How to Save a Life (14 page)

She snorts. “I seem to remember paying out the nose for your college expenses.”

“Jill, I’m his
child
. And as you know, he makes a lot of money. It wasn’t unreasonable for him to help me pay for my tuition. Besides, that was twenty years ago. How can you still be angry about that?”

Sharon narrows her eyes at me. “Now listen to me—” she begins, but my father cuts her off.

“Sharon!” he says in the sharpest tone I’ve ever heard him use with her. “This is between Jill and me. This conversation doesn’t involve you.”

He turns back to me as I gape at him, stunned to hear him stand up for me. “Jill,” he says, “why don’t you join me in my office?”

I nod and follow him, leaving Sharon sputtering behind us.

He gestures to one of the two leather chairs in the bookshelf-lined room. He’s an attorney whose overtime hours and dedication to his job didn’t leave much time for a family when I was young. I wonder if he regrets that now. “I’m sorry about Sharon,” he says once we’ve settled into seats facing each other. “I don’t really understand the chip on her shoulder when it comes to you.”

“She feels threatened,” I say softly before realizing how rude I sound. “Geez, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He sighs. “No, you’re right. I just don’t understand it. I’ve always chosen—” He cuts off the sentence abruptly and gives me a guilty look.

I smile sadly. “I know. It’s okay. You were going to say you’ve always chosen her. And you’re right. You have.”

“Jill—” my father begins.

“No. I didn’t come to discuss that or to talk about blame. I came because I want to apologize.”

He looks confused. “But, Jill, you have nothing to apologize for. It’s me who should be doing the apologizing.”

“No, I do owe you an apology. I owe you an apology because it was easier to be angry at you, to keep a running tally of the ways you’d hurt me, than it was to simply let things go and realize that there was more to life than keeping score.”

“But I never should have hurt you in the first place,” he protests. “I made so many bad decisions, and I know that I hurt you many times over. I never knew how to apologize, and the worse it got, the harder it was for me to own up to it.”

“Until we got to a place where we only had surface-level conversations,” I say with a half smile, “filled with icy politeness.”

“Icy politeness,” my dad repeats, shaking his head. “God, I hate that. I hate that that’s the way you and I have communicated for so long.”

“Me too.”

“But how do we fix it?”

“I’m not sure we can at this point,” I say. “But we can forgive each other. I want to do that, Dad. I want you to know it’s okay. Everything that’s happened between us, it’s okay.”

He blinks a few times, and I’m surprised to see that his eyes are damp. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my father cry. “I don’t deserve that,” he says softly.

“Do you love me?” I ask.

This time, a tear escapes and rolls down his right cheek. He wipes it swiftly away. “Of course I do, Jill. I always have. Me being a crappy father doesn’t have anything to do with you. It has to do with me.”

“Then you deserve forgiveness,” I tell him. “Your heart’s in the right place, even if you haven’t always done the right thing. And I hope you can forgive me too.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Jill. Truly. I know you’re an adult now, but you’ll always be my child. I’m the one who screwed up. I’ll always be ashamed of that.”

“Don’t be,” I say softly. “You’re human. And I haven’t been perfect either, Dad. But let’s let it go, okay?” In the back of my mind, I can hear the tree whispering,
Let go
. The advice applies to more than I’d realized.

“But can we just do that? Let it go and start over?”

“I think we have to try.”

He sighs and looks down at his hands for a minute. “Why now, Jill? What made you come here today?”

“Because life is short,” I tell him after a pause. “And I don’t want to have any major regrets. Besides, I’ve been thinking a lot about parenthood lately, and I realize there’s a lot more to being a mom or a dad than I ever really grasped before. Sometimes, you just don’t know how to fix what’s broken.”

He nods. “If I could do it all over again, I’d like to think I’d do things differently. I’d do better by you and your mom.”

I nod. “But in real life, we don’t get do-overs, do we? We just have to do our very best to get it right.” I stand up. “I know you have that dinner, and I imagine Sharon is probably frantic out there.”

“You don’t have to go.” My dad stands too. “Sharon will deal with it.”

“No. Go to your dinner, Dad. It’ll be like I was never here.”

“Honey, that’s impossible. This is the single best conversation I’ve had with anyone in years.”

I smile sadly, knowing he won’t remember it in the morning and that we’ll have to repeat it once more before I go if I want it to stick. And I do. I want him to remember, after I’ve died, that in the end, we were okay again. “I love you, Dad,” I say.

He gives me a fierce hug. “I love you too, kiddo. Come back soon, okay?”

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

13

“
Y
OU
’
RE ALMOST DONE,
aren’t you?” Logan asks me through the bathroom door the next today, after I’ve filled him in on my conversations with Jamie and my dad.

“What do you mean?” I ask, startled. I’m in his hospital room, waiting for him to get changed so that I can take him out once more. I have a big day planned for his mock thirteenth birthday, and I want to get moving so that we can get a few hours of fun in before his energy starts to flag.

Logan comes out of the bathroom wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I’m always struck by how normal he appears out of his hospital pajamas. He looks like a healthy kid instead of someone who’s about to die. “I mean that back when we started, you told me you wanted to fall in love and reconcile with your dad. And you’ve done those things, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I say softly. Despite the fact that Jamie will never have time to develop feelings for me in return, there’s no doubt in my mind that I love him. Perhaps it should feel pathetic, but it only feels jarringly unfinished.

“But you said something else too,” Logan reminds me. “You said you’d want to have a family of your own.”

“Well, I hate to tell you, but no matter how many repeats the tree gives me, it’ll never be enough time to build a family.”

“It already has been,” Logan says.

“What?”

“The way you are with Frankie, Katelyn, and me,” Logan says. “You’re like a big sister to the two of them, because that’s what they needed: someone to love them but to be their friend too. They already have parents, but you filled a gap they didn’t even know they had. But for me, Jill, you’ve been like a mom.”

My eyes fill. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Of course I do. You’ve always been the closest thing to a mom I ever had. If things were different, well, I don’t know, I kind of have the feeling you and I would have a long future together.”

I nod slowly. “If we had more time, I’d apply to adopt you, if it was okay with you.”

He smiles. “I know. I’d want that too.”

“But that’ll never happen.” It feels crushing to think about how many roads are already closed to us.

“So what? So what if we don’t have a piece of paper that says you’re my mom? It’s not like we have a piece of paper that explains the tree, either, do we? Some things just
are
. Some things, you just have to believe in.”

I wipe a tear from my eye. “I do believe.”

“Me too,” Logan says. He gives me a hug and then he grabs my hand and leads me into the hall. “Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, we’re approaching the tree to ask it for one day more when Logan stops in his tracks. “Jamie!” he calls.

I look up and see Jamie emerging from one of the elevators, his hands empty. He’s obviously on his way back down from celebrating Alison’s birthday on the cardiology floor, and I note that without Logan and me joining him, he was up there for much less time, which makes me smile.

“Hi,” Jamie says, smiling at Logan, although I can see confusion in his eyes. On this version of today, he hasn’t met us yet.

“You don’t know me,” Logan says immediately, “but I’m one of Caroline’s friends. I wanted to invite you out with us.”

Jamie stares at him. “Caroline?”

“Your daughter,” Logan says cheerfully.

“Right, of course,” Jamie says, but his face is a bit ashen. “How did you . . . know her?” I can see the wheels spinning as he tries to piece together whether Logan is old enough to have been friends with Caroline six years ago, before she died. His expression relaxes a little, and I know he has settled on the conclusion that yes, Logan must have known his daughter back then.

“Let’s just say she changed my life,” Logan says.

Jamie blinks a few times and glances at me.

“Sorry, this is Jill. My mom.”

I’m startled to hear Logan use the word, though it’s music to my ears. He nudges me, and I step forward to shake Jamie’s hand.

“Hi,” I say.

“Have we met?” he asks, looking into my eyes.

I settle for a shrug.

“You look so familiar,” he says.

Logan cuts in, saving me from having to answer. “Anyhow, we were just heading out to celebrate my birthday. Do you want to come?”

I can feel my eyes widen, although I try to appear normal when Jamie glances at me. “You want me to come with you?” Jamie asks.

“Sure,” Logan says cheerfully. “Caroline was always so good to me. It would be an honor to spend the day with her dad. If that’s okay with my mom, I mean.”

“Uh,” I say as Jamie looks at me again. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“How old are you turning?” Jamie asks, turning to Logan. I know he’s buying time because he doesn’t know how to answer.

“Thirteen,” Logan answers promptly, which earns him a raised eyebrow from Jamie, who is probably thinking that the poor kid doesn’t look much older than eight or nine.

“Wow, thirteen?” Jamie replies. “Really?”

“Technically, I’m only ten,” Logan admits. “But I’m dying, and I’ve always wanted to be a teenager, so today, my mom and I are celebrating me turning thirteen.”

“Oh.” Jamie looks stricken. “But I’m not sure if it’s okay with your mom if I come.”

I can feel my cheeks getting hot. “You’re welcome to come along if you’d like to join us.”

He holds my gaze. “Well, of course, then. Thirteenth-birthday parties are the best. Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” Logan says, turning to me. “It’s a surprise.”

I smile at him and glance at Jamie. “Well, come on, you two. Let’s get this show on the road.”

It’s not until the three of us are in the car—Logan in the passenger seat and Jamie in the back, still wearing a perplexed expression—that I realize Logan and I forgot to ask the tree for one day more. We’ll have to do it when we return to the hospital.

W
E START THE day at Andretti Karting, where I’ve reserved a birthday cake and unlimited Bandit go-kart rides for Logan. He talks Jamie and me into joining him for several loops around the track too, and the three of us wind up laughing so hard afterward that Logan spits soda out his nose, which only makes all of us laugh harder. Logan blows out the candles on his cake as Jamie and I sing “Happy Birthday,” then we drive to an empty church parking lot, where Logan looks at me skeptically.

“Uh, we’re going to pray now or something?” he asks. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just wondering.”

I laugh. “I was thinking more along the lines of teaching you how to drive.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “But I’m only ten! I mean thirteen.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you’re a teenager. And teenagers drive. So are you ready, or what? I figured the go-karting would get you prepped.”

Logan grins. “Oh, I’m ready.”

I glance toward the backseat at Jamie, who looks amused. “You staying in the car with us? Or would you prefer I deposit you somewhere safe?”

He laughs. “Oh, I saw your skills in the go-kart. I’d better stay here to help you two lunatics stay on course.”

I smile at him as Logan and I climb out of the car. “Remember,” I whisper to Logan as we cross behind the back bumper on our way to switch seats, “we never asked the tree for one more day. So you can’t get too crazy here and get us hurt, because we’re not guaranteed a reset.”

Logan gives me a look and sticks his hand out. “Just give me the keys. We’ll be fine. You worry too much.”

“Spoken like a true teenager,” I mutter, but I’m smiling.

Logan climbs into the driver’s side, and Jamie leans forward to help him adjust his seat. I begin to go through the basics of driving—how to check your mirrors, where the gas and brake pedals are, how to accelerate smoothly, how to steer—but Logan rolls his eyes at me. “You’re acting like I’ve never driven a car before,” he says.

“Have you?” I ask with surprise.

“Well, not exactly. But I’ve played plenty of race-car video games, and I’ve imagined it lots of times.”

Jamie and I laugh. “Well then, by all means, go ahead. But I don’t want to see you going over ten miles per hour, or this little lesson ends, young man.”

“Spoken like a true mom,” Logan says with a grin.

He starts the engine, and I spend the next hour gripping the door frame with my right hand and the edge of the seat with my left hand as Logan does figure eights and loops around the parking lot, with Jamie calmly instructing him from the back. I’m so paranoid that he’s going to crash that it’s not until the final few minutes of the lesson that I realize how much this experience means to me. As Jamie continues to calmly provide pointers, and Logan grins with pride as he follows them, I relax into the moment and think about how if things had turned out differently, this could be my life. This could be my family. But it’s not in the cards, and that breaks my heart.

An exhilarated Logan finally relinquishes the keys to me, and as we switch seats again, he’s grinning from ear to ear. “Best day
ever
,” he says as he buckles his seat belt.

Jamie high-fives him from the backseat. “You were a natural, dude.”

Logan nods. “I think I was. I was obviously meant to drive.”

“Obviously,” I say.

“Cool,” Logan says. “So I can drive back to the hospital, then?”

I laugh. “Not a chance, mister.”

He sighs dramatically, but he’s smiling.

“One more stop, if you two have the time,” I say as I pull back out onto the main road.

“I’m all yours,” Jamie says, locking eyes with me in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, my social calendar is free,” Logan deadpans.

“Good, smart aleck. Because it’s time for your birthday dinner.”

Logan checks his watch. “But it’s only four o’clock.”

“I don’t know about you,” I say, “but I’m starving.”

Logan and Jamie agree, and we head to the Olive Garden, which Logan once told me was his favorite place to eat before he got sick. We order big plates of pasta, and we finish by splitting a piece of chocolate cake with a candle in it. I insist on paying, though Jamie puts up a valiant fight, and we’re headed back to the hospital by five forty-five.

“That was a really awesome thirteenth birthday, you guys,” Logan says as we head into the lobby. Jamie and I exchange smiles. “Seriously,” he adds.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Jamie says. “I have to say, you have a pretty cool mom to have planned all this.”

“Oh, she’s not really my mom,” Logan answers cheerfully. “I just wish she was. But I’ll be dead soon, and so will she, so she won’t have time to adopt me.”

Jamie looks at me with a frozen expression on his face. “What?”

I glance at Logan, who shrugs, then I turn back to Jamie. “Inoperable brain tumor.” I tap my skull for emphasis, hating the lump in my head that’s betraying me, that’s taking away any chance of a future with this kind, gorgeous man.

“God,” Jamie says. He blinks a few times. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. I am too.”

We stare at each other for a moment, and I swear, I can feel something crackling between us, electricity in the air. But then Jamie looks away, and the moment is over.

“Logan,” Jamie says, bending down until he’s eye level with my favorite kid. “That was truly a wonderful day. I’m so glad you asked me to join you. I had no idea you’d known Caroline, but it makes me really happy to think she had any influence on you.”

“Oh, she definitely did.” Logan pauses and cocks his head to the side. “But you haven’t asked me what I want for my birthday yet.”

Jamie looks startled. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. What do you want for your birthday?”

“Logan!” I chide, but Jamie just smiles and waves me away while he waits to hear Logan’s reply.

“I want you to take Jill on a date tonight.”

“Logan!” I say again. I can feel my cheeks turning pink, but when I sneak a look at Jamie, he doesn’t look horrified. He looks amused, but his face has reddened too. “Feel free to ignore him,” I say quickly.

“What if I don’t want to ignore him?” he asks.

“What?”

“What if I’d like to take you on a date?”

I glance at Logan, who gives me a way-too-obvious thumbs-up. “Um,” I say.

“Her answer is yes,” Logan interrupts brightly. “Can you pick her up in the lobby in an hour?”