CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ROWAN
Hanging on by a thread: Three; there are three threads left.
Times cried since found out about Da: Five. And I can remember every single one of them so vividly, as if I’m experiencing them now.
Conversations with Da since I’ve found out about his cancer: More than I can count.
And that right there is worth every hardship I’ve suffered along the way.
“Want to sit there?” I ask Sorcha, my dad’s new nurse, completely dreading this conversation.
“That looks great.” We both take a seat in a booth in the back of the pub.
“There aren’t many food options here, but I would recommend the fish and chips.”
“That works perfect for me.” She smiles kindly and tucks a lock of red hair behind her ear.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask.
“Water is fine.”
I nod. “Do you mind if I order a beer? I’m going to need it to get through this conversation.”
“By all means.”
“I’ll be right back.” I quickly go to the bar and put in two small orders of fish and chips and a lager for myself, which Hamish fills up quickly, along with a glass of water for Sorcha. When I make it back to the booth, I hand Sorcha her water and take a seat, bringing the pint to my lips and taking a large gulp.
When I set the beer down, Sorcha looks me in the eyes. “How are you doing, Rowan?”
“My father is dying. I could be better.”
“Have you come to terms with it?” she asks softly.
“No.” I shake my head. “He has, though.”
“He has.” Sorcha nods.
I take another swig of my lager. “So, what should we expect?”
“You want to jump right into it?”
I nod. “Might as well.”
“Okay.” Sorcha reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope from the hospice provider we chose to help us make Da’s last days as easy and painless as possible.
Da’s doctor was instrumental in pairing us with a caregiver who will stay with Maw and Da through his last days. I can already tell she’s a kind and gentle soul, someone who will be there for us every step of the way.
I know we’re going to need it.
“Good morning,” I say, walking through the door of my parents’ house. Sorcha is already here, taking care of Da and making sure he’s comfortable in the hospice bed we set up in the living room. The room’s large windows look out onto the loch, letting in light and a cool breeze, which was what Da wanted.
“Aye, good morning,” Da says, sitting up in the bed and moving to the edge. His mobility is okay. He can move around the main level of the house with a walker, but if we go farther afield, he uses a wheelchair.
Maw comes into the living room, fully dressed and ready for the day. “Rowan, are you here for the grocery list?”
I nod. “Aye. I was going to run to the Mill Market quickly and then come back to help out Sorcha, like you said.”
“Thank you,” Maw says. “I’m running to Kyle to fill these prescriptions and pick up a few other things. Do you need anything, Sorcha?”
She shakes her head. “I have everything I need right here.”
Maw hands me a list and quietly says, “Don’t be too long.”
“I won’t.” List in hand, I go to Da’s bed, give him a quick kiss on the top of the head, and then set out.
Normally, I would walk, but given the circumstances, I hop in my pickup and drive the short distance into town, parking in front of the Mill Market. When I make my way inside, I grab a trolley and head straight to the produce section while glancing at the list.
Apples.
I need apples and—
Crash.
The trolley handle bumps into my stomach, and I look up to see a wide-eyed Bonnie looking straight at me, our trollies perpendicular to one another.
Hell.
When was the last time I saw her? Thought about her? Returned a call or text?
The answer to the last one: never.
I’ve thought about her constantly, when my da hasn’t been on my mind.
Last time I saw her . . . I pushed her away.
I saw red that day, took it out on her, and ran her out of my life.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, trying to get out of the way. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Nah, I wasn’t. I’m . . . sorry.”
“Guess we both were buried in something else,” she says, her voice wavering. “All right, well, I guess I’ll be going.”
“Bonnie—”