“Do you think he’s still alive?” I askJackson.
“There’s only one way to find out.” Jackson takes my laptop from my hands and types Charlie’s name into the search engine, followed by Staten Island. “He must be what, nine-threenow?”
“I think he was a year older than my grandmother, so yes, I believeso.”
Two Charlie Cranes come up as residents in Staten Island. One is only forty-two, and it says the other is ninety-three. Jackson points to the second one. “That has to be him. Can I have yourphone?”
I’m shaking as I reach for my phone in the front of my bag and hand it to Jackson, watching him with a frozen stare as he dials the number on thescreen.
It’s hard to contain my emotions as I hear the muted sound of aringtone.
“Hello, is this Charlie Crane?” Jackson asks. Everything stops, and it’s as if time stands still for a moment. I can’t breathe. I can’t blink. I can’t move. I can’t think. I’m just hoping for the response I’m prayingfor.
“My name is Jackson Beck. I’m a doctor at Mass General Hospital in Boston, Massachusetts. Are you familiar with a woman by the name of Amelia Baylin?” Jackson looks at me and places his hand over his mouth as he waits for the response. “I have her granddaughter here with me, and she’s been looking for you. Do you mind if I hand the phone over toher?”
Jackson nods his head at me to let me know that Charlie has agreed. I’m not sure I’ll know what to say, and I stifle a sob, still finding it difficult to breathe. Nevertheless, I try pulling in a deep inhale to compose myself before I take the phone from Jackson. I press the display up to my ear and blow out the pent-up air I’ve been holding in. “Charlie?” I question, my voice quavering. “My name isEmma.”
“Emma,” he says as if it’s a revelation. “Emma, is your grandmother still alive? My God, is sheokay?”
“She—she’s alive, but she’s not well. Her heart is failing—she’s had two strokes. Charlie, sir, she’s been asking for you. I’ve read most of her diary per her request, and I wanted to find you—to see if you are able to come and seeher.”
A long, silent pause makes me look down at my phone, checking to see if we were disconnected. “Charlie?”
“Oh, Emma, it’s just been so long,and—”
“Please, it would mean the world toher.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to beg me. You didn’t even need to ask. Of course, I’ll come. I’ll be on the first train out tomorrowmorning.”
“You will?” I stand up, reaching my arm across my chest as body feels like it’s caving in on itself with relief and happiness—feelings I can’t even put into words. “Really?”
“Where shall I find you?” he asks. “You’re in Boston,correct?”
“Yes, she’s at Mass General, here inBoston.”
“I’ll find my way, and I will be theretomorrow.”
“Charlie?”
“What is it,sweetheart?”
“Have you known where my grandmother isliving?”
“Yes, dear, Ihave.”
“Why didn’t you ever reachout?”
A heavy sigh scratches from within the speaker of my phone. “I would never dream of disturbing Amelia’s happiness, nor the wonderful life she made forherself.”
“Charlie, I think you are, and always have been herhappiness.”
“I’ve waited a long time to hear that, Emma. Patienceisa great asset, and it eventually gives back to those who unwearyingly wait. I was starting to give up hope, though. It has been quite a longroad.”
While I pace back and forth, feeling Jackson's gaze burn against the side of my face, I try not to cry for the emptiness that Charlie has endured all these years, but even more so because of the irony. All they wanted was to be together, and if they find each other now, at the end of their lives, they will have such a short time to experience the life they deserved to have. “Charlie, I’m very much looking forward to meeting you tomorrow. Thank you for doing this for my grandmother. I only wish I had found yousooner.”
“The pleasure has always been mine, sweetheart, and I look forward to meeting you, aswell.”
“Bye,” I whisper through an almost voicelessbreath.
