Николас Спаркс - The Return

Callie sat up straighter and put her good arm around his neck.

“I’m sorry for running away and not calling,” she said in a broken whisper. “I missed all of you so much. I love you.”

“I missed you, too, sweetheart,” he said, his words choked with emotion. “And I love you, too.”

* * *

I stayed with Callie, remaining quiet as she told her story and answered their unending stream of questions. Some were big ( Why did you run away? ) and some were mundane ( What did you eat for lunch every day? ). Curtis asked more than once why she’d never tried to contact them, if only to let them know she was still alive. Though Callie was honest, it wasn’t always an easy conversation. Their pain, and Callie’s, was tangible and still fresh, even amid the joy of reunion. I could see that the real work of their healing as a family lay ahead of them, assuming Callie was even able to recover fully from her illness. She wasn’t the girl she was when she ran away a year ago, yet their lives remained bound up in a tragedy that none of them had really come to terms with—least of all, Callie.

As I left the room to allow them to continue their conversation in privacy, I sent up a silent prayer that they would have the courage to navigate the months and years ahead. Walking down the hallway of this now-familiar hospital, I couldn’t help thinking how strange it was that I had become so deeply enmeshed in the life of a girl I had never heard of until two months ago.

And yet, the oddest part of the entire experience was hearing her family use the name Karen over and over, which didn’t seem to fit the girl I’d come to know.

To me, after all, she would always be Callie.

* * *

The next day, Dr. Nobles told me that she spent nearly an hour with the family after I left, trying to explain Callie’s condition to them in a way they could easily understand. Both parents, as well as Callie’s sisters, agreed to have their bone marrow tested. Because of the seriousness of Callie’s condition, the lab had already promised to rush the results; they would likely know within a day or two whether any of them had a close enough HLA match, which would set the stage for additional testing. If a match was found, Callie would have to be transported to Greenville for the remainder of her treatment. Nobles also connected them with Dr. Felicia Watkins, the oncologist at Vidant, and assured them that the hospital there would be ready for her arrival. To that end, after speaking with Nobles, I reserved and paid for rooms in New Bern for the family for the week, as well as an additional two weeks for a hotel in Greenville. It was the least I could do in light of their all-consuming worries about Callie, and the challenges of being so far from home.

Having heard my name mentioned often in the course of their talk with Callie, Curtis and Louise were naturally curious to know more about me. When I stopped by Callie’s room after meeting with Dr. Nobles, I was happy to give them a brief rundown of how I’d ended up living in New Bern these past few months, while omitting the more complicated aspects of my military service and ongoing recovery. I was also able to share what I’d learned about Callie’s friendship with my grandfather and the kind of man he was. It made me sad that he was not there to finally meet Callie’s parents, but in some way, I felt that he was watching over this reunion, pleased that I had seen his efforts through to the end.

Natalie had responded to my text the night before, and when she later came by the hospital, I introduced her to Callie and the family. She conferred with them privately for twenty minutes, ensuring that she had all the details right for the report she would eventually have to file. On the way out, she sought me out in the waiting area, asking if I had time for a cup of coffee.

In the cafeteria, she sat across from me at the table, looking official in her uniform and as beautiful as ever. As we nursed our cups of weak coffee, I described the long hours I had spent with Callie, piecing together the shape of her story and witnessing her fraught reunion with her family.

“All in all, I guess it was a happy ending,” she said.

“So far. Now it depends on the testing.”

“It would be tragic for the parents to find her, only to lose her again.”

“Yes,” I said. “But I have faith that it will work out.”

Natalie smiled. “I can understand why you were so intent on helping her. She’s…compelling. It’s hard to believe she’s only sixteen. She’s more mature than a lot of the adults I know. I wonder how she’ll adapt to living with her family again and going to high school and doing things normal teenagers do.”

“It’ll be an adjustment for sure. It might take some getting used to, but I have a feeling she’s going to be okay.”

“I think so, too. Oh, on another note, your grandfather was a very clever man.”

“In what way?”

“Had he said the name Callie in the hospital room, we might never have found out who she really was. We never would have tried to find a Karen.”

I considered that, realizing she was right. My grandfather never ceased to amaze me.

“Robertson was right, too,” she went on. “When he told us that we could have found the information ourselves. I visited the website for the GBI, and it took all of five minutes to find her once I had her real first name and knew what she looked like. We didn’t have to travel to Georgia.”

“I’m still glad we went,” I said. “Otherwise, I might not have seen you again.”

She stared down at her coffee cup. “I’m going to miss you.”

Me too. More than you’ll ever know. “I think I’m going to harvest some of the honey before I go. Do you want to come over and help? I’ll show you how to spin and filter the combs, and if you’re lucky, I might let you take a few jars home.”

She hesitated, then said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Knowing that you’re leaving is already hard enough.”

“So this is it? Our last goodbye?”

“I don’t want to think of it like that.”

“How do you want to think about it?”

She paused, reflecting. “I want to remember our time together as if it were a beautiful dream,” she finally said. “In the moment, it was powerful and real and completely transporting.”

But then you have to wake up , I thought. “I’ll probably have to come back to New Bern from time to time to check on the house and the hives. Would you like me to let you know when I’m in town? Maybe we could meet for the occasional lunch or dinner?”

“Maybe…” But even as she said it, I had the sense that she would prefer that I didn’t. Still, I played along.

“I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks. When do you think you’ll be leaving?”

“In a couple of weeks, probably. I want to have time to get settled in before the program starts.”

“Of course,” she said.

“And you? Any summer plans?”

“The usual,” she said. “I’ll probably spend a few weekends here and there with my parents at the beach.”

It pained me to hear how stilted our conversation was and I wondered why talking had seemed so much easier only days earlier. This wasn’t the way I imagined saying goodbye, but like her, I didn’t know how to change it.

“If you ever make it up to Baltimore or DC, let me know. I’ll be happy to show you around. We could visit the Smithsonian.”

“I’ll do that,” she promised, even though both of us knew she wouldn’t. As she said it, her lips trembled.

“Natalie…”

“I should probably go,” she said, suddenly standing. “I have to get back to work.”

“I know.”

“I’ll swing by your grandfather’s house while you’re away. Make sure no vagrants break in.”