Page 133 of Before We Say Goodbye
As the man raced toward his phone, Otis fell to his knees. Loss washed over him, stripping away all the good in the world.
“Oh, God, no,” he said, crying into his hands. How could he tell Rebecca? It would crush her.
The man on the other side of the counter had reached the 911 operator and was filling them in. Otis summoned enough strength to stand again. “Tell them to come here, and then I’ll lead them. They have to hurry. He might still have a chance, but he’s not breathing.”
The man relayed the message as Otis stared at him, watching his lips move, hearing the words that were impossible to believe leaving his mouth.
Camden’s body rested cold and still in a hospital morgue in Frisco, about twenty minutes from where he’d died. Otis sat in the office of a kind man who had offered him privacy to call Rebecca. Dried tears stained his face. The digital clock on the wall read 2:32 p.m.
Otis held his cell phone in his hand, his fingers poised over the buttons, but he couldn’t bring himself to call, to break the news to Rebecca that their son was dead. In an instant, he would destroy her life, and he wanted to let her keep on living this innocent existence for a little while longer. He couldn’t bear the idea of her being alone when she learned what had happened. He thought of calling Michael in Seattle, but Otis didn’t want Mike to know either. He wanted to keep them ina cocoon of safety, where the ones you loved didn’t die. Where a young man who burst with life hadn’t had it extinguished doing the thing he loved most. A high river, a wrong step, and the whole world shattered.
He set down the phone and fell back into the chair, letting his eyes rise to the ceiling. The hollowness in his chest echoed with loss. The last images of his son on the river, that gorgeous smile, that beautiful cast, slid by in his mind.
“How could you take him away?” Otis whispered, time moving so desperately slow.
After a while, he sat back up and reached for the phone. He would call Chaco and have him collect their friends to be there for her. Then Otis would break the news.
“Hola, boss,” Chaco said.
Otis started to speak, but no words left his mouth. He pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it, then ended the call. His hands shook as he set the phone back down.
Standing, Otis found the nice man who had lent him his office. “I need help. Can you help me book a flight to the Tri-Cities? My brain’s not working, my fingers. I’ll drive to Denver, can be there in a ...”
“It’s about a two-hour drive. Yes, let me help you.”
Determined to break the news to Rebecca face-to-face, Otis said, “If I can’t get to the Tri-Cities, get me to Seattle.” He fumbled for his wallet and slid out a credit card. “Thank you.”
It was midnight when he reached Red Mountain. The stars shimmered in the clear black sky. A cool breeze slipped through the desert landscape. A tumbleweed rolled by him as Otis drove along Sunset Road toward his house.
She’d tried to call him several times, leaving messages that grew more desperate. “Everything okay? What’s going on, Otis? Please call me.”
He had to be there when she found out. He had to hold her in his arms.
The truck bumped along the driveway, ticking down the clock to Bec’s devastation. She was a strong woman, but could any mother handle such loss? The lights came on as his boots hit the gravel. The clasp unlatched, and Rebecca pulled open the door in her nightgown.
Otis bit back more tears as he walked toward her. She clutched her chest and began to melt. “No,” she said. “No.”
Not a word from Otis, and she knew. Her cry filled the night with agony. Otis cried, too, as he pulled her in, and they slid down onto the welcome mat.
Nothing would ever be the same.
Chapter 28 (Interlude)
The Emptiness Inside
Red Mountain, Washington
April 2011
I was absolutely shattered. There is nothing worse than losing a child.
Nothing.
It’s often only when you lose someone you love that you realize exactly what matters in life. I think everyone who came for Camden’s funeral shared the same feeling: that no matter their differences, they had to look past them and remember that life is fragile and often far too short, and that they needed to love those around them with all they had.
We called Michael’s friend Marcus and asked him to drive Michael home, as we didn’t want him driving over those mountain roads right after he’d learned the news. Turned out Mike was the strongest of us, taking charge. Telling people what to do. Helping with funeral arrangements, getting organized, and making sure we notified everyone.
When I set eyes on Jed, as he rolled his chair around the corner to baggage claim at the Tri-Cities airport, all I felt was love. There was no harboring of blame, no guilt, no room for grievances. I smiled and ranto him, and he wheeled to me just as fast. I threw my arms around him, and an apology fell from his mouth.
