The Night Mark(107)

“Like when you went to play golf the day after my second miscarriage?” she teased.

“I didn’t.”

“You did, you jerk. You told me you did.”

“I told you I did, but I didn’t.”

“Then where the hell did you go?”

“I went to Mom’s and told her I was about ninety percent sure I’d ruined your life and I was about ninety-five percent sure I’d ruined mine, too. She talked me off the ledge and sent me home to you. Told me to take care of my wife. But you didn’t want to be taken care of.”

“I should have let you,” she said. “I should have done a lot of things I didn’t do. I should have seen a therapist. I should have grieved for Will like I needed to. I should have kept working even when you told me not to.”

“We should never have gotten married,” he said. “I could have helped you without marrying you. I guess I just thought it’s what Will would have done. It wasn’t meant to be, though. You and I.”

“No, it wasn’t meant to be. And I believe some things are meant to be.”

“Can you forgive me?” he asked.

“For marrying me? I don’t know. That’s a pretty big sin.”

“For hurting you,” he said. “For being a bad husband.”

“Trust me,” Faye said. “I know bad husbands. After the first miscarriage, I don’t know if I would have gone on if it hadn’t been for you. I was drowning and you were the lifeboat. You saved me, put me in the boat, got me out of the rough waters. But then you and I, we never got out of the lifeboat. You were always trying to save me and I was always drowning. You can’t live in a lifeboat. But I want you to know that you did save me. I don’t think I would have survived losing Will if you hadn’t been there for me in the beginning.”

“Thank you, Faye. I needed to hear that.”

“Will would have never wanted you and me to hate each other. He loved us both.”

“He was better than both of us put together,” Hagen said. “We almost deserved each other.”

“Almost.”

“Are you better now?” he asked. “You sound better. You sound... I don’t know. Alive again?”

“I’m alive again. You were right. You really can’t live in the past. So let’s not. Let’s move on. I forgive you, and you forgive me. And you find someone else to love, someone who can have your kids and who’ll enjoy your big, pretty house. Someone who will let you take care of her. And I’ll find someone who makes me as happy as Will did. And you and I will both be happy again. Fair enough?”

“I can live with that,” Hagen said. He paused again, and Faye waited. “Is it okay... This is stupid.”

“What? Ask it. Whatever it is, ask it.”

“Would you care if... I mean, if I get remarried and if I have kids, would it be okay with you if I named one of my kids after Will?”

“He was your best friend.”

“Yeah, but he was your husband.”

With her fingertips, Faye brushed a new round of tears off her cheeks.

“So were you,” she said. “And I would like it very much if you named your son after Will. Or daughter. Willa’s a pretty name. I know Will would have gotten a kick out of that.”

“Okay, good. I just... Do you think we should stop talking to each other? I mean, for a year or so or maybe more?”

“Yes,” she said. “I think that would be good for the both of us to move on. Way on.” About ninety-four years on, in Faye’s case.

“I think so, too. And if this is the last time we talk, I wanted to make sure.”

“You have my blessing. It would mean a lot to me,” she said. “A lot to Will.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you go now.”

“I’m glad we talked,” Faye said. “You know, actually talked. Like human beings.”

“Me, too. Take care, Faye. Thanks for...”

“For what?”

“Thanks for doing the best you could.”

“You’re going to be a great dad someday.”

“Goodbye, Faye. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

“You, too. Goodbye, Hagen.”

She let him do the honor of hanging up first. And when he did and the call died, Faye knew it was over. She’d done it. All loose ends tied up. The hole mended, but for one last little thing.

Faye took a deep long breath and waded into the ocean. The water was warm tonight, almost like bathwater.

“Please let this work,” she said as she held out her hand and dropped her phone into the water. “I want to go home. I want to go home.”

She heard in the distance the sound of a train, iron wheels on iron tracks.

Overhead the lighthouse lantern room winked into life. A beam of light flashed once and went dark.

Faye smiled.

Light.

Two. Three. Four.

And she could see the wave coming right for her.

Five.

“Wait up, Carrick. I’m coming back.”

Six.

Just for fun, Faye kicked her heels together three times.

“There’s no place like home.”

Seven.

Dark.