“I do love you,” he said. “There was never anyone for me but you and never will be—start to finish.”
My heart smiled until it reached my face. “I love you, too.”
Summer 2006
Westley
A lot had happened to them in a dozen years, him and his wife. Four years ago, they’d celebrated a quarter century together while several of their loved ones surrounded them, raising their glasses in a champagne toast. Michelle—Dr. Hamilton now—had arrived the day before along with her husband, Sturgill, but sans their twins, Charity and Faith, who’d recently turned three. Julie and Dean had come. Paul and DiAnn. Surprising them had been the arrival of his sister Heather and her husband Nathaniel. They’d moved a decade ago to Iowa, of all places, where they bought a farm. Westley kept waiting for Nate to plow up his corn and replace it with a baseball field, but so far, he hadn’t.
Friends, such as Trev and Marilyn along with several others they’d acquired over the years, heralded a cheer to the next twenty-five, which left Westley to wonder if they’d live to see it. He doubted it, not with his ticker and his inability to follow much of what the doctor ordered. Medical people were like that; never listening to their doctors or their own bodies. At least he’d quit smoking after they’d married. So, there was that.
Yes, a lot had changed. He owned several of the drugstores that had comprised Miss Justine’s empire. Not all of them, but a few, scattered about the towns in their part of the world. Miss Justine had seen to that in her will. Losing her to God, even with its benefits, had been one of the hardest seasons in his life. But she had died at the spry age of ninety-four, he reminded himself. Elderly, but still active and vivacious in her wit. She’d slipped away during the night, her head resting against a satin pillowcase. Ro-Bay had found her first thing on a Monday morning, when the floors needed mopping.
Allison had taken it hard, perhaps harder than when her own mother died a few years later. Unexpectedly, of course—she was only seventy-two—but so much of life tended to come unplanned and unwelcomed, he’d come to realize. Thankfully, both of his parents were still kicking, although they’d slowed down considerably and stopped driving across the state for any reason whatsoever.
The past two years had skipped by. Michelle and Sturgill bought a home in North Carolina after East Coast Medical & Research—a new state-of-the-art center in Wilmington—accepted her application as one of their prestigious research physicians within the field of gynecology. Ali had bemoaned the fact that they were “so far away,” but Westley had been grateful that the move had, at the very least, removed Michelle from such proximity to Cindie.
Now, he was at a pharmaceutical convention held in Charlotte, which had given him an excuse to visit his daughter and her family, not to mention to peek at the research center.
“I’m still upset Mom couldn’t come,” Michelle told him after she met him in the expansive and gleaming lobby where air conditioning brought blessed relief from the oppressive heat outside.
“Me, too,” he said with a smile. “But she chose to wait when I told her I was driving to Charlotte instead of flying.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry. She’s staying busy while I’m away.”
“Doing?”
“She and Ro-Bay planned to do some canning and—okay—I think your mother wasn’t totally upset about having some time to herself.”
Michelle laughed. “You don’t think she has a boyfriend, do you?”
“Ro-Bay?” he teased. “Nah …”
“Dad,” Michelle said with a laugh, then led him to a group of elevators where she pushed the UP button while Westley studied his daughter.
“You look nice,” he said, admiring her.
Michelle blushed. “Dad.”
“You do. Very professional. Hair pulled back. Stylish slacks and top. Lab coat with your name stitched in navy blue so nice there …” He pointed. “Mom will be proud when I tell her.”
She shook her head as the door opened and they stepped in. “Y’all are still coming in a couple of months for the girls’ birthday, right?” She pushed the floor button and the doors closed.
“We wouldn’t miss it. And we want to thank you for having the girls so close to Thanksgiving.”
Michelle dropped her hands into her lab coat pockets. “Aren’t you funny? Hey, Dad, I was thinking we could go to lunch after I give you the tour. The food here’s good but if you want to find a nearby restaurant …”
Having never had hospital food he liked or enjoyed, he opted for the nearby restaurant.
“I know the perfect place,” she told him. “Soul food …”
“I like it already.”
She escorted him down a polished hallway in blinding shades of white to a set of double doors that glided open after she swiped her ID card. The lab was typical, although clearly new. For the next half hour, Westley smiled a lot and shook hands with his daughter’s coworkers. Along the way, as they walked through the maze of countertops and medical supplies, Michelle explained the work her team was doing in the field of infertility. “It’s exciting stuff, Dad,” she said, then slid out of her lab coat and hung it on a hook inside her office.
“I’m impressed,” he said, meaning it. He was even more impressed with the number of awards displayed along the bookshelves. Despite her beginnings, his daughter had done well.
“Hey, guys,” she told her team as they returned to the lab. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
He ventured to ask about Cindie over massive plates of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a mound of green beans. “Talk to her much?”
“Rarely,” she admitted, then reached for her glass of sweet iced tea.
“Is there a problem?”
“I’m not going to say a problem. But,
