For Better, for Worse, Forever (17 page)

“It’s okay, Brandon. Really. I only wish I could answer your questions. The truth is, no one knows how another person truly feels because we can’t walk around in each other’s skins.” She got up from the sofa and stood beside him, gazing out the glass door with him. “But I do know one thing. I know that she had one fine son.”

He glanced at Janice, saw that her expression
was kind and sincere. He felt his cheeks redden. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s the truth. I would have been proud to have called you my son.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it.”

“You should have had lots of children. Tons of them.”

She laughed. “I always thought so too.”

The sun suddenly broke through the bank of billowing gray clouds, hurling breathtaking shafts of light into the sea. The water turned from gray to green where the light penetrated, as if some alien’s spaceship were anchored beneath the surface. With the sight came a feeling of hope to Brandon. Here, in this house, standing beside the mother of the girl he loved, he felt a sense of peace and belonging. He couldn’t stop time. He couldn’t turn it back. All he had was this precious slice of it, and it felt good to be alive.

Early the next morning, as Brandon drove up to the house, he saw an ambulance sitting in the driveway, its red light swirling and casting eerie reflections on the surrounding trees and
brush. It punctuated the gray morning light with urgency. All was silent. Brandon cut off his engine, flung open the car door, and raced up to the house. The front door was ajar, and he hurried inside. April’s father stood in the living room in his bathrobe and bare feet. He looked up, and his face was haggard and creased by grief. He said, “She’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“She died in her sleep. The paramedics are with her, but there’s nothing they can do. My little girl is gone. Gone.”

Brandon’s back stiffened and, without comment, he edged out the front door and walked quickly into the surrounding woods, heedless of the wet foliage slapping against his arms and legs as he plowed deeper into the jungle. When he came to a small clearing he stopped, turned his face skyward, and screamed.

A
pril Lancaster was going home.

Brandon stood on the tarmac along with his father and April’s parents at the St. Croix airport, next to the jet plane that was to take April and her family away. A long black hearse drove through the security gates toward them. The baggage handlers, who’d been busy tossing luggage onto the conveyor belt, ceased their activity as the hearse stopped beside the plane. Pallbearers from the local funeral home got out of the vehicle, opened the back, and slid out a rolling cart that held a long pink casket trimmed in silver and with silver handles. Flecks of metallic paint caught the morning sun and glittered like jewels.

Brandon was grateful that his father had pulled strings to allow the four of them to stand out on the loading area, so close to the casket. As the men rolled the casket toward the conveyor belt, April’s mother stepped forward. She touched the hard shell that held her daughter’s body, leaned forward, and kissed it. Brandon’s throat constricted, and he forced his gaze away. The sadness was as heavy as the humid tropical air that surrounded them.

Because the St. Croix airport was so small, he could hear taxi horns and the voices and laughter of tourists as they prepared to board the flight and return to the States. At the end of the single runway the sea sparkled, and in the other direction hills rose, lush and green. He returned his gaze to the casket and saw the pallbearers lift it onto the conveyor belt. The belt moved forward, and the glittering pink casket slid upward into the dark belly of the plane.

He knew this was April’s wish—to return to New York and be buried beside Mark Gianni, the man she had chosen in life to be with forever. At least in death, she could have her final wish. Moisture filled his eyes, and
the casket became blurred. He felt April’s mother take his hand.

“I guess that’s it. I guess it’s our turn to get on board now.”

He couldn’t see her eyes hidden behind the dark glasses but saw the tracks of tears along her cheeks. “I guess so.”

April’s father put his arm around her shoulders, as if to hold her up, and put out his hand to Brandon’s father. “Bill, thanks for everything. You made a lot of things go more smoothly for us and I’m grateful for that. If you’re ever in New York …”

“Sure. I’ll call.”

Hugh turned to Brandon and extended his hand. “You’re a fine young man, Brandon. I’m glad we had the opportunity to know you. In spite of the circumstances.”

Brandon nodded, not trusting his voice.

April’s mother hugged him, and he hugged her hard in return. Everything was slipping away from him. He couldn’t hold on to anything he loved. “You take care of yourself,” she said. “You have a great time in college, and send us an invitation to your graduation, because we’ll come. It’s a promise.”

“Sure,” he managed.

The four of them walked back inside the airport, and when the boarding call came, Brandon waved April’s parents into the plane. All around them, tourists chattered and dragged bags loaded with souvenirs of the islands. All Brandon wanted to do was get away from them. Didn’t they know what was going on? Didn’t they realize that April was dead and that he hurt so badly that he could hardly breathe?

Outside, in the bright September sun, he fumbled for his sunglasses. He stood beside his father, and together they watched the large jet back away from the gate, taxi down the runway, rev its engines, and gather speed. The air was split by the roar of jets, saturated by the smell of hot fuel. Slowly the plane lifted, a silver bird headed to another time and place. Brandon watched until it disappeared behind a bank of snow-white cumulus clouds. And out of his life. He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.

“Son,” he heard his father say.

“What?” Brandon felt desolate.

“I, um, was wondering if maybe we could have lunch together.”

“I’m not hungry. And it’s only ten-thirty.”

“Well, I was wondering something else too.”

Brandon removed his sunglasses and stared straight into his father’s face. His father looked nervous, anxious. “What else?”

“A couple of weeks ago—when I knew this day was coming for you—I had the boat taken out of dry dock.”

Brandon felt a flush radiate through his body. “You did?”

“It’s down at the marina in its regular slip, and I was thinking that if you would like to, we could take it out this afternoon. Just the two of us. It’s been a while, but I thought it was something we could do. I mean, that is, if you want.”

The boat. Their boat. His mother’s boat. Longing filled him. He wanted to feel the wind in his face. He wanted to taste the salt air. He wanted to touch the decks, the galley, the chairs where his mother had last been. In his father’s eyes, he saw uncertainty. A tremor flickered along his rigidly held jaw as he waited for Brandon’s answer.

His father added, “I was also thinking it
might be good for us to take some time together … take the boat around to some of the cays and islands. You don’t head off for school until January, and I’d like to take about a month off from work and spend it sailing. You don’t have to decide right now, but would you think about it?”

Brandon understood that his father was reaching out to him, wanted to make things right between them. He wasn’t sure what
he
wanted, but he did know he was tired of feeling angry and resentful. “I’d like to go sailing today,” he said. “I’ll think about the other.”

His father grinned and nodded profusely. “Good! Very, very good, son. So let’s go home, change, and head to the marina.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Brandon said. “In a couple of hours. There’s something I have to do first.”

“All right.” His father looked at his watch. “See you at, say … one o’clock?”

“I’ll be there.”

An hour later, Brandon drove his car to the now vacant house where April had once lived. He parked, got out, and started up the hill behind the house. At the crest of the hill he
stood, catching his breath and gazing out at the bright blue Caribbean sea. A breeze lifted his hair off his brow.
Good
, he thought. He’d hoped for a good stiff breeze.

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a red balloon, and filled it with air. He tied it off, reached back into his pocket, pulled out a yellow ribbon, and tied it onto the balloon. Then he raised his hands over his head and let go. The ribbon trailed against his arm, and he resisted the urge to grab hold and not release it. By letting it go, he was letting April go too. He was telling her goodbye. He was giving her to Mark. Forever.

He shielded his eyes and watched as the balloon drifted higher and higher against the vast blue sky.

To find out more about April Lancaster
and Mark Gianni, turn the page
for a sneak preview of
Lurlene McDaniel’s companion
to this book,
Till Death Do Us Part
.

0-553-57085-4

On sale now from Bantam Books.

Till Death Do Us Part
by Lurlene McDaniel

Published by
Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036

Copyright © 1997 by Lurlene McDaniel
All rights reserved.

An excerpt from
Till Death Do Us Part
by Lurlene McDaniel:

“T
hat guy’s staring at you again, April.”

April Lancaster didn’t need Kelli to tell her that the boy on the far side of the hospital’s patient rec room was looking at her. She could almost
feel
his gaze. She had been in the hospital for two days and he’d been stealing glances at her every time she ventured out of her room. “Ignore him,” April whispered to Kelli. “I do.”

“But why? He’s cute. Even if he is too skinny for my taste.”

“This isn’t a social club, Kelli. It’s a hospital. I didn’t come here to meet guys.”

“Well, I say why let a good opportunity slip away?”

April shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

Her best friend grinned. “I’m only trying to cheer you up. Take your mind off this whole thing. And if you meet a cute guy in the bargain, then what’s the harm?”

April pointedly twisted in the lounge chair so that her back was to the boy. She didn’t want to be stared at, and she certainly didn’t want to meet some guy who was sick. She figured he had to be sick; why else would he be a patient in this huge New York City medical complex?

Kelli interrupted her thoughts. “What is going on with you? Medically, I mean. When can you leave?”

The last thing April wanted to do was dwell on the frightening possibilities as to why she was in the hospital. “I’m only here for testing,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be out by the end of the week.”

“But by then spring break will be over. We leave tomorrow, and the weatherman said an inch of fresh powder is falling in Vermont as we speak. This might be the last chance for a ski trip this year.”

April and her friends had been planning
the trip for weeks. It was supposed to be part of her birthday present. And since it was their senior year, it would be their final spring break together as a group. “I can’t help it,” she said gloomily. “Even if my doctor releases me earlier, my parents wouldn’t let me go.”