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I hadn’t meant for therest of my lifeto imply anything, but the gleam in his eye and the softness of his tone implied exactly that.
Then he startled, as if he’d just remembered something. He picked up the bag and took out a shirt. “Your leaving-hospital shirt.”
It was theI love Dickshirt.
Because of course it was.
He turned it around to show my father, whose eyeballs almost fell out of his head. “Oh my.”
Tully just laughed, no shame, not much decorum either. “Today’s the best day ever.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TULLY
Jeremiah’s dadwas so much like Jeremiah it wasn’t funny.
Composed, quiet, always-thinking, assessing, and seriously introverted. Smart, too. But he was also courteous and kind.
And under that hard exterior was a big squishy marshmallow.
I hadn’t expected him to burst into tears when he first saw Jeremiah in hospital. To be honest, I think his outward show of emotion surprised everyone, himself included.
But it warmed my heart to see.
I was only too happy to leave them alone for some time to talk. Finally, twenty-something years too late, but better late than never.
The Jeremiah that woke up in hospital was a new man. After almost dying twice—first when he was struck by lightning and the second time when his arrythmia damn near flatlined him—he was determined to say what he felt.
He’d told me he loved me. Several times, now. And he’d said it in front of other people. Even his father.
Like he’d been given a second chance at life and wasn’t gonna waste a minute.
He told his dad that he loved him too.
Shame it took nearly dying to do it, but wow, what a transformation.
I guess getting struck by lightning would do that.
But his father...
If I had to guess what Jeremiah’s father was gonna be like, I’d have imagined him exactly as he was.
Stoic, unsure of people, unassuming, and happy to blend into the background.
After all, how far could the apple fall from the tree?
But there he was with my family, where he was the guest of honour, thrown out of his comfort zone by kids running around the house, adults chatting and laughing, a mountain of food, and my parents who put him at ease.
Dad spoke to him about AFL, and Mum talked to him about inconsequential everyday things. They were pros at this type of thing; making people feel at home, showing kindness and charm that made Mr Overton feel right at home.
He was a factory worker and had been for thirty-plus years. He’d lived in the same house in Melbourne all that time. He never mentioned Jeremiah’s mother, and perhaps he didn’t have to. The sadness in him was in his eyes, and I remembered what Rowan had said.
He clearly remembered too, because when we were at the BBQ on the patio, he handed me a beer. He didn’t say anything, just gave me a smile and a nod—perhaps telling me I’d done the right thing by having Mr Overton stay, by having a family dinner, and by truly understanding why he was the way he was. Then he’d clapped my shoulder and went back to refereeing his kids’ game of Twister.
I couldn’t have imagined that I’d have found common ground with Rowan either, but through this whole ordeal, he’d been everything I’d needed him to be. Maybe he always had been, and I’d just been too immature and self-absorbed to see it.
Yeah, maybe I’d learned a valuable lesson too.
