drew into a tight, thin line, but the man’s face relaxed.
“Thank you for that,” he said. “It’s been hard.”
“We check in on Jackson’s progress often,” Louisa said.
The woman scoffed. “What progress?” Her eyes flashed, and Cody could see her anger was only a cover for the deep sadness and fear she was feeling. Anger, he often found, could keep a person safe. How many years had he worn that same cloak so he wouldn’t have to feel anything?
He’d been doing so well too, right up until he moved back to the island.
“The doctors aren’t hopeful.” Jackson’s father put his hands on his wife’s shoulders.
“I’m so sorry,” Louisa whispered.
“Why are you here?” the woman asked.
Louisa cleared her throat. “Deborah, we’d like to do something for your family, and we wanted to make sure it was okay with you.”
Jackson’s mother didn’t respond.
“What did you have in mind?” Mr. Wirth asked.
Louisa glanced at the chair on the opposite side of Jackson’s bed. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Please,” Mr. Wirth said.
Deborah kept her gaze tightly on her son.
Louisa stilled at Jackson’s side. Cody watched as she studied the boy. “I read that he liked old cars?”
Deborah looked up at Louisa, then back to Jackson. She leaned in closer to the boy. “Yes. They’ve always been his favorite thing. Ever since he was little.”
Louisa gave a soft nod.
“He dreamed of owning a garage full of old Mustangs,” Jackson’s dad said with a smile. “One from every decade.”
Silence hung in the room, and Cody wished he could bolt. Louisa sure was taking her time here. He glanced at Jackson’s mom. Wiry and thin with wispy hair on the brink of changing color, like oak trees in autumn.
Louisa leaned forward, gaze still on Jackson. “He sure is a handsome kid.” She smiled then and looked at Mrs. Wirth.
Louisa had always been good with people. She was so natural and easygoing. She was friendly and charming and not the least bit shy. But this—it was more than that. She was genuine. He never once got the impression that she was trying to sell anyone on anything. She had a job to do, sure, but she made certain that job was beneficial to someone who needed a little light in their life right now.
Maybe his family shouldn’t have pushed her away in their own hour of need.
“We’re hosting a regatta,” Louisa said quietly. “A whole day of bringing awareness to water safety and to raising money for a worthy cause.”
“What cause?” Deborah asked.
Louisa looked up and straight into the woman’s eyes. “Your family.”
“We’re not a charity case,” Deborah said.
“Honey, let her talk,” Mr. Wirth said. He glanced at Louisa. “Our insurance covers some of Jackson’s expenses, but we’ve taken a second mortgage on our house to try and cover part of what’s left.”
Louisa nodded. “Medical bills can be so hard. We just want to help ease the burden if we can.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Deborah’s shoulders had gone stiff, as if she knew there was something about this idea Louisa wasn’t telling her, something she wouldn’t like.
“The event is hosted by the Coast Guard station at Brant Point,” Louisa said firmly, and once again Cody admired that she didn’t try to sugarcoat the truth.
“No way,” Deborah said.
“Deb,” her husband said quietly.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wirth,” Louisa said kindly, “we know you’re in a lot of pain right now.”
The woman’s lower lip quivered. “You don’t know anything about our pain.”
Louisa inched back in her chair. “You’re right. I don’t understand this kind of pain.”
Deborah swiped a tear that slid down her cheek.
“But I might.” Cody hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. He felt Louisa’s eyes on him.
Jackson’s parents looked at him too, confusion on their faces.
“I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but my father drowned when I was eighteen,” he said.
Deborah’s face softened, but only slightly, and the man stilled.
“It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Deborah wiped her cheek again. “You want to use Jackson to ease your guilty conscience.” The anger was back. It flashed in her eyes, hot and cold at the same time.
“No. We only want to help,” Cody said, and he meant it. It was the first time he wondered if the pain he’d endured might actually be able to help someone else.
Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t like he’d figured out anything about grief or loss.
“That Coast Guardsman should’ve done more. He should’ve gotten Jackson out first. Instead, he waited too long, and our son may never