Chapter Sixteen Bonnie

Chapter Sixteen

Bonnie

“Bonnie?” My mama pushed open the door to my room. The second I saw her, I crumpled where I sat. Tears streaked down my face. My shoulders shook as I remembered the look on Cromwell’s face as I told him about me. It was devastation, pure and simple.

And when he wouldn’t go…when he wanted to stay by my side…

Arms wrapped around me. I sank into my mama and cried like I’d never let myself cry before. She ran her hand down my back, letting me have this moment. Letting me exorcise this pain. I cried and cried until my tears ran dry. My throat and chest ached with the purge. Mama lifted my chin, and I looked into her eyes.

She had been crying with me.

“Baby,” she whispered. She ran her hand along my cheek. “I never knew you liked him.” I nodded and looked out of my window. At the students going about their everyday life, not a care in the world. Not living in the pain of hurting someone they’d grown to care deeply for. Feeling the void in my room since Cromwell left.

“It’s not fair.” I sighed and felt the palpitation flutter in my chest. The feeling no longer surprised me. It was part of my life. “Why did God put him in my path now? When it’s too late? When I might not make it?” I looked at my mama. “Why would He be so cruel?”

Mama sat on the end of my bed. “Maybe he was brought into your life to help make it better. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe he was brought in at exactly the right time. When you will need people you love around you most.”

If my heart could have raced, it would have right then. But I shook my head. “Mama…” A cave formed in my stomach. “What if they don’t find me a heart?” I saw her flinch just at the thought. Seeing those I loved ripped into pieces by my illness was the worst thing of all. The sight of them falling apart was the cruelest kind of torture. And I’d let Cromwell slip through. “What if I let him in completely, and then I don’t make it? How could I do that to him? How could I hurt him that way?”

Mama held my hand. “Don’t you think that should be his choice, sweetheart? You’ve already got so much weighing on your soul. Don’t add making decisions for him to the list.”

I imagined letting him in. I thought of the weeks and months ahead, not fought alone but with him by my side.

The suffocating darkness of fear was drowned out by the light.

“Your papa will be here now, sweetheart. Let’s get your things and go home.”

I rested on the bed as my mama and papa took care of my things. Mama waited in her car as I shut my dorm room and walked outside. My papa was driving my car home.

“I’ve called Easton,” Mama said. I took a deep breath. She squeezed my hand. “We have to tell him, Bonnie. There’s no more holding it off.”

I ran my hand over my sternum. “I don’t think I can…it will break his heart.”

Mama said nothing. Because she knew it too. But it had to be done. She pulled away from the campus and drove toward home.

As we turned into our driveway, I looked up at the white house with its wraparound porch. Mama’s hand squeezed mine. “You okay, Bonnie?”

“Yeah.” I got out of the car and walked slowly to the front door. I went to go up to my room, but my mama put her hand on my arm. “We’ve made up the office as your room now, sweetheart.” I shook my head. I remembered now. Stairs were causing me too much of a problem. And as things got worse, equipment would have to be brought to the home. My room needed to be accessible.

Mama led me to what was once my papa’s office. I smiled on seeing my electric piano in the corner. I absently noticed the lilac color of the walls and the carpet at the end of the bed. But I was moving to my piano and sitting on its stool before I’d even blinked.

I lifted the lid and started playing. I felt all the tension leave me as the music filled the room. I didn’t even know what I was playing at first; I just played whatever was in my heart. My fingers were clumsy, the agility in them fading. But I kept playing. I wouldn’t stop until I had no choice.

As the last note faded out, I smiled. Opening my eyes, I noticed my mama standing in the doorway. “What was that? It was beautiful.”

I felt my cheeks burning. “It was something Cromwell wrote.” I had memorized the few bars he had composed in the coffee house. It was my new favorite.

“Cromwell composed that?”

“He’s a genius, Mama. And I’m not just saying that or exaggerating. He can pretty much play any instrument. It’s why he’s at Jefferson. Lewis invited him and gave him a scholarship. He was something of a child prodigy. Some say he’s a modern-day Mozart.”

“Then now I see it.” She joined me on the stool.

“What?”

“Why you’ve fallen for him.” Her arm linked in mine. “The way you love music. You were always going to find someone who loves it too.”

A smile crept on my lips, but it quickly fell. “He’s kinda damaged, Mama. He has all this talent, but he doesn’t like to play or compose. Something holds him back.”

“Then maybe you should help him find the love he’s lost.”

I blew out a breath. “I can’t believe you’re approving of him.” I thought of his tattoos and piercings, his permanently dour expression. “He’s not exactly the typical boy next door most mamas want for their baby girl.”

“No, he’s not.” She bumped my arm. “But the way he was fighting for you, didn’t want to leave you, tells me everything I need to know. Obstacles in life sometimes make you look at the world in ways you never did before.”

“And what did it tell you?”

“That he’s fallen for you.”

I stared at my mama and shook my head. “I’m not sure that’s quite true. He can be cold and rude, even cruel at times…” But then I thought of how he held me last night. How he was so gentle. How he checked that I was okay. And I wondered…

“Yet despite it all, you’ve fallen for him.” Mama got up and kissed me on the head, leaving me sitting in silence on the piano stool. “Your papa is bringing your things in now.”

“Okay,” I said, as if by rote.

“Bonnie?” Mama asked. I looked up. “Do you want me to tell Easton?”

Fear of telling him left me paralyzed. But I shook my head, knowing it had to come from my lips. “I’ll tell him,” I said and felt the weight of the world bear down on me. Because the thought of Easton’s reaction scared me more than the heart failure itself.

* * *

“Bonn?” Easton walked into the office that was now my bedroom with a look of confusion on his face. He saw my piano and my bed. The walls, the carpet. He stopped dead. He was still wearing his clothes from last night. He must have come straight from Charleston. “What’s going on?”

I could tell by the look of apprehension on his face that he already had an idea. “Come and sit by me,” I said, patting the bed.

“No,” he said, his voice tight. He started breathing deeply. “Just tell me, Bonn. Please…” The fear in his voice almost destroyed me.

I stared at him. At his long blond hair and bright blue eyes. “I wasn’t in England this summer for a music seminar, East.” He stood still and listened. “I was there seeing a team of doctors about my heart.” His nose flared. I needed to just tell him quickly. “There’s nothing more to be done, East.” I inhaled, forcing myself not to break. “My heart is failing.”

It was slow, but second by strained second, Easton’s face contorted into one that was racked with pain. “No,” Easton said.

“I’m on the transplant list. But I’ve had to move home. My body is getting weak, East. I’m deteriorating fast. It made sense to come home so I’m safe.” I didn’t add the list of possible threats that came with heart failure. He knew them as well as I did. Both of us were too terrified to say them aloud.

“How long?” he asked, voice hoarse, thick with emotion.

“I don’t know. The doctors don’t give a specific time frame, but—”

“How long?” he asked, more panicked.

“Maybe three months. Two at the least, four if I’m lucky. Though it could be sooner.” I got off the bed. Easton stayed where he was, like he was soldered to the floor. I stood before my twin, my best friend, and put my hands on his arms. “But a heart might turn up, East. We have to pray that one comes.”

Easton stared down at me, but his stare was vacant. “East.” I tried to put my hand on his face. Easton moved back, and back again, until he ran out of my room. I tried to chase after him but he was too quick. He burst through the front door and out into his waiting truck.

“East,” I tried to shout as I watched him pull away, tires screeching, onto the road, but fatigue stole my voice. My mama was behind me, a worried expression on her face. But I didn’t say anything. I was too tired.

No matter how much sleep I had of late, no amount would ever make me feel replenished. And after last night, after staying up with Cromwell, and telling both him and Easton today, I was wiped out.

I climbed under my comforter and laid my head down on my pillow. I closed my eyes and blocked everything out but the will to sleep.

It wasn’t a surprise that the image of Cromwell’s face managed to sneak through. “I don’t want to go,” I heard his voice say.

It made me smile. Because as much as I prayed I’d be strong enough for the battle ahead, having Cromwell along with me made the task that much less daunting.

I felt like I was in a waking dream when he held my hand. When his soft lips brushed against mine and I heard him play the piano so perfectly beside me. In such a short time, the memories he had given me had become the most treasured in my weak heart.

And it would be these memories, and the ghost of his lips against mine, that would inspire me to fight that much harder.