“I know. But if you think about it, you’re now in the same position that he was. You know the truth, just as he did. And you’ve said nothing to anyone either.”
“But I didn’t do it…”
“And you said that he didn’t either.”
“What are you trying to say? That I should tell Pastor Harris?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said to her surprise. “I don’t think you should.”
“Why?”
“Ronnie,” he said gently, “there might be more to the story than meets the eye.”
“But—”
“I’m not saying I’m right. I’ll be the first to admit I’m wrong about a lot of things. But if everything is just as you described it, then I want you to know this: Pastor Harris doesn’t want to know the truth. Because if he does, he’ll have to do something about it. And trust me, he would never want to hurt Scott or his family, especially if it was an accident. He’s just not that kind of man. And one more thing. And of everything I’ve said, this is the most important.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to learn how to forgive.”
She crossed her arms. “I’ve already forgiven Will. I’ve left him messages…”
Even before she finished, her dad was shaking his head. “I’m not talking about Will. You need to learn to forgive yourself first.”
That night, at the bottom of the stack of letters her dad had written, Ronnie found another letter, one she hadn’t yet opened. He must have added it to the stack recently, since it bore no stamp or postmark.
She didn’t know whether he wanted her to read it now or whether it was meant to be read after he was gone. She supposed she could have asked him, but she didn’t. In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to read it; simply holding the envelope frightened her, because she knew that it was the last letter he would ever write to her.
His disease continued to progress. Though they followed their regular routines—eating, reading, and taking walks on the beach—her dad was taking more medicine for his pain. There were times when his eyes were glassy and out of focus, but she still had the sense that the dosage wasn’t strong enough. Now and then, she would see him wince as he sat reading on the couch. He would close his eyes and lean back, his face a mask of pain. When that happened, he would grip her hand; but as the days wore on, she noticed that his grip was growing weaker. His strength was fading, she thought; everything about him was fading. And soon he would be gone completely.
She could tell Pastor Harris noticed the changes in her dad as well. He’d been coming by almost every day in recent weeks, usually right before dinner. For the most part, he kept the conversation light; he updated them on the construction or regaled them with amusing stories from his past, bringing a fleeting smile to her father’s face. But there were also moments when both of them seemed to run out of things to say to each other. Avoiding the elephant in the room was taxing for all of them, and in those moments, a fog of sadness seemed to settle in the living room.
When she sensed that they wanted to be alone, she would go stand out on the porch and try to imagine what they might be talking about. She could guess, of course: They talked about faith or family and maybe some regrets they each had, but she knew they also prayed together. She’d heard them once when she’d gone inside to get a glass of water, and she remembered thinking that Pastor Harris’s prayer sounded more like a plea. He seemed to be begging for strength as though his own life depended on it, and as she listened to him, she closed her eyes to chime in with a silent prayer of her own.
Mid-October brought three days of unseasonably chilly weather, cold enough to require a sweatshirt in the mornings. After months of relentless heat, she enjoyed the briskness in the air, but those three days were hard on her dad. Though they still walked the beach, he moved even more slowly, and they paused only briefly outside the church before turning and heading back home. By the time they reached the door, her dad was shivering. Once inside, she drew him a warm bath, hoping it would help, feeling the first twinges of panic at the new signs of sickness that signaled the disease was advancing more rapidly.
On a Friday, a week before Halloween, her father rallied enough for them to try fishing on the small dock that Will had first taken her to. Officer Pete lent them some extra rods and a tackle box. Remarkably, her dad had never been fishing before, so Ronnie had to bait the hook. The first two fish that took the bait got away, but they were finally able to hook a small red drum and land it on the dock. It was the same kind of fish she’d caught with Will, and as the fish struggled while she freed the hook, she suddenly missed Will with an intensity that felt like physical pain.