“He is.”
“I keep waiting for the relief to hit, but mostly I just feel...” I search for the right word. “Heavy.”
“That makes sense. It's been an emotional few days.”
“When my mom called and told me about the fall, all I could think about was what if.” I grip the steering wheel tighter. “What if the surgery went wrong? What if there were complications? What if I got there too late?”
“But none of that happened.”
“No. But it could have.” I turn onto the road that leads to the lake. “Every time the phone rings and it's my mom, my heart stops. I always assume the worst. That this is it. That I'm about to get the call I've been dreading for twelve years.”
Natalie reaches over and rests her hand on my thigh.
“I can't imagine a world without him,” I continue. “He's always been there. Even when his body started failing, even when he couldn't do the things he used to do, he was still Dad.nThe thought of losing him is unimaginable.”
“You won't. Not for a long time,” Natalie says.
“You can't know that.”
“No, I can't. But the MS is progressing slowly, and his overall health is good. This fall was scary, but it's not a death sentence. He's going to recover and go back to driving you crazy for years to come.”
I want to believe her. I want to let go of the fear that's been sitting in my chest since my mother's phone call. But twelve years of bracing for bad news is hard to undo.
We sit in the car for a moment, looking out at the water. The lake is still and calm, reflecting the late afternoon sky like a mirror. Trees line the shore, their leaves just starting to turn gold and red at the edges.
“This place is beautiful,” Natalie says.
“My dad used to bring me here when I was a kid. We'd fish for hours and never catch anything.” I smile at the memory. “He always said the fish weren't the point. The point was being together.”
“He sounds like a wonderful father.”
“He is.” I turn to look at her. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
We rent a canoe from the old man who runs the boat shed. He recognizes me immediately and tries to refuse payment, but I insist. We paddle out onto the lake, the only sound the dip of oars in water and the occasional bird call from the shore.
I guide us toward a secluded cove on the far side of the lake, a spot I discovered when I was twelve and have never shared with anyone. The water is shallow here, sheltered by overhanging trees, and the late afternoon light filters through the leaves in dappled patterns.
“This is my secret spot,” I tell her. “I used to come here when I needed to think.”
“It's perfect.”
I set down the paddle and let the canoe drift. Natalie turns in her seat to face me, her eyes soft in the golden light.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” She leans forward, mindful of the canoe's balance, and presses her lips to mine.
When we break apart, she's smiling.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. I just like you.”
“I like you too,” I reply, smiling, even though I know it’s more than that, but I don’t want to scare her. She kisses me again, slow and sweet. The kind of kisses I’d be happy to get for the rest of my life.
We spend another hour on the lake, paddling lazily. By the time we return the canoe and head back to the house, the sun is setting, and I realize I haven't thought about my knee or my career or worst-case scenarios in hours.
18
Natalie
