Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“That’s like what Norah said too,” she says, and I can feel Norah’s eyes dart to my face.
I meet her gaze, and her lips turn down in a frown. She feels guilty, but she has no damn reason to. I shake my head at her, silently saying, It’s okay.
Because it is okay. It’s more than okay. Norah has been nothing but good to my daughter. Nothing but kind and caring and maternal to a little girl who has never had a mother figure in her life.
I can’t be anything but grateful for her.
“Maybe heaven will be just like here,” Summer whispers. “With you and Norah and the stars up in the sky. Except, I think maybe I won’t hurt like this. Right, Dad?”
I know my sweet girl tries hard to put on a brave face. I’ve witnessed her do this for years, and I’ve always tried to make her feel like she didn’t have to. But that’s not my Summer. Her soul is pure, and her heart never wants anyone else to feel bad.
And right now, this is her way of telling me she knows what’s coming. She knows she doesn’t have much time left here on earth.
My eyes sting and my throat burns and I mash my lips together, willing myself to put on a brave face like Summer always does.
“Right, baby.” My voice is ragged. “When you’re in heaven, you won’t hurt at all.” Me, on the other hand—I’m going to hurt like hell.
“Dad!” Summer shouts then, her sweet voice the only thing that could break the barrier of my thought’s misery. “A shooting star! I saw it! It went streaking by so fast! I can’t believe it’s so fast!”
“I saw it too,” Norah cheers from the other side.
“That was so cool! I want to see another one!”
“Keep looking at the sky, then,” I cajole. “They’ll come.”
The three of us lie there for who knows how long, staring at the sky, waiting for falling stars to shoot by. Summer gabs and Norah laughs, and I listen to the two of them like there’ll be a test on their every word. And I take a million mental pictures of my baby’s face as she giggles and smiles up at the sky.
It’s a long time before their conversation slows, and Summer’s labored breathing eases to a steady rhythm with sleep. Norah and I stay there for several minutes even after that, willing the silence and the sky and the heavens to bring us a miracle both of us know won’t come.
I swipe a hand down my face, removing the remnants of the few tears I’ve allowed to slip from my lids. I know my heart is breaking, but surprisingly, I know Norah’s is too. Just as I expected, she and Summer fell in love with each other hard and fast, and I’m not in the least bit confused about why.
They’re both bright and bubbly and special. And they both make me feel like I could bench-press the entire world if they needed me to.
I climb to my feet slowly, stopping only to give Summer a gentle kiss on the cheek on the way up. I’ve spent so long avoiding touching her that each precious touch and kiss I get now is priceless.
Norah follows suit, soundlessly grabbing Summer’s oxygen tank for me as I scoop her into my arms and carry her toward the house. We walk all the way instead of getting her chair, hoping she’ll be able to stay asleep until she reaches the comfort of her bed.
Her body feels unbearably light, and her skin is growing paler and paler by the day. With her curly blond hair, blue eyes, and white gown, she looks truly angelic. Like she already belongs in heaven with a halo over her head.
I fucking hate it.
Norah attaches the oxygen tank to the stand behind the bed, and I settle Summer into the soft center of her mattress, adjusting the tubes in her nose. She moans slightly but settles when I step back.
Norah’s soft hand rubs at my back comfortingly as we leave Summer’s room, shutting the door behind us and taking what now feels like a long walk out to the grass to collect all the blankets.
It’s only then that I notice the basket of food, untouched as of yet.
“Do you want to sit for a minute?” I ask, placing a gentle hand on Norah’s elbow to stop her frantic gathering. Her shoulders sink an inch and then two more as they fall away from her ears.
“Yeah. Let’s sit for a minute.”
Reaching out purposely, I give her a steady hand as she sinks down to the blanket, and I follow her down, sitting beside her and stretching my legs out in front of me.
I lean back to grab the picnic basket, and Norah’s eyes light up when I open it, revealing the pack of cupcakes I picked up from Earl’s when we were there a couple days ago. “Oh my God, yes, chocolate. I’m in desperate need of chocolate.”