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“What?”
“You come in here, on my wedding day, to bare your soul? You’ve had ten years to tell me how you feel. You pick today?”
“Better late than never?” It was a lame attempt at humor she did not appreciate. “I figured since you haven’t taken your vows yet, I needed to tell you before it was too late.”
“It was too late the moment I met Ian. This isn’t a movie, Jared. If you’d told me how you felt before, maybe things would be different, but I’m in love with Ian. He’s the man I want.”
She’d never forget the pain on Jared’s face as he turned and walked out the door without another word. It had taken everything in her not to chase after him, but what good would it have done? She’d chosen Ian and Jared made the choice to walk out of her life. So many times, she’d thought about calling him, but she had no idea what to say to mend their broken friendship.
Anna Beth pulled her laptop out of the bag and Ian’s journal fell to the floor with a slap. She set her computer aside and picked up the leather-bound book. She flipped it open, smiling as her gaze scanned the first page.
There was a doodle of two people hugging, a red heart above their heads. At the bottom, he’d written their names.
For Anna. Please read it and check each item off as you complete them. I promise I’m not just making you do crazy shit every month for the fun of it. Well, maybe for my entertainment. Ghosts gotta get their rocks off some way. I love you.
Her hand skimmed over where he’d signed his name, a tear falling on the page. Ian had always been dramatic and goofy. Even as his illness progressed, he still seemed so full of life and good humor.
His first seizure occurred on their two-year wedding anniversary. They’d been out to dinner, laughing about his nearly raw steak. He’d been making the hunk of meat moo and she bent over to catch her breath. When she’d straightened up, Ian fell to the floor, convulsing. She’d never forget the terror of seeing her vibrant husband curled on his side, shaking with the aftershocks.
Dozens of tests and several weeks later, the doctor diagnosed Ian with a fast-growing brain tumor, in the middle of his frontal lobe. The minute he’d heard cancer, Ian lost the spark that made people flock to him. She’d jumped into research mode, asking the doctor questions about their next steps and, when he’d suggested surgery, Ian protested.
“I want to stay me, An. What if they cut into my brain and I come out a vegetable?”
“What if they get it all? What if the medication works and you live another eighty years?”
“It’s in my genetics, baby. My dad had a brain tumor. Mom’s moved so fast there was nothing they could do for her. The doctor said, even with surgery and radiation, there’s a good chance it will come back. I don’t want to be sick for years just to buy us a few months. I want to enjoy every second I have left with you.”
Still, for two years he’d seen every specialist she’d found, but by the time he finally agreed to surgery, the tumor was too invasive to remove. They told Ian he had a year, three if they were lucky.
Anna Beth lost it. She’d railed against him for being so stubborn, screaming and cursing in the middle of the hospital room like a banshee.
And he’d let her do it, lying in his hospital bed with gauze wrapped around his head. He sat there listening patiently and, at the end of her tirade, her body wracked with sobs, he held out his arms to her and she climbed up onto the bed next to him.
It wasn’t long after, he’d started writing in the journal, and although she’d been curious about what he wrote, she never invaded his privacy.
When their attorney went over Ian’s will, and handed her the leather-bou
nd book, she realized it was so much more.
She flipped through the pages of lists, a different one for every month, and she’d crossed off nearly every item. In between the lists were letters, explaining each list, even the most bizarre tasks.
Ian had died the twenty-eighth of December last year and left her one hundred and eighty tasks. She now had fourteen items left to finish.
Then she could read his final letter.
Taped to the inside of the back cover was an envelope with Ian’s blocky script.
Anna Beth: Open Upon Completion of the Last List.
She went back to her final list and groaned.
1) Mend fences with your Aunt.
She’d been here a little over twenty-four hours and, after breakfast this morning, she felt confident crossing that one off the list. She and her aunt were well on their way to a reconciliation. She looked at the next item on the list:
2) Deliver Christmas Gifts to the local hospital…dressed as The Grinch.
Ian’s favorite movie. They’d watch every version at least a dozen times during the holiday season. She wasn’t quite ready for that one yet.
