Page 191 of Playing By Ear

How did Perry always know the right thing to say? Jamie brushed a hand over his arm. “Have I thanked you in the last five minutes?”

“I believe so.”

“I bet when you volunteered as chef you didn’t know you’d also be the chief healthcare assistant’s assistant.” Having an extra set of strong arms as Martin’s body became dead weight had been a godsend. “Sorry about all the lifting.”

“It’s fine.” Perry flexed both biceps. “Need to do something with these muscles during the offseason.”

The door behind Jamie slid open, releasing excited chatter in the background. His stomach lurched as Belinda stepped through the door frame.

“What’s happening?” He looked behind her. “Is he⁠—”

“Dad’s awake,” she said. “Like, really awake. Talking and smiling, jolly as Old Saint Nick. Could this be the rally?” She winced after the last word, for the sudden improvement that some terminal patients experienced was usually a prelude to their final moments.

“Sounds like it. Phone anyone in the family who’s not here, tell them this is their last chance to say what needs said.”

“Right.” She turned, then stopped. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll give everyone else a chance first. The rally should last at least a few hours.” And in truth, Jamie wasn’t sure his jellied leg muscles would carry him up the stairs unless he finished this sandwich.

“I’ll nip over to my in-laws’ and pick up Lucy. I want her to remember him the way he is right now.” She gave a weary smile. “It’s a gift.”

When she’d gone, Jamie pointed to Perry’s phone on the table. “Any word from that other editor?”

“Oh.” Perry leaned slightly, as though shying away from the device. “I’ve not checked, and I switched off email notifications. Too many disruptions makes it easy to forget what I’ve already added to smoothies.”

“When did you last check email?”

Perry removed his glasses and rubbed his nose. “Maybe Monday?”

“Four days ago? For me, that’s nothing, but for a professional, conscientious person like yourself⁠—”

“I know.” Perry chewed his thumbnail, looking unusually insecure.

Jamie reached over and picked up Perry’s phone. “Shall I have a look?”

“Please.”

Jamie unlocked the device, tuning out the rapid VoiceOver narration that still sounded like gibberish to him.

In Perry’s inbox he found a submission reply that had arrived the previous night. “Is Yvonne the one you were waiting for?”

“Yes,” Perry said with a rush of breath. “What did she say?”

Jamie scanned the email for disappointing phrases like, not right for us or what were you thinking. “So far, so good.” Then he reached the final paragraph. “Oh, thank God.”

“What? What?”

Jamie rattled off the introductory paragraph thanking Perry for the submission. “Then Yvonne says, ‘We’ve never read anything like this proposal. It’s just the sort of piece we’re looking for, exploring the intersectionalities of our times.’”

Perry gasped, his eyes popping wide.

Jamie continued reading. “‘How soon could you have the full piece ready for me to edit? I’d love to include it in one of next month’s Sunday issues.’ Then she signs off. Perry, this is amazing!”

“It truly is.” Perry dragged his hands through his hair, mussing the soft waves in a way that made Jamie want to grab hold and kiss him. “I don’t know what timeframe to give her. You need me, and who knows how long…”

“It’ll be soon,” Jamie said. “Even so, please do whatever you need. There’s so much food in the house, our fridge is full to bursting.”

“All right, I’ll start writing it later today. But for now,” he took Jamie’s hand, “let’s be there for the rally.”