The Turning Point

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX - THE TURNING POINT

Heloyse

Cielo rested her head on my legs, in a light nap that barely masked the exhaustion that consumed her. The hospital enveloped us with its cold light and sterile smell, while the dawn dragged on, endless.
The pain seemed to seep into the air, impregnating our bodies with an invisible weight.
Cielo had cried until there was nothing left inside her, and I held her in my arms, holding her as if I could prevent her from breaking. When sleep finally overcame her, I continued to stroke her hair, my fingers sliding through the strands with a tenderness that tried, in vain, to calm the anxiety inside me.
Will covered us with blankets, trying to ward off the cold that settled around us, but there was no fabric capable of dissipating the ice growing inside me. He had gone to the farm and returned with coffee and food, while Eva, fighting against fatigue, brought clothes for Cielo and then for me.
Coley was right. Thom had a heart attack. His heart, which had always been an unwavering foundation, failed. And now, everything seemed like an irreparable collapse.
"You should go back to the farm and rest, Will. I'll stay here with her. If we need anything, I'll call."
"No, sunshine. I'm not leaving you," he said firmly.
"All right, thank you," I murmured, but my thanks came out weak, carried by the same weight that crushed my chest.
Will shook his head slightly and filled a cup with coffee. His eyes were as tired as mine, even though he tried to hide it. His hair tied up any which way, his white shirt and clean jeans seemed out of place on him, as if the dust of Texas were part of his essence and the absence of it left something incomplete. To anyone who looked, he was just a classy man. But I knew the truth. I knew that Will carried invisible scars, shaped by loss, pain, and the need to be strong when everything around him collapsed.
Megan's voice cut through my thoughts.
"Jeremy will do his best to come. He wants to pay all the hospital expenses."
"Thom won't like that," Will commented.
"I know, Will. I don't feel comfortable either. But we need it. The money we have was for farm repairs, feed suppliers, and to pay you. We would have to make it up. And when Dad finds out we touched that money, he'll freak out and feel guilty. When the creditors come, he'll get nervous. I'm afraid he'll get sick again. I don't know what to do. I don't know..."
"I don't want that money. Thom is stubborn, and if you want to know, I won't accept another penny."
"Dad won't like that."
"He has no choice. Take the money that would be mine and use it on the farm. I've decided to pay the hospital expenses. I know Thom doesn't like depending on anyone, but if there's someone he would tolerate accepting help from, that someone is me. I know Jeremy would do it from the heart, but Thom wouldn't feel comfortable."
"Yes... I know. Thank you, Will."
Megan got up and hugged him.
"What would we do without you? Martin always said you were like a brother. I see you that way. Thank you... Thank you for taking care of us."
My heart warmed. Will was that rare kind of man whose kindness remained unwavering, even when everything around him crumbled.
Cielo got up, serving herself coffee. Her gaze was distant, marked by exhaustion.
"Thom sees you as a son. You really are special, as he always said." She touched his shoulder lightly. "May God repay you and fill you with blessings for everything you've done and do for us."
Will smiled, but the smile was sad. He walked away, carrying his own burden of pain.
"As for you, Lisy," Cielo said, turning to me, "I want you to go with Will."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Go, dear, go! You need to rest. Come back tomorrow."
"But Cie..."
"No more! Megan and I will be fine. Jeremy will come, and if we get tired, there's a hotel nearby."
It was useless to argue.
When we got into the pickup, exhaustion completely overwhelmed me, but Will seemed immune. I knew that wasn't true. He just hid it well.
"We're going to sleep at my house."
"I prefer mine, please."
"All right. I'll sleep with you."
It wasn't a request. And I didn't care. Being with him was enough.
In the room, after his shower, Will pulled the curtains to block the light and lay down next to me, pulling the sheet over us.
"At the hospital, you were scared," he said, pulling me closer.
"I just... I'm not good with this."
"I know. I know very well, sunshine. I don't know how to deal with loss either. But the problem is that the people we love can leave at any time, and there's nothing we can do."
"I know. But my brain refuses to accept that."
"Everyone's does."
We were silent for a moment. Then, unable to contain myself, I spoke what had been consuming me since the hospital.
"Thom insisted that I come to Clearwater. If I'm here, if we're together, it's thanks to him. He was my turning point. The beginning of everything that brought me to you. I will always be grateful to him."
Will smiled, caressing my face tenderly.
"I will be too. He brought me my big little sunshine."
I smiled back at him, feeling the weight of the night finally dissolve a little.
We looked at each other for a few moments, until I finally continued:
"Will... About what I said while we were on the horse... About the people I lost..."
"Forget about it."
"No... No! I just want to say that I didn't mean it. Or rather... I did... but not in that way."
I took a deep breath.
"I meant that I lost my parents, my brother, and I was going to say that I lost Michael. But not as if I regretted not being with him. I meant that, at the time, not having him with me was painful. He was all I had. And when it was all over, it was like I had gone through another loss."
My eyes met Will's, fearing what he would see there. But all I found was understanding.
"I know. It's all right."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am."
The relief was immediate.
"Thank you for understanding."
Will made a brief movement with his head and then kissed my forehead.
The weariness weighed on him like an invisible burden, sucking the vibrant green from his eyes and leaving in its place an opaque, faded tone. But not even the wear and tear of those endless hours erased his austere beauty.
I observed the lines of his face, the expression hardened by years of struggle and renunciation. His eyes closed and opened slowly, as if they were giving in to a battle against exhaustion. His grown beard gave him an even more primitive, rougher air. I ran my fingers over that rough texture, feeling the concrete reality of his presence.
He was there. With me. Despite everything.
Will looked at me with his eyes heavily half-closed. He said nothing. He didn't have to.
In seconds, his breathing slowed, deep, surrendered to sleep.
I leaned over and touched my lips to his, sealing a moment that seemed to float between everything we had lost and everything that still remained to us. Then I snuggled against his chest, letting the warmth of his body calm the invisible tremors inside me. Minutes later, I fell asleep.
Three days later, Thom was gone.
The hospital seemed to breathe mourning. The sterile smell of the walls, the silence laden with distant murmurs, the cold chairs where we had waited for hours—everything became a weight on us.
Cielo cried silently, with red eyes, holding Megan's hand tightly.
Will stood by my side, saying nothing. The world seemed to have slowed down, as if holding its breath to absorb the absence.
In the back of my mind, Thom's voice echoed, bringing with it what he had told me on the day we met:
"Death is just a turning point where you say goodbye now, to say hello in the future. One day, I will see my son. On that day, there will be no more pain."
Those words now gained a different weight. I understood. The turning point was not the end. It was the crossing. It was what made us go on, despite the void left behind.
And that was what Thom left us. Not just a goodbye, but a path. A turning point to continue. To find meaning in pain. To move on, even with a heart marked by absence.