He regards me with a mixture of concern and compassion. “I understand. I’m sorry about your husband. If there’s anything I can do . . .”
“You’ve already done everything I could ever ask for. You saved my dog last night. My son is on his way here now, and I’m so glad I won’t have to deliver more bad news.”
Appearing confident that I’m not going to collapse again, Dr. Payne lets go of my arm and steps back. “How old is your son?”
“Seventeen. My neighbor is driving him from Halifax right now. I told them to come straight here. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is. You can stay as long as you like.”
“Thank you.” I squat down and reach a hand through the open door of the crate to stroke Winston again. “How long before we can take him home?”
Dr. Payne kneels beside me to look in on him. “He’s doing well, but I’d still like to keep him until tomorrow. He’ll probably sleep most of the day anyway because of the pain medication, but we’ll aim to get him on his feet and walking by this evening.”
“This evening. That’s great.”
Dr. Payne rises and turns to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few other patients to see. Don’t be shy about asking Ruby if you need anything.”
“I won’t. And thanks again . . . for everything.”
He looks at me intently for a moment before he turns away and disappears into one of the private examination rooms.
“He’s an excellent doctor,” my mother says. “He’s kindhearted. You can just tell.”
“I agree.” It feels good to know that Winston is in such good hands.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mom and I sit in mournful silence as we wait for Zack to arrive, until she asks a pertinent question.
“Have you given any thought to where you’d like to bury Alan?”
I’m so tired right now. The compulsion to close my eyes and fall asleep is overpowering. Still, I do my best to stay awake and face this. “Not really. We had our wills drawn up, so at least we took care of that, but we never decided on a cemetery. At our age, we figured it wasn’t a terribly urgent question.”
“Well . . .” She gazes wistfully through the glass doors to the central treatment area, where the technicians are busy at their workstations. “Death comes to us all eventually. I’m just sad that it came to Alan so soon. I loved him like my own son, you know.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “I know you did, Mom. He loved you too.”
After Alan lost his own mother to cancer, he was never close to his father or brother. We were the only family he had.
“He couldn’t do enough for me,” Mom adds with a tear in her eye, and I see that she’s remembering all the times Alan raked the leaves in her yard, cleaned out the gutters, or fixed a leaky faucet in the kitchen. He even replaced the roof on her shed, and whenever she had car troubles, he was the first person she called.
I gently scratch behind Winston’s ears. “I do know one thing for sure. Alan would have wanted to be close to us, and Lunenburg is our hometown. It’s where Dad is buried, in the cemetery overlooking the Back Harbour, and that’s where you’ll want to be buried someday—right next to him. That’s where I want to be buried too. So maybe we should lay him to rest there, in our family plot.”
Mom nods with approval. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. It’s the right thing. So it’s decided then?”
I let out a breath. “Yes. That means we can have the funeral here in town.”
She squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you want to do it here, Abbie, because I know all the right people to call. I’ll help you take care of the arrangements. You’re not alone, dear.”
Her words comfort me momentarily, until I realize that for the first time since I walked down the aisle to marry Alan, I am alone again. There’s no escaping it.
After about a half hour, I hear the bell over the door jangle, and I know that Zack and Maureen have arrived. I leave my mother with Winston and step outside to the reception area.
As soon as Zack sees me, all the color drains from his face. He moves toward me, straight into my arms, and we both cry over Alan.
“I can’t believe this is real,” Zack says. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I can’t believe it either.” We continue to hold and comfort each other.
Maureen enters and hugs me too.
“I brought you a casserole and a homemade pie from my freezer,” she says gently, stepping back.
“Thank you so much. You’re a good friend.” I wipe a hand under my runny nose.
“Mom, you look awful,” Zack says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Only then do I realize how shocked he must be to see my black-and-blue face, though Dr. Payne didn’t even flinch or mention it when he saw me.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “This is nothing, really. Why don’t you come back and visit with Winston? He’ll be so happy to see you. But you should prepare yourself. He’s sedated and weak. Let’s not get him too excited. It’s important to speak in quiet tones.”
Ruby waves at us to go on back. Soon we are crowded around Winston’s cage, and his tail is thumping again. When he sniffs Zack’s hands, Winston’s eyes grow wet, and I’m convinced that he’s weeping with happiness and we are seeing tears of love.
At the same time, I sense that the excitement is too much for him, and I suggest that we leave him alone to rest.
Besides, we have a lot to talk about. There’s going to be much to do over the next few days. I’m not sure how I’m going to get through it all, and I feel tired again, as if my body weighs a ton.
After Maureen returns to Halifax, Zack, Mom, and I get through the day together, leaning on one another through all the decisions and painful tasks that must be dealt with—visiting the funeral home and choosing a casket, speaking to the minister at our church, and setting a date and time for the service and burial.
We then return home and are content to eat the casserole and pie Maureen cooked. I’m so grateful for it. After a brief rest, I begin to make phone calls to family and friends to let them know about Alan’s funeral. I call Alan’s father first, and he informs me that he already bought his plane ticket. I try not to get worked up about it because he’s not my favorite person in the world, but it’s his son’s funeral, and he has a right to be there.
The rest of the phone calls to friends and colleagues are equally difficult, especially when I’m forced to listen to expressions of shock and dismay over what they had seen on television the night before. Apparently, video footage of Alan’s car wreck was broadcast on all the local news programs and the internet, and it was revealed that Alan—a prominent, respected Halifax cardiologist—had been driving under the influence. It’s a dark and dirty scandal I can’t bear to stomach.
Though everyone I speak to is sympathetic, I’m deeply ashamed of what occurred. I want to shield Zack from what’s being said about his father in the news, but it’s not possible unless I take his phone away from him, and I don’t want to do that. I need to let him face this and do my best to talk him through it. But that’s not easy, because I have no idea why Alan did what he did or what he was doing on the road that night. The question eats away at me, on top of everything else.
Later that night, my sister, Carla; her husband, Braden; and their two young daughters arrive from New Brunswick.
Carla and I have always been close, and as soon as our eyes meet in my mother’s foyer, we step into each other’s arms.
“I’m so glad you’re finally here,” I say.
“Me too.”
A short while later, we manage to steal a moment alone together in my bedroom, away from the children. I tell her everything about the accident and the excruciating and impossible pain of watching Alan die and being helpless to stop it.
“I don’t understand how it happened,” I say, bowing my head and slowly shaking it. “How could he have gotten behind the wheel if he was drinking? I never imagined he would ever do something like that.”
Carla rubs my knee. “I know. It’s a shock. But there’s got to be some sort of explanation.”
My eyes lift. “But how will I ever know? He was alone at the time, and no one expected him to be on the road to Lunenburg. I’ve searched through all my messages, and I’ve checked his phone. I’ve talked to his colleagues. No one knows why he was coming here, let alone why he was drunk on a Sunday.”
I lean toward the bedside table to pull a tissue from the box and blow my nose. “I’m so angry with him right now. Part of me hates him for what he did to us. For what he did to our family.”
Carla says nothing. She simply nods and provides the sympathetic ear I so desperately need.
“At the same time, I don’t want to think about him that way—as the drunk driver who ran me off the road. I want to remember him as the wonderful father and devoted husband that he was. That’s how I want Zack to remember him too.”
“He will, and you will too, when the shock of this wears off.”