Second Chance Summer (43 page)

“So’s the dog,” I assured him, sneaking another glimpse at the tiny figure. “I think Gelsey will love it.” As I thought about him carving it for her, I was suddenly ashamed that my first thought upon seeing him was how long he would be staying. And as I thought about him carving it on the bus, I was just glad he hadn’t flown. Somehow, I had a feeling the TSA wouldn’t have approved.

“Good,” my grandfather said, tucking it back in his suitcase. “I know this is probably so hard on her. On all of you.” I nodded, tightening my fingers on the steering wheel, telling myself to hold it together a little longer. I didn’t want to cry in front of my grandfather, of all people.

When I pulled into the driveway, the medical supply van was gone, but there was still an unfamiliar car parked next to my mom’s, which I figured belonged to the nurse who was taking this shift. “Here we are,” I said, even though that was probably pretty obvious by the fact that the car was in park and I had just killed the engine. My grandfather collected his things, waving me off when I tried to help, and I led him into the house.

My father was lying on the couch, listening with a faint smile on his face as Gelsey perched nearby, apparently telling him all about the carnival. She stopped talking as she looked up at us, standing
in the doorway. My father’s head slowly turned as well, but I was watching my grandfather’s face when he got his first glimpse of my father.

I had never seen my grandfather cry. He was not one for any kind of displays of affection, and he and my father had always seemed to greet each other with a handshake and a pat on the back. I’d never even seen him get even slightly emotional. But when he saw my father, his face seemed to crumple, and it looked like he aged about five years, right in front of my eyes. Then he squared his shoulders again and walked to the couch, nodding at Gelsey as he went.

But as I watched, surprised, my grandfather went right up to my father and hugged him gently, starting to rock him back and forth, as my dad gripped his hands. I signaled to Gelsey, and she got up and headed over to me. “Is Grandpa okay?” she whispered to me as I stepped out of the front door and she followed.

“I think so,” I said. I looked back for a second into the living room and was struck by how small my dad looked in my grandfather’s arms. Probably almost like he had a long time ago, when he’d been Gelsey’s age, and younger, just a little boy himself. I eased the door closed behind me, giving my grandfather a moment alone with his son.

I couldn’t sleep that night. This in itself was not so unusual. What was unusual was that I wasn’t the only one.

Normally, I would have gone next door, to find Henry, to try to forget a little bit. And somehow the fact that I couldn’t do this—and that this had been my own choice—was making lying there unbearable.

Things were made more complicated by the new sleeping arrangements—my grandfather had been installed in Gelsey’s room, and Gelsey was currently snoring away on my trundle bed. We’d agreed to switch off taking the trundle bed, but as I listened to her breathing in and out, I found myself wishing that I’d offered to take the first night. It would have been much easier to leave the room without having to climb over her. But when I couldn’t take it any longer, I slipped out of bed and held my breath as I stepped over her. She didn’t wake, just sighed a little in her sleep and rolled over again. I let out a breath and turned the doorknob, stepping out into the hallway.

“Hiya.” I made a kind of squeaking noise and literally jumped, even though it had been a very quiet greeting. But I’d totally forgotten about Paul, who had the night shift with my dad.

“Hi,” I whispered back, trying to get my racing heart to slow a little bit. Paul was sitting in a chair near the hospital bed, where my dad was sleeping, his mouth open, his breath labored. I’d met Paul that afternoon when he’d replaced Melody, the nurse who had smiled but hadn’t said anything to anyone all day. Paul at least had seemed a little friendlier. “I was just, um, getting some air,” I said. Paul nodded and went back to reading what looked like a graphic novel. I noticed that Murphy had abandoned his dog bed and was
curled up under my father’s bed. I motioned to the dog as I opened the door, but he didn’t move, just stayed put and rested his head on his paws.

I stepped outside and stopped short, getting my second surprise of the last few minutes—my grandfather was standing on the porch, in pajamas, robe, and leather slippers, peering through an impressive-looking telescope. “Hi,” I said, too shocked to really say anything else.

“Good evening,” my grandfather said, straightening up. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

My grandfather sighed. “Me neither.”

I couldn’t stop looking at the telescope. It was huge, and beautiful, and I was, frankly, a little amazed that my grandfather had brought it with him. “What are you looking at?” I asked.

He gave me a small smile. “Do you know your stars?” he asked. “I think I did give you a book on it, years ago, actually.”

“Right,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up, not sure how to tell him that I hadn’t read it beyond the most superficial flip-through. “I don’t, really,” I confessed, taking a step closer. “But I’d been hoping to learn.”

My grandfather nodded. “You can’t be a sailor without knowing your stars,” he said. “They’ve tried to get me to give it up at the Academy. These newer officers telling me that with GPS, it’s not necessary.
But as long as you know your constellations, you’re never lost.”

I took a step closer, peering up at the sky. There were so many more stars here than there ever seemed to be back home; maybe that’s why I’d suddenly gotten fascinated by them this summer. “Really?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” my grandfather said, clearly warming to his theme. “No matter what else happens, your constellations don’t change. And if you’re ever lost, and your precious GPS is on the fritz, they’ll tell you where you are. And then they’ll get you home.”

I looked back up at the stars above me, then again at the telescope for a moment. “Can you show me?” I asked, suddenly wanting to name what I’d been looking at for the last few months.

“Of course,” my grandfather said, sounding a little surprised. “Step right up.”

I lowered my eye to the eyepiece and suddenly, right there and brilliantly clear, was what had been right there above me, shining down on me, all summer long.

It was August. The days turned hot and muggy, and my father started to get worse, much faster than I’d somehow been expecting. I found myself grateful for the four nurses who passed through, changing shifts every eight hours, simply because we were now out of our depth in terms of helping my dad. He needed help getting out of the bed, help walking, help going to the bathroom. We started using the
wheelchair to get him around the house, but didn’t use it much, as he was spending most of the time sleeping. He was getting medications and pain management administered by syringes, and we now had a bright-red medical waste container in the kitchen that the nurses took away, that didn’t go into the bearbox with the rest of the trash.

I’d stopped going into work. I’d talked to Fred, and he told me he understood—he’d apparently learned about the situation when he came to the Fourth of July barbecue. Elliot would send me goofy, joking text messages, and Lucy stopped by every day after work, with a fountain Diet Coke for me, ready to listen if I wanted to talk and happy to chatter on and gossip if I wanted to be distracted.

Our kitchen—and fridge—was soon filled up with casseroles and baked goods. Fred kept bringing over coolerfuls of whatever fish he’d caught that day, and whenever Davy came to walk the dog, he always had something with him in a green Borrowed Thyme bakery box—muffins, cookies, pies. The nurses had come to really love it whenever Davy appeared. Even the Gardners, who didn’t cook at all, brought by a pizza every few days.

I was still thinking about Henry much more than I wanted to, and I still wasn’t sleeping. But my grandfather also wasn’t sleeping, and so at night, we continued our star lessons. He’d whittle and tell me where to point the telescope, asking me to describe what I saw and then, later, to identify them myself. I learned how to find the constellations, so that I could see them even without the telescope. I
was amazed to learn that there were things that could be seen with the naked eye, like other planets. And they’d been there all along, I just hadn’t known what was I was seeing.

All of us were staying pretty close to home, running errands or going into town only if we absolutely needed to. My dad still had a few good hours every day when he wasn’t sleeping, and none of us wanted to miss them. Which was why when Lucy came over as usual one Tuesday, I was surprised when she suggested taking a walk and my mother agreed, practically insisting that I go with her.

“It’s okay,” I said, frowning at my mother, who’d suddenly joined us on the porch. My dad had gone to sleep about four hours ago; I knew he’d be up soon and I wanted to be around for it.

“No, you should come,” Lucy said. “I need to talk to you about something private.”

I was on the verge of telling Lucy that we could just talk on the dock, or in my room, but she looked so anxious that I shrugged. “Fine,” I said. “Just a short walk.”

“Good,” my mother said quickly and I just looked at her for a moment, wondering why she was so eager to get me out of the house. But maybe she was just worried that I’d been here too much. Warren still saw Wendy, and they’d go out sometimes, and Gelsey still went next door to see Nora. Maybe since Lucy always came to me, my mom was just worried I wasn’t leaving the house enough.

“Let’s go,” I said, standing up. Lucy scrambled to her feet as well, then glanced back at my mother for a second before hurrying on ahead so that I had to rush to catch up with her.

When we reached the road, Lucy paused, shaking her head for a moment. “I can’t believe you guys still don’t have a sign,” she said, as she turned left, and I followed, shrugging.

“We’ve never found anything that fits,” I said. “I think if we were going to have found the right thing, it would have happened already.” I turned to face her. Lucy still seemed intent on walking briskly up my street, even though we were heading away from downtown, just toward other houses. “What did you want to talk to me about? Trouble with Pittsburgh?”

“What?” Lucy asked, looking startled. “Oh. Him. Um… no. It’s…”

She looked so uncomfortable for a moment, that I suddenly realized what this might be about. “Is it Elliot?” I asked. If he’d finally declared his crush, and now it was just the two of them at work, I could see how that might get awkward.

“Elliot?” Lucy repeated, sounding surprised. “No. What about him?”

I knew it was none of my business, but I decided to jump in anyway. “He has a crush on you,” I said. “He has all summer.”

Lucy stopped walking and looked at me. “Did he tell you that?”

“No,” I said, “but it’s totally obvious. I’m sure even Fred knows.” Lucy looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head and continued to walk. “Luce?” I asked, catching up with her.

“It wouldn’t work,” she said definitively.

“Why not?” I asked. He wasn’t my type, but Elliot was cute, and they got along well—and he was much more of a prospect now that he’d learned to tone down the cologne.

“Because,” Lucy said. “He’s Elliot. He’s…” She paused, apparently having trouble coming up with an adjective. She took a glance down at her phone. “Let’s turn back!” she said cheerfully, turning in the other direction.

But I wasn’t going to let myself be distracted that easily. “Seriously,” I said. “He’s a nice guy. You guys get along great. He makes you laugh. Why not?”

“Because,” Lucy repeated. But she didn’t seem as dismissive as she had earlier, and I could tell that she was thinking about it.

“I’m just saying,” I said, as we rounded the corner before my house, “the nice guys are the ones worth dating.” I thought back to Henry, and all his small kindnesses, and felt a tiny pain in my heart.

“I know I haven’t really yelled at you about this like I wanted to,” Lucy said, looking at me closely, “but I still don’t understand why you dumped Henry.”

I winced at this even though it was technically accurate. “It was just going to be too hard,” I finally said. “I could tell. And I knew we
were both going to get hurt.” I realized that we were now in front of the Crosby house, and I made myself look away as Lucy and I headed into my driveway.

“You want to know something about gymnastics?” Lucy asked, falling into step next to me.

“Always,” I said, deadpan, and she smiled at me.

“The thing is that people only get hurt—really hurt—when they’re trying to play it safe. That’s when people get injured, when they pull back at the last second because they’re scared. They hurt themselves and other people.”

This was all hitting home until the last part, and I frowned. “How do they hurt other people?”

“You know,” Lucy said, clearly stalling. “If they land on a spotter or something. The point is—”

“I get the point,” I assured her. We had reached the house, and I started to head to the porch when Lucy grabbed my hand and pulled me around to the back. “Lucy, what are you—”

“SURPRISE!” I blinked at what was in front of me. There was a table set up with a cake, and balloons tied to the chairs. Gelsey was there, and my mom, and Warren and Wendy. Kim, Jeff, and Nora were there, along with Davy and Elliot and Fred. Even Leland was there, and I suddenly worried about who was working at the beach. Finally, I saw my dad, sitting in his wheelchair, my grandfather behind him, both of them smiling at me.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” my mother said, giving me a hug. “I thought we should give you a second chance at a party,” she whispered to me, and I felt myself smile, even though I was also pretty sure I was about to cry.

“Thanks,” I whispered back. My mother ran her hand over my hair for a second, then turned to the table.

“Cake!” she called. “Come and get it!”

I looked around at the crowd, my eyes searching, even though I knew Henry wouldn’t be there. But it wasn’t until I knew he was absent that I realized how much I wanted him to be there. I took a step closer to the table and saw that the
Happy Birthday, Taylor
was written in his handwriting. My mother started serving up the cake, and I realized that just to the side of it were two small containers of ice cream from Jane’s. I could tell without tasting them that they were raspberry and coconut. “Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual, “where did the ice cream come from?”