Timing, page 31
"No," she did a quick shake of her head, "I'd say smart actually." She stabbed at a green bean on her plate. "All I know is my dad sure loved you. And my mom, oh my goodness, you have her wrapped around your little finger."
"I doubt that," he said softly.
In the last couple of minutes, Hannah had noticed that Boone had become somewhat restless. His hands had started to tremble, and he'd hunched over in his seat. He wrapped his arms around his midsection in an attempt to steady himself.
He was doing a pretty good job of trying to hide it, but her gut instinct immediately told her something was off.
Boone appeared weary, as if exhaustion had all at once swept over his body.
And whatever was happening to him soon began to overpower him.
He straightened his posture and gripped firmly onto his chair's handles, blinking his eyes forcefully as if trying to refocus them. He turned pale, almost green, and began wiping perspiration from his forehead. And then sweat began streaming down his neck.
"Hey, are you okay?" Hannah reached across the table and touched his arm. It was sticky, almost like touching mucous.
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." His head hung in front of his chest as he massaged his forehead. "Just a bit tired. From the trip, probably."
But when he looked up, and she saw his eyes, a cold, hard terror quivered through her body.
Drops of blood were seeping… out of the corners of his eyes.
Her breathing intensified as alarms sounded in every cell of her body.
Stay calm, she told herself.
Even before he read her reaction, he knew it was serious.
He could tell something wasn't right.
And within the minute, blood was trickling from every orifice on his face.
Then, it hit her.
Boone had been traveling… to a big city.
CHAPTER 43—GONE
Hannah felt like she was in the middle of another nightmare, strangely similar to the one she'd just emerged from.
Only this one, in some ways, was also different.
When her father had died, he'd already lived much of his life. Boone's was just beginning. He had yet to reach many of the milestones that were the markers of progress in life. He didn't deserve any of this.
How could this be happening? To her… to him… to them.
Just the thought of losing Boone made her feel desperate, almost frantic. And horribly, incredibly lonesome.
He'd been a beacon of light to her when everything else in her world had been dark.
If only he hadn't gone to Denver and exposed himself to the virus. If only he'd been able to fight it off. As bad as it was, she'd heard that some people had survived…
His room was at the end of a long and isolated corridor in the same hospital she'd just left. Boone's father, Lonnie, was beside himself. He and his sister, Jeri—Boone's favorite aunt—were the only family allowed to visit, and they could do so only by wearing special protective suits, the kind worn by scientists who handled deadly diseases in high security laboratories.
At Boone's special request, Jackie and Hannah were also permitted in the room.
This monstrosity of a virus, doctors told them, killed those who had it by destroying their central nervous system. But the real challenge was the random nature of the attack on each individual. For some, their entire nervous system was compromised immediately, and for others, the virus affected only certain components of the system in a more gradual decline, which Hannah imagined was even more horrific to experience than the faster version.
It took less than five days for the illness to destroy Boone's body.
By day four, the virus had destroyed a good portion of his nervous system, with the exception of his brain. He was still completely coherent and aware of what was happening to him.
By the fifth day—December 19—a day Hannah would never forget—the critical vertebrae of his spinal cord had been pulverized, rendering him paralyzed from the shoulders down.
Doctors had inserted a breathing tube when he began to experience difficulty breathing. They'd also recommended to Lonnie the administration of fairly heavy doses of medication to relax his son and ease his suffering.
But Boone wouldn't hear of it.
His eyes had grown wide, and he'd violently shaken his head in protest.
Finally, after a series of yes and no questions, Lonnie figured out what Boone was trying to tell him.
He wanted the breathing tube gone. It was keeping him from talking, and he had things he wanted to say.
Things he needed to say.
After Lonnie pressed them, the doctors admitted that the only real benefit of the breathing tube was a minimal extension of his remaining hours.
In the end, they complied with Boone's wishes and removed the tube.
Now that it was out, all four of them were seated in a horseshoe shape around the bed, each of them touching him for comfort.
Hannah wasn't exactly sure if it was more for Boone's comfort or for theirs.
He'd once again found his voice.
They talked of days gone by and reminisced about all the things he remembered as a boy growing up on the ranch. Things like driving tractors, jumping horses over creeks and fences, bailing hay with his dad, and tending to calves born in the middle of the night. He recalled all of his favorite Christmases, like the one when he'd gone sledding with his cousins from Pennsylvania and all of the years he'd taken sleigh rides on Christmas Eve with his father, to distract both of them from the painful absence of his mother. He talked of his mother and what he remembered most of her. He told everyone he was eager to see her again.
Hannah did her best to stay composed.
She didn't want to be a blubbering mess, didn't want him to remember her like that.
But it was no use. Streams rolled down Hannah's cheeks and moisture dribbled from her nose, merging briefly at the gulley of her mouth. Eventually, the liquid sorrow flowed down past her jawline, gathering at the intersection of her clavicles and completely soaking the top of her shirt. She had no way of wiping either of them in the protective suit.
Finally, Boone asked for her.
"I want to talk to Hannah. Alone."
She nodded and stayed with him as the others moved silently to the doorway. Lonnie looked back at them before quietly shutting the door behind him.
Hannah smiled at him through her tears.
She stood and walked away from his bed and toward a chair on the opposite side of the room. There, she surprised him by removing the protective suit.
Concern instantly spread across Boone's face.
"Hannah, what are you doing?"
"Taking this off."
"Hannah," he snapped, "don't be a fool. Please, you must be safe—"
Her soft words interrupted him. "Boone, it's okay—I've had the vaccine. I just couldn't tell you earlier."
"What vaccine? I didn't think there was one."
"My mom got it for us. Somehow."
He nodded ever so slightly.
She returned to his bedside. She moved in just as close as she could get to him and situated her folded leg into the crook of his arm.
He was suddenly nervous. Her body looked so good to him. It was nice to have her close. If only some miracle would help him fight off this sickness…
Hannah held both of his hands, only occasionally letting them go to caress his face or smooth away his dark blond hair from his handsome, chiseled face.
"Do you know what this reminds me of?" she asked.
"No," he whispered.
"Driftwood Falls, when I fell. You held me in your arms and, although I didn't tell you, I wanted you to keep on holding me." She lowered her voice. "If you had held me forever on that day, it wouldn't have seemed long enough. I was so sad from everything with my dad, and you brought the first rays of sunshine back into my life."
"I'll never forget, Hannah." His voice was raspy.
"Me neither," she kissed the top of his bloated hand.
"I have something for you. It's over there," he said, "in the pocket of my jeans."
Her eyes questioned him only for a moment before she rose and followed his gaze to a brown paper bag on the floor. Inside the bag, his Wranglers were neatly folded and sitting on top of his boots. She grabbed the jeans and set them on a nearby table, and inside one of the pockets, she found a tiny box covered in black velvet.
As soon as she spotted it, her heart pirouetted inside of her chest.
"I had my dad get it for me," Boone told her quietly.
Her hands trembled as she placed it on his chest.
"Open it," he said. But he immediately started coughing. It was so intense that he gagged a few times as he strained to regain control of his breaths.
Hannah waited until the fit had passed, and then she gently stroked his cheeks and forehead until his face began to relax again.
"Better," he mouthed.
"Sure you're okay?"
He nodded. "Open it."
"Ready?"
Another nod.
Hannah pried open the lid, the whole time looking straight into Boone's eyes.
Only after it was open and his gaze fell from hers, did she allow herself to look into the box.
Tucked into a narrow slit, between two cushions of jet black silk, was a ring more extravagant and stunning than anything she'd ever seen.
"I wanted to ask you to marry me."
Hannah closed her eyes.
And when she opened them again, the intensity of his look upon her took her breath away. It was as if his gaze was reaching out to her, and his words were embracing her in a way his body no longer could.
She finally understood.
This was a love so deep, so pure that he'd struck at the very harpsichord of her soul. And the sound was lovely, almost divine, as if played by an angel floating on clouds.
Boone went on. "You were always the one for me, Hannah. I've always loved you… loved everything about you." He paused. "Your spirit, your fire, your compassion for others, your love for animals… and for the land."
He knew her… better than anyone. Flaws and all.
And yet he still loved her.
"Hannah, will you marry me?"
Tears slid down her face and fell directly onto Boone's chest.
Her answer came without hesitation. "Yes, I will." She nodded as she said it, nearly choking on her sadness. Her lashes closed for a long breath, and when she opened them, she used her sleeve to dry her face.
"Put the ring on, Hannah."
She slid the diamond onto her finger.
It was stunning. Radiant. More exquisite than any piece of jewelry she'd ever seen. Each movement of her hand captured light and reflected it, as though it were shimmering into a pool of endless mirrors and rising out through bursts of twinkling starlight.
It took her a moment to find the right words. "Boone, it's absolutely breathtaking. The most beautiful and elegant ring I've ever seen." Her eyes questioned him. "But I can't take this. I don't deserve it."
"Stop it. Don't be ridiculous. You must take it, Hannah." He looked away. When he finally looked back at her, he explained. "I… I can't wait any longer, Hannah. It's the end for me. I've had a wonderful life. No regrets. But I've got to tell you something, something I've been holding back for quite some time now."
He suddenly sounded like a child. "Would you bring your face close to mine? And run your hands through my hair?"
Hannah did everything he asked.
"Yes, there. Thank you. It's so comforting. Oh, please don't stop. Stay close to me, please, Hannah."
As her face cuddled next to his, the words rolled off his lips.
"You were meant for me, Hannah Bailey. Made for me," he added in a whisper.
She moved to kiss him.
"No, please don't Hannah. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you. Even though—"
"Boone, I'm going to kiss you," she said forcefully, "whether you like it or not."
Their lips pressed together with the softness of two pillows. And she lingered there for as long as she dared, the bittersweet knowledge of this—their final time together—not for one second escaping either of them.
At last, she pulled away to look into his eyes.
There, she could see and feel the tenderness he held for her.
Boone went on. "You've been the one that I've loved for a long time. I was saving this for when you got older, but now it's yours. There's no one else I'd rather have it. It was my mom's wedding ring, Hannah. And her mom's before that. There's never been anyone else but you." He shifted his head on his pillow. "Put your hands on my face, please."
She did.
"I love you, Hannah. I always have. And I always will."
Tears flowed down both sides of his face.
He continued. "You'll be in my final thoughts. My forever thoughts." He managed a partial smile, "You are my forever."
"Boone, I love you, too. I always have. I know that now." She nestled her body up next to him and kissed him hard—as if the roughness would help him to stay with her. "More than you know. I only wish—"
His eyes folded shut and then slowly opened again, this time lightning bolts of pain etched across their skies. "—No, Hannah, don't do that. Please, just be with me now… without thoughts of tomorrow. Time will take care of everything else." He looked up to the fluorescent lights, as if looking for heavenly intervention. "And, Hannah, I want you to know that I was as jealous as hell of Alexander. I could see the sparks between you. And I hated him for that. But just know that if you decide he is what's best for you, then I support you, one hundred percent. I'll always be on your side, no matter what you decide. Just be careful. And smart."
She nodded, unable to speak.
"But say you'll marry me today, and that will be enough for me. It will be our day, our hour. Nothing official, nothing on paper… only a marriage of two hearts, a merging of two souls… so I know that some part of me will carry on after I'm gone."
"Of course I'll marry you, Boone," she said softly.
"I love you, Hannah."
"I love you too, Boone."
He took a deep breath. "Time has run out for me, and I know that, I accept it, but a part of me wants to stay with you for all time."
"Our hearts will always be joined together now," she said gently. "Nothing can take that away. I promise I'll always love you, Boone."
He took a deep breath, "You've always had my love, Hannah. And now that you'll always have the ring, you'll always know that it was real. And genuine. Now, get the others. I don't have much longer."
Hannah hated leaving the moment, but she knew there wasn't time to waste. She quickly got back into her protective suit and summoned all of the others back into the room.
It wasn't long before Boone could sense the finish line nearing. Every thought and every word took effort, and every effort took him closer to the edge.
At last, his breathing became laborious, and he struggled like an asthmatic runner at the end of a race.
To keep calm, he often closed his eyes near the end, steadying what little supply of oxygen he could get.
They gathered in a circle around the bed and recited Psalm 23:4, the Lord's Prayer, and sang hymnals like Amazing Grace, The Old Rugged Cross, and In the Garden.
Occasionally, he would say something.
Someone was always holding his hands, and each of them was in contact with him.
He told all of them over and over again that he loved them.
Later, he began saying it to each of them individually by name.
And then, as the end drew near, his breaths became wheezy. He mouthed he was ready and asked them to sing him a Christmas song.
His hands found Hannah's and folded around them like a glove, the ring on her finger disappearing in the cave of his grip.
During their final verse of Silent Night, Boone slipped away into death.
His last words were of his mother.
CHAPTER 44—POEM
Hannah wore Boone's ring and vowed to never take it off.
The shock of losing him was somehow buffered by having it.
But even with it, she felt as if she'd entered the Twilight Zone. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to resume a normal life again.
Normal. The concept was completely foreign to Hannah. Ever since her dad died, normal hadn't really existed. Except for possibly the short window of time between Timing back home from the reunion with her father and seeing Boone again.
Now, any elements of normal reclaimed since her father's death were gone from her life. Vanished. Taken from her permanently.
For the longest time, Boone had been like an older brother of sorts, a steady, dependable figure that had always been around. Lately though, he'd become much more. A best friend. A love interest. Someone she could see herself ending up with long-term.
His proposal had made her realize that she'd loved him all along. Theirs was a profound love built on friendship and familiarity, trust and common interests.
And it ran deep—as deep as still waters.
Only now that he was gone did she fully understand the extent to which she loved him.
Nothing in her life would ever be the same without him…
*
One day before Boone's funeral, a letter addressed to Hannah arrived in the mailbox.
Marie left it for her on the kitchen counter.
When she saw the piece of mail with a return address of Boone Grassle, her hand moved over her mouth and stayed there for quite some time.
She needed to reabsorb the fact that he was gone. Forever.
Finally, she let her fingers glide over the writing and then opened it.
Tears began with the first words.
Dearest Hannah-
Boone asked me to send this to you upon his death.
