Chapter 11 - Take Me Weak
Catherine came home four days later.
Not recovered.
Not cured.
Home.
She required more help than before.
Ruth increased her hours.
Dr. Feldman arranged visits.
A nurse checked in regularly.
The medical equipment Isaac once tried to hide was brought downstairs because Catherine refused to return permanently to her bedroom.
“If I'm going to have ugly machines,” she said, “they can ruin the living room where I can see people.”
So they did.
The curtains stayed open.
Music returned.
Helen extended her visit indefinitely.
Lily completed homework at Catherine’s feet.
Megan worked normal hours but stayed late more often than Isaac thought was fair.
On Catherine’s third morning home, she asked again.
“The lake.”
Isaac stood at the kitchen counter.
“You nearly died six days ago.”
“Nearly is doing a lot of work in that sentence.”
“No.”
Catherine looked at Ruth.
Ruth immediately raised both hands.
“I'm staying out of family negotiations.”
“Coward.”
“Professional coward.”
Catherine turned to Megan.
“Megan?”
“No.”
Catherine gasped.
“Betrayal.”
Megan smiled.
“You need another few days before we ask the doctor.”
Catherine looked at Isaac.
“Why do I employ so many tyrants?”
“You don't employ me.”
“I fed you for eighteen years.”
“Fair.”
She sighed dramatically.
“Friday.”
Isaac hesitated.
“Doctor approves it?”
“Yes.”
“Ruth comes.”
“Yes.”
“Wheelchair.”
“I hate it.”
“Then no lake.”
“Fine.”
“Rest breaks.”
“Fine.”
“Hotel nearby.”
“Why?”
“In case you need to stop.”
“Fine.”
“Megan comes.”
Megan looked up sharply.
“Why am I a medical condition?”
Catherine smiled.
“Because Isaac is less annoying when you're there.”
Isaac ignored that.
“And Lily.”
“Obviously.”
“Helen?”
Helen entered carrying tea.
“I already packed.”
Catherine glared.
“You're all intolerable.”
Friday arrived clear and cold.
The lake was six hours north.
Isaac hired a driver because Megan told him he could not simultaneously drive, monitor Catherine, answer Lily’s questions, and pretend he wasn't anxious.
He wanted to argue.
Then pictured the result.
He hired a driver.
The trip took nearly eight hours because Catherine needed breaks.
Lily asked approximately three hundred questions.
Helen and Catherine argued over music.
Megan slept for forty minutes with her head against the window.
Isaac watched her more than he should have.
At one point her head tipped toward his shoulder.
He went completely still.
Catherine noticed from across the vehicle.
Her smile was unbearable.
Isaac mouthed, “Don't.”
Catherine mouthed back, “Coward.”
When they reached the lake, late-afternoon sunlight stretched across the water.
Catherine became silent.
The cabin her family once rented no longer existed.
A modern house stood in its place.
But the shoreline remained.
Pines.
Gray water.
Woodsmoke from distant chimneys.
Catherine sat in her wheelchair beneath a thick blanket.
Isaac pushed her to the dock.
Lily skipped ahead holding Megan’s hand.
Helen walked slowly beside Catherine.
“This is it,” Helen said.
Catherine nodded.
“Thomas proposed near those rocks.”
Isaac looked.
“Here?”
“He dropped the ring.”
Megan laughed.
“No.”
“Oh yes.”
Helen smiled.
“He spent twenty minutes on his knees in freezing water.”
“He told me he was kneeling romantically.”
“He lied.”
“Compassionately.”
The word from the biscuit disaster made Catherine laugh.
Isaac smiled.
Memories were changing shape.
His father was becoming human.
Not a monument.
Not a legacy.
A man who drank bourbon for breakfast once, hated lavender, dropped engagement rings, missed dinners, loved mornings, and wrote letters he struggled to deliver.
It felt like meeting him again.
At sunset Catherine asked everyone except Isaac to walk ahead.
Megan gave him a questioning look.
He nodded.
She took Lily toward the shoreline.
Catherine stared at the lake.
“I thought I would die here once.”
Isaac’s chest tightened.
“On your honeymoon?”
“No. After Thomas.”
He looked at her.
“I drove here six months after his funeral.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me.”
“I didn't tell anyone.”
“What happened?”
“I sat in the car until sunrise.”
She smiled faintly.
“And then?”
“A woman knocked on the window.”
“Who?”
“Park ranger.”
Isaac waited.
“She told me I couldn't sleep there.”
Despite himself, he laughed.
Catherine smiled.
“I was furious. I had planned this entire tragic scene in my head. The universe sent parking enforcement.”
“That sounds like Dad’s sense of humor.”
“I thought so too.”
Her expression softened.
“I drove home.”
Isaac crouched beside her.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because grief tells you lies.”
He went still.
“It tells you the person you lost was the only reason your life mattered.”
She looked toward Megan and Lily.
“It tells you moving forward is betrayal.”
Isaac swallowed.
“I know.”
“You've been faithful to Anna’s absence for three years.”
The sentence hurt.
“Mom.”
“I loved Anna.”
“I know.”
“She would hate what you did after she died.”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s unfair.”
“Yes.”
Catherine did not retreat.
“But is it wrong?”
He looked away.
Lily was throwing stones with Megan.
“No.”
“You stopped living in every way that wasn't useful.”
Catherine touched his face.
“You became a machine.”
“I had Lily.”
“You cared for Lily.”
“That isn't the same?”
“No.”
His eyes filled.
“She needed a father who laughed too.”
He looked at Megan again.
“You think Megan—”
“I think nothing.”
“That is a lie.”
“Fine. I think she sees you.”
Catherine smiled.
“And I think you hate being seen almost as much as I do.”
Isaac laughed softly.
“What if it’s wrong?”
“Then be wrong.”
“What if someone gets hurt?”
“Someone always gets hurt eventually.”
“Terrible advice.”
“Excellent advice.”
She looked at the lake.
“Love is not a risk-management problem.”
They sat quietly.
After a while Catherine whispered, “Dance with me.”
Isaac looked at her.
“What?”
“Number nine.”
“You can barely stand.”
“So hold me.”
His throat closed.
He helped her rise slowly.
One arm around her back.
Her hands on his shoulders.
There was no music except wind in the trees.
Catherine swayed half a step.
Isaac held almost all her weight.
“You used to stand on my feet,” she whispered.
“I was four.”
“You were heavy.”
“Still rude.”
She smiled.
Then rested her head against his chest.
Isaac closed his eyes.
Across the shore, Lily noticed.
“Grandma’s dancing!”
Megan turned.
Helen covered her mouth.
Isaac felt Catherine trembling.
But she was smiling.
They moved for less than a minute.
Then he lowered her gently into the wheelchair.
Catherine looked exhausted.
Happy.
“Cross it off.”
Isaac took the list from his pocket.
He had started carrying it everywhere.
Beside Dance with Isaac, he drew a star instead.
Catherine smiled.
“Lily got to you.”
“She usually does.”
That night, Catherine slept early.
Lily stayed in the adjoining room with Helen.
Isaac stepped onto the hotel balcony.
Megan was already there.
“You okay?” she asked.
“No.”
“Good day?”
“The best.”
“That’s allowed to make you sad.”
He looked at her.
“You really do know everything.”
“Mostly.”
They stood near each other.
The lake reflected moonlight.
Isaac thought of Catherine’s words.
Love is not a risk-management problem.
He turned.
“Megan.”
She looked at him.
He wanted to kiss her.
She knew it.
For one second neither moved.
Then Megan whispered, “Not yet.”
He nodded.
“Because I employ you.”
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
“You're still learning who you are when you aren't terrified.”
He looked out at the lake.
“That could take a while.”
“I know.”
She smiled gently.
“I'm not running.”
The words settled somewhere deep.
Then the balcony door opened.
Helen stood there pale.
“Isaac.”
He turned immediately.
“What?”
“It's Catherine.”
They ran inside.
Catherine was awake.
Sitting on the edge of the bed.
Tears streamed down her face.
“What happened?”
She held her phone.
On the screen was a voicemail notification.
An old voicemail.
Isaac frowned.
“Mom?”
Catherine looked at Helen.
“I found it in the cloud backup.”
“What?”
“Thomas.”
Isaac froze.
Catherine pressed play.
His father’s voice filled the hotel room.
Eleven years dead.
Alive for thirty-seven seconds.
And the first words Thomas Mercer spoke were:
May you like
“Cathy, if you’re listening to this, I chickened out again.”
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