Page 17 of Last Wish Wedding

“I can stay with him,” Mac started. “But wouldn’t the hospital be the best place for him? Can’t they do something to make him better?”

“My heart’s shot, son. All they want to do at the hospital is stick you with needles, make noise, and feed you army rations. And you’re not exactly the nurse I had in mind,” Mr. Costigan started. “Anyway, that shot you gave me is starting to work. I need to head to the bathroom.”

He started to get up and both Mac and Kelsey stood to help him. “Take it slow, Mr. Costigan. I don’t want you to get dizzy with the pain medication.”

While Mr. Costigan was out of the room, Kelsey explained more of the hospice protocol to Mac. “If you or I, young and healthy, were experiencing heart failure, we’d call an ambulance. The emergency room would stabilize us and then fix whatever problem caused the heart failure in the first place. For your grandfather, though, there is no fixing the problem. It’s only going to keep happening, and constant visits to the ER would be painful and traumatic. Instead, hospice’s goal would be like what we did tonight. Make him comfortable and manage him at home. Not save his life but make what remains of it a peaceful experience.”

Once they got him settled again, he began to doze off in his favorite chair. Kelsey tucked a hand knitted afghan around his shoulders.

“Okay Mac, let me show you how to give him morphine if he needs it again tonight. I should get Noah home.” Kelsey demonstrated how much to drop under Costigan’s tongue and wrote down the instructions. He’d said very little since they arrived at the house, but did seem to be absorbing everything. She felt for him. This was a lot to be taking in all at once. “Call me if you need anything tonight and I can walk you through it. I’ll come over to check on him after I drop Noah off at school,” she tried to reassure him.

Mac lifted the still-sleeping Noah from the couch and helped her get him in the car. Noah had never opened an eye in the entire process.

“Thanks for everything, Kelsey,” Mac said, holding her car door open as she loaded her bag in the passenger side. “I don’t know how I can thank you for all of this. I still have a lot of questions…”

Even in the porch light, she could see his eyes well with tears. “I’ll be back in the morning. We can talk more then.” She touched his arm, and he nodded and closed her door as she settled into the driver’s seat.

No matter who you were, this part of life was hard. Kesley wiped at her own tears as she made her way home.

Mac sat in his grandfather’s study, the glow of his laptop the only light besides the gradually brightening eastern sky. He’d spent the night alternating between watching Truman sleep and searching online for private hospice care agencies, his mind churning with everything that needed to be done. The reality he’d been avoiding for months was finally staring him in the face.

His grandfather was dying.

He rubbed his tired eyes, glancing at the collection of family photos on the desk. There he was at his high school and college graduations, Truman beaming beside him. Others of his grandparents laughing together, smiling at each other as though they were the only two people in the world. Older pictures including his parents at family gatherings filled in the rest of the display. It was humbling to consider that soon, he would be all that’s left of his family.

The coffee maker in the kitchen beeped. Mac prepared two cups—black for himself, cream and sugar for his grandfather, just as he’d always taken it. When he returned to the living room, Truman was already awake, gazing out the window.

“Brought your coffee, Gramps.”

“About time.” Truman’s voice was stronger than last night but still carried an unfamiliar fragility. “Help an old man up? I want to watch the sunrise from the deck. It’s cold, but I want to be out there, just for a few minutes.”

Mac covered his grandfather’s shoulders with the afghan, then supported his elbow as they made their way outside. The sky was painting itself in shades of red and gold, the ocean reflecting the colors like scattered diamonds. It was truly beautiful.

“I’ve got some calls set up,” Mac said, settling into a chair beside Truman. “For care agencies. We can find someone to stay with you all of the time. I’ll get Johnson on it today.”

“Mac.” Truman’s hand found his arm. “I’m not afraid.”

“Well, I am.” The words escaped before Mac could stop them.

“I’ve had over ninety years, boy. Saw you grow into a fine man. Built something meaningful.” Truman took a sip of his coffee. “Only one thing left I want to see.”

Mac knew what was coming. “Gramps—”

“You’re lonely.” Truman’s voice was gentle but firm.

The sunrise painted the clouds crimson as Mac struggled to find words. “I’m fine on my own.”

“Are you?” Truman’s eyes held a knowing look.

“It’s complicated.”

“Life usually is.” Truman smiled. “But that’s the beauty of it.”

The statement didn’t need Mac’s reply, nor did he have one, so they sat in comfortable silence and watched the red sun climb higher over the Atlantic. An old saying moved through Mac’s thoughts, Red sun at night, sailor’s delight. Red sun at morning, sailors take warning.

Chapter 7

“Mom, where’s my red swimsuit?” Noah’s voice carried from his bedroom.