The Only Things You Can Take (Wildflower Romance #2)

by Stacy Claflin

  But I’ll take that as long as she doesn’t hate us for putting her through all of this. I feel like the worst parent in the world. Her cries and screams are still echoing around in my mind. My forearm and ribcage still throb where she kicked—not that she meant to. All she wanted was for me to rescue her from this nightmare.

  And I didn’t. Both Anchor and I stood there, holding her down as she begged for our help.

  We’ll be monsters in her eyes from now on.

  Why? Why did I agree to any of this? Once the nurses said the scan didn’t work, I should’ve taken my daughter back home. I shouldn’t have forced her into being sedated.

  The nurses—they’re the monsters. I’ll make sure Kady knows that so she doesn’t hate Anchor and me. But that won’t be good, either. If we have to come back to see more doctors, it’ll traumatize her if she thinks they’re all evil. They’re just doing their jobs. Trying to help. Giving Kady the best medical care available. No, I can’t make them look bad. I’ll have to take the brunt of it. She’ll forgive us. She knows we love her.

  Anchor’s saying something. I don’t know what. I can barely make sense of my thoughts. I don’t want to focus on anything else.

  He rubs my back and continues speaking. His ribcage vibrates against my head. I close my eyes and try to imagine I’m anywhere else. But it doesn’t work. Sparkles still sings in the background. That horrible scanner is beeping every so often. The metal armrest of the chair is digging into my side.

  Anchor pulls some hair behind my ears and kisses my temple. I force myself to sit up and look at him. He doesn’t have to be here, but he is. He’s missing classes and work, and has paid for everything from gas to meals to the hotel room. Kady’s insurance is even through his job.

  I try to focus on what he’s saying. His mouth is moving. His deep soothing voice is coming from those gorgeous lips.

  Why am I thinking about how attractive he is at a time like this? I’m seriously the worst person ever. My daughter is inside a machine, forced into sleep by drugs, and I’m noticing Anchor’s mouth.

  What is wrong with me?

  “Sutton.”

  I stare into his eyes, noticing a tear clinging to my lashes. I didn’t even realize I’d been crying.

  “We’re going to get through this together. I’m making you the same promise I made Kady—I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you. If you need me in the middle of the night or while I’m in class, I’ll drop everything for you. If I even keep my class load.”

  “What do you mean, if you keep it?”

  He takes a deep breath. “She’s probably going to need surgery. I can’t imagine them just leaving the tumor in there. It’s going to take time to recover. Weeks, maybe more. Remember Ruby? She had to take time off and focus on physical therapy.”

  “Did she? I was never close to her.”

  “Lincoln was close to her for a while.”

  “I didn’t know that. Maybe I’ll have to ask him about all this.” I lean back against Anchor, not wanting to talk anymore. His embrace would be a lot more comforting if Kady hadn’t been forced to sleep so she could hold still for the scan.

  After a while, something creaks. I bolt upright to see if the table is moving Kady out. My forehead knocks against Anchor’s nose. He grabs it.

  “I’m so sorry. Is it bleeding?”

  He sniffles. “I don’t think so. You might’ve broke it, though.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You’re right. I doubt it’s even bruised.”

  I jump off his lap and race over to the scanner. Kady is still limp in the same position she was in when Carol laid her there. I turn to the nurse. “When will she wake up?”

  “Soon. The anesthesia should wear off soon. You can hold her until she wakes, if you want.”

  If I want? I scoop Kady into my arms and carry her back over to the seats and plop down next to Anchor.

  He leans over and kisses her forehead. “Good job, Kady.”

  I hold my breath, hoping her eyes will flutter. That she’ll move at all.

  She doesn’t.

  “Excuse me,” I say to the nearest nurse.

  The man turns to me. “Yes?”

  “Can we go home when she wakes up?”

  “Let me check. I’m pretty sure Dr. Mikaelson will want to go over the results with you.”

  I groan, not wanting to spend another moment in the city. “How long will that take? Is he going to want to talk to us today?”

  “Once the lab techs go over the scan, they’ll send it over to the doctor. I’m not sure how long that will take, but Dr. Mikaelson is one of the best. And he said that he’ll drop whatever he’s doing as soon as he gets the scan.”

  My stomach knots. The fact that such an important and busy doctor is giving us such priority can’t be good. There’s no way he gives this kind of attention to all of his patients.

  “Do you want me to call him for an estimate?”

  I try to swallow, but my mouth is parched. “Okay, thanks.”

  “Wait right here.” He disappears.

  I glance down at Kady, sleeping in my arms. Where would I go?

  Anchor puts his arm around me and kisses my temple. “Don’t worry about the time, okay? We’ll wait here as long as we need to. I can run and get some food if you’re hungry. Or if there’s time, we can take her out to eat. I’ll bet she’s starving after all this.”

  I rest my head against his shoulder. “Just stay here.”

  “Whatever you need.” He leans his head against mine.

  We wait as the nurses bustle around, cleaning everything. Every so often one glances our way with a sympathetic smile.

  My eyelids start to grow heavy from the relaxation of being in Anchor’s arms and having Kady in mine. The stress has been too much and now fatigue is settling in. I try to fight it at first, not wanting to take my focus off her for even a moment, but my eyelids win the battle.

  Light conversation wakes me. Whispers. I fight past the thick fog of sleep and my weighted lids to see Kady awake. She’s still sprawled out on my lap but her eyes are open and she’s saying something to Anchor.

  I rub her precious cheeks. “You’re awake. Did you have a nice nap?” I hope she doesn’t remember the trauma of earlier, of almost holding still long enough to get the scan then being forced to sleep by the mask. I’ll never forget, but with any luck, she might.

  Kady turns to me. “Daddy says it’s all over.”

  I nod, wishing I could promise that it would all be over. That would depend on the results. What if this is only the beginning? It probably is. She’s going to need surgery. Rehab. Maybe more scans to make sure they get rid of the whole mass. I play with a lock of Kady’s hair. “The scan’s over. They got what they needed.”

  “I’m kinda hungry.”

  “Let me find out if we can leave.” I start to get up, but Anchor rises first.

  “I’ll check. You two wait here.” He leaves the room before I can protest.

  I stare at Kady’s sweet little face and pull her close, never wanting to let go. Tears mist my eyes, but I don’t want her to see them. She’s been through enough, and I don’t want her to know I’m upset. That always makes her worry.

  Kady must still be tired from the anesthesia because she just rests against me, not saying anything.

  A few minutes later, Anchor returns. “We’re free to get lunch or go play somewhere, but we have to stay close. They think Dr. Mikaelson will be ready for us in about two hours.”

  Kady twists to look at him. “Is he the one with the dolls and puppets?”

  Anchor nods. “But we really shouldn’t chase each other around the room again.”

  She giggles, then he helps us up. We all walk to the car hand-in-hand with Kady in the middle. I never want to let her go. I want to hug her until she forgets about all the stress of the big machine.

  “Where do you want to eat this time?” Anchor starts the car.

  “I can pick again?” Ka
dy’s tone is excited, sounding more like herself.

  “As long as Mommy doesn’t mind.”

  “I don’t,” I say quickly.

  She picks a fast food chain that has kids’ meals and a big playground. Anchor and I both pick at our food while she scarfs down not only her food but some of ours as well. Then she scampers over to the playground. Anchor follows her. I think he’s going to watch, but he climbs into the plastic tubes and goes in after her.

  I manage to laugh, watching them chase each other in the winding tubes. Before long, I decide to join them. It’s been so long since I’ve been in a play area like this, and it takes more effort than it seems like it should to get around.

  “Mommy!” Kady squeals when she sees me. “You’re playing too?”

  “I sure am. And I’m going to get you!” I reach for her.

  She shrieks, then spins around. The sound echoes as she thunders down the tubes. We laugh and play, and I don’t let myself think of anything else as we do. The game is a mix of hide-and-seek and tag, and we both let Kady win over and over.

  Then my phone rings.

  It’s Dr. Mikaelson.

  Sutton

  Kady plops a dragon puppet on my lap. “You play with us this time.”

  Being in the doctor’s office has drained me of all the fun we had at lunch. All I can think about is what Dr. Mikaelson will tell us. No matter what he says, it’ll change everything. And my mind keeps forcing the worst possible scenarios to the forefront of my thoughts.

  All the more reason to focus on something else. I pick up the puppet and slide it over my hand. It smells like a floral perfume, and I can’t help but wonder what news that mom got from the doctor. Is her child going to be okay?

  Is mine?

  Kady skips around the room, making her puppet sing one of Sparkles’s songs. At least the scan didn’t make her hate them, as I’d feared.

  I follow her but can’t muster up her enthusiasm. Anchor jumps out from behind the counter as she passes, roaring as he holds out his dragon toward her. She shrieks and then bursts into a fit of giggles, nearly falling over.

  Her laughter is contagious, and in no time, we’re all clutching our stomachs.

  The door opens. Dr. Mikaelson arches a brow. “Looks like I’m missing some fun.”

  “We didn’t knock anything over,” Kady says.

  “I appreciate that.” He gives her a little wink then kneels down to her level. “Is it okay if we talk about the scan you took this morning?”

  Kady’s expression drops, but she nods. “Is that why we’re here?”

  The doctor nods. “It is. Have you ever seen a picture of your brain?”

  Her eyes widen and she shakes her head.

  “Do you want to?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come over here.” He nods toward the exam table.

  Anchor helps her up while Dr. Mikaelson pulls out a picture of the scan. My heart skips about three beats. I try to make sense of the image, but it’s so different from the one at the hospital. There are so many colors.

  The doctor points around the image, speaking in terms Kady can understand but he says nothing about the mass. Mostly just tells her which regions control what.

  Then he sets it on his desk. “I’m going to talk some more about the scan to your parents. I’m going to use a lot of big, boring words. Nurse Jacquelyn offered to bring you to our playroom if you want, and if it’s okay with Mom and Dad, you can go with her.” He glances over at Anchor and me.

  Anchor puts his arm around me. I nod.

  Dr. Mikaelson turns back to Kady. “Do you want to go to the playroom or stay here, listening to boring grownup talk? I promise you Nurse Jacquelyn is really nice.”

  Kady looks at us. “Is it okay?”

  “Sure.”

  She turns back to him and nods.

  “Wonderful.” He opens the door and calls for the nurse.

  A pretty thirty-something with a bright smile enters. She introduces herself to Kady, and they leave the room, talking about princesses.

  Once the door closes, Dr. Mikaelson turns to us. The whole atmosphere in the room changes immediately. It’s as if the temperature dropped forty degrees with the blink of an eye.

  I cling to Anchor, my heart hammering.

  “Why don’t we have a seat?” The doctor gestures toward the visitors’ chairs, then rolls his around to the same side of his desk.

  I can’t look at either him or Anchor. The news is going to be bad. Though nobody’s said the word, yet I’m sure he’s going to say cancer. He’s probably going to tell us that our little girl is going to lose her crown of beautiful hair and the treatment is going to make her super sick. That the future is going to make today’s scan look like a walk in the park.

  The crushing silence in the room seems to go on for hours, though the clock only shows a minute.

  Anchor holds my hand. His is shaking. Cold.

  He’s as scared as me.

  I want to run. To find where that nurse has my daughter, grab her, and run all the way home where everything can be normal again.

  But I stay in place, waiting for the expert to speak. To tell us our future.

  Now I’m shaking.

  Freezing.

  Dr. Mikaelson makes eye contact with both of us. “You saw the scan from the emergency room? The ones sent to me when you were referred.”

  I nod, unable to find my voice.

  He takes a deep breath. “When I saw it, I was mostly certain I knew what it was. The more I studied it, the surer I grew. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to see the results of the scan today.”

  My heart is pumping faster. Harder. It’s going to burst out of my chest if it keeps up.

  “What is it?” Anchor asks.

  “It’s a malignant tumor called Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma, or DIPG for short. It—”

  “English, please.” I gasp for air. The fact that I have no clue what he just said makes it all the worse.

  “Malignant?” Anchor exclaims. “Does that mean”—his voice trembles—“cancer?”

  Dr. Mikaelson nods. “I’m really sorry. It does.”

  I turn to Anchor and see the same terror in his eyes that I know is in mine. Then I look at the doctor. “What’s the treatment? Will taking it out cure her?”

  He takes a deep breath, then slides his chair over to his desk and grabs the scan image. He points to the mass. “Do you see how it looks like it’s part of the brain’s stem?”

  I nod, I think. The room starts spinning. This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

  “Because of its location, DIPG can’t be removed.”

  “Then what?” My voice is shrill. “Chemo? Radiation? Can you at least get part of it out?”

  Dr. Mikaelson frowns. “Unfortunately, it’s a highly aggressive and difficult to treat glial tumor.”

  There he goes again, using words we can’t possibly be expected to know.

  “What do we do?” I demand. “How do we get rid of it?”

  “There are treatments and some clinical trials. Sometimes they can make the tumors shrink and increase the life expectancy and quality of life.”

  Anchor squeezes my hand. “All I hear you saying is treatment. What about the cure?”

  He shakes his head. “There isn’t one. Not yet.”

  The words feel like a knife in my heart.

  Anchor takes a deep breath. “What is the life expectancy?”

  Dr. Mikaelson looks at the image again. “We’re probably looking at six to nine months. But with treatment, it could be longer. I just heard of a girl who lived over two years after diagnosis, however that’s incredibly rare. I don’t want to get your hopes up too high. But I do promise that I’ll do my best to make sure she receives the best care, no matter where you go for treatment.”

  I can’t breathe, much less ask any of the questions swirling around in my mind. Six to nine months? That means she won’t make it to kindergarten. Kindergarten.

  A
nchor and the doctor go back and forth, discussing the options. I can’t keep up. Can’t follow anything.

  Kady probably won’t be with us next summer. I’m going to lose her like I lost Kade, the only difference being that I’ll know this is coming. And I can’t do anything to save her. The best-case scenario is two years, but it’s not likely.

  My attention snaps back to Dr. Mikaelson when I hear the word Mexico.

  “What about Mexico?”

  “There’s a treatment facility there that many DIPG families go to. I believe the two-year survivor went there. Their treatments often help many kids live longer.”

  I find my voice. “But they don’t have a cure?”

  Anchor clears his throat. “You keep mentioning kids. Are they the only ones who get this?”

  “Mostly pre-pubescent children. But teenagers and adults can get it, though it’s rare.”

  He shakes his head and starts talking again, not that I can make sense of any of it.

  This is so much worse than I thought. Six to nine months. It can’t be real. I need to wake from this nightmare. Only I can’t.

  Something the doctor says catches my attention. “One thing you two need to figure out, aside from treatment options, is what you’re going to tell Kady. Even though she’s clearly bright for her age, she’s still only three.”

  “What do other parents do?” Anchor asks.

  “Some are straightforward with their kids and others will tell them things like, ‘you have an owie on your brain and the doctors are going to try to make it better.’ It really depends on the child and the family. There is no right or wrong answer, only what works for you. You can’t make the wrong decision on this.”

  I sit up straight. “I’m not telling my three-year-old that she’s… she’s…” Tears blur my vision. I can’t even say the word. That she’s dying.

  Anchor puts his arm around me. “We won’t. Let’s go with the owie, okay?”

  I nod again, not trusting my voice.

  Dr. Mikaelson rubs his eyes. “This is the worst part of my job. I would give anything to be able to give you better news. Unfortunately, with this, there really isn’t any good news.”