by Claire Adams
This house was a lot larger than the apartment that I'd had in Chicago. And not nearly as expensive, I thought wryly. I honestly didn't know what to do with all the space. I didn't have nearly enough furniture or wall art to make the place seem lived in or comfortable. And now, without the presence of the two kids, it seemed so quiet. Empty.
The daycare wasn't exactly what I was used to, either. The one that I'd worked at in Chicago had been busy, with two dozen noisy kids and several other employees. But Tamlin was such a small town that I was lucky even to have the two kids there.
All the silence gave me too much time to think about Mom. To worry about Mom. From Eric's grim face, I had to assume that things weren't looking good for her. I didn't know what he expected of me following our meeting. He'd called my mother strong, but I knew that what he meant was strong-willed. Mom didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with her. I didn't know how to convince her otherwise. She had tried to convince me not to move out of Chicago, even.
I wanted to be there in Tamlin, though. Just in case she needed me.
I paused as I was wiping down the table and pulled out my phone. I couldn't put this conversation off for any longer. “Hey, Mom,” I said when she picked up.
“Hey, girlie,” she said, sounding just as cheery as she ever had. “How'd the daycare go today? Did Dr. Jones stop by with Emma?”
“He did,” I confirmed. “Mom, he said he wants to have an appointment with both of us tomorrow.”
“Yes, I'm having him over for dinner,” Mom said as though this were just some social engagement rather than a visit with her doctor regarding test results from a very serious illness that she had. “You'll be here as well, won't you?”
“Yeah, he asked me to come,” I agreed. There was so much more I wanted to say. From the way the doctor had spoken, it sounded like Mom was getting worse, not better.
But I checked myself. That's what the appointment was for the next day. There was no point worrying Mom about my suspicions now, not when I didn't really know anything. For all I knew, Eric had just been frowning about something else.
“Dr. Jones sure is handsome, isn't he?” Mom asked after a moment.
I rolled my eyes but grinned. “Yeah, he is,” I admitted.
“Single, too,” Mom continued.
I groaned. I hadn't even lived in Tamlin for two weeks, and Mom was already trying to hook me up with a guy. She probably envisioned me settling down and getting married, filling my house with light and laughter and all those clichés.
“All right, all right, I won't say anything else,” Mom said, laughing. “But he's such a nice man.”
“He is nice,” I allowed. “Good with Emma, too. It's clear that she adores him.”
“What aren't you telling me?” Mom asked, always perceptive of my tone.
“Well, I have to wonder if Eric might be too lenient with her,” I said slowly. “Don't get me wrong, she has her sweet moments, but her behavior was pretty bad today. And given what she had done when I first met them today, I would have expected him to be more upset with her.”
“What had she just done?” Mom asked.
I grinned. “She didn't want to come to daycare, and she kicked him in the gonads,” I told her, startling a laugh out of her. “I don't think she meant to do it; she was just flopping around. But he didn't say a word to her.”
“Emma's had a hard time since her mom died,” Mom said. “And if it wasn't intentional, well, sometimes, you just have to let those things slide, as a parent.”
“I know,” I said, shaking my head and resolving to quit worrying about Eric's parenting skills. Lots of kids were upset on their first day of daycare. Tomorrow would probably be better.
“I'm glad that he already has Emma, or I'd have to stop trying to matchmake the two of you,” Mom said slyly. “You know how much I want grandchildren, but I guess that's probably out of the question for him after today.”
It was my turn to burst out laughing. “Mother!” I said, shocked that she would even hint at that. But she was laughing as well, and I felt a warm glow go through me. Mom might be sick, but at least we were still laughing. I'd just have to listen to what Dr. Jones had to say the next evening and follow whatever recommendations he gave us.
Chapter Three
Eric
I watched from the doorway as Helen tried to teach her granddaughter how to make cookies. It was the perfect scene of domestic bliss, something Norman Rockwell might have dreamed up, except for how Emma was doing a better job making a mess than making cookies. I was pretty sure she had dough in her hair, for crying out loud!
But they looked happy, and there were so few moments when Emma looked happy these days. Helen too: it was hard on Emma, losing her mother, but I could only begin to imagine how hard it must be for Helen to have lost her only daughter.
“That's a little too big, sugar,” Helen said, breaking one of Emma's cookie balls into two and helping her reform them.
“I wanted a monster cookie, though,” Emma pouted.
Helen hid a smile. “What if I let you have two regular cookies when they're ready?” she asked.
Emma beamed at her. “Okay!”
I shook my head; that girl had us all wrapped around her finger.
But as much as I wanted to be amused by their antics, I couldn't stop thinking about the other family that I was about to visit. About the news that I was about to deliver. What was worse, I knew Jeannie Sable too well already: she wasn't going to listen to my suggestions. I would be fighting an uphill battle, trying to get her to accept the treatments that I knew she needed. I was hoping that having Olivia there would help things and that Jeannie might see reason with her daughter listening in. Or if nothing else, I hoped that Olivia might be able to talk some reason into her mom.
But I hated having to give the bad news to both of them, especially when Olivia was so new in town.
“All right, you two, don't burn the house down while I'm gone,” I teased, coming into the kitchen to say goodbye to my two favorite people. “And Emma, keep an eye on this one,” I said sternly, putting an arm around Helen's shoulders. “Don't let Nana eat all the cookies before I get home.”
Emma dissolved into giggles as I bent down to kiss her cheek. I kissed Helen's cheek as well.
“See you in a little while,” Helen said warmly, her eyes twinkling. It was moments like these, I thought distractedly, that made me forget that there was anything potentially wrong with Nana.
I sighed and headed over to Jeannie Sable's house, my heart heavy.
When I knocked on the door, Olivia was the one to answer it. She and I had only exchanged perfunctory greetings at the daycare that day, as though we were both saving our energy for tonight. Now, she looked anxious and drawn. I looked closer at her face. Maybe a little shy, even.
I wanted instantly to pull her into my arms and comfort her, but before I could do something to embarrass myself, she opened her mouth.
“My mom is—”
“Right here!” Jeannie finished cheerfully as she bustled around the corner, wiping her hands on a pineapple print apron. “Now, Dr. Jones, dinner is already on the table, so let's all go have a seat. We wouldn't want the roast to get cold before we tucked into it, after all.” She winked at me, and after a moment's hesitation and one last glance at Olivia, I trailed after the woman into the dining room.
I knew this tactic. She knew that I had bad news, and she wanted to delay hearing it for as long as she could. Unfortunately, I still would have to give her the news that night.
“Can I offer you a glass of wine?” she asked. “Or water? Soda? Juice?”
“Whatever you're having,” I said, my thoughts still turned deeper than that evening's meal.
“Wine it is,” Jeannie said, already pouring a glass.
We sat down at the table. I sat across from Olivia and Jeannie sat on the end in between us. After a moment, we started to eat.
“So how is Emma doing?” Jeannie asked after
a pause.
“She's great,” I said. “You know her. Just...always chattering away.”
“That's good,” Jeannie said. There was another awkward silence until Olivia cleared her throat.
“It is good having her at the daycare,” Olivia offered shyly, looking at me through her lashes. “Harlan has been so quiet. All he wants to do is play video games all day. But today he played with Emma for a while.”
“She told me,” I said, grinning. “I didn't understand what she was going on about, but she seemed happy. Something about dots, though.”
“Pixels,” Olivia said, grinning fondly. “That's how I got Harlan to go outside: I told him that he'd be amazed by the pixel quality of the backyard. I didn't think it would work, but with a little help from Emma, we had him outside in no time. Then, he still wanted to play his favorite video game, so he and Emma made up some sort of game on the spot.”
“Sounds fun,” I said, hearing the quiet enthusiasm in her voice.
“What do you mean, the pixel quality of the backyard?” Jeannie asked, sounding confused.
Olivia turned toward her, and I felt a momentary sense of loss once that smile was no longer directed at me. Stop that, I chided myself. I was there for work. It wouldn't be right to start developing a crush on Olivia.
“Harlan plays a lot of video games,” Olivia explained. “Those video games, and your computer screen and your television screen, are made up of pixels. They're these little boxes of color that make a picture when they're all together.”
“I don't understand,” Jeannie said. How could she not understand? It had to be her memory.
“You grew up with analog photography,” I stepped in. “When your photos were printed, how did that happen?” Jeannie looked blank. “Lots of little dots of ink on a sheet of paper,” I said.
Jeannie frowned. “Emulsifier,” she corrected. “It wasn't ink.”
“Right, emulsifier,” I agreed. I scratched the back of my head. “I don't know enough about analog photography to finish the analogy.”
Olivia laughed and shook her head. “You know those photos that are made up of a bunch of little photos, Mom?” she asked, taking another tack.
“A collage?” Jeannie asked, and we all laughed.
“No, like those photos that all make up...” Olivia trailed off and shook her head. “I guess it doesn't matter anyway. Just, I convinced him that the real world was just another video game.”
Jeannie's face clouded with worry. “I hope you didn't tell him that he had unlimited lives,” she said, and we shared another laugh.
I sobered a little, thinking about those test results that I still had to share with them. It was such a pleasant evening that I didn't want to spoil it. I was surprised at how comfortable I felt, like I was there for just a social visit rather than for an appointment. I had to get it over with.
“About those test results,” I began, as Jeannie brought out slices of rich pound cake for dessert. Just like that, the good mood shattered: all three of us now wore matching frowns. I sighed and forged ahead. “Unfortunately, the cancer is progressing,” I told them. “It's still early enough that we have plenty of treatment options. But we need to act fast before it can spread any further.”
Jeannie waved a hand, trying for a smile. “Come now, Dr. Jones. We're having a pleasant evening; let's not spoil it with that kind of talk.”
I frowned. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Sable, but the whole reason I'm here is so that I can talk to the two of you about these results,” I reminded her. “Now, I know that last time I saw you, we were concerned that some of your levels were off, but this time, it's looking like something is really, seriously wrong. Now, I can get you started on chemotherapy treatments, but you'll probably need Olivia to drive you to and from those appointments, which is why I wanted—”
Jeannie stood up, interrupting me by noisily beginning to clear the plates off the table.
“Olivia, talk to your mom,” I pleaded. “She needs to hear this; you know she does. Like I said, we need to get acting on this sooner, rather than later.”
Olivia shook her head, her sad eyes watching her mom move around the table. “I have to let Mom deal with this the way she chooses,” the woman said softly.
I barely bit back some insensitive words about Olivia pretty much allowing her mother to die. With Emily, we'd found the cancer too late for treatments to be effective. With Jeannie, we still had a fighting chance. But neither of the women seemed to realize what a big deal that was.
I got to my feet, following Jeannie as she headed toward the kitchen. “You can't just ignore this,” I told her.
Olivia caught my arm, though. “Wait,” she said softly, and something in the way she looked at me gave me pause. Olivia sighed, and her hand dropped off my arm. “Give me a little time,” she said. “To adjust, to try to talk to her.” She gave me a small smile. “As you can see, confrontation is not the best approach with my mother.”
I sighed and ran a hand back through my brown hair. “There isn't much time to delay,” I told her.
“I understand that,” Olivia murmured. “But if you badger her over this and make her shut her ears, she's never going to listen to you. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
I was momentarily distracted by the way she bit her lower lip; it took me a second to drag my eyes back to hers. “I won't bother leaving the test results with you because I know they're gibberish if you don't know what you're looking at. But if you want to come into my office at any point to talk to me, just give me a call. You have my number because of the daycare stuff.” I paused. “Better yet, if you could have your mom come into my office sometime this week, I'd appreciate it.”
“I can certainly try,” Olivia said.
I frowned, wanting to urge her to do something more than try. But I checked myself at the last moment. I could see in her eyes that she knew how serious this was. There was nothing more that I could say to her. “I wish I had better news,” I said softly.
Olivia put on a brave face. “But there's still time,” she said firmly. “That's the important thing.”
“That's the important thing,” I echoed, thinking again about Emily.
“For now, it's getting late,” Olivia said. “Thank you for coming by for dinner, and I'll see you tomorrow morning at the daycare.”
I nodded my head and impulsively pulled her into a quick hug. Her small frame was warm in my arms, and I could feel how stiff and anxious she was. I wanted, I realized, to lay her down and massage her shoulders until she was able to relax a little.
I shook the thought away and quickly released her, feeling embarrassed. But Olivia, despite the faint blush staining her cheeks, looked pleased by the gesture. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she repeated softly.
“I'll see you tomorrow,” I agreed.
I couldn't stop thinking about that hug for the rest of the night. The way her curves had pressed up against me, the way she'd splayed her fingers across my back. I felt horrible for thinking about her like that, with everything that was going on with her mother.
But that's not the real reason you feel guilty, my brain reminded me, as I went into Emma's room to check on the sleeping toddler. I shouldn't be thinking about anyone like this, not so soon after Emily's death. Not when I am still grieving that loss. I was ashamed that I found myself even considering what it would be like to take Olivia out on a date, to have a proper dinner, just her and I.
It had been two years, but I had promised Emily that she'd be my only love, for the rest of my life.
I shook my head and tried to force the thoughts out of my head so that I could sleep. But even when I finally managed to sleep, I was plagued by uneasy dreams.
Chapter Four
Olivia
Friday was long, and the closer it got to the time when Eric had arranged to pick up Emma, the slower time seemed to go. It felt like I was checking the clock every couple of minutes for the last hour, willing him to show up even a little early. If I
'd thought Emma had been bratty her first day in the daycare, it was nothing compared to how she had acted today.
I sighed at the trail of destruction she'd left in her wake: a broken chair, paint stains on my favorite rug, bruises on my shins from where she'd kicked me. I didn't know what she was so upset about, but whatever it was, I hoped it was resolved by Monday because the thought of another day like this made me want to cry.
Of course, it wasn't just Emma's antics that were pushing tears into my eyes.
“Hey,” Eric said as he came into the daycare. He frowned at Emma, who was sulking on the couch watching something silly on TV. “Uh oh,” he said when she didn't immediately run over to greet him.
“She was fine,” I lied again, not sure why I felt compelled to hide her bad behavior from him. I didn't want him to think that I couldn't handle her, though, or that she would be better off back with Nana. “She's just in a sulk because I put the paints up on a high shelf.”
Eric smiled a little. “Did you have a chance to talk to your mom?” he asked tentatively. We hadn't talked about this all week, and I'd kind of been hoping that we could wait until Monday to do so.
I sighed and looked at the floor, kicking my foot across the tiles and doing my best not to cry. “Yeah, we talked,” I admitted.
It had taken me a couple of days to get the guts to do so, but I'd finally managed to pluck up the courage the night before. I'd been over at her house for a Thursday night tradition that we hadn't gotten to do in a while: movie night. I hadn't wanted to spoil it with a conversation about her health, but I had remembered Eric's words about there being no time to delay.
“Have you talked to Dr. Jones about treatment options yet?” I asked softly as the credits rolled on the movie.
Mom frowned and took another bite of her ice cream. “Not yet,” she said. “And I don't plan to.”
I frowned as well. “But Mom, he said things are getting serious. The longer we wait, the more the cancer is going to spread.”
Mom waved her hand and laughed. “The whole thing is nonsense,” she said.
