by Claire Adams
I kept thinking about the thing with Buck. I didn't really believe that he would have lied about sleeping with her, and not with so much detail. But it also didn't seem like Olivia to lie to me, especially not so repeatedly. And I knew that I had to trust her; we might not have said that we were in a relationship, but we almost had been.
I shook my head, trying to put those thoughts out of my head while I bathed Emma. She was playing with a rubber ducky, making splashing sounds as she zoomed him around the water, and I had to smile.
Would it be so bad, having another child? Even if the kid wasn't biologically mine, it would be nice to see Emma with a younger brother or younger sister.
I shook that thought from my head, though. I couldn't do that to Emma, not when Olivia and I were clearly not meant for one another. It seemed like we couldn't interact without fighting. You would think that everything with her mother and the fact that Olivia herself was now pregnant would bring the two of us closer together, but instead, it seemed to have only pushed us further apart.
“Daddy, what's wrong?” Emma asked, and I shook myself, looking down at her.
I forced a smile on my face. “Nothing's wrong, Boo,” I told her.
She gave me a look like she didn't believe me, and I had to laugh. “Only 3 and already so wise,” I commented teasingly.
“Daddy, I'm almost 4,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.
“I'm just thinking that it seems like you're having a lot of fun with Miss Tasha at daycare,” I lied. “Maybe Daddy's a little jealous. You don't want to run away and live with her forever, do you?”
Emma giggled. “Daddy, no!” she cried. “I had more fun with Miss Livia.”
I felt a pang in my heart. I still felt bad for yanking her out of one daycare and putting her into another one, especially so soon after yanking her away from Helen and forcing her to go to daycare. I knew that she was happy in the new daycare, but I still worried about her.
I was worried about Helen too. She was staying in an assisted living facility now, and Emma and I had been over to visit her a couple of times. She was having a difficult time remembering who we were, and although I had managed to convince Emma for the time being that we were just playing an elaborate game, I knew it was only a matter of time before visiting Helen started to be too upsetting for the young girl.
And for me. I couldn't deny that watching the two of them interact like this was just too painful. Helen had flashes where I could tell she realized who Emma was, but they were rare. Her cognition seemed to be dissolving rapidly, and her bad days were already outnumbering her good ones.
I forced those thoughts out of my head, helping Emma out of her bath and into a pair of light summer pajamas. Then, I brought her into her room so that I could tuck her into bed.
The thing was, everything was complicated enough lately without having to worry about Olivia's unexpected pregnancy on top of that. Everything with Jeannie left me feeling drained, and even though it didn't hurt quite as much to think of Emily's death, that in itself made me feel guilty. Plus, even if thinking of her death didn't hurt as much, I still was forced to think about it every time that I consulted with Jeannie and every time that Dr. Halsey contacted me to hear if there was any change in our plan.
I couldn't seem to get Jeannie to agree to the treatment, even after I'd had an altogether too frank conversation with the woman about what I'd had to go through, watching Emily waste away to cancer because it had been too late for treatment. I'd hoped that she'd take my words to heart and realize the pain that she must be causing her daughter, but Jeannie was staunch in her refusal to seek treatment.
There was nothing more I could do for her.
And there was nothing more that I could do for Helen, either. With the two of them, and now with Olivia's pregnancy on top of that, I just felt helpless. Almost as helpless as I'd felt when I'd found out the extent of Emily's cancer. It was too much for one man to deal with. I wasn't sure what I'd done to make the universe so angry with me again, to cause another horrible streak of bad luck.
I was terrified that something would happen to Emma.
“Daddy, you're squishing me,” the girl piped up, and I realized that I'd wrapped her in a too-tight hug. I released her hastily, lying her down on the bed and pulling the covers up around her.
I kissed her forehead. “I love you, sweetie,” I told her. No matter how many times I said it, it wasn't enough.
Emma rolled her eyes again. “Daddy, you're supposed to read me a bedtime story first,” she reminded me.
I couldn't help but smile at that, although I knew the expression didn't quite reach my eyes. “Silly me,” I said. “How could I forget? Which story do you want tonight?”
“The one about Princess P!” Emma cried, her eyes lighting up.
I felt another pang in my heart: the story of Princess Pernilla was one that Helen had given the girl. Emily had always loved reading the story of the plucky characters, putting on different voices for each of them. It was a total coincidence that Emma had requested that story that night. As much as I wanted to urge her to pick a different story, I just shook my head and grabbed the story off the shelf, bringing it over so that I could sit down on the edge of the bed. I had to make sure she could see the pictures.
We were halfway through the story when my phone started ringing in the bathroom, buzzing against the porcelain sink where I'd left it. I could hear it going through the wall. The ringtone turned deliberately loud in case of emergency. It seemed like emergencies were always on my mind these days.
I debated ignoring it because I couldn't be on call at all hours of the day. If it were really an emergency, the hospital would take care of things. But Emma's eyelids had already dropped closed, and although she wasn't fast asleep yet, I knew she was asleep enough that she wouldn't notice if I didn't finish the story. I shook my head, knowing that if I didn't answer it, guilt would eat away at me.
I stood up carefully and smoothed back her hair, kissing her forehead again. She stirred a little, but just as I'd suspected, she didn't protest having storytime cut short; she was too asleep for that.
My phone had quit ringing by the time I made it into the bathroom, but when I saw it was the hospital, I quickly called them back.
“Hi, Dr. Jones,” said a tired-sounding orderly. It must be a busy night. “I was calling to inform you that we have one of your patients, a Mrs. Jeannie Sable, in the emergency room.”
I felt my blood run cold as I remembered the last time that Jeannie had gone into the emergency room. With no treatments performed in the weeks since then, I had a feeling I knew what things looked like for her now. “How is she?” I forced myself to ask.
The orderly was quiet for a long moment.
“I'm a doctor,” I snapped, frustration getting the better of me. “I know what her prognosis is, and I know things don't look good.”
“Right,” the woman said, sounding startled at my outburst. “Dr. Halsey says it's not likely that she'll last the night.”
I closed my eyes briefly, knowing how upset Olivia must be. And Olivia, I had to ask about her. I had to assume that she was the one who had brought her mother in in the first place because if Jeannie had her way, she would probably die in peace at her home.
I swallowed hard, knowing the next question that I had to ask. “Is anyone else there with her?”
“Yes,” the orderly admitted. “Olivia Sable, her daughter is here. She's quite distraught, too.”
“I'll be right over,” I told the woman before hanging up the phone.
I immediately dialed the sitter that I'd been using since Helen's condition had deteriorated. “Jenna?” I asked. “I was wondering if you could come over and watch Emma, possibly for the whole night,” I told her. “It's kind of an emergency. She's already gone to bed, so you wouldn't have to do much. I'll pay you double your normal rate since it's short notice and overnight.”
“I'll be right there, Mr. Jones,” Jenna said, not bothering to ask a
ny questions. I had to appreciate that, at least.
Sure enough, the young college woman was there in 10 minutes flat, and I ran out the door, hopping in my car and driving toward the hospital. I hated the thought of Emma waking up in the house and wondering where I was, finding only Jenna there with her. But there was no way I was taking her over to the hospital with me, not when she had just gone down to bed, not when she wouldn't understand what was happening, and especially not if Olivia was distraught over her mother's condition.
And especially not if Jeannie wasn't likely to last the night.
It was only as I was driving down the road, almost to the hospital, that I paused to consider what I was doing. Sure, Jeannie was a patient, but it was out of my hands at this point. And lately, she'd been more Dr. Halsey's patient than mine, although I supposed I must still be listed as her primary physician on all of her paperwork, which was why the hospital had called in the first place.
But I knew I wasn't really doing this for Jeannie. The woman was very kind, of course, although very stubborn and frustrating as a patient. I wasn't tearing down the road toward the hospital for her, though; I was doing this for Olivia.
It was strange, but when it came down to it, no matter how much bickering had gone on between Olivia and me, I knew that I couldn't leave her to deal with this on her own. I remembered what it had been like when I'd been at the hospital with Emily, when we'd known that the end was coming. I couldn't leave Olivia to that. And if I showed up and Buck was there, well, I would just have to deal with that.
I nodded a little to myself and parked the car, walking quickly into the emergency room.
Chapter Thirty
Olivia
When Mom started coughing at the dinner table, I thought nothing about it at first. But when those coughs turned into gasps for air, gasps that didn't subside even after she managed to choke down some water, I realized this must be the same thing that had happened last time.
I insisted on driving her to the hospital, even though she tried to tell me that she would be much more comfortable in her bed.
“Don't be ridiculous, Mom,” I told her, frowning as I bundled her into a coat. She was shivering, but although the early summer evening was relatively cool, it wasn't cold enough for her to be shaking that badly.
I frowned, wondering if she was going into shock or something. My fingers itched to pull out my phone and call Eric, but I figured the best course of action was just to get Mom to the hospital as quickly as possible. They'd know what was going on and be able to help her.
There was a selfish part of me that didn't want to know exactly what was going on, either. I wanted to pretend that this was just the same as it had been the last time that she'd gone into the hospital and that after a few days, we'd be headed home again.
I knew it was unlikely that we'd get that lucky again, though.
I'd talked to Dr. Halsey earlier that week, asking if surgery was even still an option. He'd told me that it probably wasn't but that he wouldn't know for sure unless they did another X-ray of Mom's lungs, something that I hadn't been able to convince her to have done.
He'd explained to me that the reason she had felt so much better the last time so that she'd been able to come home from the hospital was likely due to the steroids they gave her to reduce the size of the tumors. Hence, making it easier for her to breathe and lessening her pain as well.
Or at least, that was the way that Dr. Halsey explained it to me.
We were lucky when we got to the hospital: they were able to put her in a private room, and Dr. Halsey happened to be working that night anyway. He took her in immediately for a few tests and then arranged to have her moved into a room, promising to have a long chat with me later.
But I could tell, even without the chat, that things weren't looking good. That much was obvious, based on Mom's wheezing and the concerned looks on the faces of all the nurses and Dr. Halsey. I could tell they were doing their best to make her comfortable, and the whole thing made me want to scream. Finally, they adjusted the bed, in the hopes that if she remained more upright, it would be easier for her to breathe, then I asked them all to leave.
Then, I just sat there at Mom's side, weeping and holding her hand, trying not to think about how this could be the last time I ever saw her. She had to pull through. She just had to.
At the same time, I felt selfish for wanting that. She hadn't let them put her back on painkillers this time, telling them in no uncertain words that she didn't want 'those strange chemicals' pumped back into her body and that she would get through this just fine on her own. She'd even gone so far as to joke that this wasn't as painful as childbirth and that she'd handled that just fine.
But I could see the pain etching faint lines around her eyes, creasing her forehead. I knew that wanting her to stay around for longer could mean that she had to deal with this pain for even longer because her body showed no signs of letting her rest this time. I didn't want her to be in pain, but it seemed like the only way she was going to escape her pain, this time, was in death.
That was something that I didn't want to even consider.
Mom patted my hand. “Don't cry, Livy, darling,” she said, her voice weak but her grip still firm. “I've made my peace.”
“Don't say that,” I sobbed. “Don't just give up.”
Mom managed half a smile and wheezed in another breath. “I didn't want to make myself sicker with treatments,” she said. “You know as well as I do that it would have just been prolonging the inevitable. Once the cancer gets in you, there's no real chance of survival.”
“But you could have lived a little longer,” I sobbed. “You could have met your grandchild.”
“I wouldn't want my granddaughter to remember me like this,” Mom said fiercely. “I want you to tell her all the good stories about me, about how strong I was. About how much life I had.”
I whimpered, and she squeezed my hand even tighter. “Livy, listen to me,” she said. “I've had a good life. Maybe not as long as some, but I did everything that I wanted to do in this lifetime, and I'm ready to go.” Her eyes softened. “I'm going to miss my incredible daughter, but I know that she'll be fine without her mother.”
I just shook my head, having a hard time getting words out. “How am I going to raise a baby with no grandmother and no father?” I finally managed to ask. I still hadn't told her about the fight that Eric and I had had, not wanting to upset her, but now it all came pouring out. “Eric refuses to believe that it's his baby. I don't know if he's just not interested in being a father again or if he really doesn't believe me, but I don't think he's going to be around for her.”
Mom gave a rattling cough. “You didn't grow up with a father,” she reminded me when her coughing had subsided. “And I think you turned out pretty great.”
“But Mom, that was different,” I protested. “You were you.” It didn't make much sense to say that, I knew. Just like I knew things must have been difficult for her, and scary. But somewhere, I still clung to that childish innocence, that naïveté that insisted that my mom and I were different breeds of people. She had raised me by herself because of course she had raised me by herself. I had always viewed her as much stronger than I could ever be.
Our situations weren't all that different, though. She had to know what I was going through, so why was it so easy for her to refuse treatment, and refuse to be around to help me out? Again, that feeling of betrayal came back. But I couldn't be angry with her now. She had made her peace, that was what she had said. I had to make my own peace and accept that this was the decision that she had made.
It was too late for regrets now, anyway. It was no longer possible to operate on her. I had already asked Dr. Halsey about that. There was nothing more that we could do for her.
“I see more of myself in you every day,” Mom said quietly. “I have faith in you; you're stronger than you realize. I have no doubt that you'll survive this and raise a beautiful daughter to carry on our fami
ly's legacy.”
Her eyes closed, and she forced them back open again, smiling one last time at me. This time, when her eyes slid closed, they didn't open again, and it wasn't long after that that her breathing slowed and then stopped.
“Nurse!” I screamed, frantically pressing the call button on the side of the bed even though I knew that there was nothing they could do.
When the door opened, though, it wasn't one of the nurses that hurried in, at least not initially. Instead, it was Eric who came into the room, pausing for only a moment to take in the everything. I was still clinging to Mom's hand like if I held it tightly enough, she wouldn't be able to leave me.
He gently pried my hand away, pulling me into his arms, and I clung to him as though he were my lifeline. I couldn't spare a moment to wonder what he was doing there or to think about how inappropriate this was, my clutching onto him like this. All I knew was that Mom was gone and that Eric was the only person who could possibly understand the pain that was ripping my heart to shreds at the moment.
Eric scooped me up into his arms and carried me out of the room, down the hallway. Initially, I fought against him, not wanting to be taken away from Mom. Once that happened, I knew it was done and that I was never going to see her again. But Eric held me tightly and maneuvered me carefully, not setting me down until we were in an empty room, the door closed tightly behind us.
He set me down on the bed, still holding me, stroking my hair and holding my hand.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said softly, as though there was no bitterness or anger between us.
“I should have done more,” I couldn't help sobbing. “You told it to me again and again, and I didn't listen. Maybe if I had, we wouldn't be here.”
“Or maybe we would still be here,” Eric said quietly. “Cancer is fickle, and it never acts the same, from one patient to the next. We don't know that the surgery would have been effective. We don't know that she would have been responsive to the chemo. For all we know, she lived longer like this than she would have otherwise.”
