at the thought of seeing them both tomorrow. It came from watching Savannah as I was driving away, standing on her porch, crying into her hands.
Twenty
The following morning, Savannah was standing on the porch, and she waved as I pulled in the drive. She stepped forward as I brought the car to a stop. I half expected Tim to appear in the doorway behind her, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey,” she said, touching my arm. “Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah,” I said, giving a reluctant shrug.
I thought I saw a flash of understanding in her eyes before she asked, “Did you sleep okay?”
“Not really.”
At that, she gave a wry smile. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Okay,” she said. “Just let me get the keys. Unless you’d like to drive.”
I didn’t catch her meaning at first. “We’re leaving?” I nodded toward the house. “I thought we were going to see Tim.”
“We are,” she said. “He’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
It was as if she hadn’t heard me. “Do you want to drive?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, not bothering to hide my confusion but somehow knowing she’d clear things up when she was ready. I opened the door for her and went around the driver’s side to slide behind the wheel. Savannah was running her hand over the dashboard, as if trying to prove to herself it was real.
“I remember this car.” Her expression was nostalgic. “It’s your dad’s, right? Wow, I can’t believe it’s still running.”
“He didn’t drive all that much,” I said. “Just to work and the store.”
“Still.”
She put on her seat belt, and despite myself, I wondered whether she’d spent the night alone.
“Which way?” I asked.
“At the road, take a left,” she said. “Head toward town.”
Neither of us spoke. Instead, she stared out the passenger window with her arms crossed. I might have been offended, but there was something in her expression that told me her preoccupation had nothing to do with me, and I left her alone with her thoughts.
On the outskirts of town, she shook her head, as if suddenly conscious of how quiet it was in the car. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess my company leaves a lot to be desired.”
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to mask my growing curiosity.
She pointed toward the windshield. “At the next corner, take a right.”
“Where are we going?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned and gazed out the passenger window.
“The hospital,” she finally said.
I followed her through seemingly endless corridors, finally stopping at the visitors’ check-in. Behind the desk, an elderly volunteer held out a clipboard. Savannah reached for the pen and began signing her name automatically.
“You holdin’ up, Savannah?”
“Trying,” Savannah murmured.
“It’ll all turn out okay. You’ve got the whole town prayin’ for him.”
“Thanks,” Savannah said. She handed back the clipboard, then looked at me. “He’s on the third floor,” she explained. “The elevators are just down the hall.”
I followed her, my stomach churning. We reached the elevator just as someone was getting off, and stepped inside. When the doors closed, it felt as if I were in a tomb.
When we reached the third floor, Savannah started down the hallway with me trailing behind. She stopped in front of a room with a door propped open and then turned to face me.
“I think I should probably go in first,” she said. “Can you wait here?”
“Of course.”
She flashed her appreciation, then turned away. She drew a long breath before entering the room. “Hey, honey,” I heard her call out, her tone bright. “You doing okay?”
I didn’t hear any more than that for the next couple of minutes. Instead I stood in the hallway, absorbing the same sterile, impersonal surroundings I’d noticed while visiting with my father. The air reeked of a nameless disinfectant, and I watched as an orderly wheeled a cart of food into a room down the hall. Halfway up the corridor, I saw a group of nurses clustered in the station. Behind the door across the hallway, I could hear someone retching.
“Okay,” Savannah said, poking her head out. Beneath her brave appearance, I could still see her sadness. “You can come in. He’s ready for you.”
I followed her in, bracing myself for the worst. Tim sat propped up in the bed with an IV connected to his arm. He looked exhausted, and his skin was so pale that it was almost translucent. He’d lost even more weight than my father had, and as I stared at him, all I could think was that he was dying.