The Winner's Game (28 page)

T
HE SUMMER
is almost over, which totally blows. It feels like I've lived at the hospital all summer long. I wish we'd stayed longer in Cannon Beach, but oh well.

With only one weekend left before school starts, Mom and Dad decided they need to finally take their date for the winner of their first week of the Winner's Game—apparently Dad gave Mom more than a hundred kisses on the cheek right before they counted the scores, so he's the winner, though Mom says she secretly won.

“What sounds good to you?” Dad asks my mom as they put on their jackets.

“Chinese.”

“Mexican it is,” he jokes. “Kids, don't wait up. We might be very late.”

“Oh, one more thing,” says Mom. “Ann, a little bird told me that a guest might stop by later. So if the doorbell rings, I suggest you answer it.”

They aren't gone thirty minutes when a car pulls into the driveway.

I'm dying to know who it is, but Mom said Ann should answer it, so I stay parked in front of the TV. When I see who is standing on the front porch, I quickly turn down the volume.

“Look at you,” says Tanner. “As good as new.” He pauses, focusing on her head. “Did you color your hair?”

“Yeah,” she says, grinning from ear to ear. “Just a few highlights. It was on my bucket list. But what are you doing here?”

He smiles. “I have two very important things for you.” He holds out a familiar notebook. Its tiny pen is still tucked inside the spiral binding. “It was Bree's. It was next to her on the street, and it got left there when they took her away.”

Now I turn the TV completely off.

“Wow,” she says softly, as though she's holding something sacred. “I can't believe it. We all thought this was lost.” She flips to the first page, smiles, and then asks, “What's the other thing?”

Without waiting, or asking, or anything, he leans in and gives her a kiss. Not on the cheek. I'm talking
a kiss
.

Ann is totally blushing by the time it is over. Heck, I'm probably blushing too.

Don't they know I'm right here watching?

A second later her head snaps around and we stare at each other for several moments, both of us feeling a little embarrassed. Then she turns back to Tanner. “What was that for?”

“For Bree. Right before the accident she made me promise that I would give you your first kiss.”

Ann places her hands on her hips. “Well, it's been over a month. What makes you think somebody else didn't beat you to it?”

His face drops instantly. “Did they?”

“No,” she says with a giggle. “You got the first. And if you're lucky, you might get the second.”

This time she reaches up and kisses him!

This time I have to close my eyes.

When I open them, Bree is crossing the room in her wheelchair with a giant smile on her face. “Ha!” she says. “B-t-dubs, I'm totally going to win now. That was way more than a one-point kiss. I should get like a bazillion.”

“
Two
bazillion,” says Ann, “because that was our second kiss.”

“Oh man, I missed the first one? Why didn't someone tell me? I was stuck in the bathroom trying to get my sweats up over this stupid cast.”

“It's probably better that you didn't see,” Ann tells her. “This way you'll have more to look forward to with your own first kiss…in, like, six or seven years.”

“
Six or—?
Try, like, one year. Or less.” That earns a good laugh from everyone.

Tanner can't stay long, but he does come in and hang out for a bit. One of the first things he comments on is Bree's fuzzy pink slippers. “Those are nice,” he says, pointing at her feet on the wheelchair. “Are they new?”

“Yeah,” says Bree. “I just got them the other day when I finally came home from the hospital. My best friend has a pair just like them, and she picked them out for me.” She glances at Ann and smiles.

Bree doesn't bother telling Tanner that not only did Ann pick out the slippers but she paid for them herself.

When I see my sisters smiling at each other, it's hard to believe that our family is still, like,…complete. One night we left the hospital not knowing what was going to happen to Bree, and the next morning, very early, my parents got a call that she was starting to wake up. They yanked me out of bed, and off we went to be with her. Because she still needed a lot of medical attention, they took her out of Ann's room and moved her to a place where they could have lots of doctors and stuff without bothering Ann.

That was almost three weeks ago.

Ann's recovery from surgery is going much quicker than I would have thought. She can't run or anything yet, but even within a few days at the hospital she was already getting up and around, and now she's able to do light chores at home. And apparently she's well enough to kiss!

Yuck.

Bree still has a long way to go. She'll need lots of physical therapy after she's out of the wheelchair, but I don't expect any of that to really slow her down. Heck, I wouldn't be at all surprised if she's not already thinking about how she can get her wheelchair to the top of the hill at the park for a quick ride down.

No, I take that back. She's probably thinking about how she can get
me
to ride down the hill in her wheelchair. And honestly…it sounds like a lot of fun.

Dad and Mom don't get home until almost midnight. Ann and I are asleep on the couch in front of the television when they come in. Bree is in her wheelchair on the other side of Ann.

“Kids,” Dad says. “Wake up. We want to show you something.”

We all exchange confused looks as we make our way to the front door to look out at the driveway. There, parked behind Mom's minivan, is the Walrus.

“We had dinner at the Stephanie Inn,” Mom explains, “and picked this up on the way home.”

“Once you have your license, it's yours to use,” Dad tells Ann. “At least until Bree is old enough to drive. And then eventually it'll be Cade's turn.”

All I can say is, “Whoa.”

“Totes awesome!” adds Bree.

Ann is kinda stunned. “For real?”

“For real,” says Mom. “With one stipulation.”

“Anything.”

Mom smiles. “Every new driver needs to give it a new name.”

Ann nods. Then she touches her chest with one hand. “That's easy,” she whispers. “I'll call it Stan.”

“Stan?” I ask. I've never known anyone named Stan. “What kind of a dumb name is that? I thought maybe you'd call it Tanner.”

She takes a deep breath and sighs. “Tanner has my heart, Cade. At least for now. But Stan…Stan was my donor. I never asked for it, yet he gave me his heart freely.”

The next Friday, after the first week of school, Mom picks me up right at the final bell so we can take a quick trip out to the coast. Ann and Bree want to go too, but they aren't up for the drive. Our first stop in Cannon Beach is at Grandma Grace's nursing facility.

As usual, Grandma isn't doing well, so it's not much of a conversation.

“Grandma, it's me, Emily.”

She blinks that she understands. Then she says, “You came.”

“Yes, we came.” Mom scoots closer. “I have some news. Ann got her new heart.”

Grandma's eyes light up for a moment, but then they fizzle, like she senses that there's more news.

“Bree, however, was in an accident. We probably should have sent word, but I didn't want to worry you. She was hit by a car right here in Cannon Beach, but had to be taken to Portland for treatment, which is why we haven't been around lately. But…she's doing a lot better. She's lucky, Grandma. Really lucky to be alive. It was touch and go for a while.”

“Not luck,” Grandma mumbles. Then she looks right at me, and clear as day she says, “It's always in God's hands.”

“That's right, Grandma,” I tell her. “And God has very big hands.”

Grandma's tired eyes are dropping, like they always do when she's had enough. She takes a deep breath through her oxygen tube, then closes her eyes all the way.

Mom needs a few things from the beach house before we leave town, so that's our second stop. While she's inside gathering them, I sneak outside to the beach. The tide is way out, so I run down to the base of Haystack Rock and begin digging in the sand. A minute later I find another Christmas tin, this one decorated with Santa. It could easily hold a dozen sugar cookies, but the weight of it feels like there's nothing in it.

When I open the lid, there is a piece of Bree's art-stock paper inside. It's rolled into a scroll and bound in the middle with a rubber band. I dry my wet hands on my shirt and brush off all the extra sand, just to make sure I don't ruin whatever it is, and then I gently roll the rubber band to one end.

On the inside of the paper is a beautiful sketch of our family, mostly done in pencil. Bree, with her short hair, is at the center. To her left are my parents, hand in hand. Bree has her arm around Ann's shoulder, and Ann has ahold of me. The only splashes of color on the entire page are the vibrant red hearts on everyone's chests.

At the top of the page, centered above our heads, are the words, “
For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
”

Beneath the sketch, in smaller letters, it says, “
My heart is with my family.
”

Maybe it's silly or dumb, and I probably wouldn't tell my friends this, but seeing what Bree made for me—and the fact that she hid this treasure in the sand for me to find—makes me smile on the inside.

I'm superlucky to have older sisters.

I have a treasure.

I'm rich!

I
T'S BEEN A LONG
six months…but we have survived. And that's saying something!

Ann's heart is better than ever—she's even started swimming again, though not competitively. We're trying to ease her back into a normal life—not pushing too hard, but neither are we pulling back on the reins so much that she feels stymied.

Last weekend was her winter formal at school. She invited Tanner to go with her, and she described the evening as “magical.” I was surprised when she chose a gown that revealed part of the scar on her chest. “It's who I am,” she said. “It's part of me, so why should I hide it?”

I guess she has a point…and I couldn't be prouder. She's a beautiful young woman, and I'm glad she's starting to recognize that.

Bree moved from wheelchair to crutches to a walking boot in record time. At the end of the month she'll get the boot off, and then it's back to normal. Part of her recent therapy has been swimming with Ann, which has been great for both of them. Now Bree swears that not only is she going to get a first kiss at an earlier age than Ann did but she's also going to break all of her swimming records.

Ah…sibling rivalry.

Then there's Cade, who continues to be a little pirate. Not in a bad way, though…
in a movie
! The director of the film in Astoria—the same one who kicked us off the set for Cade's treachery—tracked us down about six weeks ago through information we filled out on the liability forms back in June. He said they weren't happy with the way some of the pirate scenes turned out, and he wondered if Cade would be interested in being in the retakes. “On one condition,” Cade told him. “That my sisters can come watch.”

“Do you want them to be in it with you?” the director asked.

“Nah, I just want them to see how good I am at it. They'll be totally jealous.”

Such a little pirate.

While Bree was still on crutches, Grandma Grace finally passed away. It was a sad day, but not unexpected. Surprisingly, she went very peacefully. We were all there with her over a long weekend. The last thing she said was, “It goes by so fast.”

I assumed she was talking about life, which is funny because she lived longer than most. “Yeah, Grandma,” I told her as I squeezed her hand. “It does.”

Whether you're a baby or a grandmother—or anywhere in between—it goes by so fast…and then it's time to move on.

“Welcome to God's hands,” I whispered as she closed her eyes for the final time.

It's the middle of December; today is my and Dell's twentieth anniversary. I'd hoped to be spending the day in Paris, but with the kids still recovering it just made sense to push back our trip by a couple of months. Of course, we still don't know where we're going. As of last week our Winner's Game was tied, so tonight's score will be the one that decides it all.

“You ready?” Dell asks as he slides into bed next to me with his notebook in hand.

“Ready to win, yes.”

He chuckles. “I still don't get why you'd choose Paris in the middle of winter, when we could be lying on a beach in Cabo.”

“Hey, a girl can dream, can't she? And this has been my dream for twenty years.”

“Keep dreaming,” he says with a wry smile. Then he props a pillow behind his back and says, “OK, let's do this. The suspense is killing me.” He quickly tallies up his points and proclaims, “Seventy-one. Not bad, considering the late nights I had to work this week.” He pauses, and zeroes in on me. “But is it enough?”

With a long sigh, I look at the number at the bottom of my page. “I only got
sixty.
”

Dell immediately stretches his arms in triumph. “Cabo, baby! Here we come!” He leans in and gives me a little peck on the cheek. “Sorry, dear, you'll just have to try harder next year.” He hops off the bed and heads for the computer. “I'm going to book plane tickets right away. The closer it gets, the more it'll cost.”

I watch him as he walks away. I love watching him. He's so cute when he's happy! Once he's far enough away, I glance down at my notebook again. The number I wrote down and circled at the bottom of the page may say, “
Sixty,
” but I know my actual score is somewhere in the eighties.

Good thing we don't count each other's tally marks!

He's been so good to me lately, so willing to help out and do things for me—like bringing me flowers for no reason at all, or staying up late to do the dishes so I don't have to face them in the morning—that I just didn't have the heart to tell him that his effort wasn't enough to win.

Because it was! He won ME! We won together!

And if he wants to go to Cabo San Lucas so badly, then that's what I want too, because I know it'll make him happy.

Twenty minutes later, while I'm downloading a new e-book to read, I hear the inkjet printing our tickets to Cabo.

Dell brings them over to show me. “We got pretty decent seats,” he says as he hands me the papers. “Now the only question is, do you want the window seat or not?”

I glance only briefly at our seat assignments and then give the papers back. “You choose, dear. I'm fine with whatever.”

He hands the papers back to me. “No, you need to take a look at our tickets and make a decision.”

To pacify him, I pick the papers up, stare once more at the seat assignments—19E and 19F—and then set them down again. “Middle is fine, Dell. You take the window.”

He chuckles lightly and says, “Suit yourself, but don't blame me if I have the best view of the Eiffel Tower when we land.”

I quickly pick up the tickets again and read the details a little more closely: “
Portland to New York. Then New York to Paris”
!

“Why?” I ask, now wiping at a couple of stray tears. “You won!”

“I know.”

“So
why
?”

“Because, I love you, Emily Bennett. Not like the noun. Like the verb.” He pauses. “I didn't fully figure out how to play the game until we went out for Grace's funeral. While we were at the house one night, I went back and counted up your grandparents' scores from the year they went to Paris, just to see. It turns out your grandfather won too, and yet they still ended up going where Grace wanted.”

“Really?”

“Yep. And that's when it hit me. The Winner's Game—or life, marriage, whatever—isn't about winning at all. If you're focused on winning the game, you're still more focused on yourself. It's ironic, right? To win the game, you have to lose, because then you know that the other person is happy, which is what really makes you happy.”

I have to giggle at his logic. “So maybe we should rename it the Loser's Game, because if you win, you lose.”

Dell smiles affectionately, then leans in and gives me a heartfelt kiss.

Oh, how I've loved our kisses in recent months!

“No, dear. Your grandparents gave it the right name. Because when you finally play it right, no one can lose.” He kisses me once more, this time on the cheek, then slides up closer and wraps an arm around me. “
Je t'aime
, Emily.”

His pronunciation is terrible, but probably no worse than mine. No matter how he says it, I know it's true…because he shows me every day. “
Je t'aime
you too.”