Every Breath(44)

Because it was more of a comment than a question, Tru said nothing. Instead, he studied his father, thinking that it was akin to seeing the future. This, Tru thought, is what I will eventually look like if I live as long as he has.

“Has the house been satisfactory?”

“It’s big,” Tru responded, recalling the way Hope had first described it. “But yes. It’s a beautiful home.”

“I had it built a few years ago. My wife wanted a place at the beach, but we’ve hardly ever used it.” He took two long, wheezy breaths before going on. “Was there enough food in the refrigerator?”

“Too much,” Tru answered. “There’s probably going to be a lot left over when I leave.”

“That’s fine. I’ll have the cleaning service take care of it. I’m just glad it arrived in time. I’d forgotten about it until you were already in the air, but there was little I could do. I was in the ICU and they don’t allow phone calls, so I asked my daughter to handle the details. She made arrangements with the property manager to receive the delivery.”

The words continued to roll through his mind even after his father finished speaking. Wife, ICU, daughter…Tru found it hard to concentrate. Hope had been right in predicting that the meeting would feel a bit surreal.

“I see” was all Tru could think to say.

“I’d also like to apologize for not setting you up with a rental car instead of having a driver pick you up. It might have been more convenient for you.”

“It didn’t bother me. I wouldn’t have known where to go. You said you were in the ICU?”

“I was released from the hospital yesterday. My kids tried to talk me out of coming, but I couldn’t miss this chance to meet you.”

“Would you like to sit?” Tru asked.

“I think I probably should.”

They crossed to the dining room table and Harry seemed to collapse into a chair. In the gray light streaming through the windows, he looked even more depleted than when he’d arrived.

Tru took a seat beside him. “May I ask why you were in the ICU?”

“Lung cancer. Stage four.”

“I don’t know much about cancer.”

“It’s terminal,” Harry said. “The doctors give me a couple of months, maybe less. Maybe a little more. It’s in God’s hands, I suppose. I’ve known since the spring.”

Tru felt a twinge of sadness at that, though it was the kind associated with learning bad news about a stranger, not family. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Appreciated,” he said. Despite the information he’d shared, Harry smiled. “I don’t have any regrets. I’ve had a good life, and unlike a lot of people, I’ve been given the chance to say goodbye. Or even, in your case, hello.” He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and coughed into it. When he finished, he took a couple of labored, wet-sounding breaths. “I want to thank you for making the trip here,” he added. “When I sent the ticket, I wasn’t sure you would agree to come.”

“Initially, I wasn’t, either.”

“But you were curious.”

“Yes,” Tru admitted.

“I was, too,” he said. “Ever since I learned that you existed. I didn’t know about you until last year.”

“And yet you waited to meet me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to complicate your life. Or mine.”

It was an honest answer, but Tru wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“How did you find out about me?”

“That’s a long story, but I’ll do my best to be brief. Frank Jessup, a man I knew from way back, happened to be in town. I hadn’t seen him in almost forty years, but we’d kept in minimal contact since then. Christmas cards, the occasional letter, but no more than that. Anyway, when we were having lunch, he made a reference to your mother, and mentioned that there were rumors she’d had a son less than a year after I left the country. He didn’t say it was mine, but I think he wondered about it. After the conversation, I wondered, too, so I hired an investigator and he went to work. Which took time. There are still a lot of people afraid to speak about your grandfather, even though he’s not around any longer, and we both know the country has gone to hell, so records are sketchy. But long story short, the guy was good and I eventually sent someone to the lodge in Hwange. He took photographs of you, and when I saw them, I knew right away. You have my eyes, but you got your facial structure from your mother.”

Harry turned toward the window, letting the silence hang. Tru thought about something the man had said only moments before.

“What did you mean when you said that you didn’t want to complicate my life?” Tru asked.

It was a few beats before his father answered.

“People talk about truth like it’s the solution to all of life’s problems. I’ve been around long enough to know that isn’t the case, and that sometimes truth can do more harm than good.”

Tru said nothing. He knew his father was building to a point.

“That’s what I’ve been considering. Ever since I realized that you’d agreed to come, I’ve been asking myself the question of how much I should tell you. There are some…aspects to the past that might be painful for you, and parts that, in retrospect, you might wish I hadn’t told you. So I suppose what I say next is up to you. Do you want the whole truth, or selected parts of it? Remember, though, I’m not the one who’s going to live with the knowledge for years to come. My regrets will be much more short-lived. For obvious reasons.”