The Bookstore on the Beach - Brenda Novak Page 0,121
whenever she left the house since losing her hair—flapped in the breeze. “You seem to really like her.”
“I do,” he admitted. “This might sound crazy, since we’ve been together such a short time, but I’ve never been so excited about anyone else.”
A smile curved her pale lips, and they started to walk slowly toward the promontory. “That’s so wonderful.”
“You’re such a romantic,” he teased.
“So are you,” she responded. “You may seem tough to everyone else, but I know how sensitive that heart of yours really is.”
When he grinned at her, she gripped his arm. “Will you two have children?”
“Children? Don’t you think we have a ways to go before we confront that question?”
She stopped and tilted her face up to the sun. “I like to imagine you with babies. I dream about it all the time.”
She was fading, and she knew it. Now he did, too. He could sense the change. “Her kids are almost out of high school. I don’t know how eager she’ll be to have a baby, but she knows I’d like children.”
She kept her eyes closed. “You told her so?”
“I did.”
“What’d she say?”
“She didn’t say it was out of the question.”
She started them moving again. “How many kids would you like to have?”
“I’ll take as many as I can get,” he joked. “So I guess that would be up to her.”
“I wish I could be around to see that.”
His chest constricted. “You’ll be here,” he insisted, because he couldn’t bear to hear the opposite.
“No, Quinn,” she said softly. “You need to be prepared. I don’t have long now.”
“What makes you so sure? The treatments could work.”
She stopped to avoid a runner who was jogging past. Then she said, “The doctor called this morning. He doesn’t see any improvement.”
Quinn felt as though a liquid coolant had suddenly replaced all the blood in his body. “Then we’ll try something else.”
She smiled sadly. “We’re out of options, honey. But it’s okay. Knowing you are happy makes this so much easier for me.”
Quinn kept his head down as they continued to meander along the beach. What could he say? How could he express how grateful he was for the love and care she’d always given him?
“How long do you have?” he asked, stooping to pick up a shell, which he tossed back into the sea.
“Three to five months,” she said as she retied her scarf.
He couldn’t speak, so they just stood there, side by side, staring out at the vastness of the sea. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said when he could get the words out without breaking down. “I don’t know what Dad and I will do without you.”
“You will carry on and find joy in life because being sad doesn’t help me. You and your father are what matter most to me. That’s why I’m so excited about Autumn,” she added, smiling again. “She’s brought me such hope. I love thinking about the possibilities. The prospect of a fresh start for you, a new love, a new life.”
His vision blurred with tears. “Have you told Dad what the doctor said?”
He heard the emotion in his own voice but couldn’t do anything about it.
“Not yet,” she replied.
Now he knew why she’d asked to get out of the house. This was not only a graceful goodbye, it was also a preparatory, private talk. “He’ll be devastated.”
She slipped her arm through his again. “I’m telling you this now, so you can tell him later...” Her words fell off as a bird strutted right up to them.
“What’s that?” he asked.
The bird squawked and fluttered away.
“I can’t bear the thought of your father being sad. I want him to find someone else and marry again. In six months or a year, when he’s grieved long enough and it’s time to move on, let him know that it’s okay to do that. It’s more than okay. It’s what I want.”
Tears rolled down Quinn’s face and dripped off his chin as he took his mother’s hand. He wanted to memorize everything about her, so that he could continue to carry her with him—the fragile bones in her once-capable fingers, the tenderness in her eyes, the gentleness of her voice.
“It’s going to be so hard to lose you,” he murmured, struggling to get those words past the lump in his throat.
She gave his hand a slight squeeze. “I might die, Quinn, but my love for you never will.”
28
Mary had sworn she’d never go back to Tennessee. Maybe it was the place where she was born, but it