Three Strikes (Four of a Kind Book 3)

by Kellie Bean

  "I'm sorry for all this," Grace says, the first one to really speak. To start whatever this is. "I know were all being very dramatic, we just," she trails off for second and her eyes meet mine. I don't know what to do or say. "We just weren't sure what the right way to go about this was. But in the end we all agreed it was best just to be upfront. You girls are almost adults now and you've proven yourselves to be incredibly capable women so I'm just going to say it. I have cancer."

  My world stops.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Cancer.

  Cancer. Cancer. Cancer.

  Aunt Grace has Cancer.

  My lungs are struggling to take in air while I put all of my energy into looking less panicked than I feel. Freaking out right now is only going to make things harder on my family.

  But, I'm definitely freaking out right now.

  This can't be real.

  I'm staring at the three adult faces that are staring back at me and my sisters, trying to make sense of what I just heard. A sharp pain cuts through the insanity of my thoughts, I realize I've been clenching my fists so hard that my nails have started to dig into my palms.

  Taking a deep breath, I concentrate on everything going on around me rather than what I'm feeling. What I'm feeling is just... too much.

  Dad looks rough, his face unshaven and his brown hair kind of a mess, then again, it has for a while now. He hasn't really been around as much as usual, since a few days after Grace arrived. Now I guess I know why. Mom looks tired. Grace looks... totally fine. How it possible she has cancer?

  This has to be a dream. A very stupid dream.

  All of Aunt Grace’s sleeping in finally makes sense. She's been sick this whole time, and all I've managed to think about is how she's taken over my room.

  No one has said anything yet. Someone should probably say something.

  I open my mouth to say how sorry I am, sadly I’m just that little bit slow to speak as one of my sisters cuts in.

  "That really sucks." Says Rhiannon, blunt and straight to the point.

  Even though my eyes are still locked on Grace, I know for sure who said it. Rhiannon. To-the-point as ever.

  I'm a little horrified at her response, still, I find myself nodding anyway.

  This doesn’t feel real. It definitely sucks.

  Ever the one trick pony, I fall back on the same reaction I used earlier. In one smooth movement, I’m up from the floor and folding myself and my Aunt into a hug. This time, it’s me hanging on with everything I have. I don’t want to let go. I know Grace won’t rush me away. I have so many questions.

  As I pull away, I can’t help but study Grace’s face from up close. It looks the same as it always has.

  “How long have you known?” Is the first question out of my mouth.

  I step aside to let Reece in for the next hug, realizing my heart is hammering inside my chest. Why does it feel like I’m the one who is dying?

  "It's been about six months."

  "What kind of cancer?" Reagan asks next.

  "Breast. My family doctor found a lump in my left breast, everything kind of spiralled from there."

  I want to ask something else, but while Grace seems as calm and composed as ever, it's easy to imagine how this could quickly get out of control.

  "Pause." I say, cutting off whatever was about to come next. "How about we let Aunt Grace talk? Whatever you want to share, we're up for it. If you want your privacy, that's okay too."

  I turn and look at my sisters, trying to push them backwards with my gaze.

  Ease up.

  "I'll be honest, I was a big fan of privacy at first." Grace says, once we've all settled again. "When I first got the diagnosis, I was stunned. Shocked. I told myself I'd give myself a few weeks to wrap my head around things. I didn't want anyone's pity."

  "Nobody is pitying you." Mom says, reaching over to squeeze Aunt Grace's arm. "We love you."

  Grace offers a tight smile, like she doesn't quite believe Mom before continuing her story.

  "When it came time to start treatment, I had to tell my parents. I hated having to rely on them. I moved back to Ireland so I could be there for them, not the other way around. My first round of treatment took a lot out of me. They were there for me every step of the way, even though I'm pretty sure the whole thing was as awful for me as it was for them."

  Aunt Grace pauses, taking a breath. Of course Reece takes the chance to jump in.

  "So this was all six months ago, right? Grandma and Grandpa knew the whole time?" She turns toward Dad. "Did you know?"

  He shakes his head. "I haven't known for long. When I found out, I needed some time to process everything. I guess it runs in the family. So whatever you girls need, just let us know."

  Reece isn't done.

  "How long have you known?" She homes in on Mom, whose eyes shift from her to Dad.

  "Not long." Nice and vague.

  Is this why she pushed for me to let Grace sleep as much as possible? Probably.

  We all know now.

  I almost wish I didn't.

  My thoughts are all over the place right now.

  Reagan speaks next, surprising me with her harsh tone. "So you've all been lying to us for a few days now? Or you know, for six months."

  "Reagan, honey..." Dad says softly, a bite of anger in his lowered voice.

  "No. You kept this from us, on purpose. Why exactly?"

  "I wanted to tell your parents first, so I didn't screw this up. I'm so sorry. I know this is scary but I promise, it's all out there now. If there's anything else you're curious about, just ask."

  "Reagan..." Mom says, "I know you're upset, but we all need to have Grace's back now and to be there for her. We need to be there for whatever she needs from us."

  I'm terrified of what's going to come out of Reagan's mouth next. The last thing any of us need right now is for her to say something hurtful, something she's definitely going to regret, all because she's hurting.

  Reagan doesn't argue. Doesn't say a word. Instead, she storms out of the room, not looking back at any of us.

  "Grace, I'm so sorry," Mom says, standing as though to go after Reagan.

  "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, neither does she. Like me and like her dad, she just needs a little time. Believe me, I get that this is a lot to take."

  Without ever really making the decision to, I lean into Rhiannon who is now beside me, feeling steadier as soon as we touch. Moments later, Reece finds us too and I feel the warmth of her brushing against the other side of me. I hold in the tears that are threatening to fall. All of that can wait until later.

  "Why don’t we all call it quits for awhile?" Mom says. "There's a lot to digest here, but I think we could all stand to add pizza to the mix. Everything looks better after pizza."

  Grunting something I don't catch, Dad stands up. "I'll get it."

  Within seconds, he's gone, taking off for the kitchen which is usually where he puts his cell phone down, before wandering off for a while. Realizing he hasn't checked the thing in hours.

  "If it's alright, I'd like to go try talking to Reagan." Grace says, standing up.

  Mom forces an encouraging smile. "Sure. Whatever you need."

  Then there were four.

  If Grace hadn't already gone after Reagan, I would have. My oldest sister has never been all that comfortable with her emotions, she hates anything that brings a lot of attention to what she's feeling. That doesn't mean she likes to go things alone though, that's more Rhiannon's style. What Reagan needs right now is someone to talk to. She already has that.

  So, what can I do? I have to do something. Sitting here in silence is quickly turning into a new kind of torture.

  Without explaining where I'm going, I leave for the kitchen. Dad's just getting off the phone with Fairview Pizzeria, our go-to delivery pick, when I walk in. His sad eyes follow me as I move to sit at the table across from him.

  "How are you?" I ask.

  "Doing okay
."

  "Fair enough. I'm sorry you had to go through this on your own for a while. I can't imagine..." I don't finish my sentence, and not only because it's wrong.

  I can imagine. I can imagine all too easily what I would be feeling if one of my sisters was diagnosed with cancer or something else, anything else, that would hurt them or make their lives harder.

  "It was the right move. I've had a few days to wrap my head around everything, so now it's your turn. If you need anything, you let me know."

  I nod because I know it's what he wants. Dad's great at being there for everyone but himself. He’s honestly pretty awful at recognizing his own needs sometimes.

  Since he said he doesn't say anything else, I suppose I could just go and wait for pizza with everyone else. I don't know what else I could possibly do or say. Instead, I stay put, doing my best to look lost in thought with every fiber of who I am whilst watching my father for any hints about how he's doing, or what he might need.

  I've got nothing.

  I stay anyway. For now, all I can do is just be there for Dad, for Grace, for Reagan. For whoever needs me.

  My alarm goes off like a siren the next morning, surging my mind into panic mode while my body refuses to move. I set it last night thinking I should be up in case anyone woke up needing a shoulder to lean on, or an ear to listen, now, I'm regretting every decision I ever made that led to me feeling this exhausted.

  I'm going to get up at the count of three.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  I'm still not moving. I'm too tired to do anything at all.

  Between running around and checking on my family members, tossing and turning on the couch alone with my thoughts, I must have gotten about three hours of sleep. Even though my body is exhausted, now that I'm awake, my brain won't shut up.

  It's Sunday again. It was a Sunday when Aunt Grace showed up without warning, now it's a Sunday again when I have to deal with maybe having to say goodbye to her.

  No.

  I push that thought out of my head. She's not dying. She's fighting. It's not like me to just jump to the worst possible conclusion. I'm. just so...tired.

  Last night moved slower than the last day of school before summer vacation, while still managing to make me feel like I was moving too fast, like everything was spiraling out of control. I spent at least seven hours moving between everyone in my family, just being close by so they'd know I was there. After pizza we played a couple card games then watched a movie, even Reagan joined back in as everyone pretended like it was business as usual.

  It's not.

  Aunt Grace is sick. Maybe dying. Who knows how long we all have left together?

  I force myself off the couch, yanking my phone from its charger in the process. I've got a stream of messages from Rosie waiting for me, my eyes wandering over them quickly. I texted her a quick update of what happened, mostly so I wouldn't have to relive it again in person. She responded exactly how I expected her to with nothing but sympathy and kindness. Sympathy is a little too hard to bare right now. I need something to do.

  As I slip a sweater on over my pajamas, the house seems to close in around me as quiet as a tomb.

  Stop that.

  I flip the first light switch I reach in the hallway, purposefully leaving it on. We could use a little more light around here today.

  Not sure where else to go, I head back toward the kitchen. It's still early, though it can't hurt to put on the coffeepot and the kettle. I doubt I'll be the only one who didn’t get enough sleep last night.

  Aunt Grace is already in the kitchen when I get there, smiling up at me from behind a newspaper.

  "Good morning!"

  How is she that chipper?

  I grin back at her.

  "Morning! How are you? Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel like a nag, worrying over someone who probably wants to pretend like everything's normal. As always, Grace is a good sport.

  "You would not believe how messed up my system is right now. I honestly don’t know if it's the travel, the chemo, or just giving myself permission to nap whenever I get the notion, but my sleep cycle is essentially non-existent these days." She turns from me, glancing at the counter. "There should be enough hot water in the kettle for tea if you want it."

  I take her up on the offer, pausing as my tea steeps to start the water boiling again in case anyone else turns up.

  "Can I get you anything?" I ask. I really can't help myself sometimes.

  "Nope. I'm all set. I'd love to chat with you for a few minutes though if you're up for it. I found a chance to talk with each of your sisters last night. Anytime I tried to grab you, you were always busy."

  "I'm so sorry!" I whip around too quickly, splashing hot tea on my fingers. "If I'd known you-"

  "Reilly, honey, stop. You're fine. I only wanted to see if you had any questions, or even anything you just wanted to get off your chest. The last thing I want is you girls feeling like you have to tiptoe around all of this. I'm well aware that I have cancer, believe me. Talking about it with me or around me isn't going to change any of that. I'll admit that sometimes knowing more only makes it scarier, that said, I do think it helps a bit too. So... if you have questions, let's hear them." She must sense my hesitation as I study her face. "I want to hear them. It might even help me a bit to talk about it."

  "You're sure? Because if you've already talked to everyone else, I'm sure they can fill me in."

  "One hundred percent."

  “Well, if it would help...” I sit down at the table.

  I do have questions. So many.

  "Are you going to be okay?"

  The tiniest frown tugs at the corner of Grace's mouth, pulling it away from her usual smile.

  "I wish I knew. It was only stage two when they found it, so the survival rates are better than most. That's partly why they opted for a less aggressive treatment the first time around. I really didn’t want to spend what could be my last days cooped up in a hospital, watching my hair fall out and feeling like I should already be dead."

  "You said you still have cancer, right? It didn't work."

  "Not as well as my doctors hoped. So the next plan is to just go in and take the sucker out, hopefully leaving as much of my breast as they can. They would have done it already, but I thought maybe coming here and having people your mom get involved would make sense."

  To me it already sounded a little like Grace had been playing too fast and loose with her medical decisions, not trusting her doctors as much as I would have. I have to trust her too. There were probably more considerations that she wasn't sharing. There had to be.

  "Couldn't you have gotten her involved right from the beginning? She's a doctor. This is what she's good at." I point out. "Why didn't you tell her sooner to you know, get her advice?"

  "I probably should have. It was just...the more people I told, the more real it felt. Even now, I've only told family. Hopefully a year from now I'll be back to my real life, and this will all be a story of my harrowing victory over cancer. Your mom does like the doc I've been talking to in the city. When I was there last week, the cancer hadn't progressed any further. The most important thing to me was getting some real time with you girls and with your parents. I know I haven't exactly been a reliable person in your lives, but... I needed to know that you all really knew me. Knew who I was."

  "Know." I correct.

  Despite all the assurances that things are looking okay, she's still talking like she's going to die.

  "We know who you are. We always have. I can remember talking to you, laughing with you for my whole life. Maybe you haven't actually been here, but you've always made an effort. Always. We love you. Now we just want to make sure we're still going to get to know you for a long, long time. Do whatever you need to do, wherever you need to do it."

  "That's very sweet..."

  "No. I mean it." My voice has taken on a to
ne that sounds a little too much like my mom's, there's no stopping me now. "The absolute best thing you can do for us right now is take care of yourself. Let us help if we can. No more waiting or postponing. Please."

  Grace reaches across the table, standing a little so her hand reaches mine. "Of course I will! You aren't getting rid of me any time soon."

  I make myself smile, leaning in a little so she can better place her hand over mine. Her promises have done little to lift the heaviness on my heart. I wish I knew what was going on in Grace's head right now, or more importantly, in her body because no matter what, she's got a fight ahead of her. If there's anything I can do to make this easier on her, that's what I need to be doing.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I thought waking up on Sunday morning was bad. Monday sets a whole new record for bad. But that's kind of what Mondays are for.

  I make it through all of my morning classes in kind of a daze, making notes of anything I'll need to go back and double check once I'm actually feeling human again.

  When the bell rings for lunch, I bolt out of my seat. If I move quickly, I can walk home in like fifteen minutes, sleep for forty-five, then get back for my last class of the day.

  Getting from my desk to the front door of the school goes better than I hoped for, with almost everyone magically managing to stay out of my way.

  I'm headed across the parking lot when someone shouts my name.

  "Reilly!" The voice calls again and I turn back to find the source.

  It's Sarah, walking fast toward me with her hands shoved in her pockets. More confused than anything, I start walking toward her, only then noticing the way her brows dip toward her eyes, and the grimace embedded in her expression.

  I start talking as soon as she reaches me. "What's wrong?" I'm trying to work through what's happening and all she's doing is shaking her head at me.

  "You're leaving?" She asks, incredulous.

  "Umm. Yeah, I was just going to go home and have a nap really quick. Is everything okay?" I feel like that's practically my catchphrase at this point.