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Truman shifted in the bed, wincing slightly with the effort. “Listen to an old man who’s seen more than his share of battles. When you cut off a snake’s head, it might thrash for a while, but it’s still dead. You’ve shown him your power, he’d be a fool to make any other move against you.” Truman gazed out at the ocean again, a wistful expression crossing his face. “I’d like to go outside,” he said suddenly.

Kelsey hesitated, glancing at Mac. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“I’m dying, not dead,” Truman replied with a flash of his old spirit. “And I’d like to feel the sun on my face while I still can.”

“Let’s do it,” Mac decided, already moving toward the wheelchair they’d brought in earlier that week. “It’s a perfect day.”

Together, Mac and Kelsey helped Truman from the bed to the wheelchair, a process that left the old man breathless despite their careful movements. Kelsey adjusted the portable oxygen tank and made sure the tubing didn’t tangle as Mac tucked a thick wool blanket around his grandfather’s legs.

“Ready for your grand voyage?” Mac asked. His attempt at lightness didn’t quite mask his concern.

“Aye, aye,” Truman replied, his hands gripping the armrests as Mac wheeled him toward the French doors.

Outside, the spring air carried the scent of salt and pine, the temperature mild enough to be pleasant without being too cool for Truman’s weakened system. Mac positioned the wheelchair in a sunny spot sheltered from the breeze, while Kelsey adjusted the blanket higher around Truman’s shoulders.

Truman closed his eyes as the sunlight bathed his face, breathing as deeply as his failing lungs would allow. “Now that,” he said after a moment, “is better than any medicine.”

“I should have brought you out sooner,” Mac said, pulling up a chair beside him.

“Don’t start with the regrets, boy,” Truman opened his eyes, fixing his grandson with a stern look. “Life’s too short for what ifs and should haves. God knows I’ve had my share.”

Kelsey settled into another chair, the three of them forming a small circle. Below the deck, waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, their sound both soothing and eternal.

“Your grandmother is waiting for me,” Truman said after a comfortable silence, his voice contemplative rather than sad. “Been waiting quite a while, I imagine. She never was patient.”

Mac’s hand tightened on the armrest of his chair, but he didn’t contradict his grandfather’s calm acknowledgment of what was coming.

“I’m looking forward to seeing her,” Truman continued, a smile touching his lips. “Almost sixty years together, and still not enough. But I’m ready to go to her now.”

“Grandad…” Mac’s voice caught.

“I’m at peace, son,” Truman said firmly. “Truly. I’ve had a good life. Built something from nothing. Loved a good woman. Raised a fine daughter. And you…” he reached out to pat Mac’s knee, “you’ve grown into a man I’m proud of.”

Kelsey felt tears burning behind her eyes at the naked emotion on Mac’s face. She started to rise to give them privacy, but Truman stopped her.

“Stay, Kelsey. You’re family now.” His gaze included her, warm and accepting.

“I’ve been thinking about the arrangements,” Truman continued, shifting slightly in the wheelchair to ease his discomfort. “Nothing fancy, mind you. No black crepe and somber faces. A celebration—good whiskey, good music, good stories.”

“Irish wake,” Mac nodded, his voice rough. “Grandma would approve.”

“She always did love a party.” Truman’s eyes were distant with memory. “Have it at the house, not that awful funeral home in town. And scatter my ashes in the bay, where I scattered hers.”

“We will,” Mac promised, reaching for his grandfather’s hand. “Exactly as you want it.”

Truman nodded, satisfied. “Now, about the will.”

“Grandad, we don’t need to discuss this now.”

“When better?” Truman countered. “I’ve made some changes recently. Harrison has all the paperwork, but I wanted to tell you myself.”

Mac’s expression tightened, but he nodded for his grandfather to continue.

“Most of it’s as you’d expect,” Truman said. His breathing grew slightly more labored as he spoke. “The business, the investments, the real estate, all yours, as we’ve always planned.”

Kelsey watched Mac’s face, seeing the tension there. He didn’t care about the inheritance; he cared only about losing the man sitting before them.

“But I’ve made provisions for Noah,” Truman continued. “A separate trust for his education. College, graduate school, whatever he wants to pursue. And Kelsey you too.”