“Then you’ll be fine, because Deacon doesn’t break his promises.” The lump in my throat was threatening to choke me. I had to get out of here before I broke down. “I’m going to leave you and Noah alone for a while now, but I won’t be far. If you need anything—” I raised my eyes to Noah’s. “You tell me. Send for me. Anything at all that I can do, you know I will.”
He nodded. “Right.”
I turned to leave and then hesitated. “Noah, is there anyone we can call for you? Anyone who should be here to . . .”Say goodbye to Angelawas the unspoken ending to that question.
He knit his brows together. “Angela’s mom and dad are on their way. They should be here in an hour. My parents are trying to fly in, and our brothers and sisters are working on getting here, too. Other than that—no. I just want to be with Ang.”
I inclined my head and left the room as quietly as possible. In the hall, Mira and Jenny had disappeared, but Deacon remained. He took one look at my face and offered me his hand.
“Come on.”
I stumbled almost blindly behind him as he half led me, half dragged me to his office. Once we were safely behind the closed door, he turned me to face him and pulled me tight into his chest.
The pain, grief and utter sense of failure poured out of me in great gulping sobs and a waterfall of tears. I buried my face against Deacon and poured out everything that had been building inside of me not just since I’d heard of Angela’s decision, but for weeks. Months, even. All of the ups and downs of life since before I’d moved to Florida rocketed through my body, shaking me down to the bones.
When I could breathe again—when the tears had dried, when I couldn’t wring one more racking sob from my chest—Deacon led me to the sofa, to the same spot where twelve hours before, he’d fucked me into an unspeakable pleasure. We sat down together, not touching, just near each other, settling into silence.
After a few moments, Deacon cleared his throat. “I was in my second month of residency when I lost my first patient. He was a seventeen-year-old kid. Bright future ahead of him. Funny, personable . . . everyone liked him. He went in for surgery on a brain tumor and never woke up.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “His name was Kevin Silas. I still get a Christmas card from his mom every year.”
I laid my head back and closed my eyes. “I was in my first job at the oncology center in Philadelphia when I lost my first patient. She was a forty-two-year old mom with three kids. She had ovarian cancer, and we did everything we could do for her before it just . . . overtook her. It had metastasized everywhere. Hospice came in, but I stayed with her until the end, too. Her name was Lucy Robbins. Her oldest daughter sent me a graduate announcement right before I moved down here.”
“When I had been at the Calumbra Center for just about three months, I had a patient who absolutely drove me crazy. He was a mean old son of a bitch, but damned if I didn’t want him to live, anyway . . .”
And for hours, we sat there, trading remembrances of loss and defeat, while just down the hall from us, a beautiful soul danced softly through her final hours on earth.
* * *
At five o’clock the next morning, Angela Spencer died.
Noah stood next to her on one side, while her parents held her hand and stroked her head on the other side. She was peaceful, and she was beyond pain.
Her sisters and one of Noah’s brothers had made it in time to say good-bye. They were currently sprawled out in the family waiting room. When I’d asked Noah if he wanted me to wake them toward the end, he’d shook his head.
“It should just be us,” he murmured hoarsely, blinking bloodshot eyes. “Her mom and dad, and me. The ones who loved her the most.” And so it was.
Deacon and I sat at the nurses’ station, waiting. We could see Angela’s heart rate on our monitor there—all of the alarms and other equipment had been turned off in the room—and once we knew she was gone, we’d given them a few moments before we went in.
“You can sit with her for a while, if you want.” I laid my hand on Noah’s shoulder and glanced at Angela’s parents. “Take as much time as you like.”
Noah shook his head. “There’s no reason to stay any longer. She’s not here.”
He wasn’t wrong. The room was emptier than it had been moments before, and there was no doubt that Angela’s bright spirit had departed.
Still, I hovered nearby until Noah and his in-laws left the hospital. As he passed me, Noah managed a slight smile, but his eyes were anxious.
“Emma. Will you stay with her—with Ang—until . . . until they come to get her?” He lowered his voice. “I don’t want her mom and dad to have to see that.”
I swallowed a fresh round of tears. Even now, even after she was gone, Noah was still protecting Angela, carrying out the wishes she would have had.
“Of course,” I promised. “I’ll wait. She won’t be alone.”
He nodded. “Thank you, Emma. Thank you—for everything.” He seemed to want to say more, but exhaustion and sorrow bound his tongue.
I shook my head. “There isn’t any need to thank me, Noah. I’d do anything for Angela.”
Noah pressed his lips together as he nodded, drew in a deep breath, and joined Angela’s mom and dad before they all vanished down the hall.
The hospital was quiet in the early morning hours. The sun was just beginning to paint the sky in pastels. Deacon was finalizing the paperwork—signing her death certificate. About fifteen minutes after Noah left, the funeral home arrived to transport Angela’s body. I oversaw their work, steeling myself for the final time I’d see her face, somehow beautiful even lacking its animation.
