We go off on our separate adventures, and we do our work. And then we go home to Texas.
If Glenn has an assignment for me, and I hesitate, Jack’ll gesture at his own ribcage and say, “Don’t forget your gills.”
But the truth is, I think about escape a lot less than I used to.
Because Jack did move back to his parents’ ranch, and he did build a place a few pastures away—just at the perfect spot on the Venn diagram between “too close” and “too far.”
He and Hank and Doc did wind up building Drew’s boat—and naming it “Sally,” after Drew’s favorite childhood hamster. One of these days, they’re going to sail it down the Texas coast. Just as soon as they learn how to sail.
Jack also turned the oxbow lake into a nature preserve. The Drew Stapleton Texas-in-the-Wild Brazos River Bottom Nature Preserve & Wildlife Center. But everybody just calls it Drew’s Place for short. They cleared hiking and mountain biking trails. They set up classes on butterfly gardening, birding, and waterway conservation. They started summer camps to teach kids how to fish, and build fires, and look after nature.
So that—as Doc says—keeps him out of trouble.
Jack still does something good every single day in honor of Drew. Whether it’s weeding the garden for his mom, or donating a library building to a school, or surprising a group of ICU nurses by showing up to serenade them in a snug-fitting T-shirt, Jack—faithfully, devotedly, and daily—works to honor the memory of his little brother and to justify his own remaining time on this earth.
And he marks it every time by saying, quietly to himself: “This is for you, Drew. Miss you, buddy.”
That’s enough, it turns out.
That’s enough to go on.
* * *
WHO WON THE competition for the London job?
Robby did. Glenn was not bluffing when he told me to wait for the cops or kiss London goodbye.
No surprise there.
So Robby got the London job and left the country.
Fine with me. And Taylor, too.
It bugged Kelly that I didn’t get it, though. “You saved a person’s life that night!” she insisted one night over margaritas. “Why should Robby get to win?”
But I guess it depends on how you define winning.
I mean, Robby has to spend the rest of his life being Robby.
That’s losing by definition.
Did I really go on assignment to Korea and leave Jack behind in Texas as soon as my sick leave was up?
Of course. I had a job to do.
But did Jack follow me there a few weeks later, showing up unannounced outside my hotel in a softer-than-velvet cashmere scarf for one magical, snowy night in Seoul?
Officially? Absolutely not. I was working.
More importantly, did Jack finally give me a taker for that Valentine’s vacation to Toledo?
He did. Though he bought my nonrefundable bargain tickets from me and we somehow wound up on a private plane. And he made me let him pick the hotel.
All to say, we went—but don’t ask me what we thought of the botanical gardens. Or the art museum. Or their world-famous chili dogs.
We didn’t get out much.
Am I saying we spent the entire week in a fancy hotel room without leaving even once?
I’ll leave that to your imagination.
Let’s just say that Toledo is now my favorite city of all time.
* * *
THOUGH I SHOULD mention that Jack and I aren’t dating anymore. You can’t date a guy like Jack forever.
Not with Connie Stapleton after you twenty-four seven to “hurry up and get married” and “make some grandkids” before her “corpse is in the flower garden.”
She continued reminding us of her possible imminent death long—long—after she was fully recovered in every possible way.
Unrepentantly.
“I’ve earned it,” she said. “Now get busy.”
To this day, Connie swears that death—the threat of it, the promise of it, the looming guarantee of it, even if you’re well—has its upsides.
It helps you remember to be alive, if nothing else.
It helps you stop wasting time.
* * *
JACK AND I got married at the ranch, of course.
I had a bouquet of fresh-cut honeysuckle and bougainvillea. Jack’s boutonniere had a speckled feather he’d found by the river. We made beaded safety pins and gave them out as keepsakes. And we got Clipper the horse to officiate.
Just kidding.
We got Glenn to officiate. Turns out, he was also a justice of the peace. Who knew?
By then, he was on Wife Number Four, so he declared that pretty much made him an expert. And nobody dared to argue.