“Lynda’s brothers are assholes and I wouldn’t give either of them a pet rock, much less my kids. And my mom was diagnosed with early dementia, so she just moved to an assisted living facility. She’s still able to care for herself, but no one knows how long that’ll continue. So, no, no one comes to mind. I can’t just walk up to someone and say, ‘Hey, would you like to take on three kids for the rest of your life? You have to promise to love them, nurture them, and treat them as if you love them more than life itself.’” I grin at her, but there’s no amusement in it. There’s only resignation.
“You know Jake and I—” she began. But I cut her off.
“You and Jake already have a baseball team,” I remind her. “How many are you up to now?”
She laughs. “Gabby’s in college. Alex is twelve. Trixie is eight. Hank is almost three. Erik is eighteen months. And this new one is a little girl who will be here in a few weeks.” She rubs her stomach with her palm and smiles at me.
“We’re going to call this one Poppy!” Trixie says on a giggle.
“Hell, yeah, we are,” Mr. Jacobson sings out. Everyone knows that Jake and the kids all call the old man Pop.
“We are not going to call her Poppy,” Jake corrects.
“We’ll see,” Trixie says with a grin. She dances in front of Miles as he watches her intently.
“Does he have a bottle?” Katie asks.
I reach into the diaper bag at my side and pull one out. She takes it from me, and she settles Miles into the crook of her arm. Trixie migrates over to talk to Sam and Kerry-Anne. Trixie and Kerry-Anne played together for a few hours today and they became instant best friends.
“When does chemo start?” Katie questions as she feeds Miles.
“In two days,” I reply. “They set me up at a clinic near here.”
“So if they’re still doing chemo, there’s still hope, right?” she asks, her voice so soft it seems almost breakable, like fine porcelain. Like if we say the words too loudly they’ll shatter, and the pieces will strike everyone in the area.
I shake my head. “It might buy me a couple of months.”
“Oh,” she replies, and she blinks hard again.
I reach out and cover her arm with my palm, giving it a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”
It’s not. It’s not going to be okay. But it’ll have to be.
“Gabby will be here to watch the kids, right?” I’d set it up with Jake a couple of weeks ago when I called to confirm plans with him.
She nods and glances down at her watch. “She should be here already.” Her brow furrows. But almost as soon as the creases appeared, they disappear when we hear the crunch of tires on gravel. “That’s her.” She jumps to her feet and hands Miles to Mr. Jacobson, who doesn’t even flinch. He just settles my son against his big old belly and tips him backward so he’s comfortable.
Katie runs toward the side of the porch and down toward the driveway. I hear some squeals and happy giggles and it makes my heart warm inside. I’ve heard that parents of adult children spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to get them to come home.
“It’s like that every time she comes home,” Jake says. He rolls his eyes, grins, and shakes his head like her excitement about Gabby coming home is silly.
“Act like you’re not itching to run out there too, why don’t you?” Mr. Jacobson teases. Jake grins and sets the tongs down, then goes after Katie. He walks back around the corner a few minutes later with his arm slung around the shoulders of a brunette who looks just like Katie did when she was young.
“Jesus, she’s Katie’s doppelganger,” I say.
“About as sweet as Katie is, too,” Mr. Jacobson says. “But don’t play cards with her. She’ll rob you blind.”
“Duly noted.” I nod toward Miles. “Do you want me to take him?”
Mr. Jacobson looks down his nose at Miles. “He looks pretty content. Might as well leave him.” He nods toward the grill that Jake abandoned. “You might want to turn those burgers, though.”
I get up and go to turn the burgers, because when Mr. Jacobson speaks, you follow directions.
“Aaron, this is my daughter, Gabby,” Katie says. I shake hands with the young brunette and still can’t get over how much she looks like her mother did when she was young.
“You look just like your mom did at your age.”
Gabby looks from me to her and back. “You guys knew one another when you were young?”
Jake barks out a laugh. “Knew one another? We were all inseparable. It was A and Lynda, me and your mom, and Elijah and Bess. Katie was only here that one year. And then there was Fred.” Jake shakes his head.
“Whatever happened to Fred?” I ask. “Didn’t he get married?"
Jake barks out a laugh.”To my ex-wife.”
“How’s that working out for him?” I ask. I grin at Jake.
“It’s not. She left a few months ago. Left him and the baby.” Jake looks like the idea of it disturbs him. “I hope he works it all out soon.” He looks over at Katie. “How old were we that summer? Fifteen? Sixteen?”
She nods and smiles at him. “We thought we knew everything.” She rolls her eyes dramatically.
“You knew my mom?” Sam asks, and my heart turns over in my chest. She never talks about her mom with me.
Jake’s eyes meet mine, like he’s acknowledging the weight his next words will have in my daughter’s life. “I did. Your mother was fierce, even back then,” Jake says.
Mr. Jacobson chuckles. “The six of them used to streak around on their bikes, terrorizing the whole campground.”
“We did have a lot of fun,” Katie says, her eyes bright and shining.
“We did,” I agree.
“When will Eli and Bess get here?” Katie asks.
“Tomorrow, I think.”
“Do they know?” Katie asks. She doesn’t go into detail.
“Eli knows. Don’t know if he’s told Bess,” I admit.
“I don’t think they do a lot of talking lately,” Jake says. He lets out a long, low whistle.
“I’m surprised they’re still married,” Katie tosses in. “I’ll be even more surprised if she actually shows up.”
She has to show up. I need her too much. I need all of them right now. When I found out I was dying, I couldn’t think of anywhere else I wanted to be. I wanted to come home. I wanted to bring my kids here and give them the best summer of their lives. It’ll be my last one, but I’m determined it will be one they remember forever and ever. It’ll be the summer that cannot be compared to others. It will be perfect. Or I’ll die trying.
The latter is inevitable, I know.
3
Bess
It’s after midnight when we get to Lake Fisher. The drive was long and tiring, and I wasn’t even behind the wheel. Instead, I worked the whole way here while Eli drove. Well, he drove and hummed along to the radio. And breathed. I keep telling him to cut that shit out, but he won’t accommodate my request. He ignores me entirely when I tell him that his breathing annoys me.