120 days... (12 page)

The next day, Sam was too busy to think about the kiss from the day before or what it meant. She was in the main kitchen making sure they had everything they needed for the campfire. Every few weeks, depending on what was going on and the amount of guests they had, they would plan a campfire where everyone would sit around and tell stories that held significance to them, about growing up, family or the people who meant something to them. They could talk about whatever was on their mind that day, what they wanted to share. She made sure each story was recorded and preserved for the future. She never knew which relatives would want something from their loved one after they’d passed. Sam kept these precious stories safe for the future.

She liked to think it wasn’t only for the family members. It was also for the future of the human race. In the past, people would write letters to each other, something that documented what people were feeling or what experiences they had. With technology came the lack of personalization and historical facts. Maybe one day, these stories would tell a future generation what life was like.

Arranging everything on the trays, she placed them on the cart and went to her office to check on the waiting list. It was a sad fact that the list was always changing. Either people wanted to come, or they didn’t make it long enough to stay. Once she’d updated her information, she closed down her computer for the night and went to set everything up around the fire.

It hadn’t been hard to stay away from Ethan. She’d been so busy; but last night, while she laid in bed alone staring up at the ceiling, she longed for another kiss. Strange how something so simple, that some people did every day, and often, meant so much to her. Before her parents had gotten so sick, she’d been in a relationship, one which hadn’t been strong enough to support her and understand her need to be there for her parents. Afterwards, the grief had been too much and then she’d started Last Resort. There hadn’t been any time for romance, and in the long run, that worked for her.

If she was being honest with herself, she knew Ethan wasn’t going to stay at the ranch forever. Why would he? He had his business to run and Last Chance was vastly different from where he spent all of his time, not to mention the difference in the types of people. She knew it would be better if she forgot any romantic fantasies she may have started to imagine between them.

Walking back into the kitchen, she frowned when her cart, which held everything for the campfire, was missing. Looking around, she told herself she wasn’t going crazy; she had left it right there. She glanced out the window and saw Ethan taking the cart up to the site, his broad shoulders filling the light jacket he had on. It was going to be a chilly night, which worked out perfectly. She hated to admit it, but she’d gotten used to Ethan doing a little something for her each and every day. He was taking it seriously, the fact that he thought she needed someone to make her life easier. It didn’t make getting used to the knowledge he’d be leaving her any easier, though. Making sure she didn’t forget anything, she closed the door behind her and enjoyed the crisp air as she walked up the path to the campfire.

The fire had already been lit and a pile of wood lay nearby, the smoky smell already permeating the air as the flames flickered as dusk fell. The guests started arriving and soon enough, everyone had a seat. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but Ethan was sitting next to her, a serious expression on his face as he nodded to her. They still hadn’t spoken a word.

She tried to block out his presence next to her, but it was impossible. His scent was all around her and the heat from his body reached out toward hers, teasing her to move closer. It took all her strength to ignore his pull.

They always spent time cooking hot dogs over the open flame, and of course, s’mores. Depending on the guest’s talents, sometimes they’d sing, other times they might tell ghost stories, but there would always be laughter before things turned serious and they started videotaping the personal stories.

“One of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” said Patty, “was telling my daughter I had cancer, and when things got too bad, I was coming here. See I couldn’t have kids. We adopted Erika when she was a baby and she was by far, the best thing that ever happened to me. She was the constant in my life. Her father and I split when she was two, so it was just the two of us against the world. Music and books had always been deep in my soul and I wanted to make sure she had the same love as I did for my two passions, and she did. We always had music on and I’d encourage her to sing. She has an amazing voice. She’s my angel. There’s an old Helen Reddy song, “You and Me Against the World,” that was us. We traveled the world together, both in books and in real life. We’d always try to find the best Chinese restaurant wherever we went.” She laughed. “And some of them, oh my, they were so terrible. But this one place, The Makaha, we found that one when we went to Boston, I’m still thinking about that food.” She paused for a moment. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I miss the rest of my family something fierce, my sister, Barb, and her husband, Sten, but I know they’re helping my baby girl. I was able to say everything I needed to them, how much I loved them and would always be with them. My daughter has her own personal guardian angel looking over her once I’m gone. There’s no way anyone is going to hurt my baby girl, not if I have anything to say about it.”

Sam took a tissue out of her pocket and wiped at her eyes. Patty had told the same story at every campfire she’d been to since she arrived. She missed her daughter so badly and wanted to hang on to that love for as long as possible.

Thomas McClain, or Tommy to his friends here, was next. He had colon cancer and was fading fast. This was going to be his last campfire. “Kids, the best and worst thing that could ever happen to you. The best, that’s the easy stuff, to love them unconditionally, that easy. The worst part, the hard part is knowing you’re going to fail them. Some way, somehow you’re not going to be good enough for them. All I could do is try the best I could.” He shook his head and laughed humorlessly. “You know my kid, he got me sober. When I think back to what I put him through when he was so young, it kills me. When I was drinking so bad, I’d black out on him, but that kid, Derrick, is stronger than I ever was. I used to take him on gigs. I remember he loved them. Sat there like a good boy, all quiet so as to not cause trouble for me, and he really listened. You know, I’d like to think that’s what makes him such a great narrator, by listening through life he can make the voices from the books come alive when he records them. I’d like to think I’m the reason he’s pursuing his dreams, so that even when I’m gone, a bit of me still remains.”

“Up to this point I have never let the Hodgkin’s disease slow me down,” Edward Willbanks said. “Being in the Navy, especially in Vietnam, I always worked hard and played hard. Those damn doctor’s didn’t give me much of a chance, but I showed them. Coming up on ten years since I was first diagnosed. My wife and two girls are so important to me. No matter how hard or long I worked before I was diagnosed, to how crappy I felt after the chemo treatments, I always made time for my girls. But after they told me about the Hodgkin’s, I knew I had to fight. Tabitha was only six, and I wanted to make more memories with them. In a way, I fought so hard because of them, because of my love of them.”

“Most people don’t realize I should have died before I was three,” Bobby said. “The doctors said I wouldn’t make it, but my parents, especially my mom, wouldn’t allow that to happen. They did everything they could, tried every treatment, and here I am, still alive. My eyes are gone, but my mom never thought I was handicapped because I couldn’t see. She made sure I had what every other child had. Even glasses. I was in grade school and the school nurse had no idea I was blind. I was just like everyone else. She sent a note home saying I needed an eye exam, and then I decided I wanted to wear glasses, even though I didn’t need them, and she got them for me. Somehow, I got through my mom’s death from cancer when I was fourteen. My dad and I were close by that point, and I had my aunt and uncle. Soon after, I went back to Duke for more treatments, the cancer was back. But again, they worked their magic and I was fine. Until about six months ago. I knew what it was, and the doctor’s confirmed it, but this time, it was too far gone. My aunt planned my twentieth birthday party early, invited friends and family, who came. I took the time to make sure I said good-bye to each of them. I know what happened with my mom, what everyone had done for me all my life. This time, I couldn’t ask them to watch me die. Have the people who mean so much to me, my dad, aunt and uncle, watch a child die, so I came here, knowing the next time I
see
them, I’ll really be able to.”

“I was very lucky,” said Dolores. “Grew up in Bayside New York, the neighborhood was full of second-generation immigrants, and you know what that means? I was exposed to all these different cultures. I loved it. I thrived in that environment. I met the love of my life when I was still in high school and we were married fifteen days after I turned eighteen. My pride and joy? Bar none, my four kids. My job, my dancing might have been my passion, but my kids, and grandkids, well, that is what makes everything worth it; all the long hours, sacrifices, those are easy when you have the love of your children. I tried to instill in them how important family is and to respect everyone, even if they were from a different culture and to work hard. My legacy lives on with them.”

“I have to say, Sam, you’ve got a great place here,” Bruce said. “You’ve made it possible for this old man to go on living, just like I would at home. I’m able to play basketball here. In fact,”—he nodded toward Ethan—“I’m pretty sure I’ve kicked that whippersnapper in a few games. You’ve taken me down into the surrounding towns so I can find my antique treasures to restore, and you’ve proudly put them around the resort. I know I’m from an older generation, but for us, it’s all about working hard, being responsible, doing the right thing, being there for your family and praying. I might be old and dying of cancer, but you let me do all of that, and I’m rightfully grateful, ma’am.”

Sam always made sure her pockets were full of tissues for these nights, and that night was no different. When Ethan put his arm around her and pulled her close to him, she wanted to crawl up on his lap and let all of her defenses down, cry like a baby for all the pain they were in, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be weak.

“You all know my story. I make sure I share it with each and everyone one of you because it matters, my parents mattered, and you matter. Every night before I go to bed, I pray as hard as I can that they will find a cure for cancer and I’m not needed anymore. Growing up as an only child is both a blessing and a curse. It did make me more independent, since there wasn’t a sibling to rely on, but it was also lonely. On the other hand, I had my parent’s full attention. I never had to compete for it. The three of us were always together in this crazy thing we call life.” Sam gave a small laugh. “My parents passed down to me more than just genetics. They also taught me right from wrong, to be a good person, to drive, really there’s so much more. I could go on, but instead, I’ll leave you with a funny story. My dad taught me how to drive because my mom knew he was going to end up being better at it than her. So, there was this huge hill leading out of where we lived. I always loved to ride down that hill on my bike. I love the wind in my hair. Anyway, we pulled around the corner and he turned to me and said, ‘I’m going to do this so you never do, and don’t tell your mother.’ He punched the accelerator and he caught air in the car going over that hill. I’m pretty sure we looked at each other when we were airborne and grinned, but I could be remembering wrong; it was a while ago. Then we came back down with a bounce and he continued to drive me wherever we were going. I can honestly say, I never jumped that hill. I didn’t need to since my dad did it for me. That’s what family is all about, taking that hill for the other person.” Sam looked over at Ethan.

“You know,” Ethan began, “I’m all alone in this world now, just like Sam. But I have to admit, she amazes me.” He kept his arm around her as he spoke. “What she’s built here, it’s more than what the average person would think it was. You all spoke of it in one way or another with your stories, how important family is. Well, Sam, is alone in this world and wanted to do something to help others. In essence, she’s created her own family here with each of you. So while you all may have decided to die away from your family, it must be comforting to know this new family you’re a part of is there for you, just as much as the other one you grew up with.”

Sam had a lot of experience holding back the tears, only letting a little out in front of other people. Her dad had always said, ‘Tears never helped anything,’ and she wanted to be strong for everyone. But hearing Ethan’s words, she couldn’t hold them in. Tears streamed down her face. He understood, he completely understood what she was doing here and how important it was.

When Ethan finished his story, there was silence. Everyone had a chance to speak. There wasn’t going to be any more stories that night. Sam looked around at everyone and tried hard not to think about the fact that the next time they had the campfire not everyone who was seated around the fire would be here. This was always the hardest for her, thinking of the future and these wonderful people who would no longer be with them. She tried to focus on the fact she was helping them. They were living the last of their days the best way they could, enjoying experiences they never thought they’d be able to. She knew that should count for something.

Slowly, guests started leaving, the staff helping the ones who needed it. Before long, it was only Sam and Ethan left. With her legs propped up on the log she was sitting on, she rested her chin on her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, staring into the dying fire. These nights always made her nostalgic for her younger years.

“Why don’t you go home? I’ll make sure the fire is out and everything is back in the kitchen,” Ethan said, stretching his legs out in front of him.