Things I Want to Say

by Cyndi Myers

  When he woke, all was bright, the sun warm against his skin. The pain was gone, and he felt light. Light as a bird. Even as the thought came to him, he felt himself rising. Floating. The barbet hovered beside him, beckoning. Wonder filled him as once more he was able to follow the bird into the sky. He laughed, then shouted, as he soared beside it, floating on the wind and a current of unspeakable joy.

  A loud thud pulled Karen from sleep. At first she thought the wind from the storm had knocked something over, but as she sat and looked out the window, she saw that the rain had stopped, and the air was calm. She strained her ears, listening, but the house was quiet. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that clutched at her.

  She threw back the covers and pulled on her robe, heart pounding. Telling herself she was being silly, she hurried into the hall. Dad might have fallen. If so, she’d have to wake Casey to help her get him back into bed.

  She was startled to find her father’s bed empty. But when she pushed the door open farther and stepped into the room, she saw his still form lying in front of the window. “Dad!” She raced to his side and turned him onto his back. The eyes that stared up at her were empty and cold.

  She sat back on her heels, a single sob escaping before she clamped her hand over her mouth. Shaking, she reached out and closed his eyes. His skin was still warm, though all the color had drained from it. She tried to find a pulse at his throat, then laid her head on his chest, praying for a heartbeat.

  Only the sound of her own breathing filled her ears. She reached for Martin’s hand and squeezed it. Already it was cold. She stared at his face, curiosity warring with horror. He had always been such a mystery to her. Was there anything here now to help her figure him out?

  She was struck by how peaceful he looked. His expression was relaxed, the corners of his mouth tipped up, almost as if he was trying to smile. The thought was absurd. Her father wasn’t a jovial man. He didn’t laugh easily, and his smiles were rationed out like expensive chocolates.

  But something in death had made him smile. A release from pain? Had he seen heaven at the end? A great light or an angel? Or had he learned some secret no one in this life could know?

  She sat back on her heels and let the tears fall, eyes closed, shoulders shaking silently. There were so many things she’d wanted to say to him, so many things she’d wanted to hear him say. Yet at the end, they’d found something. Some…connection. A love for each other, as complicated and fraught with tension as the word was. She was grateful for that, no matter how cheated she felt about all they’d missed.

  The sun shone brightly through the window by the time she pulled herself together enough to stand. She took the blanket from the bed and covered him, tucking it gently around his shoulders. When she left the room to call the funeral home, a passerby might have thought he was merely sleeping, still and peaceful.

  She woke Casey and tried to break the news gently, though he shouted, “No!” and refused to believe it at first. “He was getting better,” he said. “He was going to be all right.”

  “He was getting better. I thought so, too.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  They held each other and cried, and she thought of Tom, feeling his absence keenly. He would know the right thing to do, the right thing to say. Always, she had counted on him in a crisis.

  She called Del next. He was grumpy at first, from being awakened from sleep. She suspected he’d been drinking hard the past few days, not taking Mary Elisabeth’s leaving as lightly as he would have had them believe. “Del, listen,” she said, breaking into his complaining. “Something happened with Dad this morning. I found him on the floor of his bedroom. He…he’s gone.”

  “Gone? You mean dead?” He sounded awake now.

  She nodded, and swallowed more tears. “Yes. I called Garrity’s and they’re sending someone out.” They’d both gone to school with the Garrity brothers, who had taken over the operation of the funeral home from their father. “They’ll be here soon if you want to come over.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  She half expected him to fall back asleep, but he was on her doorstep in twenty minutes, in khakis and a white dress shirt, his hair combed, his face freshly shaved. He spoke in solemn tones to Mike Garrity, who came with another man to trans port her father’s body to the funeral home. “My sister will know better what arrangements he would have wanted,” Del said.

  She stared at him, stunned by his willingness to give way to her judgment, as well as by his belief that she had some insight into their father’s mind. “Cremation,” she said after a moment. “A man who spent so much time watching birds would want his ashes scattered on the wind.” She hoped that was what he’d wanted. They had never thought to discuss such an un comfortable subject.

  Casey stood in the back ground, sad-eyed and drooping, wilted by loss. When the hearse finally pulled out of the driveway, Del suggested they all go get some breakfast. “I’m not hungry,” she said automatically.

  “You need to get out of this house.” He put his arm around her, his touch surprisingly gentle, and greatly comforting.

  Whatever force that had been holding her together left her then, and she turned into his embrace, sobbing. He held her tightly and patted her back. “I know,” he said, over and over. “I know.”

  She believed him, that he did know the pain she felt, that his own pain might be even deeper, since he’d never found away to bridge the gap between himself and their difficult parent.

  She raised her head and searched his face, trying to read the expression in his eyes. “He loved you,” she said. “I know he did. He just didn’t know how to show it.”

  “You believe that if you want to.” He patted her shoulder again. “Did you call Mom?”

  “Not yet. I thought maybe you could do that.” She wasn’t sure she could deal with her mother right now. Sara would no doubt try to cheer her up, but she wanted to mourn a while longer. Later, she’d appreciate her mother’s efforts more.

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  While he called their mother, Karen hugged Casey. “You okay?” she asked.

  He nodded, though his face was still pale. “I’m okay.” He glanced at her. “You okay?”

  “Not the best shape I’ve ever been, but I’m hanging in there.”

  “We should call Dad.”

  “I will.” But she wanted to be alone when she talked to Tom. She didn’t need an audience for what could be a tense call.

  “Mom says she’ll be over a little later.” Del joined them again.

  “How did she take the news?” Karen asked.

  He shrugged. “You know Mom. She doesn’t let stuff like this sink in too deep.”

  She nodded. “I guess that’s one way to cope.”

  “Come on. Let’s at least go get some coffee,” Del said. He looked back at Casey. “You, too.”

  She shook her head. “I need to call Tom.”

  “You can call him later.”

  “No, I need to call him now.” The urgency that had engulfed her earlier returned. She need to talk to Tom. To find out what they had left between them. “You go,” she said. “You and Casey.”

  Del raised one eyebrow, and started to say something, then shook his head. “All right. Come on, Case. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  When they were gone, silence cloaked the house like a heavy blanket. Karen stared at the closed door to her father’s room, thinking she should go in there and clean up, but unable to face the task.

  Instead, she went into her room and sat on the side of the bed, staring at the phone. Sadie followed, and sat by the bed, her chin resting on Karen’s knee, eyes soft with silent support.

  What would she say to Tom, after she’d got past telling him about her father’s passing? He’d been so angry when he’d flown back to Denver, and she’d felt so empty. They hadn’t talked since then. What did he want from her? Whatever it was, did she have i
t in her to give anymore?

  Telling herself it was better to know the truth than to be tortured by guessing games, she picked up the receiver and dialed.

  “Hello?” He sounded distracted, and she realized with a start that it was not even seven o’clock in Denver.

  She wet her lips and tried to sound calm. “Tom, it’s me. Karen.” As if he might have forgotten the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

  “No, that’s okay. What is it? Is something wrong?”

  She imagined him sitting up on the side of the bed, raking a hand through his hair and blinking, trying to come fully awake. “Why would you think something’s wrong?”

  “You sound funny.”

  Pain pinched at her heart at the concern in his voice. “It’s Dad. He…he passed away early this morning.” That sounded so much better than died. As if he’d passed on to something else. Something better, she hoped.

  “I’m sorry. That’s really rough.”

  She nodded. Her throat and jaw ached from holding back tears. “It’s bad. But…he looked, I don’t know…peaceful. I thought he was getting better, but there was still so much he couldn’t do….” She shook her head. “Del came right over, and he was a big help.”

  “How’s your mom?”

  “Del called her. She sounded okay. A little shook up, but you know Mom. Nothing gets her down for long.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll let you know as soon as I call the airlines.”

  “Then you’ll come?”

  “Of course I’ll come. Unless you don’t want me there.”

  “No, I want you here. It’s just, when you left here the other day, things were so up in the air.”

  “We can talk about that later.”

  “No!” She took a deep breath and spoke more softly. “I need to talk about it now. Before you come back here.” Before I lose my courage.

  “You’re upset now. This can wait.”

  “No. We’ve waited too long already.”

  He sighed. The sigh of a man dealing with a stubborn child. The sound angered her. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she said. “And I’ve made some decisions.”

  “All right. What have you decided?”

  She thought of her father in the jungle, waiting on birds; and Mary Elisabeth headed to California; and Casey, who saw his future as an adventure waiting to be discovered. “Dad and I were talking the other day, and he told me that sometimes the most difficult thing is the only thing you can do. The thing your soul needs you to do. For him, that thing was birding.”

  “And what is that thing for you?” His voice was flat, like a stranger’s.

  “For me—I think it’s finding away to make our marriage work.” She’d contemplated leaving. Moving out and starting over. That would be painful, but easier than staying and hashing things out. And it wasn’t what her soul wanted. Something in the very kernel of her being told her she still loved Tom deeply, though she hadn’t done a good job of showing him. She wanted to stay and do the work necessary to develop that feeling into something big and wonderful.

  “I want that, too.” The chill in his voice had vanished, and she could almost see his shoulders slumped in relief.

  “There’s something else, though,” she said. “Something else I need.”

  “What is it?”

  “I need to take more time for myself. I’ve spent so many years looking after you and the boys and the business, I’ve lost sight of who I really am. I have to do this if things are going to work between us.”

  “I want us to make them work.”

  “It won’t be easy,” she said.

  “I’ve never been afraid of hard work.”

  She smiled. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

  “It’s good to hear you say that.”

  “I’ve been practicing.” She held the phone with both hands, wishing she were holding him instead. That plane from Denver couldn’t get here fast enough. “If I keep this up, I might actually get good at all this emotional stuff.”

  “I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “I just felt…desperate. Like nothing I could do would get through to you how much I need you.”

  “I know.” She sniffed and swiped tears from her eyes. “When I do get home, let’s plan a trip some where, just the two of us. We need to spend sometime together away from the business and the boys and everything else that gets in the way of just being together.”

  “That sounds like a great idea.”

  She cleared her throat, heart racing again at the thought of what she was about to propose. “And I want to take sometime just for me, too. Time when I don’t have to be the boys’ mother or the office manager or any of those other roles. I need to spend sometime finding out who I really am, down inside.”

  “Do you have anything in particular in mind?”

  “I was thinking…maybe a bird-watching trip. I know it’s a little crazy, but I’ve taken it up since I’ve been here and, well, all that time sitting outside, being still and looking at nature—it’s very soothing. It gives me time to listen to the thoughts in my head, instead of drowning them out with all the to-do lists I’m used to keeping in there.”

  “All right. That sounds fair. I was thinking, too—there’s a counselor in the next building over. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her. I mean, we might need some help if we’re really going to do things differently.”

  “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” She sagged onto the bed, relief leaving her weak in the knees. That her stand-on-his-own-two-feet husband was willing to accept outside help told her how serious he was about fixing their problems.

  “We can do this,” he said.

  “We can.” She smiled into the phone. If she was going to start doing things differently, now was as good a time as any to begin. “Tom?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you. I really do.” That wasn’t so hard. With practice, the words would probably roll off her tongue. But she would never take them for granted. Fate was still out there listening, and she had too much to lose if she screwed things up this time.

  After she’d hung up the phone, she wandered out onto the front porch, Sadie at her heels. She wanted to escape the house for at least a little while. Pinecones and broken branches littered the front yard, which glistened wetly in the sunlight. Birdsong lent a tropical feel to the setting. She picked up her father’s binoculars from the table by the spot where she’d often settled his wheelchair. He would spend hours here, scanning the treetops, never tiring of studying the behavior and habits of the birds.

  The binoculars were old, heavy metal with the black paint worn through to silver where his fingers had gripped them so many hours. She fit her fingers over these worn places, and it was as if he was there with her, the way he was when she was small. He’d hold his hands over hers and show her how to bring the glasses to her eyes and adjust the focus.

  A sharp cry, almost human, startled her, and she almost dropped the glasses. When she turned toward the sound, she found a crow, perched in the azalea bush beside the porch. It stared at her with one bright, intelligent eye, head tilted to one side, studying her. She held her breath, fascinated, until it spread its wings and jumped into the air. She watched it soar higher and higher.

  She raised the glasses and followed it over the tops of the tall pines, feeling her own spirits lift. It was as if her father had given her one last gift—this assurance that she, too, would find what she needed to be whole. That she would discover her own way to soar.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6424-7

  THINGS I WANT TO SAY

  Copyright © 2010 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holder of the individual works as follows:

  THINGS I WANT TO SAY

  Copyright © 2010 by Cindi Myers

  THE BIRDMAN’S DAUGHTER

  Copyright © 2006 by Cindi Myers

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