I rushed toward the small garden at the end of the hallway and burst through the door. The warm wind drifted over my face and, seeing I was alone, I staggered to the bench in the center of the garden. Dropping to the seat, I let the sadness take me.
My head fell forward and landed in my hands. The tears dropped down my face. I heard the sound of the door opening. When I looked up, my pappa was hovering near the door.
I waited for the usual anger to hit me when I saw his face. But it must have been buried under a mass of grief. My pappa didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked forward and sat beside me. He made no move to comfort me. He knew I wouldn’t welcome his touch. Instead, he just sat there while I fell apart.
A part of me was glad. I would never tell him. But as much as I wouldn’t admit it, I didn’t want to be alone.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually I straightened and pushed the hair back from my face. I wiped my hand down over my face.
“Rune, she—”
“She’ll be fine,” I said, cutting off whatever he was trying to say. I glanced down at my pappa’s hand lying on his knee, clenching and unclenching like he was debating whether to reach out and touch me.
My jaw tensed. I didn’t want that.
Time with Poppy was running out and it was his fault that I would have only had… The thought trailed off. I didn’t know how long I had left with my girl.
Before my pappa could do anything, the door opened again, and this time Mr. Litchfield walked out. My pappa got to his feet and shook his hand. “I’m so sorry, James,” my pappa said.
Mr. Litchfield clapped him on the shoulder, then asked, “Do you mind if I speak to Rune for a minute?”
I stiffened, every muscle in me bracing for his anger. My pappa glanced back at me, but nodded. “I’ll leave you both alone.”
Pappa left the garden, and Mr. Litchfield strode slowly to where I sat, then lowered himself onto the bench beside me. I held my breath, waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, I said, “I’m not leaving her. Don’t even ask me to leave because I’m not going anywhere.”
I knew I sounded angry and aggressive, but my heart slammed against my ribs at the thought of him telling me I had to go. If I wasn’t with Poppy, Ihadnowhere to go.
Mr. Litchfield tensed, then he asked, “Why?”
Surprised by his question, I turned to him and tried to read his face. He was looking at me square on. He truly wanted to know. Without breaking his gaze, I said, “Because I love her. I love her more than anything in the world.” My voice cut through my tight throat. Taking a deep inhale, I managed to say, “I made a promise to her that I would never leave her side. And even if that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t be able to leave. My heart, soul, everything, is connected to Poppy.” My hands fisted at my sides. “I can’t leave her now, not when she needs me most. And I won’t leave her until she forces my hand.”
Mr. Litchfield sighed and ran his hand over his face. He sat back against the bench. “When you came back to Blossom Grove, Rune, I took one look at you and couldn’t believe how you’d changed. I felt disappointed,” he admitted. I felt my chest tighten at that blow. He shook his head. “I saw the smoking, the attitude, and assumed you bore no resemblance to the boy you were before. The one that loved my daughter as much as she loved him. The boy that—I would have bet my life—would have walked through fire for my baby girl.
“But who you are now, I never would have expected you to love her in the way she deserves.” Mr. Litchfield’s voice grew husky with pain. Clearing his throat, he said, “I fought against you. When I saw how you two had connected again, I tried to warn her off. But you two have always been like magnets, drawn together by some unknown force.” He huffed a laugh. “Poppy’s mamaw said that you were both thrust together for a greater meaning. One we would never know until it presented itself. She said that great loves were always destined to be together for some great reason.” He paused, and turning to me, stated, “And nowI know.”
I looked him straight in the eye. Mr. Litchfield’s firm hand landed on my shoulder. “You were meant to be together, so you could be her guiding light through all of this. You were created perfectly for her, to make this time for my girl special. To make sure her remaining days were filled with things her mama and I could never have given her.”
Pain sliced through me and I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, Mr. Litchfield dropped his hand, but made me face him still. “Rune, I was against you. But I could see how much she loved you. I just wasn’t sure you loved her back.”
“I do,” I said hoarsely. “I never stopped.”
He nodded his head. “I didn’t know until the trip to New York. I didn’t want her to go.” He inhaled and said, “But when she came back I could see that there was a new peace within her. Then she told me what you did for her. Carnegie Hall?” He shook his head. “You gave my girl her biggest dream, for no other reason than you wanted her to achieve it. To make her happy … because you loved her.”
“She gives me more,” I replied, and bowed my head. “Just by being her, she gives me that tenfold.”
“Rune, if Poppy comes out of this—”
“When,” I interrupted. “Whenshe comes out of this.”
I lifted my head to see Mr. Litchfield looking at me. “When,” he said with a hopeful sigh. “I won’t stand in your way.” He leaned forward to rest his face on his hands. “She was never right after you left, Rune. I know you’ve struggled with not having her in your life. And I’d have to be a fool not to see that you blame your pappa for all of this. For you leaving. But sometimes life doesn’t go the way you expect. I never expected to lose my daughter before I left. But Poppy has taught me that I can’t be angry. Because, son,” he said and looked me in the face, “if Poppy isn’t angry about having a short life, how dare any of us be angry for her?”
I stared back, silently. My heart beat faster at his words. Images of Poppy twirling in the blossom grove filled my mind, her smile wide as she breathed in the scented air. I saw that same smile as I remembered her dancing in the shallow water at the beach, her hands in the air as the sun kissed her face.
Poppy was happy. Even with this diagnosis, even with all the pain and disappointment of her treatment, she was happy.
“I’m glad you returned, son. You’re making Poppy’s final days, in her words, ‘as special as special can be’.”
Mr. Litchfield got to his feet. In a move I’d only ever seen from his daughter, Poppy, he tipped his face to the setting sun and closed his eyes.