Chapter 14 - Forty-Seven Days of Summer
They married eighteen days later.
Not because August was dying.
Ruth made everyone understand that.
They married because they were alive.
The ceremony took place in the garden behind Howerin House.
Twenty-three guests.
No press.
No business associates.
No politicians.
No men who had once called August boss.
Poppy wore yellow.
Daniel stood beside August.
Walter cried before anyone else.
Ruth walked down the garden path alone.
She had spent too much of life waiting for someone to carry her.
August stood beneath an old oak tree.
No cane.
Daniel supported him discreetly.
Ruth noticed.
She noticed everything now.
Death turned ordinary details into sacred objects.
August's hands trembling.
His gray eyes.
The scar beside his mouth.
The way he looked at Poppy before looking back at Ruth.
The vows were simple.
"I cannot promise you long," August said.
Ruth's face crumpled.
He continued.
"But I promise you all of it."
Every remaining day.
Every hour.
Every frightened moment.
Ruth held his hands.
"Then I promise you the same."
They kissed.
Poppy shouted:
"Now we're a real family!"
Everyone laughed through tears.
Summer arrived.
August's doctors had predicted deterioration.
For a while, they were wrong.
His pain stabilized.
Medication worked.
Poppy's treatment began producing better numbers.
Daniel enrolled in school.
For forty-seven days, life became almost unbearably beautiful.
They went to North Carolina.
Ruth discovered August had bought the little coastal house.
She yelled at him for twenty minutes.
Then cried when she saw Poppy's room.
Daniel learned to surf badly.
Poppy collected shells.
August sat beneath an umbrella because sun against scar tissue hurt.
Ruth lay beside him.
"What are you thinking?"
"That I wasted ten years."
Her head lifted.
"Don't."
"I did."
"You survived."
"Sometimes those are different."
Ruth took his hand.
"What would you have done?"
"If I'd known?"
"Yes."
August watched Daniel fall off a surfboard.
"Found him sooner."
"You tried."
"Not hard enough."
"August."
He looked at her.
"Then I would have found you."
She smiled sadly.
"You couldn't. I was busy being twenty-two and making terrible decisions."
"I would have waited outside the hotel."
"You would have scared me."
"Probably."
"Poppy would've liked you."
"She did."
Ruth rested her head on his shoulder.
A wave rolled in.
August whispered:
"I don't want to leave."
She closed her eyes.
"I know."
"That's new."
"What?"
"Being afraid of dying."
Ruth understood.
Before them, August had not feared death because life had been an empty house.
Now every room was occupied.
Every goodbye had a name.
They returned to Baltimore in August.
August resumed cooperating with federal prosecutors.
Vincent's trial approached.
Then Daniel received a letter.
No return address.
Inside was one sentence.
YOUR BROTHER WILL NOT LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO TESTIFY.
Daniel showed Ruth.
Not August.
"We have to stop him from going."
Ruth stared at the note.
"August won't."
"Then make him."
"You haven't known him long enough."
"I've known him since I was four."
"Fair point."
Daniel's face tightened.
"Why does he have to be brave all the time?"
Ruth sat beside him.
"Because he thinks fear is something other people can use."
Daniel looked down.
"I'm scared."
"So am I."
"What's going to happen when he dies?"
Ruth couldn't answer.
Daniel's voice broke.
"Do I stay here?"
She turned.
He looked fifteen again.
Not an heir.
Not a survivor.
A child.
Ruth took his face between her hands.
"You stay with us."
"Even if he's gone?"
"Especially then."
He cried.
Ruth held him.
At the doorway, August stood unseen.
He heard every word.
That night, he updated another document.
Legal guardianship.
Daniel would remain with Ruth.
The Howerin money would be divided through trusts.
Poppy's care secured.
Walter provided for.
The coastal house transferred.
At the bottom, August signed slowly.
His hand shook.
Then he opened a second envelope.
A medical report from that afternoon.
The cancer had spread to his liver.
The doctor now believed he had six to eight weeks.
August folded the page.
This time, he did not hide it.
He walked upstairs.
Ruth was brushing her teeth.
He placed the report beside the sink.
She read it.
Her shoulders shook.
August stood behind her.
"I promised."
Ruth turned.
He opened his arms.
She stepped into them.
Neither said anything.
There are moments when language becomes smaller than grief.
May you like
They simply stood there.
Holding on.
