“That mug.” He points to one on the edge of a shelf, glazed and fired already. “Bring it to me.”
Of course he would pick that mug.
Reaching over to the shelf, I grab the mug and hand it to him. With shaky hands, he examines it. His fingers glide over the handle, the emblem of the hairy coo, the perfectly shaped cup I made for Bonnie. He checks out the bottom. “You don’t sign your work?”
I shrug. “It’s not like I do anything with it.”
“Because of me,” he says softly.
“Because I was afraid of doing anything that would cause the family more pain.” I lean against the wall. “I have so many regrets, Da, but setting aside pottery, in the grand scheme of things, is not one of them. For a while, I thought it was. I thought I was supposed to make something of myself through my hobby.” I shake my head. “I now realize how obtuse that is. I should have focused on you. On Maw. On mending our relationship.”
“We both should have. You are not to blame for the rift. I didn’t make it easy on you. And I pushed you away when I should have been holding on tighter.”
“Seems like I get that from you,” I say softly, looking out toward the leafy trees that surround my cottage.
“What do you mean?”
“Bonnie,” I say with a sigh. “We were seeing each other before I came to London. The day you and Maw rang and told me about . . . about your cancer, I found her right here, in my shed, checking everything out that I’ve always kept hidden. I honestly can’t remember what I said to her. I think I’ve blocked it out. All I remember is telling her to leave and the horrified look on her face. I haven’t talked to her since, and I’ve been ignoring her attempts to connect with me.”
He slowly nods and looks back down at the mug. “Do you love her?”
I don’t even have to think about it. The answer is clear as day in my head, even through the fog of my da’s illness. “I do. She’s the first lass I’ve ever loved.”
“Do you want her to be the last?”
I reach up and grip the top of the doorframe. “Yeah, I would, but I don’t think that’s an option. She’s going back to America on Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?” I nod. “Then that means you still have today.” He smiles.
“Da, I can’t—”
“What is your biggest regret, besides me?”
I glance away. “My fight with Bonnie.”
“So what’s stopping you? Your stubborn pride? Don’t let a personality trait you inherited from me keep you from getting what you want. You love her, yes?”
“Aye.”
“Then be the man I know I raised. Apologize, and beg her to stay. If there was one thing I noticed when we’d speak to you on the phone, it was the passion you had for that girl. The same passion I have for your maw. It’s one-of-a-kind love, Rowan. Don’t be an eejit and lose it.”
“But, Da, I should be focusing on you.”
His eyes narrow. “You and I are right where we’re supposed to be. Do you understand? The best thing you can do for me, in these last days of my life, is make sure I leave this earth knowing that you’re taking care of your maw, that you’re a man of this town, and that you’re happy. And I mean deep-rooted, to your marrow, happy. Can Bonnie bring you that kind of happiness?”
“She’s the only thing that’s ever washed away the pain and brought me joy.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing here, talking to me, you bawbag? Go get her.”
“Just like that? Go up to her and ask for her forgiveness?”
“Aye. Helps if you have a peace offering as well.”
I glance at the mug in his hands. “I actually made that for her.”
He holds up the mug and smiles. “Then it’s very fitting.” He holds it out, and I take it from him. I move to the back of his wheelchair, but he stops me with a hand to my forearm. “Rowan, come here.”
I squat in front of him, and he places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a feeble squeeze. I know it’s all he can muster, but it’s enough for me, and I put my hand on top of his.
“I need to tell you something I should have told you many years ago.” His voice chokes up and he coughs a few times before he steadies himself and makes eye contact with me. “Your talent . . . it’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen. This”—he points to the shed—“this is what you should be doing, and I never should have made you think differently. I’m sorry, Rowan.”