37. Angie

Chapter 37

Angie

I n the next couple of weeks, Papa declined far faster than the hospice nurse had expected. He didn’t have enough strength to leave his bed, now relying on Mama and me to get him to the bathroom and around the house. Gabby and Ryan made sure my shifts got covered and forced me to take a break.

Papa dozed off and on as his pain ebbed and flowed with his med schedule.

On the rare occasions he requested to leave the confines of his room, we helped him into his La-Z-Boy, where he’d stay for the rest of the day, sometimes opting to sleep there where we could keep the fire stoked at night. Even with the summer heat, his body couldn’t produce enough of it to keep him warm, and nothing made Papa happier than sitting in his home next to his fire.

Lili, Blake, and Maddie had stopped by a few days ago. He’d said hi to the babies coming closer to their due date, reminding the boys of how much their Papa Tony loved them. But then Lili had been put on bed rest. That didn’t stop Renee from checking in every day. Rumors all but confirmed she was the giving angel in our town, the one leaving money in mailboxes and paying off bills for those with money troubles. I had no doubt she was the reason we were still financially afloat. But even Renee didn’t have enough money to keep our ship from sinking.

For the most part, Papa remained lucid, but as the cancer took over more of his body, he crept back in time. Sometimes, he recognized both me and Mama. Sometimes only Mama.

I’d moved our green-velvet wingback chair into his room. I sat in it next to Papa. The TV flashed against their log pole bed in the dark room. Night had descended in the middle of the old Clint Eastwood Western we’d been watching. Mama’s perfume and Papa’s aftershave still hung in their room, now underlying scents to medicine and sickness.

A young Eastwood’s face squinted against the sun, beads of sweat on his forehead, but my mind didn’t follow the dialogue. It cycled back to Dan’s attempted proposal. I should be more upset about losing him. Now all hope was lost. Without Remi’s mask of lies, I went back to being a boring Idaho farm girl. Too insignificant to love.

Which made me suspicious of proposal number two, Remi’s. However, his heart seemed to be in the right place. He’d taken over running the farm, providing me and Mama the ability to sit with Papa.

I still hadn’t given him an answer. True, he knew the real me and didn’t balk at my oddities. But his love, his proposal, couldn’t be trusted. No matter what he said, he’d do anything to own this land, even get himself locked in a monotonous, loveless marriage.

Would the trade-off be worth it? Do I risk losing my land and potential happiness to give Papa his dream? Marriages could be annulled, and Papa would go to his grave believing I’d found my match.

I shoved my fingers through my hair and leaned my head against the chair. Making a decision of this magnitude in my emotional state wasn’t the wisest choice. Yet each day drew me closer to the biggest loss I’d ever faced. If I hesitated too long, I’d lose my chance.

Light from the TV illuminated the patched hole where I’d shoved the doorknob through the sheetrock in a teenage fit—Mama hadn’t let me go to a New Year’s Eve party because she’d wanted me to stay home and be with the family on the last New Year’s before Jared went to college.

If only I’d known then what I do now. Time always ran out, and past moments could never be recaptured. I’d stayed in that night, but I pouted in my room, not even coming out to do the countdown with Jared, Mama, and Papa.

Now this December, I’d celebrate the end of this year without Papa. I choked on the tears in my throat, blinking at the water along the base of my eyes. I’d been so caught up in saving the farm, in Remi and Smoot … how many moments with Papa had I let slip by?

I usually couldn’t stand boredom, and now I wished I could have it as my constant companion.

Boredom implied the absence of something. Absence of grief, absence of big life changes like a parent dying, selling your childhood home, welcoming new lives into the world. Not to mention, Remi dropped a missile in the middle of my life by telling me he loved me and proposing to me.

Yes, I could use a dose of boredom in my life.

Holding onto Papa’s hand, I leaned over on the white down comforter. The sounds of Mama cooking in the kitchen echoed in the room. I closed my eyes …

The smell of the barn, Mae, the haystack in the warm night, fireworks exploding in the sky. Angie … I love you.

Rappelling. A wall of rock behind me. Arid dirt clouding into the air. Remi’s bass voice resonating in my chest. Marry me.

The lid from a tin can peeled back, and I looked inside to see my life unfold as if I’d accepted his proposal. A white house on my land, and a couple of children playing with us and our puppy in the yard, all the while Mae trotted in a pasture covered in bright green grass. Remi stood in the front yard. Angie.

“Angie …” Remi’s voice morphed into someone else’s.

My world moved back and forth.

“Angie.” Another sharp whisper cut through my mind.

I opened my eyes and shot up, hitting something solid with my head on the way.

“Ow!”

My eyes locked on the owner of the voice.

“Dude, I think you broke my jaw.” Jared rubbed his chin, opening and closing his mouth. Decked out in a black leather jacket with chains hanging from his pockets, thick eyeliner, and painted, black nails. Dark leather draped over his Nine Inch Nails T-shirt, half tucked into his torn, acid-washed jeans.

Ignoring the soft pain thrumming in my own head, I smiled. Some things never changed, and Jared was one of them. I threw my arms around him and squeezed. “You came.”

His gaze locked onto Papa’s sleeping form. “Mama called. I found a couple of days to come home and say my goodbyes.” His voice broke on the last word, and he wiped his palms along his bottom eyelids.

More tears gathered in my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I hated that word. Goodbye. I never wanted to say it again.

“What about your career? You’ve fought so hard for this.” He barely scraped by making a living on his music. This tour was their first big-ish break, playing covers for concerts nationwide.

Papa and Jared hadn’t always agreed. They used to get into epic fights once Jared finally told Papa he wouldn’t be taking over the farm or going to college.

Rifts once created were mended at the onset of Papa’s first battle with cancer. “I’ll have other tours, but I only have one dad.” He ruffled my hair like he used to, and I batted his hand away. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s in a lot of pain. On the days I can convince him to take his meds, he sleeps a lot.”

A knock sounded, and Remi shoved the door open. He wore leather gloves, and his hair was disheveled; he hadn’t even bothered to remove his muddy boots. “Angie.” His whisper was insistent. “Blake called and—”

He stopped midsentence, looking from Papa to me to Jared. I gestured toward the exit, and Jared followed me, closing the door behind him. It didn’t latch and rebounded open, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Energy buzzed around Remi, an urgency in how he looked at me. “They’re taking Lili to the hospital. She’s in labor.”

“Crap dammit.” I used Lili’s custom phrase and paced in front of Remi, trying to gain control of my breathing. “It’s too soon.” I couldn’t get the worst-case scenarios of the babies I’d lost born at thirty weeks. “Why wouldn’t Blake message me directly?” I patted my pockets in search of my phone. But I didn’t find it. “Maybe they’ll be able to administer a tocolytic to stop her labor.”

“He tried. When you didn’t answer, he called me. I hopped on the four-wheeler and came straight here.”

Jared stepped in between us, forcing his way into my visual field. “Wait. Lili’s having her babies! Uncle Jared can’t wait to meet them.”

He had no idea how dire this situation was. In our sparse conversations over the past year, I’d told him about Lili’s pregnancy. He’d been present at Blake and Lili’s wedding and been gone ever since. I didn’t think that qualified him to be considered an uncle, no matter what his brother-like relationship with Lili looked like in high school.

I should stay with Papa, as I didn’t want to miss his potential last moments in this life, but Lili needed me. Long ago, I promised her I’d be there for her babies when they were born. These babies would for sure be admitted to the NICU.

Their lungs weren’t ready yet.

I had to be there.

Mama came into the family room from the kitchen. “Go on. I’ll stay here with Tony. You make sure those boys are all good.” She must have read my inner conflict. Mama stepped forward and interlocked her elbow with Remi and glanced at Jared. “Remi, Jared, and I will take care of anything here. You have nothing to worry about. Your Papa should be fine until you get home, and we’ll call if anything changes.”

I gave her a trembling smile and darted upstairs into my room, throwing off my clothes, grabbing my scrubs, and yanking them on. I slipped on my white tennis shoes and sprinted down the stairs. Remi and Jared stood by the door, Jared with keys in his hands.

“I’m driving.” He opened the door and held out his hand, waiting for me to lead the way. “By the sounds of it, you haven’t been getting enough sleep. Remi and I both decided we wouldn’t let you get behind the wheel. Besides, Uncle Jared has to be there for his nephews.”

Apparently, they’d taken care of introductions. However, it wouldn’t be hard for Remi to identify my musician brother with all the pictures we have of him in the house.

“Fine.” I glared over my shoulder at Remi who stood in the illuminated doorway. I continued down the front steps to Jared’s beat-up, black 5.0 Mustang. “As long as Uncle Jared stops referring to himself in the third person.”

Fast food bags and soda cups spilled out of the door when I opened it. The interior light reflected off the McDonald’s, Chick-fil-A, and Wendy’s bags. An unmistakable scent of pot wafted into the air, now freed from his Mustang’s interior.

“Ugh. Jared, you’re a pig.” My gaze automatically went to the pigpen. Calling Jared a pig was an insult to them. “Promise me you’re not high.”

“Sorry, bruh. I live in my car, okay.” He shoved his foot on the accelerator before he closed his door. “And of course I’m sober, you ninny.” He started the ignition, the back tires spinning in the gravel as we shot out of the driveway.