I'm not quite sure what time I woke up the next morning. It was Saturday, and I didn't have any appointments until Monday. That's one thing I did learn from my dad that's been helpful. Don't work weekends, holidays, or vacations. A few days isn't going to kill anyone who wasn't going to die already. Okay, so I've become a little, well, morbid, in my time. I'm allowed. If you save people and loose people under the same knife, you're allowed to me morbid from time to time. I am good at what I do, but I'm not my father. That's a fact I never thought I'd have to defend so much.

Anyway, even though I don't know when I woke up, I know why. The phone rang. I halfway felt like falling back to sleep, and halfway felt like throwing up. But, despite these two sides, I answered the damn phone.

"Hello, Dr. Ephram Brown?" a male, French voice asked me, as if he were auditioning for a Soap Opera.

"No, it's Marcus Garvey," I replied.

"What?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Never mind. This is Dr. Brown."

"Oh, okay, well, this is a doctor from the Baptiste Hospital, in, Paris, France…" he told me, his voice dropping to a serious tone.

"Yeah…" I told him, wanting the conversation over with so I could either fall asleep or throw up, whichever I decided to do.

"Yes, well, I regret to inform you, sir, that, well…"

"You're wasting my time here…" I warned him.

"Your wife is dead, sir…."

Okay, okay, so here's what happened. Some time last night, which, was in the morning for Paris, or, afternoon, whatever it is, I don't care, Julian Rose and Colin came home to find Amy on the ground, dead. After an autopsy, they found a brain tumor the size of a baseball in her head. She had never complained of anything more than a headache. Though, Colin and Julian Rose did say she had been acting irrationally lately. That would probably account for her telling me that Julian Rose blamed me for the divorce. Amy's funeral is in Everwood on Wednesday. I have an appointment that day but I'll have to cancel it. I have to go pick up my daughter.

I remember the last time I was in Everwood. It was right after Julian Rose was born. We took her there to show her to our folks. After the divorce Amy took her there again when her father died. I didn't go. Now I was the only parent Julian Rose had left, so she was coming to live with me. It's kind of ironic in a way. When I was around her age my mother died, only now, I'm taking Julian Rose from Everwood to New York City, and not the other way around.

Everwood never changes. No matter how many years go by, everything is the same. It even smells the same. I rented a room at the local hotel, nothing special, but enough so that a few hours after I made the reservation, every person in town knew I was coming. My dad and sister were there to greet me, anyway. My dad's hair and beard had slowly turned white through time, and now sat like a cloud on his head. I scratched my own five o'clock shadow as I looked over my sister's rounding stomach. She was six months pregnant with Amy's first niece. I never approved of her marrying Amy's dull older brother, but, ever since Delia became a teenager, she didn't even care what I thought anymore.

The two showed me around town, pointing out the minor and pointless things that had changed in twelve years. It wasn't much of a tour. After that I went with my dad back to his place. We sat around and drank coffee, and talked about the last twelve years, and the last week. Mostly we talked about Amy's brain tumor in a purely medical way, like she had never been my wife or his daughter-in-law. Also, I spent most of the time trying to stop his Great Dane from sitting on my lap. The dog was by no means young, but Dad said that whenever he met somebody new, which isn't often in Everwood, he acts just like a puppy. His name was Finsen, after a Danish physician.

"So why aren't you staying here for your trip? Your room is still there, it's not a library or anything," Dad asked me. I nodded.

"I know it isn't, I just thought it'd be better getting a hotel room. Less permanent," I explained. He nodded.

"Alright then. Do you know when Julian Rose and Colin are arriving?"

"Tomorrow. They're flying with the casket," I said and, for some reason, with those words, it finally hit me that Amy was dead. I bit my lower lip and scratched my chin a little. I'd have to shave for the funeral.

"Do you have a room in New York for her?"

"Yeah. A big one, thick walls, plenty of privacy and no fire escapes for her to sneak out on," I said. He nodded in approval.

"Good. Now you know she'll be upset and quiet for the first few months…."

"She'll be me thirty years ago…" I said and he laughed, shaking his head.

"What are you planning to do for her birthday?" he asked me. I sighed and took a long sip of my luke warm coffee.

"Work. I have a four year old boy whose been in a come for two months."

"She's not going to like that."

"She'll understand."

"Will she?"

"She's smarter than I was, Dad."

"Maybe, but it's her thirteenth birthday in a new city where she doesn't know anyone."

"There are some kids in my building."

"They're not her friends, though."

"I suppose I could buy theatre tickets for that night."

"I doubt that'll be enough…" he said and I fell silent, in thought. Realistically, Julian Rose will still be upset about Amy's death, she won't even care it's her birthday. Unrealistically, I should contact the family of her best friend in Paris, see if she could come to NYC for the weekend. I'll have to talk to Colin about it, see what he knows.

Colin and Julian Rose were going to spend their time in Everwood with Amy's mother. When they arrived Rose, Amy's mother, called my cell phone and I walked over. With the exception of a new coat of paint, the Abbott residence looked the same. I noticed the handicap rental car in the driveway and walked up to the front door. I rang the bell and Colin answered.

After a good number of surgeries, Colin had eventually lost the use of his legs, and was confined to a wheelchair. That hadn't changed his personality much, he was still a fun guy. Despite everything between Colin and I, we were friends. There was no resentment from us toward the other, at least, not on my side. I can't speak for him.

"Hey, Ephram," he said, wheeling backward so I could enter the house and close the door behind me. After Dr. Abbott died, the house's interior was different, well, not in looks, but it smelled different.

"Hi Colin. Where's Julian Rose?" I asked him. He nodded toward the kitchen.

"In the kitchen with Rose," he told me, a frown on his face telling me Julian Rose was not doing well. I nodded my thanks and walked toward the kitchen.