Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“How is he supposed to drink or eat if he chokes?” she whispers.
“Let’s just wait for the doctor,” I say, but I know the answer.
He’s not going to eat. And he’ll get tiny amounts of fluid from those sponges.
And eventually, he’ll . . .
My heart crawls into my throat, slowly suffocating me.
This is happening. My father is actively dying, and no one will save him because he chose this when he was in his right mind, even if nothing about this feels right.
It’s my job to save people and things, but this is like wildland firefighters voluntarily letting certain forests burn because it’s part of life. Death and destruction are part of life. There’s a greater force at play, and surrendering to it feels like failure.
I give my parents space, standing near the door just to be here if they need me.
Eventually, the doctor knocks on the door and then examines him. Her lips move, and I know she’s talking to my mom, even if it’s hard to hear past the deep, angry beating of my heart. My mom responds with a tight jaw, a shaky nod, and a new round of tears. That’s because the doctor tells her it won’t be long. She’s not telling us anything we didn’t already know.
“We’ll give him medication p.r.n. to keep him comfortable,” the doctor says. She’s a believable doctor with wrinkles around her eyes and mouth and gray in her dark hair. Unlike Everleigh. “If you have any questions or need anything, let me or one of the staff know. We are here for you and whatever you and your family need.”
“How long?” Mom whispers, frantically wiping her tears as her tissue disintegrates in her hand.
“It’s hard to say for sure,” the doctor says. “Maybe a day or two.”
Mom buckles at the waist on a sob. I catch her, pulling her into me while giving the doctor a sad smile and an easy nod.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Everleigh
“Hey, Mom,” I answer my phone on speaker after getting out of the shower.
“Hi, babe. I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“Oh.” I remove the towel from my head and finger comb my hair. “Sorry. I’ve been busy with my barndo and distracted by other things. I should have called.”
“Well, I won’t keep you long. I know it’s your lunch time and you have lots of patients who need you more than I do.”
“Mom.” I laugh. “What’s up with the guilt trip today? You know I’m here for you. And I’m not working today. Since there’s a new doctor at the clinic, I took the week off to get things done.”
“Then I don’t want to keep you from—”
“Mom. I’m serious, stop this. I have time to talk. I’m bummed we’re not getting to spend Thanksgiving together, but I hope you get your top-secret commission project finished.”
“Ugh, I’m so uninspired,” she sighs.
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s fine. If you’re busy cutting wood and stuff, I can call you later.”
“I have time for you. I’m actually not in Missoula. I’m in Somers visiting Will and his mom. They went to see his dad, so I headed to the nearest trail with steep hills. I just got out of the shower.”
“Everleigh, you’re visiting Will and his dying father?”
I swallow and smile as if she can see me. “I’m visiting Will and his mother. They are visiting his father.”
“Everleigh, are you”—she clears her throat—“okay with this?”
“I’m fine.” I pull on my underwear and jeans.
“I’m just worried about you. It’s been a while since we’ve discussed—”
“I’m not seventeen anymore with a crush on a firefighter who doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
“I think I forgot to mention I got offered a job at Johns Hopkins,” I say, desperate to change the subject.
I’m fine. She’ll see.
“What? That’s amazing! When?”
“Well, I have to decide soon.” I slide on a pink cashmere sweater.
“Decision? You make it sound like there’s a decision. It’s Johns Hopkins.”
“Yes. It’s a great offer with everything I could want, but I bought land, and I have an established practice in Missoula. I have patients who travel long distances just to see me. It’s not an easy decision to abandon them.”
“You’re not abandoning them. It’s not like someone won’t take over their care.”
“But it won’t be me.” I carry my phone into the bedroom and sit on the end of the bed to pull on my gray wool socks.
“Well,” she says with a deflated tone, “that’s true. There’s only one Dr. Everleigh Reichart.”
I grin.
“Still, please tell me you’re taking the job. Baltimore is a two-and-a-half-hour train ride from New York City.”
“I’m aware.” I plop back onto the bed, setting the phone beside me and then grabbing Will’s pillow to bury my face in it, in his familiar woodsy scent. The cotton is crisp like new sheets, a contrast to the soft cream sherpa comforter with a pine tree print.