“That might not be true for the ability to perceive love. It’s tough for humans to figure out, and it’s our emotion.”
“Why are you pressing this topic with me? Do you sense anything special in Grant?”
“He’s extraordinarily successful at guarding his feelings.” I picked my words carefully, not wanting to hurt her but not willing to lie either. “His attitude toward you has changed since January. I can’t identify exactly how, although he’s definitely more receptive.”
Her lips curved in acknowledgment of my caution. She straightened against the recliner and contemplated the stars.
We were silent, as if agreeing that our conversation required a pause. The Space Station appeared on the horizon and hurtled past on its long, low arc. When it faded from view, I spoke again. “Did you ever meet any of Sean’s friends on the CaringBridge site?”
“No, none of them.”
“Did they have Beings?”
“Only Antonio. The other boys didn’t have sufficient receptiveness or interest.”
“How long did Antonio’s Being stay with him?”
“Until he died. Patients must have an unfortunate prognosis to be eligible for such an open-ended assignment.”
Oh, wow. “Did Sean know that?”
“We never discussed it. However, it is likely that he came to the realization by himself.”
Time passed softly. A breeze brushed over us. Cicadas chattered. It was a typical July evening in North Carolina.
But it wasn’t typical for me or Camarin. This was the longest conversation we’d ever had. And the nicest.
“Sara, perhaps you should ask me what happened that night.”
I didn’t need to ask herwhichnight. There could only be one. “Were you there? I didn’t see you.”
“I was in the room, although you would’ve been unable to detect my presence.”
Chills raced down my body, wave after wave. Could I listen to this? Would I be the same afterward?
No, of course not, and I didn’t want to be. I was scared of which way this would go. Had he been disappointed in my weakness? “Tell me.” The words scraped like sandpaper over my lips. I turned to her and found her watching me. “Please.”
She nodded, her face solemn. “It was very quiet and still that Friday evening. Your parents came to the sunroom around ten to say good-night. You came in next, and I stepped out. You didn’t stay long.”
“He took a nap.”
“No more than an hour or so. He was looking forward to Saturday. Partly because Kimberley was coming over, but there had to be something else because he was so deeply excited that he couldn’t seem to settle down.”
“We had planned to binge-watch the first season ofAvatar.”
“That explains it.” She looked back at the heavens. “Kimberley sent him a text while he was napping, so he chatted with her around midnight. He was in excellent spirits afterward, but the good mood lasted only for a few minutes. Misery slammed into him, unlike any I had ever witnessed. It was...horrific.” She shuddered at the memory. “I tried to absorb his pain, but it felled even me.”
Did she mean those neck massages she’d given him? “You took his pain into your own body?”
“I did. The spells had been growing steadily worse over the past few days, but that one was particularly agonizing. It was so long and so strong that my control slipped and he had to bear it on his own. After it peaked and he could catch his breath again, he kissed my hand and said, ‘I think we’re done here, Camarin. Thank you for everything.’ Then he gave me one last smile and turned away.”
She released a soft sigh. “He watched the door, Sara. He expected you to come through it, and you did.”
Something in that long-ago night had shaken me from my dreams. “I woke with a start around one and knew he needed me. I could feel a difference in him the minute I walked into the sunroom, but I was too afraid to think about what it might be.”
“I watched the two of you from the loveseat, no more visible than a shadow.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
