An Unfinished Story(2)

She returned her warmest smile, thinking he was one of the good ones, a reminder of the light at the end of the tunnel. “Don’t be silly.” She watched a green anole lizard climb up the A/C unit on the side of the house. “So how’s your heart?”

“Still ticking.”

“C’mon, Hal, don’t sugarcoat things. What did the doctor say?”

Hal sighed. “I’m approaching the end stage, Claire.”

“Oh, Hal.” Claire choked up. She didn’t know what was worse: dying slowly, or the flick of a switch, like David’s death.

“It’s nothing to be sad about. Truly.” His hand holding the brown bag was shaking. He looked up to the sky. “Soon, I’ll be with Ruby, dancing up high.”

Claire took a step forward, holding back tears. “What can I do for you? I’m serious. If you need a ride to the doctor or an errand run, please call me.”

“I will, Claire. Please don’t worry about me. How are you doing with all this, by the way? I can only imagine saying goodbye to your house isn’t easy.”

Claire took a moment to change gears. “Selling the house has brought it all back, honestly. I wish I could be stronger sometimes.” She paused, swallowing her sadness. “I just need to close my eyes and channel my inner Hal whenever times get tough.”

He sprayed off his hands with the garden hose. “Let me tell you something, if you’ll allow an old man to pass along the small bit of wisdom I’ve collected.”

“If you tell me time heals all, I might just throw myself into the water, Hal.”

A quick headshake as he dried his hands with his shirt. “No, I’m not going to tell you time heals all. The one thing I know for sure, Claire, is that life demands that we get back up and keep fighting, no matter how badly we’ve been knocked down. I’m going down swinging.” He opened up the brown bag. “And now I’m going to eat a biscuit.”

She smiled. “I’m so lucky you’re in my life.”

Hal peeled back the foil on the overstuffed biscuit and prepared to take a bite. “I’m the lucky one. And you know what makes me happier than anything?”

“What’s that?”

“Seeing the fight in your eyes, the way you’re coming back. David would be proud of you, kid.” He took a bite and wiped his mouth. “Oh boy, this alone is worth sticking around for.”

Claire sat with Hal on the back porch while he ate his biscuit and then left him to work on his tomato plants. Walking along the seawall, she crossed into the Bermuda grass of her own backyard, glancing at the pool where she’d once imagined future children splashing about. She looked left to the dock that stretched out into the bay, where those same children were supposed to catch their first fish. She had always sworn that she’d be a great mom, that she’d make up for her own mother’s failures. Never had she considered she might not get the chance.

Deciding she wanted one last look from the end of the dock, Claire worked her way down the planks, breathing in the memories. When she and David had realized they weren’t able to have children, they’d bought a boat, something to do with their time. They’d kept it tied to this dock, a twenty-three-foot center console Sea Ray, and in some ways it had saved their marriage. The sunset cruises, the day trips to Bunces Pass. It had been their window into finding fun again.

Claire stood at the end of the dock with Tampa looking back at her from across the bay. Her long, sandy-brown hair whipped in the cool sea breeze. The high-rise linen shorts and sleeveless top she’d chosen to wear weren’t cutting it now. She hugged herself to fight the chill.

Hearing the whine of a diesel engine, Claire looked right to find a family of four speeding across the water in a ski boat. They were watching the white wake bubbling up from behind.

As they passed directly ahead, two bottlenose dolphins suddenly emerged, their dorsal fins knifing through the water. When the mammals leaped into the air in tandem, the two children—swallowed by oversize life jackets—thrust their skinny arms up high, and their joyful yelps echoed in the empty chambers of Claire’s broken heart. But only when the woman driving the boat turned to kiss the man beside her did Claire let her first tear of the morning fall.

Unable to bear watching the happy family for another moment, she exchanged a wave with the mother and then turned away. It was supposed to be Claire out on a boat. Her husband, her children! With tears splashing the dock, she walked the planks back toward the house.

There would be no boys or girls hauling in a catch from the dock. There would be no children jumping on a trampoline. No wedding receptions in the backyard. And the worst part: no grandchildren. The family tree of Claire and David Kite had stopped before it had even begun.

Winding around to the front, Claire walked through the memory of their last conversation and entered the front door of their not-so-forever home. Her photochromic lenses quickly adjusted. Save a few boxes in the corner, the house was vacant. A ray of sunshine sprayed the bare cherry floors. Claire felt as empty as the house looked. She could see straight across the open living room and through the giant windows to the bay, where the happy family was making large circles in the boat.

Feeling for an uncomfortable moment like she wasn’t alone, Claire whispered, “Hello. Is anyone here?”

Though there was no response, she sensed David’s presence and was both uplifted by and afraid of the idea of his ghost. She had a sixth sense about things, and that was a big part of what fueled her trepidation to clean out his office. Oh God, what might she find . . .