Page 44 of Carson

When he returns, he doesn’t seem to be in a very good mood. We watch as the truck pulls out of the driveway. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back,” I say hesitantly, handing him a plate. “I didn’t mean to cause a problem between your sons.”

Dan takes it from me, pointing for me to sit in the chair next to him. “I’m going to tell you a few things about my boys.”

I listen quietly as he tells me about two souls so tightly intertwined that nothing can come between them. It’s beautiful, actually. I can’t imagine what life would be like to have someone you can trust completely by your side at every stage of your life.

“They’ll find their way. They always do,” he finishes confidently. “All you need to do is be yourself.”

He loves his family deeply, but most importantly, he trusts them.

“There is something about Carson that is different.” I turn away, slightly embarrassed by my bold admission. “I’ve met a lot of people on my travels, and none have ever made me want to …”

“To what?” He sits forward, encouraging me to go on.

“I don’t know, share, I guess.”

“When I met Lily, I instantly wanted to share my entire life with her.” He stares into the trees. “It didn’t matter to me what that looked like as long as we were together.”

“It’s not how I pictured it. Not that I imagined it happening at all. I never thought I’d spend enough time with someone for them to grow on me. With Carson it just happened.”

He smiles knowingly, finally looking at me. “We don’t know what we don’t know.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“But I’m guessing none of that is the reason you ran last night.”

I set my plate beside me and curl up into a little ball in my chair, because I’ve never told anyone this. “When my mother was dying, she told me the darkness was after me.”

He doesn’t react or interrupt, letting me know he’s listening.

“She never knew it had already caught up to me and that I had outrun it. I never told her about … you know, all that stuff with my dad.” I wave my hand, not to dismiss it, but because that part of the story doesn’t matter.

Again, he remains still.

“She saw things in her final days.” I pick at a tiny hole in the knee of my jeans. “My mom saw your sunflower garden, and the path you built for your wife.” I pause to gauge his reaction. “Anyway, she told me I would be safe there.”

“How do you know it was my wife’s garden she was seeing? Sunflowers grow across the globe.”

“True, but she also described you.”

“You must keep your face turned toward the sun,” my mother signs clumsily.

The hospice worker told me I shouldn’t let her ramblings affect me, but how can I not?

“It’s okay, Mama,” I assure her.

“The darkness is chasing you.”

She grabs my hands, not letting me sign anything in response to what she’s just told me. She releases them to continue. “Run to the garden. He’ll save you.” I gently push her back against the mattress, but she continues to sign. “It’s a rocky path with sunflowers. He’ll meet you there.”

“Mama, it was just a bad dream.”

“Promise me you’ll run to him.”

“I promise,” I sign before crawling up beside her and resting my head against her chest just like I used to when I was little.

Her heart races beneath my ear, but a few seconds later, she takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around me, squeezing tight. I let my eyes fall closed. It’s the one thing that always works. For both of us. Her heartbeat gradually settles beneath my ear.

I want to tell her that I’ve already faced the darkness, that it was my dad … the same man I think she’s telling me to run to. But I don’t say anything. I’ll never taint her gentle heart with the ugly things he did.