abilities. And he never received the full loving support of his mother because Faith was the sort of woman who would always take her husband’s side.
The revelation lit a fire in Erin’s gut. She stepped around to the other side of the man with the binoculars, and before she had time to lose her courage, she said, “Sir, I hope you’ll excuse the way this is going to sound, but do you know how many fathers would love to know their son grew up to be useful to society and not a drug addict? You are blessed more than you know, and you don’t want to die an old fool who never took the opportunity to say to his son words that could change his life. Words such as ‘I’m proud of you. I think you turned out great.’ And most important, ‘I love you.’”
The man lowered the binoculars and turned to her, looking angry and stunned.
That didn’t stop her. “Let me tell you something. My father is lying in a bed right now, paralyzed on the right side of his body, being fed through a tube in his stomach, and drawing oxygen from a tube in his nose. It happened like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis.
“My brother, my father’s only son, has waited his entire life to hear those simple words from the one man in the world whose opinion of him matters. And you know what? Now that my father has been reduced to a drooling invalid, he’s finally ready to say those things to my brother. Finally! But the stroke that took from my father the ability to move also took his ability to speak. He can’t form a single word. It’s too late.”
Erin and the older man locked gazes for a full five seconds before she felt Mike’s hand on her arm. She felt her legs shaking and knew the tears would come any minute so she turned and headed back to the car.
“It’s been really rough on all of us,” Mike said diplomatically before escorting Erin back to the car. The tone in his voice didn’t sound as if he were apologizing for Erin’s diatribe, nor was he diminishing any of her message.
They drove out of the parking lot without speaking and continued several miles down the winding seacoast highway before Erin felt her gut calming down. She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back.
Mike reached over and covered her hand with his. “I’m proud of you,” he said.
She let the affirming tone of his voice wash over her.
“I think you turned out great.”
Now she knew he was going down the list she had given the man on the peninsula.
“And I love you.”
“I know you do,” she said without opening her eyes.
“And I’m going to call all three of our sons today and tell them the same thing.”
Erin turned to her husband with a tender expression. “You’ve already told our boys those things many times.”
“It won’t hurt them one bit to hear all that again.”
Erin gave Mike’s hand a squeeze.
“What’s keeping Tony from coming over here to see your dad? You said he called back and left you a message.”
“He did call me, but that was almost a week ago. I think it might be the money that’s holding him back.”
“Let’s call him right now. Tell him we’ll cover his ticket. He needs to come.”
Erin placed the call, and both she and Mike persuaded Tony to come. He responded by expressing his gratitude for their assistance and said he would come as soon as he could.
Erin prayed that her dad would hang in there. She didn’t want Tony to arrive when it was too late for the two men to look each other in the eye and allow all the unspoken messages that needed to be said pass between them.
Jack appeared to be improving with the help of the medication, painkillers, and perhaps the comfort of being home and in his own bed with continual care. The oxygen was helpful, and the increased fluids Marge faithfully measured out five times a day and forced through his feeding tube also seemed to make a difference.
Erin missed Mike more than ever after he left. She missed the warmth of his body beside her in bed that night. She missed the steady calm he brought to her up-and-down emotions. She missed him.
For a long time the next day she sat beside her dad, staring out the window at the huge white clouds that sailed across the sky and headed out to sea. Her mother used to call puffy cumulus clouds “wish clouds.”
She said that when a little girl wishes, she wishes on a dandelion blown to the wind. When a young woman wishes, she wishes on a star. When a grown woman wishes, she wishes on a cloud.
Erin thought of all the wishes that had come true in her life: marrying Mike, three great sons, and a darling daughter-in-law. And now by being with her father for these difficult and yet God-filled weeks, Erin had received the wish she had never dared to wish for on a dandelion, a star, or a cloud. She had received her father’s affection.
The next morning Erin noticed how the days had turned warm. The warmest they’d been since she had arrived. A true Northwest Indian summer invited the leaves to turn colors. The sky was filled with cumulus clouds. The sun poured in the front windows.
That evening Erin persuaded Marge to stay a couple of hours after her day shift ended. Together the ambitious two women transferred Jack to his wheelchair. He was of little assistance to them in his weakened state, but he was wide awake as they made the transfer. His left eyebrow remained busy trying to ask Erin what was going on.
“We’re taking you out to dinner and a show,” she told him.
He made gurgling sounds that were impossible to distinguish. They could have been happy sounds or sounds of protest. It didn’t matter. Erin was determined to do this, and she had Marge’s support.
Strapping Jack firmly in the wheelchair and making sure all the portable devices such as the oxygen were attached, the two of them opened the persimmon red door and wheeled Jack out into the warm September evening. As soon as they were on the deck, his face lit up.
“Oh, did you think we were trying to trick you into going back to the hospital?”
The desperate look in his glassy eyes told her that was what he had thought.
“Dad, I wouldn’t do that to you. Trust me. I wouldn’t try to trick you. I said dinner and a show, and I meant it. We’re going to take you to the bench. Your bench. And we’re going to have some yummy things to eat, and we’re going to watch the sunset. So what do you think? Is it a date?”
He appeared to try to raise his left arm, but it wasn’t cooperating. With a noble effort he merely lifted his thumb.
Erin laughed. “I see that thumb.”
He closed his eyes as if just the effort of lifting his thumb had tuckered him out. Or he might be shutting down to reserve his batteries for what was to come.
“We could just watch the sunset from here on the deck,” Marge suggested.
“Let’s at least try to wheel him out there. We can always come back if it’s not working.”
The two women put their backs into maneuvering the wheelchair down the ramp and across the uneven grass. The wheelchair barely fit through the bramble path that was becoming overgrown. But they did it. They reached the bench and set the brake on the wheelchair. The cement slab Jack had poured to support his bench now served as the perfect curb to keep his wheelchair steadied against the updraft.
Erin trotted back to the cottage and carried out the tray she had prepared. For herself and Marge she had put together a plate with cheese, cr
ackers, and slices of pear. For her dad she had several small dots of Jenny Bee’s raspberry jam. In a small cup she had some especially dark coffee. With the tastes for her dad she had an assortment of swabs lined up like party skewers.
“Here we go! Dinner and a show!” Erin called out, as she came trotting back on the bramble trail.
Marge was fiddling with the oxygen tube in Jack’s nose and finally just took it out. “Is that what you wanted? You want to breathe the sea air?”
He gave an odd quiver and seemed to try to take in a deep breath but was unable to robustly fill his lungs. The women watched him as he quivered and sniffed, quivered and sniffed. He seemed okay, breathing for a while without the oxygen’s assistance.
“Well, look at you, Mr. Hotshot. We’ll get some of that fresh salt air in you. That’ll help clear those lungs.” Erin held out the tray to him. She couldn’t tell if he noticed. His glazed-over eyes were fixed on the horizon, staring at something far beyond them.
The sun was slipping behind a gathering of clouds.
“God is setting up his easel,” Erin said. “He’s going to paint a sunset for us tonight.”
Marge smiled at Erin and kept her faithful eye on Jack. His cheek flitted slightly at Erin’s comment.
“My mom used to say that when we were kids,” Erin explained. “We used to go to the beach a lot in the evening and roast hot dogs for dinner, didn’t we, Dad?”
His cheek flitted again. He still was breathing unassisted and didn’t appear to be having any trouble doing so. His eyes were fixed unblinking on the horizon.
“How about a little coffee to get our dinner party started?”
“Did you want me to make some?” Marge asked.
“No, I meant for my dad. I have some coffee here for him to taste.” She dipped the swab in the cup and held it to his lips.
“Do you want to try a taste of coffee, Dad?” She slipped the swab into his mouth, but his gag reflex moved his Adam’s apple up, and spittle slid down the side of his face.
Marge wiped his chin and adjusted the back of the wheelchair to give his airway better passage. “I’m going to put the oxygen back in. You’ll enjoy this better if you don’t have to work so hard to breathe.”
This time Jack didn’t protest. He wasn’t interested in tasting any of the treats. His throat made a variety of odd noises once the oxygen was reattached. They kept fiddling with his straps, the blanket over his legs, and the position of his lifeless arm. Erin hoped this was a good idea.
Jack kept his focus on the magnificent sunset while Erin and Marge kept their focus on Jack.
He began to cough before the sun had set entirely so they turned him around and maneuvered him back through the brambles, across the grass, and up the ramp onto the deck. Once there, the cough ceased. They turned the wheelchair toward the sky, and the three of them watched as God completed his evening painting and turned out the lights on another day.
In an effort to negate her “It’s nice” comment about Hidden Cottage from so many months ago, Erin leaned close and whispered in her daddy’s ear, “I love it here, too, Dad. You built a fine home. This is a beautiful place.” Then, putting on a contrived Irish accent, she pulled out a line she had heard him say over the years. “Ya’ dun good, my man. Ya’ dun good.”
He made the smallest sort of sound, a sigh. A release. A smile sound that comes with a deep exhale at the end of a good day. Erin believed her father was content. And that gave her a deep peace.
That night Jack snored deeply as he slept. The bit of a field trip must have exhausted him because he didn’t rouse easily the next morning when Marge arrived. Her daily routine with him had simplified in that she didn’t attempt to get him in the shower anymore.
Erin had done everything she could at this point with all the boxes in the garage. Despite her searching she hadn’t found the treasure trove of childhood photos she had hoped to locate. Since the photos weren’t with her father’s remaining things, she suspected they had been were tossed out when he made the move to Oregon.
The thought of such a loss made her sick. She knew she should have taken them the last time she saw them, after her mom’s death. A small and ungracious part of her wondered if Delores had come across the photos in her great organizational endeavor and deemed the pictures of no value. She wouldn’t deliberately have thrown them away, would she? Erin hoped that wasn’t what had happened.
In Erin’s trimming down of items in the garage and in the house, she had made sure she had all the insurance papers completed and filed. She also made sure all his bills were paid and went over her father’s will once again. Jack had bequeathed all his worldly goods to his wife. Delores had skipped out on him in the moment of his deepest need, but that didn’t change that she still was married to him. She would get everything. Including Hidden Cottage.
Jack had written his will when he was “of sound mind,” and those were his wishes. Everything was in order. Everything was in readiness. She didn’t think it was her place to protest his decisions. It felt as if Erin’s most important job was to wait. She was determined to do that reverently and patiently.
19
May you always walk in sunshine.
May you never want for more.
May Irish angels rest their wings
Right beside your door.
On the day Tony was scheduled to arrive from Hawaii, Moss Cove was shrouded by a fog so thick Erin couldn’t see the ocean out the cottage’s front window. She was up early, caring for her dad and starting the fire. She made herself a pot of tea and put on soft music. He was resting comfortably, as he had been ever since the ambitious jaunt in the wheelchair several evenings ago when they had caught the last golden hours of summer sunshine and he seemed to be losing his strength by the day.
One nice improvement was that he wasn’t coughing as he had been. He seemed to have little difficulty breathing in and out. That in and of itself was a small mercy.
Erin did notice that her dad seemed to have developed a fixed expression of discomfort. The series of wrinkles in his forehead hadn’t been there in the past for an extended length of time. He would pull his face into a frown when a procedure was being carried out that he didn’t like or that was uncomfortable. But he hadn’t ever looked as if he were in ongoing agony.
She mentioned it to Marge and watched as Marge drew close and spoke to him more loudly than usual. “Do you hurt anywhere, Jack?” Marge kept her face close to his. “Do you have any pain?”
He didn’t reply with anything other than a fast exhale. If he were his former self, Erin knew what that sort of exhale would mean. In full strength it would have resembled the snort of a bull with his hoof stomping the ground. That’s how her dad acted when he was agitated about something and was ready to charge the first red cape waved in front of him.
This time, though, after the huff of air released from his nonrattling lungs, a wavering tear rolled down his cheek. Erin drew closer to make sure that’s what she was seeing. It seemed to her that her father was crying in silence, eyes closed, mouth slack, forehead creviced with lines.
“We’re here for you, Dad.” Erin slipped her hand into his. “You’re not alone.” She wondered if the matador now standing arrogantly in front of this old bull was the herald of death. Jack O’Riley was unable to charge forward to fight his foe. All he could do was lie still and wait for death to come to him.
Marge checked his vitals and motioned for Erin to move into the kitchen with her. Lowering her voice, Marge said, “I think it’s time for us to call in hospice care.”
“Okay. Tell me how that works.”
“The agency I work for will provide someone who can be with your father for his final stretch. Hospice nurses are trained to work through the specifics of the last few days or weeks.”
“Aren’t you able to stay with us?”
“I can stay on as long as you want me to. I just need to inform you that my report for this week will indicate that he’s crossed a thresh
old and that hospice care can be made available if you request it.”
“I’d like you to stay, Marge, if you can. If you will.”
She nodded in her calm, matter-of-fact way. “Of course. I’d like to stay. I’m trained for hospice care, but you hired me for only day care so I needed to give you the option to change caregivers.”
“No, I’d like you. Only you.” Erin spontaneously gave Marge a hug and was made aware once again of the strength of this unwavering woman.
Marge stepped farther into the kitchen and spoke to Erin softly. “I think I need to tell you something. There is a possibility that he isn’t in pain physically, but he could be bothered emotionally. I’ve seen this before. Sometimes when a patient realizes he is near to the end and isn’t going to improve, he gives space to his regrets.”
“I wonder if he’s thinking about my brother. The two of them aren’t at peace with each other.”
“That very well could be it. That’s what could be causing the worry lines. He’s not at peace. He’s not ready to go until he makes peace.”
“I didn’t tell him that Tony was coming because my brother wanted me to hold off on saying anything. Do you think I should tell my dad?”
“You know the dynamics between the two of them. I can’t say what would be best. When does your brother arrive?”
“His flight should have landed in Portland around seven thirty this morning. He was going to rent a car and drive here. I’m guessing he’ll be here close to noon.”
Marge looked at her watch. “Why don’t you check, and when he’s about an hour away, let your dad know he’s coming.”
“Okay.” Erin felt a nervous jitter run through her. It seemed she was moving from familiar routine to a vigil. Even the tone in Marge’s voice had changed.
She called Mike and gave him the details of her conversation with Marge. He immediately said he would come back up to be with Erin. “Let me cover a few bases here at work today. I’ll see if I can catch a flight up in the morning.”