Harper heard the car door, rounded up her soggy tennis ball, and bounded down to the yard with her tail wagging.
“How’d it go?” Asa asked as Maddie came up the stairs with Harper at her heels.
“It was fun, and Beryl found a gorgeous dress. Then, afterward, we had a nice lunch at the same place you and I had lunch last week—the one with the yummy Waldorf salads. Beryl said she and her mom ate there the day her mom was diagnosed. She said it’s funny how something like that sticks in your mind. She also mentioned the neurologist who made the diagnosis, and it’s the same one who diagnosed you.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s supposed to be the best in New England.”
“I had to bite my tongue not to say anything.”
“You didn’t though?”
“No, dear,” she said with a sigh. “But, you know, Noah is going to be very upset when he—”
“Hon, if we tell Noah, we have to tell Micah, and now just isn’t a good time.”
“Asa, there is no good time to tell someone you have cancer.”
“The treatments aren’t so bad. I’m hoping we can get through this without ever having to say anything.”
Maddie shook her head. “You can’t do that. The boys should know—if only so they have a complete record of their medical history. There is a section on medical forms for family history, and even now, Noah knows only half his history.”
“It’s not a big deal, Maddie. Orphans don’t know their family history and, somehow, they survive.”
“Noah is not an orphan, and you’re being selfish,” she said, her voice edged with frustration. “You just don’t want anyone to make a fuss.”
Asa looked away. It was true—it wasn’t only that he didn’t want to put a damper on the wedding; he didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. He didn’t want people coming up to him and saying how sorry they were. He just didn’t want to talk about it. Period.
Maddie looked at her husband’s back and shook her head. She knew the conversation was over. She turned to go inside, and moments later, she reappeared wearing shorts and a T-shirt. “I’m taking Harp for a walk.” When she heard her name and the word walk in the same sentence, the black Lab bounded over, barely able to contain herself. In fact, she was wiggling so much, Maddie had trouble hooking her leash to her collar. As they headed toward the stairs, Harper rounded up her tennis ball and Maddie paused to look at her husband. “Do you want to come?”
Asa shook his head.
“You know, it’s wrong for you to expect me to be a part of this deception.”
But he didn’t answer. He just stood at the railing and watched the waves roll in.
Maddie sighed. “C’mon, Harp.”
Asa looked up at the azure blue sky—the stars were just beginning to appear and he could almost hear his father’s voice. “The waves are as constant as the stars,” he’d said as he’d pointed out the constellations to his two young sons.
And it was true. The endless rhythm of the waves was as constant as the night sky. The waves were just the same as they’d been years earlier when he was a boy and a riptide had caught him off guard and pulled him out to sea. The Lab they’d had back then—Martha—had seen him, barked frantically, and charged out into the surf, circling him until he wrapped his arms around her neck and held on to her thick, black fur. Somehow, she’d instinctively known to let the current carry them parallel to the shore until they were free of the rogue current.
The waves had also been the same when he’d stood next to Noelle on his nineteenth birthday and asked her to meet him on the beach that night. He still remembered the sadness in her eyes as she said, “If I don’t come, it’s not because I don’t love you. . . . It’s because I do.”
And as he stood there, watching the waves, he realized the scene would still be the same long after he was gone. The earth would turn. The tide would follow the moon. The seasons would follow the sun. And the waves would follow each other into shore . . . for all eternity.