“Francesca,” he said somberly. “I’ve already made a video. Collette helped record me on her device pad thing. It was notarized, and I’ll explain it to the publisher. Just as soon as I asked you. I’ve been avoiding Bob and the others as much as I can, but they’ll come knock down the door soon if I don’t start producing words.”
My hand was plastered to my chest, and my heart raced under my fingertips.
“There has to be somebody better suited for this. I didn’t even graduate from high school technically,” I sputtered, embarrassed, but he knew most of my sketchy past.
“Pish.” He waved his curled fingers in the air. “What does a piece of paper prove that I don’t know in my heart?” He brought his balled fist to his own chest. The crepe-paper skin revealed aged spots and yellowed bruising from the IV weeks ago. “You know this world better than any other person. You have every note I’ve ever taken at your disposal. You made those characters come to life in a way that this old, out-of-touch brain could never. You were the reason those last two books were so successful.”
I blinked into the fireplace. My brain was aTerraformativeencyclopedia. When George and William took me in, I was at my worst. I needed hope, and I found it in those stories. I was obsessed. It was that loyalty to those stories that never allowed me to watch the show. It would taint the purity of his craft.
“You are incredibly detailed oriented, you know my voice and my style. I have left it at your discretion how much credit you get. Of course, you will get a bonus for your effort.”
“I don’t want your money. Not this way,” I clarified.
It was one thing to work for it, but this felt wrong. Dirty somehow.
“You work that out with my team. I don’t need any more money. It’s all going to charity when I go anyway. Might as well take advantage while you can.”
“No,” I said vehemently. “Do not let people take advantage of you.”
I could see it now. Former foster children he helped over the years coming out of the woodwork, trying to get a piece of George as his health declined. As he forgets if he already wrote a check to this or that person. Much like Joey had.
Much like I had.
Somebody had to be here to protect him. Another wave of guilt made me determined.
“This job was only ever supposed to be temporary for you. We both know that.” His deep, emphatic voice shook the room as he spoke. “It’s been years now, and you’re still here. This is the last thing I will ever ask of you, and then you can be free to go. This money will help you. You’ve done so much to take care of Collette. I pray her mother will return for her, but together we will figure out the best plan for her.”
My head shook as he spoke. Yes, I wanted freedom to find my own path. I didn’t want weights of responsibility on my shoulders. I wasn’t meant to take care of people at such different ends of the spectrum of life, but both needed full-time care. I didn’t want freedom this way, not with the decline of the man in front of me.
“It’s not about the money,” I said.
“I know that. It’s about your life. You’re young and beautiful, and you’re stuck here. Finish this last task for me and be free.
“What I care about is how this series ends. It has to be how we talked about. There is nothing more important than the Intrepid Trio getting the ending that I wanted for them. You know it all. You know how this has to happen. Now, if you absolutely refuse, I cannot force you, of course. I just worry that if I don’t make it … if the publisher picks somebody else …” He leaned closer, his watery gaze holding mine, the earnestness changing his voice. “It would mean the world to me if you did this. Consider it your grandpa’s final request.”
“George …” His name whooshed out of me in a gasp of pain. There was no way I could say no. I wanted to help him. I wanted to do whatever he ever needed or asked of me. He’d been there time and time again when nobody else had been.
“Of course,” I said. “Nobody can know I’m behind it. I will help as best as I can.”
He nodded. “I will protect you. This video and Bob will make sure things are taken care of. But we need to get this squared away.”
The corners of his eyes were tense with fear as he looked past my shoulder. I was tempted to turn around and see if there was a ghostly figure standing there now.
“I feel myself running out of time, Francesca. I wouldn’t ask you if I could do it without you.”
“You don’t have to. I’m here.” I reached out without hesitating and took his shaking hand.
He sat back with a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing back against the chair. “Good. Good girl.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, and a small tear gathered at the corner and leaked down the side. I stood and bent to kiss his cheek before tucking a blanket around him.
I managed to contain myself enough to reach the second-story room where I slept. Fresh, cool air met me as I opened the door to a small balcony that overlooked the rolling vistas of the Mayacamas Mountains. I took deep inhales in and out and still felt dizzy.
I could run away. I could just pack up and run away. It was how I handled everything hard before. My life had always been about moving forward, racing toward safety and independence. How did I even get here?
I looked across the tree-filled vistas, imagining all the different people in their little houses, living a thousand different lives from mine. Are they feeling pressure to try to smother them? Are they sure of who they are meant to be?
What were my priorities? Who would I be if I never ended up here? What would I be doing?
I closed my eyes, the wind whipping my hair around my face as all the growing pressure in my life stung the back of my eyes. George’s weathered face, almost childlike in its fear as he asked for help. His mind was tricking him, but there was enough to know something wasn’t right. It had to be the scariest feeling in the world not to be able to trust yourself. Another image. Collette sat on my lap and squished my nose with her finger before telling me I was pretty. Eyes wide and trusting, putting faith in me that I didn’t deserve.
Now, I was the one seeing ghosts.
My throat tightened, and I gasped in a breath.
Except these people were tangible and real and lived in my heart as well as my brain. They made me feel like maybe I could be worth more than my past. I tried to picture what would happen if I left them, truly let myself imagine their expressions, worry, and concern. They wouldn’t understand another person in their life leaving them, and a pain so acute robbed my breath from my chest. Eighty-plus years between them, yet equal in their need for love and protection.
I couldn’t do that to them. As badly as the road called to me, as much as I wanted to travel life alone and figure out who I was, I couldn’t leave them. Not yet. Not until I knew they would be okay.
