utters. “It came back. He waited too long and—”
My heart thuds in my chest at the sound of Pops choking up. “Jesus.” I scratch my fingernails along the side of my cheek. The last time a doctor diagnosed Harold, I was overseas on a deployment and had no clue what was going on until I got home.
“I’m so sorry, Pops. What can I do?”
I don’t remember seeing Pops cry more than twice throughout my lifetime. One was when Grams died and the other was when Pop-Pop died. Aside from that, Pops is a man of few emotions. His end of the phone sounds muffled, but I hear heavy breaths. I’m not sure how to console him. I think I forgot how to trigger that simple human function over the last ten years. All I can do is remain quiet and listen.
“I need you to get on a flight in the morning,” Pops belts out. “I know you aren’t supposed to leave until tomorrow night, but Harold needs help in the shop and you’re the only one who knows how to run the place as good as he does.”
I’m not sure when it became second nature to run the shop or those machines, but something clicked the first time Harold showed me the ropes, and I took an appreciation for his passion of distilling bourbon.
“What about his daughters?” I can’t imagine what they’re going through right now. Plus, if they’re at the shop trying to help Harold, I’m not sure they’d appreciate me being there and stepping on their toes.
“Brett, you know neither of his daughters are versed with the mechanics of the distillery machines.” I didn’t know this because I haven’t spoken to Melody or Journey in about a decade, but I’ll take his word. “Journey is at Harold’s side, helping Marion out, but Melody has been living in South Carolina. I guess she’s heading home tomorrow too.”
Melody is living here, in South Carolina. I heard she had moved away to live with her husband or something, but I didn’t realize it was here of all places.
“How are the girls taking this?” I haven’t referred to them as “the girls” since we were kids, but it comes out naturally.
“From what Harold told me, Melody isn’t doing well, and Journey is quietly digesting everything.” I don’t feel like I ever knew them as well as I should have considering how close our dads are, but Journey was always the quiet, moody one, and Melody was like a ray of sunshine; always smiling, giggling, and walking into things. She was also shy and sensitive, unlike her sister.
They’re as opposite as Brody and I are. Although, we aren’t so different now, I guess.
“I’ll get my flight switched and I’ll be home as soon as I can tomorrow. How long do you think he has?” I realize my question is forward for the state Pops is in, but I can’t take it back now.
He pulls in a heavy breath and slowly releases the air before responding. “I don’t know, son. He doesn’t know. ‘Could be soon,’ is all he said to me.”
“I get it,” I say. “Hey, Pops. I’m sorry to bring this up, but can you make sure Parker doesn’t get wind of this?”
“Brett. Come on. You know we wouldn’t say anything. I just—I needed to tell you what’s going on, okay?’
“Of course.”
“All right, well, let me know what flight you get onto.”
“Will do. I’ll see tomorrow, Pops.”
“Love you, son.”
“Love you too.”
The only available flight out of Charleston is at six in the morning. Someone should inform the airlines that not everyone is capable of basic human functions at four a.m. I’m sure I looked like a drunk driver for the first two miles after leaving the hotel, but the breakdown lane bumps alerted me enough to stay in one lane until reaching the car-rental drop-off location at the airport.
After running through the terminal and somehow getting through security in record time, I somehow arrive at the gate with five minutes to spare. This is a close call. The flight attendants are already pushing two wheelchairs through the doors of the gate. I’ve been so focused on the fact that I’m almost late, I crash into a woman’s carry-on bag.
The woman jumps from the surprise jolt, clutching her hand against her chest as her long, auburn barrel curls bounce over her shoulders. How would anyone have time to make their hair look so perfect this early in the day?
“Pardon me,” I say, placing