Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(79)

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, and with that, he extricated himself from the golden retriever, who was attempting to mount his leg, and left.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“THIS FOOD ISN’T worth eating,” Joe said, pushing back his plate.

“Give it a try, unc. It’s not that bad.” He pushed the Cream of Wheat back, and Joe took a spoonful and grimaced.

“I’d kill for a Big Mac,” he said.

“And the Big Mac would kill you,” Lucas answered.

“But what a way to go,” Joe said. “All that gorgeous sodium.” He grinned, a shadow of the old Joe.

He was at Lucas’s rented apartment in the old opera house—a nice change of scenery, he’d said. But the climb to the second floor seemed to take the last of his energy. Dialysis was supposed to make him feel better, but better was a relative term when you had cancer on top of kidney failure.

Joe pulled out his pocket watch. Lucas used to love seeing it when Joe came to Chicago to visit, hearing the story of their ancestor and how he’d fought so bravely at Antietam, how the watch was given to him by the major whose life he’d saved. Being the older son, Joe had inherited it from his father. Too soon, Bryce would have the watch, who hopefully would have a son or daughter to give it to someday, as well.

“I need you to handle some things,” Joe said now. He frowned. “I called Ellen. Hope that was okay. I couldn’t remember if I talked to you about it.”

“She called me.”

“Good. Well. Didi’s idiot brother is our lawyer, and obviously I can’t trust him.” Joe idly stroked the pocket watch. “I sold an app a couple months ago, and I want Bryce to get it for a nest egg.”

“Good for you, Joe.” Lucas smiled.

“Yeah, it was fun. Remember ‘Rat-Whacker’?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, this is slightly more sophisticated.” His smile faded. “Ellen said she’ll check on that for me. But about the funeral...Bryce won’t be up for it, and Didi will do whatever she thinks will win her the most social points.”

“What would you like done?”

“I love that old stone church. Trinity Lutheran. And for the eulogy, I thought it would be nice if...well. I want Bryce to do it.”

For a second, Lucas had thought Joe had been about to ask him. But obviously, his son would make more sense. “Of course.”

“And here are some songs I want played at my wake. None of those drippy hymns, okay?” He handed Lucas a list. U2, the Stones, Pearl Jam, and Lucas had to smile. Unc had great taste in music.

And now for the harder questions. “How do you want it to be at the end, Joe?”

His uncle sighed. “Well, as little pain as possible. I’d like you boys to be there. And I’d like Didi not to be.”

“What about Steph? She’d definitely come if you wanted her to.”

“No, that’s fine. She’s got the girls. You two will be enough.”

It was hard to answer.

“You know what I miss?” Joe said, looking out the windows. “Sailing. Big Macs and sailing.”

“Do you still have the boat?” Lucas asked.

“No, no. We sold that a while ago. Didi said...well, hell, I have what? A month left? Let’s not waste it by talking about Didi.” He was quiet a moment, listlessly stirring his bland lunch. Then he looked up at Lucas. “You look just like your dad, you know. Except for the eyes. Those are your mother’s eyes.”

Lucas gave a half smile.

“Do you remember her?” Joe asked.

“Not a lot.”

“Well, she was the most beautiful woman I ever saw.” He paused a second. “Guess I’ll be seeing both your parents before long.”

The words made Lucas’s stomach twist. He knew Joe was dying.

It didn’t mean it would hurt less to lose him, the last link to his father, his affable, easygoing uncle who’d only ever been kind.

“How’s Stephie doing?” Joe said, changing the subject. “She coming to visit?”

“She is,” Lucas answered. “You’ll get to see all four girls, too.”

Joe laughed. “Fantastic. They’re firecrackers, those girls. It’ll be nice to have you all together. You know what? I want to have a picnic, all of us Campbells. What do you think?”

“Great idea,” he said.

“Would it be all right to ask the Forbes contingent? I feel like they’ve been family these past ten years.”

“Sure.”

Joe took out his phone and dialed. “Hi, Didi. Yeah, sorry, whatever, I’m dying, what can I say?” He rolled his eyes. “Look, I want to have a picnic. Steph and the girls are coming to... No, I haven’t forgotten. Yeah. Fine. No, I thought just us... Oh. No, I— Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Hanging up now.” He put the phone down. “She says it’s too much work, we should just go out for dinner, and if we’re doing a family picnic, her pack of hyenas has to be invited, too. Though she didn’t use that phrase, exactly.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’m seeing another lawyer about your divorce tomorrow,” Lucas said. This one was someone who specialized in complicated cases. “Didi never deserved you, Uncle Joe.”