It was the first time Dean had really mentioned his son. She paused, debating about pressing further. She was reassured to hear him say his son’s name. Grant had been a kind kid, in the short time she spent with him, and she’d been fond of him—he was polite, eager to help.
“The morning they took off in the balloon…” Darla started, unsure of herself. She watched Dean’s face, looking for a reason to just shut up and leave it be, but he waited and watched for her to continue. “Didn’t you hear it? The fan?”
“I’m not proud of it,” Dean answered. “I was self-medicating. Look, I thought Grant was dead…first my wife, then my son. I was a mess. And I was afraid, you see. What kind of life is left when everyone you love is gone?”
“None. No blame there.”
“Thinking I lost Grant messed me up. When I saw the balloon…I don’t know,” Dean ran his hand through his hair, and he sighed. “He didn’t come in, you know? Didn’t check. We both thought we were the only ones left. I figured…this is what letting him go feels like. It’s numbing.”
“I can’t imagine losing Teddy,” Darla shuddered. She closed her eyes and the images of Grace, her love, her life, and that moment in the airport when she realized she was losing her forever, danced before her. It didn’t feel like she was gone. It felt like she was away, on vacation. Everything about their lives had been so disrupted it was easy to pretend that in a few short days she and Teddy would pack up, head back to Southern California, and everything would be as it was.
“I had time to prepare for my wife’s death. I can’t decide which is worse…to know or not to know.”
“Does it really matter?” Darla asked him and she pushed her bowl of soup away. She was no longer hungry.
“No,” Dean answered. He tapped his fingers against the can. “No.” He sniffed. “Loss is loss.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Darla replied and she leaned back in the dining room chair. A breeze blew in through the kitchen. The CD Dean had plopped into the player carried a song into them—something soft and romantic, something that didn’t match her feelings. She listened to Teddy in the den, his imagination taking him to far off lands. She couldn’t wait for the next part of Ethan’s evening; she couldn’t wait for something to feel normal.
They ate their soup with occasional lulls in speaking; the music filled in the silences. Then Ethan stopped, mid-bite, and looked up. The twinkle lights in the trees caught Ainsley in a perfect glow—her hair falling into her right eye. She looked up and caught his glance, and she slowly she tucked her hair behind her ear and narrowed her eyes.
“You’re staring,” Ainsley replied and she slurped a noisy bite of soup off of her spoon. It was an exaggerated unladylike action. He knew she meant it as a warning. “Seriously. Stop.”
Ethan put his own spoon down. And he blurted before he could help himself, “You’re beautiful.”
“Shut up.”
“No,” Ethan said and he shook his head. “You really are.”
“Beautiful is not a word that boys like you say to girls like me. Unless we’re the only ones around, right?” She took another bite and rolled her eyes.
“Hey now,” Ethan grumbled. He put down his spoon and looked at her. “It’s not like that.” It wasn’t. “And what do you mean boys like me?”
“Boys. Like you. With girlfriends and charm.”
“You think I’m charming?” Ethan asked and he pointed a finger at his own chest. Then he laughed straight up to the sky. “Funny, Ainsley. Real funny.”
“Okay,” she said simply. And then she sat back and looked at him. “I am beginning to feel like this is just some big joke to you.”
Ethan looked crushed. He opened his mouth to say something, but he felt a stab in his stomach and a pain travel across his chest. Buckling over, he slapped his hand over his mid-section and let out an involuntary gasp. Spots traveled into his sight and he tried to blink them away. In an instant, Ainsley was on her feet. She rushed over to him and spun his chair away from the table; kneeling down he put her hand against his forehead.
“You’re hot,” she said.
Ethan raised his head. His skin went clammy and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. “Shut up,” he said back.
“You are burning up,” she reworded. “You’re the worst patient. You can’t decide if you want to yell at me or hit on me.”
The pain subsided and Ethan slowly sat back up. “Probably just the beans,” he said and he took a deep breath. “Sit down. Finish eating.”
“It could be anything. A heart attack, blockage…”
“Really, I feel better. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. I should get my mom—”
“No!” Ethan snapped and he grabbed Ainsley’s arm. She looked at him to his hands and he released her. “Please? I want to finish this. I want to enjoy the rest of this night. It matters to me.”
They paused and the music played in the background: The soft undertones of saxophone, the crooner singing smoothly.
“I’m worried about you,” Ainsley said in a soft voice. “Do you see how everyone worked their tails off today to make this happen? That’s because they’re worried too.”
“I thought it was because they believed in true love.”
“Ethan—”
He lowered his head. “The joking is just because…” he paused and looked back up. “How else am I supposed to go on like this? With everyone waiting around for me to die?”
Ainsley didn’t say a word.
“Are you done with dinner?” he asked, changing the subject, and he struggled to sit up. Once he was upright, he took a large breath and gave her an A-okay sign.
She nodded. “Yes. And I’m done with the juice too. Let’s go in. You lay down. Thanks for dinner.” She made a move to leave, but he stopped her.
“That’s not it,” he said. “What a lame date. Music and taco soup.”
She bowed her head and took a deep breath. When she raised her head, her eyes were pleading, worried. “Here’s the thing, Ethan. I like you. I believe in you. And I want you to live, dammit. This scares me. You’re not well.”
Tears welled in Ethan’s eyes. He felt the surge of emotion build in his chest; he hadn’t felt this close to losing it since he first saw Lucy bursting forth through their doors and barreling toward him—her joyous celebration at their reunion marred by his knowledge of what she was about to discover.
“The world is awful. Dark,” Ethan said.
“You’re forgetting the new rule,” Ainsley reminded him with a smile.
“And I just wanted this. For all of us. So we could forget.”
“It’s not fair to forget.”
“What kind of future is this for us?” Ethan asked. He let a tear roll down his cheek, he didn’t care anymore. “What if no one comes?”
“They’ll come for you,” Ainsley said and she patted his shoulder. “Your family won’t desert you.”
“They’ve already deserted me,” he said and his voice rose, and trembled. “I have strangers who have seen me at my worst. It’s not supposed to be like that. You’re not supposed to be alone at the end. You’re supposed to have the people you love.” He wiped at his cheek angrily.
The porch door swung open and closed and Ethan and Ainsley turned and saw Dean standing in the shadows. He was holding a beer can in his hand; he tilted his head back and finished it.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Dean said and he watched as Ethan wiped his eyes. “I was just thinking you guys might be ready for the grand finale?” he asked and he stepped forward into the light.
Ethan said they were. And Ainsley turned and looked at him, her eyes lingering.
Dean walked over to the far part of the King yard—grabbing an extension cord, he unplugged the stereo and plugged in a video projector. The bright blue light from the projector illuminated a white sheet hung on the fence with white clamps. Ethan rolled over to the part of the yard where they had set up the equipment and pointed his finger toward the sheet.