“I don’t know . . .”
“Trust me,” she said. “I know men, and I have my charms.” Her eyes glittered with mischief. “He knows that I don’t need him, and it practically kills him.”
“No,” he said. “You definitely don’t need him.”
“So, changing the subject, when are you going back to work?”
“Soon,” he mumbled.
She reached into his bag of peanuts and popped a couple in her mouth. “You are aware that Dad’s not exactly a spring chicken anymore.”
“I know.”
“So . . . next week?”
When Travis didn’t respond, Stephanie folded her hands in front of her. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen, since you obviously haven’t made up your mind. You’re going to start showing up at the clinic, and at the very least, you’re going to stay every day until at least one o’clock. That’s your new schedule. Oh, and you can close the office on Friday at noon. That way, Dad’s only there for four afternoons.”
He squinted at her. “I can see you’ve been giving this a lot of thought.”
“Someone has to. And just so you know, this isn’t just for Dad. You need to go back to work.”
“What if I don’t think I’m ready?”
“Too bad. Do it anyway. If not for you, do it for Christine and Lisa.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your daughters. Remember them?”
“I know who they are. . . .”
“And you love them, right?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“Then if you love them,” she said, ignoring his question, “you’ve got to start acting like a parent again. And that means you have to go back to work.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she said, “you have to show them that no matter what horrible things happen in life, you still have to go on. That’s your responsibility. Who else is going to teach them that?”
“Steph . . .”
“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but I am saying you don’t have a choice. After all, you haven’t let them quit, have you? They’re still in school, right? You’re still making them do homework, right?”
Travis said nothing.
“So, if you expect them to handle their responsibilities—and they’re only six and eight—then you’ve got to handle yours. They need to see you getting back to normal, and work is part of that. Sorry. That’s life.”
Travis shook his head, feeling his anger rise. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand completely.”
He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. “Gabby is . . .”
When he didn’t continue, Stephanie put her hand on his knee. “Passionate? Intelligent? Kind? Moral? Funny? Forgiving? Patient? Everything you ever imagined in a wife and mother? In other words, pretty much perfect?”
He looked up in surprise.
“I know,” she said quietly. “I love her, too. I’ve always loved her. She’s not only been the sister I never had, but my best friend, too. Sometimes she felt like my only real friend. And you’re right—she’s been wonderful for you and the kids. You couldn’t have done any better. Why do you think I keep coming down here? It’s not just for her, or for you. It’s for me. I miss her, too.”
Unsure how to respond, he said nothing. In the silence, Stephanie sighed.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
Travis swallowed. “No,” he admitted. “Not yet.”
“It’s been three months.”
“I know,” he said.
“When’s the meeting?”
“I’m supposed to meet with them in half an hour.”
Watching her brother, she accepted that. “Okay. I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you think about it some more. I’ll just head over to your place and see the girls.”
“They’re not there, but they should be back later.”
“You mind if I wait around?”
“Go ahead. There’s a key—”
She didn’t let him finish. “Beneath the plaster frog on the porch? Yeah, I know. And if you’re curious, I’m pretty sure most burglars could figure that out, too.”
He smiled. “I love you, Steph.”
“I love you, too, Travis. And you know I’m here for you, right?”
“I know.”
“Always. Anytime.”
“I know.”
Staring at him, she finally nodded. “I’ll just wait for you, okay? I want to know what happens.”
“Okay.”
Standing, she reached for her purse and flung it over her shoulder. She kissed her brother on the top of his head.
“We’ll see you later, okay, Gabby?” she said, not expecting an answer. She was halfway out of the room when she heard Travis’s voice again.
“How far should you go in the name of love?”
Stephanie half turned. “You’ve asked me that question before.”
“I know.” Travis hesitated. “But I’m asking what you think I should do.”
“Then I’ll tell you what I always do. That it’s your choice how you handle this.”
“What does that mean for me?”
Her expression seemed almost helpless. “I don’t know, Trav. What do you think it means?”
Twenty-one
It was a little more than two years ago when Gabby bumped into Kenneth Baker on one of those summer evenings for which Beaufort was famous. With live music playing and dozens of boats tied up at the docks on a summer night, it had seemed like the perfect night to bring Gabby and the kids downtown for ice cream. While they stood in line with the kids, Gabby casually mentioned that she’d seen a beautiful print in one of the stores they’d passed. Travis smiled. By then, he’d grown used to her hints.
“Why don’t you check it out,” he’d said. “I’ve got the girls. Go ahead.”
She was gone longer than he’d expected, and when she returned, her expression was troubled. Later, after they’d gone home and put the girls to bed, Gabby sat on the couch, clearly preoccupied.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Gabby shifted on the couch. “I ran into Kenneth Baker earlier today,” she admitted. “When you were getting ice cream.”
“Oh yeah? How’s he doing?”
She sighed. “Do you realize that his wife’s been in a coma for six years now? Six years. Can you imagine what that must be like for him?”
“No,” Travis said. “I can’t.”
“He looks like an old man.”
“I’m sure I’d age, too. He’s going through something terrible.”
She nodded, her expression still troubled. “He’s angry, too. It’s like he resents her. He said he only visits her now and then. And his kids . . .” Lost in thought, she seemed to lose track of her sentence.
Travis stared at Gabby. “What’s this about?”
“Would you visit me? If something like that happened to me?”
For the first time, he felt a pang of fear, even though he wasn’t quite sure why. “Of course I would.”
Her expression was almost sad. “But after a while, you’d visit less.”
“I’d visit you all the time.”
“And in time, you’d resent me.”
“I’d never resent you.”
“Kenneth resents Eleanor.”
“I’m not Kenneth.” He shook his head. “Why are we even talking about this?”
“Because I love you.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but she raised her hand. “Let me finish, okay?” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “When Eleanor first went into the hospital, it was obvious how much Kenneth loved her. That’s what I noticed whenever we spoke, and over time, I think he told me their entire story—how they’d met at the beach the summer after graduation; that when he first asked her out, she’d said no, but he somehow finagled her number anyway; that he first told her he loved her on her parents’ thirtieth anniversary. But he didn’t just tell the stories—it was like he was reliving them over and over. In a way, he reminded me of you.”
Gabby reached for his hand. “You do the same thing, you know. Do you know how many times I’ve heard you tell someone about the first time we met? Don’t get me wrong—I love that about you. I love the fact that you keep those memories alive in your heart and that they mean as much to you as they do to me. And the thing is . . . when you do, I can feel you fall in love with me again. In some ways, it’s the most touching thing you do for me.” She paused. “Well, that and cleaning the kitchen when I’m too tired to do it.”
Despite himself, he laughed. Gabby didn’t seem to notice.
“Today, though, Kenneth was just so . . . bitter, and when I asked about Eleanor, I got the sense that he wished she were dead. And when I compare that to the way he used to feel about his wife, and what’s happened to his kids . . . it’s terrible.”
When her voice died away, Travis squeezed her hand. “That’s not going to happen to us. . . .”
“That’s not the point. The point is, I can’t live knowing that I didn’t do what I should have done.”
“What are you talking about?”
She ran her thumb over his hand. “I love you so much, Travis. You’re the best husband, the best person, that I’ve ever known. And I want you to make me a promise.”
“Anything,” he said.
She looked directly at him. “I want you to promise that if anything ever does happen to me, you’ll let me die.”
“We already have living wills,” he countered. “We did those when we did our regular wills and power of attorney.”
“I know,” she said. “But our lawyer retired to Florida, and as far as I know, no one but the three of us knows that I don’t want my life prolonged in the event I can’t make my own decisions. It wouldn’t be fair to you or the kids to put your lives on hold, because in time, resentment would be inevitable. You would suffer and the kids would suffer. Seeing Kenneth today convinced me of that, but I don’t want you to ever be bitter about anything we shared. I love all of you too much for that. Death is always sad, but it’s also inevitable, and that’s why I signed the living will in the first place. Because I love all of you so much.” Her tone became softer and yet more determined. “And the thing is . . . I don’t want to feel like I have to tell my parents or my sisters about the decision I made. The decision we made. I don’t want to have to find another attorney and redraft the documents. I want to be able to trust that you’ll do what I want. And that’s why I want you to promise me that you’ll honor my wishes.”
The conversation struck him as surreal. “Yeah . . . sure,” he said.
“No, not like that. I want you to promise me. I want you to make a vow.”
Travis swallowed. “I promise to do exactly what you want. I swear it.”
“No matter how hard it is?”
“No matter how hard.”
“Because you love me.”
“Because I love you.”
“Yes,” she said. “And because I love you, too.”
The living will Gabby had signed in the attorney’s office was the document Travis had brought with him to the hospital. Among other things, it specified that her feeding tubes were to be removed after twelve weeks. Today was the day he had to make his choice.
Sitting beside Gabby in the hospital, Travis recalled the conversation he’d had with Gabby that night; he remembered the vow he’d made to her. He’d replayed those words a hundred times over the last few weeks, and as the three-month mark approached, he’d found himself growing ever more desperate for Gabby to wake. As had Stephanie, which was why she was waiting for him at home. Six weeks ago, he’d told her about the promise he’d made to Gabby; the need to share it had become unbearable.
The next six weeks passed without relief. Not only didn’t Gabby stir, but she’d shown no improvement in any of her brain functions. Though he tried to ignore the obvious, the clock had moved forward, and it was now the hour of his decision.
Sometimes, during his imaginary conversations with her, he’d tried to get her to change her mind. He’d argue that the promise hadn’t been a fair one; that the only reason he’d said yes was that the prospect seemed so unlikely, he’d never believed it would come up. He confessed that had he been able to predict the future, he would have torn up the documents she’d signed in the attorney’s office, for even if she couldn’t respond, he still couldn’t imagine a life without her.
He would never be like Kenneth Baker. He felt no bitterness toward Gabby, nor would he ever. He needed her, he needed the hope he felt whenever they were together. He drew strength from visiting her. Earlier today, he’d been exhausted and lethargic; as the day wore on, his sense of commitment had only grown stronger, leaving him certain that he would have the ability to laugh with his daughters, to be the father Gabby wanted him to be. It had worked for three months, and he knew he could do it forever. What he didn’t know was how on earth he could go on knowing that Gabby was gone. As strange as it seemed, there was a comforting predictability to the new routine of his life.
Outside the window, the pigeon paced back and forth, making him think it was pondering the decision with him. There were times when he felt a strange kinship with the bird, as if it were trying to teach him something, though what, he had no idea. Once, he had brought some bread with him, but he hadn’t realized the screen would prevent him from tossing it onto the ledge. Standing before the glass, the pigeon had eyed the bread in his hand, cooing slightly. It flew away a moment later, only to return and stay the rest of the afternoon. After that, it showed no fear of him. Travis could tap the glass and the pigeon would stand in place. It was a curious situation that gave him something else to think about when sitting in the quiet room. What he wanted to ask the pigeon was this: Am I to become a killer?