Forever, Plus One

by Sophie Love

  “Oh,” he said, simply, sitting down on the bed beside her. His posture looked completely defeated.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Emily managed, her voice cracking through her tears.

  Roy looked at her, his expression mirroring hers. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, and her tears streamed over his wizened fingers.

  “My darling,” he said, his voice cracking too. He began to sob.

  Emily gripped his hands where they lay against her cheeks. Her heart heaved.

  “Dad, you need to come back to America with us. There are amazing doctors over there, much more choices. No matter what it costs we will find you the best specialist.”

  “Emily Jane…” Roy said softly, the protest in his voice audible.

  “No,” Emily insisted. “I won’t hear anything about you thinking you’re putting me out, or wanting to be independent. Your health is far more important than pride. I can make some calls now.”

  She went to stand but felt Roy’s hand touch hers, urging her to sit and listen. She looked back and saw the expression in her father’s eyes. She half fell, half sat, landing back on the mattress heavily, a pressure of realization settling on her chest.

  “Dad,” she managed to say. “Is it going to be okay?”

  Her voice sounded like a child’s. A memory came back to Emily then, of her and Roy in this very same position after a particularly horrendous fight with Patricia. She’d asked the same question. Are you leaving? Is it going to be okay? And he had lied. He’d said he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d promised things were going to be okay. But they hadn’t been. He’d left, tearing a hole in her life that had only just begun to heal.

  This time, Roy didn’t lie. He didn’t put on his fake smile or his jovial voice—the one he’d used when she was young, the one he’d used with Chantelle all week. This time, he just shook his head.

  “I’ve seen the best specialists,” he told her calmly. “I have had second, third, and fourth opinions. There is nothing that can be done.”

  Emily’s heart broke. The pain was real, visceral, like nothing she’d ever felt before. She clutched her chest as a sob racked through her.

  Roy’s arms were around her in an instant. On the bed they held each other and wept for what felt like an eternity. Emily had never felt grief like it. Even in the darkest times of her youth when she had no idea whether Roy was dead or alive she had never felt anything like this. Even after losing Charlotte, because she had no ability to understand then what the years of grief would feel like, what toll the loss would take on her. But now she knew. Now she had experience. She had lived without Charlotte. She had lost Trevor. She knew all too well the pain losing her father would unleash upon her.

  “Do you know how long you have left?” Emily finally managed to say. She didn’t want to know the answer but at the same time felt compelled to know, to have all the facts.

  Roy’s embrace tightened in response. She could feel his body shaking with emotion as it pressed against hers, his bones more pronounced than ever.

  “A year,” he whispered. “At most.”

  Emily’s breath came in short, panicked puffs. This was unreal. This wasn’t happening. Her world was shattering around her.

  “You have to come back to Sunset Harbor with us,” Emily stammered. “I can’t leave you here alone. We have plenty of room, we can make you comfortable.”

  But Roy shook his head. In a kind, polite, yet firm voice, Roy said, “Emily Jane, I can’t. My life is here.”

  “But what am I going to do without you?” she gasped.

  Roy’s voice sounded in her ear, affirmative and confident. “You’re going to do what you did before. You’re going to live a rich, full, successful life, filled with happiness and joy.”

  Emily shook her head. There was no way. Losing her father so soon after finding him was the cruelest blow that fate had ever dealt her. She wanted to scream at the sky for burdening her with a life so filled with misery. Was there never to be an end to her agony?

  But it was Daniel’s words that came to her mind, that things do happen for a reason, that it may not feel like it at the time but every experience is to teach us a lesson.

  She finally moved from Roy’s embrace and looked at him. He seemed so small, so fragile. She realized then that the tables had turned. She’d been desperate for him to return to her and parent her in a way he’d failed to do in her young adult years. But now she could see that he needed her. She had to be the caregiver, the soother. Fate had brought them back together so she could care for Roy in his final months of life. It was time for her to step up and take control. To put her emotions aside for his benefit, as he had done for her after every fight with Patricia.

  Wiping the last tear from her eye, Emily took both of his hands in hers, filled with a maternal sense of protectiveness.

  “We can’t tell Chantelle,” she said.

  He nodded in agreement.

  She continued. “I will speak to Daniel once we’re home.”

  Roy nodded again. He seemed relieved that the decisions had been taken out of his hands. His secret must have been weighing on him so much.

  “And we’re buying you a phone,” Emily added with finality. “We’re speaking every single day from this point forward. We are going to write a lifetime’s worth of letters and postcards to each other. You are going to do all the things you were always too afraid to do and you’re going to send me photos of all of it. You’re going to travel the world. You’re going to document everything. Okay?”

  Through his sorrow, Emily saw Roy’s face brighten and lift.

  “You want your old man to join the amateur dramatics group at last?” he said, still able to find his humor in the darkness of the moment.

  “You’re going to be in the Christmas play,” Emily confirmed. “And you’re sending me a video of the whole thing.”

  Roy smiled. Emily felt a surge of confidence, of responsibility. To take any fear and unhappiness away from Roy was her new goal.

  She smiled back. Fate seemed to want to knock her back at every opportunity, but she was not going to let it defeat her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  “I wish we didn’t have to go home today,” Chantelle said sadly, looking up from her clock pieces.

  The family was sat at the dining table in the kitchen, half eating breakfast, half occupied in a variety of activities—Emily reading a book, Daniel a newspaper, and Chantelle and Roy their clock fixing. The child had become something of a expert at clock fixing, something Roy put down to her “nimble little fingers” and eagerness to learn.

  “I know,” Daniel said to her. “It’s gone by so quickly. But it will be nice to see Mogsy and Rain again, won’t it?”

  Chantelle nodded. “And the chickens.”

  “It’s been wonderful, Dad,” Emily added, echoing their sentiments.

  Roy nodded, giving her a knowing look that Emily knew neither Daniel nor Chantelle would be able to understand or even notice.

  Emily nibbled her plain waffle, filled with sadness. Roy had made them a feast for their final breakfast—a fry-up. There were stacks of different items, from beans to waffles, bacon to toast, scrambled eggs and fried eggs and poached eggs. Emily was just about able to sample a little bit of everything, but she did so with a heavy heart.

  “Is everything packed?” Roy asked then.

  Emily looked over at their cases lined up by the door and nodded. She desperately wanted to stay, particularly with the heart-breaking news of her father’s cancer diagnosis. But she also felt a sense of calm and strength now that she was taking on the parental role in their relationship. Something had shifted in her. The goodbye that was to soon be forced upon them by fate had changed her. She didn’t need Roy to parent her anymore or make up for lost time. She was strong, independent. Her role now was to love him to her maximum ability and make sure he lived his final months filled with happiness.

  They finished their breakfast and tidied up. Then there
was nothing left to do but load Roy’s car.

  As she climbed into the back seat beside Chantelle, Emily took one last lingering look at her father’s house. She would be back, she knew that much, but it still felt so poignant. When she’d arrived here she’d thought they had the luxury of decades of years stretching ahead of them. But that had been taken from her, cut back to just a dozen months. The number of times she would look upon this house was fewer than she could ever have realized.

  In the front seat, Daniel and Roy discussed sailing and boat care, chatting happily like the dear friends they were. Emily felt a pit of sadness in her stomach knowing she would be breaking the news to Daniel once they returned to Maine. Then she glanced at Chantelle. Roy’s impending death would devastate her more than anyone. She loved her Papa Roy. He was her hero. That fate would take him away from Emily was cruel enough, but to take him from Chantelle when she so desperately needed adult role models and long-lasting loving relationships was a tragedy.

  Emily fell into silence as she watched the world go by. The summer sun had vanished behind a layer of clouds today, and there was cold moisture in the air that hinted at rain. The weather had been so perfect while they’d been in England but now on the day they were leaving they were getting a small insight into the dreary weather the country was famed for.

  As they reached the airport, the rain began to fall. Daniel grabbed their cases from the trunk, racing them out of the rain and inside the building. Then he returned for Chantelle and grabbed her hand. They raced inside.

  Emily, on the other hand, felt no need to rush. The drizzle on her face felt cleansing. Roy, too, seemed serene as she looped her arm through his. They strolled together, neither in a rush, across the parking lot and into the building.

  Chantelle laughed when she saw them. “Mommy, your hair has gone all frizzy. And Papa Roy, look at your suit.”

  The old man glanced at the shoulders of his brown jacket that were now streaked dark with rain. “I am used to it,” he remarked, smiling.

  Chantelle threw her arms around him then. “I’m going to miss you!” she exclaimed.

  Emily watched on, her chest heavy with emotion. Roy and Chantelle embraced for a long, long time. As they did, Emily saw Chantelle transform into Charlotte. Another memory of another time, of a goodbye she had long ago forgotten. Then they let each other go, and it was Chantelle she saw again.

  Daniel and Roy embraced next. The affection they showed one another warmed Emily. They never felt any qualms about hugging in public, never showed any manly displays of awkward handshakes and back slaps. She smiled at them.

  Finally, it was Emily’s turn. The moment she’d been dreading had arrived.

  She held her father’s arms, just above the elbows, and looked deeply into his eyes. He adopted the same position. Something unspoken passed between them, an unconditional love, unique to them, that only they could understand and communicate.

  Roy’s eyes grew red and tears began to trickle down his cheeks. In response, Emily allowed her own tears to fall.

  “We’ll see each other again soon,” Roy said, his grip on Emily’s arms tightening.

  Emily couldn’t help but wonder whether they would, whether soon to her father meant something entirely different than it did to her. And anyway, she had instructed her father to enjoy every moment of his final months of life. He should be jetting off to Paris, not planning a trip to the inn.

  “Perhaps,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Or maybe you’ll be too busy surfing in Auckland, swimming with dolphins, scuba diving and paragliding.” She shrugged playfully.

  Roy’s tears continued to flow, but his face cracked into a smile.

  They hugged, holding each other as tightly as possible, so close it was almost painful. Emily had never felt so close to her father. It was as if his diagnosis had entirely eradicated any of her feelings of abandonment. There was no time now for her to hold onto any ill feeling toward him. There was nothing to be gained by holding onto it any longer. Every last unconscious ounce of resentment she’d ever felt left her body. She felt free. Light. A sense of clarity overcame her. A sense of gratitude.

  As her heart beat against her father’s she channeled her forgiveness into him. When they released each other and gazed once more into one another’s eyes, Emily knew that he understood. He had no need to feel guilt anymore. The past was forgiven; it was over. There was only the future now. And it was precious.

  She saw the change in his eyes as well. The weight he had carried around his neck like an albatross all those years, the guilt, the regret, all of it left him.

  Emily took a step back. Her arms fell from her father. His fell too as she stepped back again. Their gaze was locked. Then Emily grinned. Roy grinned too, his entire face lighting up.

  Emily turned on her heel, away from Roy and toward her family. She knew she would not look back at her father. Because if she never saw him again, that was the last memory she wanted of him.

  Forgiven.

  Unburdened.

  Loved.

  Happy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  The flight home was a bumpy, uncomfortable one. After hitting a pocket of turbulence, Baby Charlotte made her unhappiness known by making Emily throw up several times. Chantelle grew more irritable with every hour that passed. Emily assumed it was because she was upset about leaving Papa Roy, but she projected it at everything else—the movie being boring, the food not being tasty, there being no interesting pictures left to do in her coloring book. She whined and complained the whole time, and Daniel grew exhausted trying to keep her entertained.

  By the time they landed in Maine, Emily was thoroughly fed up. She was parched from a combination of dehydration, vomiting, and breathing the airplane’s recycled air. Unlike the journey out, she’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts she hadn’t managed to sleep at all, and so she was weary as well as nauseous. Adding Chantelle’s bad mood to the mix, and her nerves were frayed.

  Their bags took forever to appear on the carousel, during which time Chantelle needed the toilet, then complained of hunger, then needed the toilet once again. Daniel and Emily took it in turns to tend to her, but Emily was finding herself growing increasingly close to snapping. It wasn’t often either she or Daniel scolded Chantelle but her behavior since leaving England seemed to be deteriorating.

  They carried their cases through the airport. Chantelle’s strap broke and she tumbled to the floor, hitting her knee and elbow. She let out a bloodcurdling howl and lay sprawled in the middle of the floor.

  Emily buried her face in her hands. This was too much. Last time Chantelle had had to say goodbye to Papa Roy she’d had a meltdown. If she was going to act like the world had fallen in on her every time she had to say goodbye then how on earth was she going to get over his death? Emily shook the unpleasant thoughts from her mind and gritted her teeth. She heaved up Chantelle’s bag and then looked over her shoulder at Daniel. He was laden with cases.

  “Can you help her?” she asked.

  Daniel looked tired enough to collapse. He shot her an appealing glance but Emily wasn’t backing down. She didn’t have the patience right now to deal with a Chantelle tantrum.

  Thankfully, Daniel stepped up to the task. He went over to Chantelle and soothed her without paying too much attention to her overexaggeration. He rubbed her elbow briskly.

  “There, all better,” he said.

  Chantelle kept wailing but Daniel paid her no further attention, instead taking her by the hand and leading her gently along, trying to distract her by pointing out stores and all the American brands that they hadn’t seen for a week. Emily sighed, relieved the situation had been at least partly resolved.

  Out in the parking lot, they found their car and heaved all of the heavy bags into the trunk.

  “I’ll need to stop for coffee,” Daniel said as he got into the driver’s seat. “I’m exhausted.”

  From the passenger seat beside him, Emil
y touched his arm, communicating both sympathy and affection. In her car seat in the back, Chantelle continued to whine.

  Daniel started up the truck and drove them out of the airport parking lot. The traffic was very heavy and they almost immediately got into a slow-moving queue of cars.

  “How long will it take us to get home?” Chantelle asked, her voice morose.

  “Well, we’re currently going the same speed as an old lady on a bicycle,” Daniel said, wryly. “So hopefully in time for you to start college.”

  Emily smirked, but as she looked at Chantelle in the rearview mirror, she saw the child was not impressed with her father’s joke. She really was in a foul mood.

  “I’d better call the inn,” Emily said. “Let them know we’re running late.”

  She used her cell phone to dial the inn’s number. It rang for a long time before finally being answered by a voice she couldn’t immediately place.

  “Who’s that?” Emily asked, confused.

  “Emily? It’s Bryony.”

  Emily frowned. Why was Bryony on reception? “Where’s Lois?” she asked.

  There was a hesitation. Then Bryony said, “She’s just dealing with a guest at the moment. There was a bit of a problem with a double booking.”

  Emily’s frown grew deeper. “How?” she asked. “The booking system is all automatic thanks to your form. Shouldn’t double booking be impossible?”

  Another pause. “About that…” Bryony began, sounding guilty. “I kinda accidentally didn’t take down a test page that I’d made and there was still a link to it on the main site, so a couple of people booked through that page and we didn’t have a record of them coming, although we did take their money.”

  Emily was too stunned to speak. It took her a while to formulate a composed response. “How many is a couple?”

  “Like, the whole third floor...”

  Emily breathed deeply. “So twenty rooms in the inn have been double booked.”

  Beside her, she saw Daniel’s face turn sharply to look at her with surprise. She closed her eyes, trying to stay calm.