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Another wave of realization dawns on me. “They knew how bad it was? Agnes and Jonah, they knew?” Have they been leading me on this entire time?
“I never told Agnes. I was planning to. And then the next thing I knew, you were on your way. I didn’t know how you’d take my decision not to—”
“Bullshit,” I snap. “You knew damn well that I wouldn’t be okay with you just giving up. That no one would be. That’s why you’ve been hiding it.”
His lips press together. And then he nods. He’s not denying it, at least. “I know you probably spent a lot of years angry with me. I figured, if I could just have one week to get to know you again, without this hanging over our heads. One week where maybe I wasn’t disappointing you.”
The week had been good, I’ll admit. But now it’s all gone to hell.
“So Jonah knew.” I feel a sharp sense of betrayal as I say those words out loud, as the pieces click together. That’s why he’s been pushing me to stay. Because when I get on that plane for home, I’ll be saying goodbye to my dad forever.
The next few weeks . . . months . . . are going to be hard.
They’ll be hard not because my dad will be fighting cancer. There is no fight.
He’s already given up.
Without another word, I get up and duck out of the hospital room.
By the time I’ve reached the exterior doors, I’m running.
Chapter 23
Twenty minutes standing under a stream of hot water in a daze and I still can’t seem to find any warmth or comfort in it. All I feel is the biting sting from the numerous blisters on my heels and toes. The distance between Bangor’s local hospital and my dad’s house must be at least six miles, and I ran all of it in my rain boots.
My arms feel sluggish as I lift them to my hair to scrub my scalp, working the shampoo into a heavy lather, releasing the scent of wood-burning smoke that my hair absorbed while in the cabin.
I begin to laugh. It’s a soft, humorless sound—not really a laugh at all—as I remember my conversation with Diana, in the club that night. It feels like forever ago that I voiced a seemingly unbelievable thought at the time: What if I came to Alaska and somehow found the dad I’d always wanted, despite his many flaws, despite the fact that he all but abandoned me so many years ago, only to lose him again?
It’s happening.
I found him, and now I’m going to lose him all over again. This time, for good.
He’s breaking my heart all over again, whether he intended to or not.
I’m not sure exactly when the water pressure started going, but suddenly I’m standing under a sad trickle, my head covered in soapy suds, my body shivering from the loss of heat. “No, no, no . . . Don’t tell me . . .” I fumble with the showerhead, adjusting it this way and that. Nothing.
I turn the tap all the way to the right. Nothing.
We’ve run out of water. Jonah warned me that this could happen.
I let out a heavy sigh of frustration and drop my forehead to the shower wall with a thud. “God dammit,” slips from my lips.
And I finally stop fighting the tears.
A soft knock sounds on the bathroom door. “Calla?”
I press my lips to my knee to keep from answering. I can’t deal with Jonah right now.
A moment later, he calls out more sternly, “Calla?” The doorknob rattles. “Let me in.”
“Leave me alone,” I mutter.
“Look, either you let me in or I’m coming in.”
I don’t answer. Don’t make a move.
The floor creaks as he moves down the hall, away from the bathroom. But then he’s back again and there’s an odd metal-against-metal crunch. With a pop, the bathroom door eases open. I can see Jonah’s distorted reflection in the shiny chrome tap, hovering in the doorway, but I don’t turn around.
