Quinn had rearranged the furniture in here so that I could see outside to the beach through the wide picture window along the rear wall. There were already a bunch of people out there today, setting up their blankets and chairs on the sand, chasing kids down to the water and rubbing on sunscreen. For a second, I was wild with envy for each group who was blissfully ignorant out there, most of them enjoying their time in the sun, dealing with nothing more tragic than sunburn or a seagull snatching food from their hands. I knew that I wasn’t being fair; everyone had his own share of heartbreak or challenge, but just now, it felt like I was the only one facing the end. Premature death. A life cut short. I wanted to rail at all of the people on the sand and tell them that they had no idea how crappy it was to know my days were numbered in weeks, not years.
And then, I heard Quinn singing in the kitchen. She didn’t have the best voice in the world, not by far. It wasn’t her talent. But she sounded happy and relaxed, and suddenly, I knew for certain that those poor jerks on the beach had nothing on me. They might’ve had decades of life ahead of them, but they didn’t have Quinn, and they never would. I’d only have her for another few months at best, but that still made me luckier by far than anyone else in the world.
We’d been down at the shore for about six weeks. By the end of the first week, I’d been willing to declare my father a genius. Living here had been the best decision ever. Quinn had begun sleeping better almost immediately, and I’d noticed the shadows under her eyes had faded. She was eating better, and there was no doubt that she was happier overall. Each morning, long before I woke up, she arose and walked on the beach. She told me that she’d always needed time on her own, and those early-morning walks made all the difference in her ability to cope for the rest of the day.
My mother had backed off a little, too. She and Quinn had come to a meeting of the minds, as my dad put it, in their joint effort to care for me. Mom even left us alone together some days, as today, when she drove back home to take care of whatever couldn’t be accomplished via telephone or internet. Sometimes she and Carrie went out for lunch or dinner when they were both here. It gave Quinn and me the illusion of independence, and it felt damned good.
Dr. Randall had referred us to a local doctor who was overseeing my daily care and any medication issues that arose, but I didn’t need him often. My long-time doctor had made one trip all the way down here to see me himself, and he’d told me that this move was the best thing I could’ve done for myself and for Quinn.
“Not a bad place to go out, Nate.” He’d stood next to the sofa, gazing out onto the crashing surf. We’d been alone after he’d performed a cursory examination on me. “Not a bad place at all. I always thought, when it’s my time, that I’d like to be near the ocean. I could just feel my soul dancing over the waves, once I’ve shuffled off the damn mortal coil.”
I’d grinned. “Didn’t know you were such a poet, Dr. R.”
“I’m not, but I will admit to being a fan of the Bard. He had a lot to say about crossing over, you know. Hamlet, Macbeth, Caesar ... they all had lines about death.”
“That’s true.” I’d stared out the window along with him. “You’re thinking that this is goodbye for you and me, aren’t you? We won’t see each other again.”
Dr. Randall had sighed. “I never make those kind of predictions, but ... I think maybe you’re right this time. If you’re going to stay down here, there won’t be another opportunity for me to come by to check on you. And frankly, no need, either. There’s nothing more I can do for you, Nate.” His jaw had tensed. “Not one fucking thing. I wish there was. I thought ... or I hoped, maybe, that time wouldn’t run out before we’d find a way. An answer for you. But it’s not going to happen. I’m sorry, Nate.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You did everything any doctor could, and you were always honest with me. I appreciate that.” I’d rested my head on the arm of the couch, letting my eyes close. “You’ve been there at the end for a lot of people, haven’t you? What’s it going to be like?”
He’d shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. It’s different for everyone. But I think it’s going to be peaceful. I imagine it will be a relief for you in many ways. The pain will be gone.” He had hesitated. “I’m not a religious man, but I’ve been present at too many deaths not to be spiritual. I have a feeling you’re going to dance into the light. All the shit you’ve dealt with your whole life will be a distant memory.”
“I hope it’s peaceful, for my parents and for Quinn.” I’d swallowed over a huge lump in my throat. “That’s the only thing I’m worried about. And God, I wish I had more time with her. I thought I was okay with dying, but every time I see her face, I wish for just a few more days. More months.”
“I understand. I wish I could give you that time. But as much as it frustrates the hell out of me, one thing I’ve learned is that everything happens the way it’s supposed to. Trust that. Try not to let what might happen at the end ruin the time you do have.”
“I’m working on it.”
I sighed now, remembering. These weeks since we’d moved down here had been incredible, and I was grateful that my dad had suggested it. For the first time since I’d proposed to Quinn, the guilt I’d been harboring over doing it had eased a little. Her happiness was all I needed, I realized, and now that I could have her with meandmake her smile, that was everything.
“Breakfast is served.” She came around the corner of the kitchen doorway, carrying the tray. “All your favorites. Cinnamon toast, one egg over easy and crispy bacon.”
“Wow. It’s like the best day ever.” I reached for a piece of toast. “Under other circumstances, I’d ask you if I’m dying or something, but we both know the answer to that.”
“Nice, Nate.” She exhaled as though in annoyance, but I could tell it was more bluff than anything else. “Just enjoy your food, and then maybe—”
She was interrupted by a loud knock at the front door, and she jumped up, smiling big. “That might be your surprise. Be right back.”
Of course I wasn’t going anywhere, since I was a captive underneath the breakfast tray. Frowning, I watched her skip toward the front door, turning the corner so that she was hidden from me. I couldn’t imagine what she’d done; there was nothing in the world that I needed. Nothing other than her.
“Hey, what the hell’s your problem, dude? What’re you doing lying around here like an invalid?”
I recognized that voice, and immediately I knew what Quinn had done to surprise me, even before she followed Tuck’s wheelchair around the corner and into the living room.
“Tucker.” I grinned. “What’re you doing here?”
“Man, I heard you were living the good life down here, house on the beach, gorgeous woman waiting on you hand and foot, and I had to come down and see it for myself.” He wheeled over close to the sofa and held out one massive hand. “Good to see you, Nate.”
I gripped his fingers with my weaker ones. “You, too. I can’t believe you came all the way down here. How did you work it out?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Sweet-talked Zelda into taking the day off and driving me down. She’s waiting in the car—she and Quinn are going to go out for a little bit to give us some guy time. That cool?”
I glanced up at my wife, who stood just behind my friend, her hands laced together as she watched me. She was anxious about this, I saw—worried that I was going to be okay with Tucker and concerned that I’d be all right with her leaving for a little while. I gave her a broad grin and nodded.
“Of course, it’s cool. Go ahead and have a great time, Quinn.”
Her face relaxed as she leaned around the wheelchair to drop a light kiss on my lips. “I’ll have my phone. And Zelda and I are going to bring back Mack and Manco’s for lunch.”
