He begins to back away, and my breath catches in my throat. I feel like he’s slipping from my grasp. I want to dash forward, pull him into my arms again, and keep him close. Forever. But I know I can’t.

Then suddenly, I remember that I’d wanted to give him something special today.

“Wait!” I reach into my purse. “I meant to give this to you before we left the house.” I wrap my hand around Alan’s gold watch and hold it out to Zack. “This is for you. You should have it.”

He returns to me and takes hold of it, stares at the face. “This was Dad’s.”

“Yes. I gave it to him on our tenth wedding anniversary.”

Zack’s eyes lift. “He wore it every day. This means a lot to me, Mom. Thank you. I’ll wear it every day too.” He kisses me on the cheek one more time, then starts to back away. “I’ll text you when we board.”

“Okay. Safe travels. And text me when you land as well.”

Jeremy turns to enter the queue, but Zack doesn’t move. He stands for a few more seconds, his eyes fixed on mine. He looks at me with affection, and I know he doesn’t want to leave me. At the same time, he can’t wait to start this new adventure.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too.”

“Bye.” He finally turns to go but glances over his shoulder to wave at me one last time before he disappears around the corner.

As soon as he’s gone, I burst into tears.

Maureen hugs me and rubs my back. “We’re going to be okay.”

“Yes.” I pull myself together and wipe my tears. “But now what do we do?”

She takes a deep breath and exhales. “We go home, look at their bedrooms, and cry our eyes out. Then we marvel at the fact that our houses are going to be so much easier to keep clean from now on.”

I laugh, but my eyes fill with fresh tears at the same time. Maureen and I hug each other again. Then we turn away and head back to her car.

When I arrive home a half hour later, I walk into my quiet house and don’t care that it’s going to be easier to keep clean. I would prefer the mess if it meant Zack could still be here, filling my world with laughter and conversation.

Maureen, you’re lucky. At least you have a husband at home and another child still in junior high school. My house is truly an empty nest now. It’s just Winston and me.

Just as I think that, Winston lumbers over to where I am standing in the kitchen, feeling lost and unsure about what to do with myself. He sits down and pants and stares at me with that intense look I know so well.

“You need to go outside, don’t you?”

He snaps his mouth shut, then opens it again.

“How about a walk?”

He rises to his feet and trots to the back door, tail wagging.

I follow and grab his leash, then catch myself smiling because it’s nice to know that someone very special still needs me. And it’s a beautiful day for a walk.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

October

It’s a blissful, blue-skied Saturday. A day off. I’m wearing a long woolly sweater over a turtleneck and jeans, and I’m enjoying the autumn sunshine as I take Winston for another long walk around our neighborhood.

My medications have been a godsend, and I’ve had no problems staying awake in my new position at a large established family practice here in Halifax, where somehow, by word of mouth, I’ve become the most recommended family doctor in the city for patients with sleep disorders. I’ve also been working closely with the neurologists who run the sleep disorder clinic where I was initially tested for narcolepsy.

All this has led to other adventures as well. In the past four months, I’ve spoken about sleep disorders at Harvard, Stanford, and a few conferences, and I’ve appeared on three television news programs as an expert on the topic. I’m now an unofficial spokesperson for a narcolepsy organization, offering hope and inspiration to those who find themselves challenged with the affliction.

Professionally speaking, I feel as if I’ve found my true calling. The field of sleep medicine has become my passion, and it’s very exciting because it’s constantly evolving.

When it comes to my personal life, there are still moments of loneliness in that big house all alone, but I do my best to take life one day at a time. My sister, Carla, calls often, and sometimes we talk for hours about our jobs, our kids, and the world in general. Maureen and I meet regularly for coffee, and we see movies with Gwen and Kate, and I’m always socializing with people from work. As for Nathan, I’ve not heard from him since our last texts, and I’m glad about that. I know I did the right thing when I cut things off between us, because I was in no position to get close to anyone.

Yet I think of him still.

My cell phone rings. I adjust Winston’s leash in my hand, pause on the sidewalk, and reach into my sweater pocket to answer it. The call display tells me it’s Zack, and I step lightly, skipping over a patch of freshly fallen leaves.

“Hi,” I say, smiling in the autumn sunshine.

“I just got your message,” Zack says. “What’s up with Gram?”

“Oh, it’s nothing serious,” I assure him as I extend the length of Winston’s leash so that he can sniff the base of a telephone pole. “She has to have cataract surgery next Monday. I’m going to take a couple of weeks off and go stay with her because she won’t be able to drive for a while.”

“Poor Gram.” He pauses. “But wait a second. That’s right before Thanksgiving.”

“Yes, and that’s what I was calling about. I’ll be there for the long weekend. Are you still planning to fly home?”

“Of course. I already have my ticket. And we usually spend Thanksgiving at Gram’s house anyway.” He sounds confused.

“We do, so I’ll pick you up at the airport, and we’ll go straight to Lunenburg, if that’s okay.”

“It’s fine. Whatever works.”

As I stand there watching Winston lift his leg to pee on the pole, I remind myself that my son is no longer the little boy I used to cuddle at night when we read bedtime stories together. He’s a man now, living on his own. I’m proud of him and pleased that he’s independent, even though I miss him every day.

Winston sits down on the sidewalk, waiting patiently to continue our walk.

“Mom . . . ,” Zack says, hesitantly. “How are you doing? You’re not too lonely, I hope.”

I press my lips together and shut my eyes. “I’m great, Zack. Honestly. I’ve been incredibly busy with work, and I’m loving every minute of it. The change in focus has been good for me. And Winston keeps me company at home. So please don’t worry. Everything’s perfect.”

I want to kick myself for using that word, because nothing’s ever perfect. I should know that by now, but I want my son to know there’s no reason to worry about me. I’m amazed, actually, at how much I’ve been enjoying my life over these past few months. My work has been rewarding, and some days when I think of those terrifying moments when I plummeted into the ravine, I feel happier than ever and so blessed to be alive.

“I’ll see you soon,” I say to Zack, ending the call as I look forward to picking him up at Thanksgiving.

Secretly, I’m thrilled to spend the rest of the month of October in Lunenburg. It’s always been my favorite time of year. There’s nothing that compares to the sights and sounds of the busy Lunenburg harbor—fishing boats coming and going on crisp, sunny afternoons, familiar faces everywhere you go, the aroma of fish and chips from the waterfront restaurants, and a ship’s bell clanging in the distance at night.

My mother hugs me when I arrive at her door with Winston, and she helps me unpack for my three-week stay. For the first time, it feels strange to be back in my old room, knowing I’ll be staying for a while. I suppose everything is different now. I’m not here with my husband and son to enjoy a Sunday family dinner and return home before dark to tackle homework with Zack and make his lunch for the next day at school. I’m accustomed to being a widow now, just like my mother. So much of my life has come to an end. And yet, standing here, looking at my childhood bed, I feel as if I’ve begun a new chapter.

It’s definitely preferable to feeling as if my life is over.

On the Monday before Thanksgiving weekend, my mother is at home, taking a nap after her cataract surgery. It’s a gorgeous fall evening—warm like summer, without a breath of wind—so I take Winston out for a walk along the waterfront. We stroll down the boardwalk, past the red-painted Fisheries Museum and tall schooners and fishing boats moored at the docks. I breathe in the salty scents of the harbor and marvel at the beauty all around me.

Despite my condition, which still makes me sleepy sometimes, I feel more wakeful and alive than ever before. I’m enchanted by the simplest things—a dragonfly flitting by me, the wind in the treetops. I’m absolutely beguiled by the wonder of our existence.

Winston quickens his pace when he sees another golden retriever coming our way. He pulls me hard, so I start to jog. As we draw closer, I recognize the other dog’s owner. It’s Nathan, out for an evening stroll with his two young daughters, whom I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting before.

I feel a bright burst of happiness at the sight of him.

“Abbie,” he says with a dazzling smile as our retrievers greet each other with swishing tails and busy noses. “This is an unexpected surprise. How have you been?”

“Really good,” I reply, still marveling at the sweep of joy I’m feeling. “How about you?”

One of his daughters drops to her knees and strokes Winston’s sumptuous golden coat. “My gosh! They look so much alike! They could be brother and sister. What’s your dog’s name?”

“This is Winston,” I tell her. “He’s six. How old is your dog?”

“She’s twelve, and her name is Dorothy. We got her a few months ago.” By now both girls are spoiling Winston with attention. He sits down to bask in it blissfully.