Indivisible Line (35 page)

Although the truth hurt, Greg now understood his father’s misgivings, realizing that, in many ways, Greg Jr. had been a slave to his love for Chelsea. It was time to free them both from the shackles of their unfortunate connection.

“Yes, I guess you’re right.” The admission stung, piercing through the recesses of his entire being. Everything he had known and believed in just disappeared in a cloud of smoke. “I will make it easy on you and Mom. Forget about me, and I will leave you alone. I’ll resign my position in the company. You won’t have to worry about me taking your money. It’ll be an amicable separation. Let’s relieve each other of any further emotional burdens and social ties.”

As easy as that, Greg walked away from everything he’d ever known despite his mother’s pleas. The freedom should’ve made him feel better, but the ache remained long after his parents walked out of his life. It was better this way, he tried to convince himself.

When Sarah left, Greg finally got a glimpse of his life’s reality: past, present, and—if he dared hope—the future. With startling clarity, he found nothing was carved in stone, and he still held the key to his own happiness. If he tried harder, the possibility of stirring his destiny was still well within striking distance. He must figure out a way to start anew, to cut the bad memories from his past and forge ahead to replace them with new and shining experiences.
 

He had nothing to offer Sarah—not a name, not even the freedom to offer his hand in marriage. Even his body had rebelled against him. Bruised and battered, he’d be more of a liability than an asset for any young woman. Greg took steady breaths in order to calm himself. It was time to right all his past mistakes, and he needed to move forward with an untarnished slate. In order to move on with the future, he’d have to change.

It had been six months, ten days, thirty-four minutes, and forgotten seconds since she’d last seen or spoken with Greg. Who was counting, anyway? One sniff of her runny nose gave her away, and Ahila got to his feet, disappeared down the hallway, and came back with a roll of toilet paper. Yeah, it was toilet paper for them, not the soft tissues that the well-to-do used. He handed the roll to her without a word, running his fingers through her hair and kissing her forehead before he lowered his body back into the chair.

Staying silent, Sarah watched the magnificent view of the sun setting behind the icy mountaintops from their favorite perch on the porch. Winter had made an early entrance this year, and the weather had been unpredictable. The hunting and tourism, on the other hand, was in high gear, with most visitors looking to find some brown bears.

She and her father had fallen into the habit of ending each day there. They would sit next to each other and gaze at the wondrous sight. It was the highlight of their day. Ever since Ahila had stepped down from his position as chief, he’d had more time to spend with Sarah, and they’d been inseparable since her return.

To Sarah’s sorrow, Ahila’s health condition continued to deteriorate, although she’d known not to expect a miracle. She had still hoped that somehow, with enough rest, the medication would improve his condition without surgery and they could delay the inevitable. The changes had been subtle at first—the loss of appetite, spending more time in bed, and the recurrent shortness of breath. However, as the days passed, his gaunt features and his thinning body told her he was losing the battle.

She agonized over his refusal to visit the hospital, even for further testing and checkups. His acceptance of his condition and his resignation to his ultimate destiny infuriated Sarah more than anything, but there was nothing she could do about it. It had been a devastating experience to watch someone waiting for death the way her father did, but it was even more terrifying when your hands were tied. Helplessness and fear went hand-in-hand, and for the most part, Sarah couldn’t do more than sit, watch, and cry.

Ahila passed away in his sleep on a Friday morning, three weeks before Christmas and almost eight months since he’d welcomed Sarah back home. It was a silent, gentle death, devoid of the physical suffering associated with the disease. Despite the heartbreak that rammed into her at the discovery of her father’s lifeless body, Sarah found comfort in the belief that Ahila had found peace and everlasting glory in his reunion with her mother. He was now enjoying his afterlife after a fruitful existence here on earth.

When burial arrangements were underway, Sarah wandered into her father’s bedroom a day later, feeling the full brunt of his loss for the first time since his body was removed from the house. Lily’s voice and continued chatter came from the kitchen, where she was busy whipping up meals for Sarah to last the next few days. Trimble and Mr. V were in the living room, discussing the services before internment.

Sarah took stock of her father’s desk. A few parchments with his messy scribbles sat in a neat stack to one side. A Gwich’in book written by one of his friends lay open on the desk, its spine showing years of wear and tear. A picture of Sarah taken at her high school graduation had pride of place next to the penholder.

She sat down in his chair, catching the remnants of his scent. Sarah closed her eyes, letting the memory of his warmth caress her. Pushing past the anguish sweeping through her, she picked up the book and closed it, revealing an envelope that had lain underneath it. Her name was written on its surface in Ahila’s handwriting.

With shaking hands, she lifted the envelope and held it close to her heart. Sarah stared at it for what seemed like forever. Once her tears had waned, she pried open the flap and stared at her father’s handwriting. It took a monumental effort to make herself read his final words to her.

My dearest
Vichi’
,

The days following your return have been some of the happiest moments of my life. You have returned to our native soil as a matured human being and a changed woman. I know the strength you possess will carry you through the most difficult times to come, and you will always prevail.

I say this because I have always believed in you. I am a better man and father because of you. Your forgiveness enabled me to live the last of my days feeling like I hadn’t been a total failure as a father.

It hurts me to write this letter because I know that I won’t be around to hold your hand in your darkest hours. Believe me when I say that each one of these trials shall pass, and the days of smiles and happiness will soon be knocking on your door.

I love you, my dearest daughter. I love you so very much. When I meet our creator and he asks me if I have any regrets, the one thing I could say is that I wish I’d said those words more often. But know in your heart that I do love you and forever will.

Take good care of yourself. Live your life in joy, love, and tranquility. But most of all, live it as you see fit.

I shall see you in the afterlife.

Much love,

Papa

P.S. This check is my last gift to you. Excel in your chosen endeavor, and help whomever you deem worthy. Remember, we are all equal in the eyes of our maker.

Through her tears, Sarah stared at the enclosed cashier’s check and the staggering amount written across it in big, bold numbers. She gasped at the enormity of the gift. Another succession of tears dripped from her eyelashes and made their way down her cheeks. She clung to the crumpled paper as she would have her father if he were still around.

“I love you, too, Papa,” she whispered.

A gentle knock came at the door. Sarah stood and turned around, wiping the tears from her puffy eyes. “Come in.” Her voice sounded hoarse and foreign to her ears.

The door squeaked open, and Greg stood in the doorway.

“Hello, Sarah.”

Her hand shot up to stop her loud cry from escaping from her mouth. Had Ahila known this was coming? She turned the paper and read the portion again.
The days of smiles and happiness will soon be knocking at your door.

Sarah folded the letter and stared at Greg, who remained on the threshold, watching her with sad, blue eyes. She noticed his hollow cheeks, his gaunt jaw, and the slumped shoulders underneath the blazer he wore.

“Greg, what are you doing here?” She choked back the sob in her throat.

“May I come in?” he asked, his eyes never leaving her face.

Sarah gestured for him to enter and placed the check and letter on her father’s desk. From the corner of her eye, she caught the sight of Greg walking in her direction with the aid of a cane. He leaned on the device as if he would stumble without it.

He stopped a few feet away. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.” Greg leaned against the wall and watched her with a somber expression.

“He led a full life.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I want to—”

“Greg, why aren’t you walking better?” she interrupted. “Rehab should have done wonders for your gait by now.” Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away from his leg.

He looked down at the floor. “I had better things to do.”

“Better things to do?” she spat out and took a step back.

“I want to talk to you about the future, Sarah. That’s why I’m here.” Greg’s voice was low and deep. He raised his eyes to meet her own.

“I’m still stuck in the past, and the present isn’t looking great right now.” Sarah picked up the letter and strode past him, her back ramrod straight. Stopping by the door she added, “I don’t know what games you’re playing, Greg, but I have a funeral to arrange and a new life to live here.”

“No games, Sarah.”

She turned, leaving him in her father’s bedroom, and stomped to the living room. Her chest rose and fell while she tried to quell the rapid beating of her heart. He was here and wanted to talk about the future? How dare he think she could move on without an explanation? Who did Greg think he was?

She reached the living room, where Lily sat huddled with Trimble and Mr. V, poring over paperwork from their pastor. They all looked up at her.

Amid the specter of emotion whirling inside her, she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Mr. V, can you fly Mr. Andrews to the mainland right now?” Without waiting for the old man’s answer, she turned to Trimble. “Can you make sure he leaves town?”

Both men looked at her in bewilderment, but neither one said a word. When they both nodded, Sarah marched out of the house, intent on getting away from the presence of the man whose memory kept her up at night.

She’d gotten about half a block away when she heard footsteps behind her. Sarah quickened her steps, refusing to get sidetracked. Confusion and hurt warred inside her, but she had other things to worry about. Find Mrs. Smith so they could plan on the flower arrangements. Get the funeral schedule, and choose the coffin. Her mind whirled with the devastating details clamoring for her attention, and Greg’s arrival had just added to her inner chaos.

“Sarah, will you stop?” She heard Lily panting from behind.

She hadn’t realized she’d been running. She stopped and spun around. “What?” Sarah gritted her teeth until her jaw clenched.

“Why are you sending him away?” Lily stopped next to Sarah, hands resting on her knees while she tried to catch her breath.

Sarah didn’t need to ask who Lily was referring to. “I don’t know why he even bothered to come now, after all this time.” She shook her hand in disgust.

Lily lifted her head and tried to speak in between breaths. “I . . . am so freakin’ tired. Why don’t you let him tell you what’s on his mind? I’m sure the man has a lot to say.”

Sarah glared at her friend. “I don’t have time to talk right now. I have a funeral to arrange,” she snapped and resumed walking.

Lily groaned before she tried to catch up. “Will you stop, please?”

When Sarah stopped, she propped her hands on her hips. “What do you want from me, Lily?”

“I want you to stop running and give him a chance. You’ve been moping around for months, and now that he’s here, you won’t even give him a minute of your time. What’s going on, Sarah?”

Sarah pressed her hand over her mouth and turned away. “I’m scared, Lily. I don’t know what to do with my life now. Papa’s gone, and I’m all alone.” Her voice caught on a sob.

“Oh, Sarah . . . you’re never alone. I’m here. Trimble’s here. We’re your family.” Lily’s hands went around Sarah’s waist and pivoted her around. “We’re always going to be here for you.”