When I finished, he said, “I was going to write more.”
“I know.”
“I did write more.”
“I know.”
“Will you read them?”
“Not all tonight.”
“That’s reasonable.”
“Maybe one at a time.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
The next morning, Douglas asked to leave the hospital for a few hours.
His doctor objected at first, but after speaking with Lucas and reviewing the medication schedule, she agreed to a short outing. We drove to the lake in Lucas’s car.
The cottage looked different under sunlight. The porch boards were silver with age, and the lake stretched beyond them, bright beneath a pale blue sky.
Margaret had arranged for the estate papers to be transferred into my name, but I had not yet signed anything.
“I don’t know if I can accept the cottage,” I told Douglas.
“You don’t have to.”
“Your mother intended it for us.”
