Bennett waved me off with a brittle hand. “Nah. I’ve spent the last several years in and out of hospitals. This time I was ready to go. I got to spend time with my daughter—your daughter—and that’s all I wanted before I died. But before I go, kiddo, I’ve got one last joke for ya.”

Vera ambled to his side, held his hand. Her love inspired me as I watched her care tenderly for a man who had fifteen years ago cast her aside to die.

“In a classroom, a professor asks his brightest student, ‘What would a peaceful death be like?’ ‘The same way my grandfather died,’ the student replies. ‘And how did your grandfather die?’ the professor asks. ‘He fell asleep,’ the student answered. ‘And what would be a terrible death?’ the professor asks. ‘The way that my grandfather’s friend died,’ the student replies. ‘And how did your grandfather’s friend die?’ the professor asks. ‘He was in the car with my grandfather when he fell asleep,’ the student says.” Bennett chuckle-coughed and I could see his charm.

“Did you know that people often see a light at the end of a tunnel in many near-death experiences?” Vera asked solemnly.

Bennett cocked his head.

“They should really get off of the road,” Vera added with a shaky smile that released her tears.

“Oh, you’re my best student yet, kiddo! Even better than Marin.”

“I learned from the best. Speaking of Aunt Marin, where is she?” Vera asked, her voice unsteady. “She should be here to say goodbye to her stepdad.”

“I’m afraid…I’m afraid she’s gone,” I replied. The words weighed too much. It only occurred to me now that Vera was losing a father and a half-sister today.

“Gone? What do you mean?” Her voice was full of fear.

“I mean she had an accident and…didn’t make it.”

“What kind of accident?” Vera’s voice trembled, rose a pitch. From fifteen years raising her, I knew the sobs would come next.

I didn’t know what to say. How to explain it. But I didn’t need to.

“It’s my fault Marin is dead.” Cody’s words hung like lead weights in the sick room’s stifling air.

“How?” Bennett asked. The single word seemed to sap what spark of vitality he had left.

No one spoke. Then Cody opened his lips, and I could hear the grief oppressing him as he began. “It was six months ago,” he turned to Vera, “shortly after you left, Vera. Marin and I had been fighting when she first told me that you were with Bennett. I stormed out in anger, and that was the last time I saw her alive…I’ll never forgive myself for leaving like that, or that Marin had to die alone.”

Bennett broke through Cody’s memory, tugging Vera’s hand upward, pointing. Veins bulged beneath paper-thin skin, his grip tightening.