They were particularly good with the girls. In the beginning, they often held the girls as they cried, and Christine grew especially fond of Liz. Liz braided her hair, helped her make beaded bracelets, and usually spent at least half an hour with Christine, kicking the soccer ball back and forth. Once inside, they would begin to whisper as soon as Travis left the room. He wondered what they said to each other. Knowing Liz, he was certain that if she felt it was something important, she’d tell him, but usually she’d simply say that Christine wanted to talk. Over time, he found himself simultaneously thankful for her presence and envious of her relationship with Christine.
Lisa, on the other hand, was closer to Megan. They would color at the kitchen table or sit beside each other watching television; sometimes Travis would watch Lisa curl her body against Megan’s in the same way she did with Gabby. In moments like those, they almost looked like mother and daughter, and for the briefest of moments, Travis would feel as if the family were reunited again.
Allison, on the other hand, was the one who made sure the girls understood that even if they were sad and upset, they still had responsibilities. She reminded them to pick up their rooms, helped them with their homework, and always prompted them to bring their dishes to the sink. She was gentle about it, but firm as well, and while his daughters sometimes avoided their chores on the nights Allison didn’t come, it happened less frequently than Travis would have guessed. On a subconscious level, they seemed to realize they craved structure in their lives, and Allison was exactly what they’d needed.
Between them and his mother—who was there every afternoon and most weekends—Travis was seldom alone with his daughters in the aftermath of the accident, and they were able to function as parents in a way that he simply couldn’t. He’d needed them to do that for him. It was all he could do to get out of bed in the morning, and most of the time, he felt on the verge of crying. His guilt hung heavy, and not simply because of the accident. He didn’t know what to do or where he was supposed to be. When he was at the hospital, he wished he were at home with his daughters; when he was at home with his daughters, he wished he were visiting Gabby. Nothing was ever right.
But after six weeks of dumping excess food in the garbage cans, Travis finally told his friends that while they were welcome to continue visiting, he no longer needed his dinners prepared. Nor did he want them coming by every day. By that point, with visions of Kenneth Baker playing in his mind, he knew that he had to take control over what was left of his life. He had to become the father he once had been, the father Gabby wanted him to be, and little by little, he did. It wasn’t easy, and while there were still times when Christine and Lisa seemed to miss the attention from the others, it was more than offset by the attention Travis began to show again. It wasn’t as if everything had reverted to normal, but now, at the three-month mark, their lives were as normal as could be expected. In taking responsibility for the care of his daughters, Travis sometimes thought he’d saved himself.
On the downside, since the accident, he’d left little time for Joe, Matt, and Laird. While they still dropped by occasionally for a beer after the girls had gone to bed, their conversations were stilted. Half the time, everything they said seemed to be . . . wrong, somehow. When they asked about Gabby, he wasn’t in the mood to talk about her. When they tried to talk about something else, Travis wondered why they seemed to be avoiding talking about Gabby. He knew he wasn’t being fair, but while spending time with them, he was always struck by the differences between their lives and his. Despite their kindness and patience, despite their sympathy, he would find himself thinking that in a little while, Joe would head home to Megan and they’d talk quietly while curled up in bed; when Matt put his hand on his shoulder, he would wonder whether Liz was glad that Matt had gone over or whether she’d needed him to do something at home. His relationship with Laird was exactly the same, and despite himself, he was often unaccountably angry in their presence. While he was forced to live constantly with the unthinkable, their concern could be switched on and off, and for the life of him, he couldn’t escape his rage at the unfairness of it all. He wanted what they had and knew they would never understand his loss, no matter how hard they tried. He hated himself for thinking these things and tried to hide his fury, but he got the sense that his friends realized that things had changed, even if they were uncertain what was really going on. Gradually, their visits became shorter and more infrequent. He hated himself for that, too, for the wedge he was creating between them, but he didn’t know how to repair it.
In quiet moments, he wondered about his anger toward his friends, while he felt only gratitude toward their wives. He would sit on the deck pondering it all, and last week he’d found himself gazing at the crescent moon, finally accepting what he’d known all along. The difference, he knew, had to do with the fact that Megan, Allison, and Liz focused their support on his daughters, while Joe, Matt, and Laird focused their support on him. His daughters deserved that.
He, however, deserved to be punished.
Twenty
Sitting with Gabby, Travis glanced at his watch. It was coming up on half-past two, and normally he would be getting ready to say good-bye to Gabby so he could be home when the girls came back from school. Today, however, Christine was visiting a friend’s house, and Lisa was going to a birthday party at the aquarium in Pine Knoll Shores, so neither would be home until just before dinner. The fact that his daughters had plans for today was fortunate, since he needed to stay longer anyway. Later, he had to meet with the neurologist and the hospital administrator.
He knew what the meeting was about, and he had no doubt they’d be in full-sympathy mode, complete with moderate, reassuring tones. The neurologist would tell him that because there was nothing more the hospital could do for Gabby, she would have to be transferred to a nursing home. He would be assured that since her condition was stable, the risk would be minimal and that a physician would check in on her weekly. Additionally, he would probably be told that the staff who worked in nursing homes were fully capable of providing the care she would need daily. If Travis protested, the administrator would probably step in and note that unless Gabby was in the intensive care unit, their insurance covered only a three-month stay in the hospital. He might also shrug and mention that since the hospital was meant to serve the local community, there wasn’t room to keep her long-term, even if she had once been an employee. There was really nothing else he could do. Essentially, by teaming up, they wanted to make sure they got their way.
What neither of them realized was that the decision wasn’t quite that simple. Beneath the surface lurked the reality that while Gabby was in the hospital, it was assumed that she would wake up soon, for this was where temporary coma patients always stayed. Patients in temporary comas needed physicians and nurses nearby to quickly monitor changes that would signify the improvement they’d known was coming all along. In a nursing home, it would be assumed that Gabby would never wake up. Travis wasn’t ready to accept that, but it seemed as if he weren’t going to be given a choice.
But Gabby had a choice, and in the end, his decision wasn’t going to be based on what either the neurologist or the administrator said to him. He would base his decision on what he thought Gabby would want.
Outside the window, the pigeon was gone, and he wondered whether it went off to visit other patients, like a doctor making his rounds, and if it did, whether the other patients noticed the pigeon the way he did.
“Sorry about crying earlier,” Travis whispered. As he stared at Gabby, he watched her chest rising and falling with every breath. “I couldn’t help it.”
He was under no illusions he would hear her voice this time. It happened only once a day.
“Do you know what I like about you?” he asked. “Aside from pretty much everything?” He forced a smile. “I like the way you are with Molly. She’s all right, by the way. Her h*ps haven’t given out, and she still likes to lie in the tall grass whenever she can. Whenever I see her doing that, I think about those first few years we were together. Remember when we used to take the dogs on walks down the beach? When we’d go out early so we could let them off the leash and they could run around? Those were always such . . . restful mornings, and I used to love watching you laugh as you chased Molly in circles, trying to tap her butt. She used to go crazy when you did that, and she’d get this gleam in her eye with her tongue hanging out, waiting for you to make your move.”
He paused, noting with surprise that the pigeon had returned. It must like listening to him talk, he decided.
“That’s how I knew you’d be great with kids, by the way. Because of how you were with Molly. Even that first time we met . . .” He shook his head, his mind flashing back. “Believe it or not, I’ve always liked the fact that you stormed over to my place that night, and not just because we ended up getting married. You were like a mama bear protecting her cub. It’s impossible to get that angry unless you’re capable of loving deeply, and after watching how you were with Molly—lots of love and attention, lots of worry, and nobody on earth better mess with her—I knew you’d be exactly the same way with kids.”
He traced his finger along her arm. “Do you know how much that’s meant to me? Knowing how much you love our daughters? You have no idea how much comfort that gave me over the years.”
He leaned his face close to her ear. “I love you, Gabby, more than you’ll ever know. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a wife. You’re every hope and every dream I’ve ever had, and you’ve made me happier than any man could possibly be. I don’t ever want to give that up. I can’t. Can you understand that?”
He waited for a response, but there was nothing. There was always nothing, as if God were telling him that his love was somehow not enough. Staring at Gabby, he suddenly felt very old and very tired. He adjusted the sheet, feeling alone and apart from his wife, knowing he was a husband whose love had somehow failed her.
“Please,” he whispered. “You’ve got to wake up, sweetheart. Please? We’re running out of time.”
“Hey,” Stephanie said. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she looked nothing like the successful professional she’d become. Living in Chapel Hill, she was the senior project manager at a rapidly growing biotechnology firm, but in the last three months, she’d spent three or four days a week in Beaufort. Since the accident, she’d been the only one Travis could really talk to. She alone knew all his secrets.
“Hey,” Travis said.
She crossed the room and leaned over the side of the bed. “Hey, Gabby,” she said, kissing her on the cheek. “You doing okay?”
Travis loved the way his sister treated Gabby. Except for Travis, she was the only one who’d always seemed comfortable in Gabby’s presence.
Stephanie pulled up another chair and slid it closer to Travis. “And how are you doing, big brother?”
“Okay,” he said.
Stephanie gave him the once-over. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re not eating enough.” She reached in her handbag and pulled out a bag of peanuts. “Eat these.”
“I’m not hungry. I just had lunch.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Humor me, okay?” She used her teeth to tear open the bag. “Just eat these and I promise I’ll shut up and won’t bother you again.”
“You say that every time you’re here.”
“That’s because you keep looking like hell.” She tilted her head toward Gabby. “I’ll bet she said the same thing, too, right?” She’d never questioned Travis’s claims about hearing Gabby’s voice, or if she did, her tone reflected no concerns about it.
“Yeah, she did.”
She forced the bag toward him. “Then take the peanuts.”
Travis took the bag, lowering it to his lap.
“Now put some in your mouth, then chew and swallow.”
She sounded like their mother. “Did anyone ever tell you that you can be a little bit too pushy at times?”
“Every day. And believe me, you need someone to be pushy with you. You’re just lucky you have me in your life. I’m quite the blessing for you.”
For the first time all day, he gave a genuine laugh. “That’s one word for it.” He poured out a small handful of nuts and began to chew. “How are things with you and Brett?”
Stephanie had been dating Brett Whitney for the past two years. One of the most successful hedge fund managers in the country, he was wildly wealthy, handsome, and considered by many to be the most eligible bachelor south of the Mason-Dixon Line.
“We’re still going.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
Stephanie shrugged. “He asked me to marry him again.”
“And you said?”
“The same thing I said before.”
“How did he take it?”
“Fine. Oh, he did his ‘I’m hurt and angry’ thing again, but he was back to normal in a couple of days. We spent last weekend in New York.”
“Why don’t you just marry him?”
She shrugged. “I probably will.”
“Here’s a hint, then. You might want to say yes when he asks.”
“Why? He’ll ask again.”
“You sound so certain when you say that.”
“I am. And I’ll say yes when I’m positive he wants to marry me.”
“He’s asked you three times. How much more positive can you get?”
“He just thinks he wants to marry me. Brett is the kind of guy who likes challenges, and right now, I’m a challenge. As long as I stay a challenge, he’ll keep asking. And when I know he’s really ready, that’s when I’ll say yes.”