I was leaving and couldn’t bring them with me. They would be alone. Abandoned. Not because of me, but because the cancer was fucking back and robbing them of much more than it was robbing me of. I got to take them with me wherever I went, but when I was gone…I was gone where they were concerned.
The idea of that was unbearable. Much more so than last time, because at least last time, there had been hope. The only hope I had now was to get a few extra months in. There was no coming out the other side of this like I had before. There was no bonus baby and third chance at life. I was finishing the inevitable like the cancer had simply been on pause and it was time to let it continue to play out. That was the deal, unfair as it was, that was the plan for me.
Unfortunately, nobody tells you your plan in advance and it’s pretty shitty, if you ask me. It’s my life. I should have some say. I should be considered as well as my family when all of this was decided for me by the almighty, the universe, the ground hog on ground hog’s day…whoever was in charge of this. I guess my life wasn’t really mine, I just had the privileges of seeing it through.
I continued to cry, curse, and hit the things around me until it wasn’t enough. I jumped from my parked car, leaving the door open and engine running as I ran to the rocky bank at the river’s edge. Falling to my knees, I let that howling sob roll and roll. I threw rocks. I threw sticks. I threw an old shoe that was just lying there.
When I threw an empty beer bottle I found near my feet, I felt relief in the sound of shattering glass. I related to the shards and splinters scattering among the rocks. Maybe because I was shattered? So many pieces and not a single way to put it back together. There were too many parts, big and small — good luck finding them all.
I related because that was my life — it had just fallen into a million shards and splinters. Good luck finding all the small pieces to make the whole — they were fading. Tiny splinters of me were slowly disappearing, scattered among the rocky ledge I’d been living. Good luck finding all the pieces. I was fading. Because I was…dying.
I’d been dying all along. I was on borrowed time as pieces of me scattered along the rocky bank of a river in constant motion. There was that time again. I’d felt it happening. I knew it was coming. I’d been blessed and knew there would be a time to reimburse the grace I was living because as I’ve said, that’s life — it’s a barter.
If I had known, then I’d been preparing. For myself anyway. Maybe that was all I was supposed to do — prepare myself so I could spend what time I had left preparing them. The journey was now solemnly about them — the family I loved — from this point forward.
That was why I hadn’t felt anything. Why I couldn’t get angry. Why I hadn’t yelled, screamed, and swore — until I thought of them. I’d been okay with it because I knew my forever was going to be short lived when I’d survived something I shouldn’t have. But they didn’t know our forever was temporary and everything I did from this point forward was going to directly impact their forever with me, despite my absence from it. Does that even make sense?
On my knees, I laughed at the fact that a shattered beer bottle and digital clock took me to the other side of crazy just so I could feel something — and that my car was still parked and running behind me. Oddly, nobody took the opportunity to jump in and take off – that’s saying something on this side of town. The universe must have done me another solid because that car should have been hauling ass down the freeway like a scene out of one of Liam’s video games by now. It wasn’t…thanks, universe.
I wiped my face, took to my feet, and gave the fast-flowing river one last glance before going back to my car. It was time to go home. With a quick check in the mirror, I freshened up with a left-over napkin from lunch and a quick swipe of eyeliner from my bag. I didn’t wear much more than that where makeup was concerned; that made it easy.
I stopped at the end of the parking lot, ready to pull onto the main road when I noticed an older man standing against the old weathered building that looked as hard and worn as he did. Had he been watching me? Maybe he was the reason my car had been right where I’d left it, still running with door open like a neon sign blaring, “take me, she’s crazy and won’t notice.”
He approached my car, and I rolled down the passenger side window, despite knowing better. Though his outer appearance fit that of the local riffraff, I wasn’t afraid of his approach.
“It’s all going to be okay, kid. Hang in there,” he said with a gentle smile and kindness in his steely blue eyes. Then he walked off.
Was I having a moment? You know, one of those awe-inspired TV moments where the universe, God, or some other celestial being was sending me a message — speaking to me — through this old dude who’d probably seen harder times than most? Was this a lesson where I reflected on all I had, not what I won’t? What did he know that I didn’t?
Nothing. He didn’t know. I knew. I knew it wasn’t going to be okay — leaving behind a toddler and husband wasn’t okay — dying wasn’t okay. Or maybe it was. Maybe that was the point of this guy’s quick intervention. Maybe it was my job, per se, to make it all okay — I just didn’t know how and didn’t have much time to figure that piece out.
Or he was too invested in the train wreck he’d been watching and couldn’t look away – felt parting words were in order. Perhaps I was his blessing — those tend to be passed around — and verified his circumstances could always be worse. He could have been that manic crazy train having a tantrum in an abandoned cannery in the seedy part of town — but he wasn’t.
I rolled down the rest of the windows so the cool, fresh air could smother my face and take down the puffy red, I-just-lost-my-shit-in-the-ghetto look. Liam would be home tonight. I needed to get it together. He’d know something was wrong if I didn’t play my cards right. I would tell him. But maybe not until tomorrow…after a good night’s sleep.
3
Two Truths and a Lie…
“Oh my God. There you are,” Liam said as I entered our building.
Watermark tower was a high rise building in the newer part of Portland’s Waterfront district. It was not only where we lived, but where Liam and his brothers ran their security firm — they’d acquired it as payment from one of their larger clients.
It was odd how they conducted business — fees weren’t always paid in money, but in assets. I guess when you had more money than God, it was easier to pay your bill with a building or private island in the middle of the Caribbean. Seemed a little backward, but it was what it was. I always supposed it could have been worse and people could have paid with chickens or jam like the old TV shows about the pioneer days. I didn’t really like chicken.
On any other day, I would say it was nice to live in the same building with the entire O’Reilly clan, but today…I wished we lived anywhere else. I was surrounded.
The lobby was full of O’Reilly men, dressed in tactical gear hovering around maps — Liam leaning over what looked like a makeshift command station with multiple laptops. Well, he saw me. He came right for me, and the look on his face was hard to interpret. I had sensed a bit of relief and maybe a little…anger and concern? As I looked around the lobby, I noticed all the brothers wore that same look, and my heart sunk. Did they know?
Were they upset because they somehow knew what was coming? Had Mendoza reached out despite it being against my wishes…and illegal? I braced myself, trying to keep it together. I knew this time would come, and it seemed the universe intervened on my behalf — again, and I was going to have to deal with the fall out.
At least I wouldn’t have to find a way to break it to them. I would just have to answer their questions, and that seemed easier than telling my husband I was dying. Mendoza had done that part for me. Or had he? Liam could find out anything about anybody — perk of being a hacker. He could track any one of us at any given moment and could have easily found out I’d been at the Cancer Center.
That would explain his concern. Suddenly, my husband’s abili
ty to electronically track anyone no longer made me feel safe; it made me feel violated. I needed a minute to deal with this, and it seemed I wasn’t going to get that.
“Jesus, Cass. I’ve been looking for you. Where were you?” Liam asked, pulling me into an embrace. I felt his shoulders relax as I leaned into him, like the weight of the world had just lifted. “I was so worried.”
“I…uh…” What the hell was I supposed to say? I was hanging out in the worst part of town, alone, totally vulnerable, but don’t worry…they were more afraid of me then I was of any of them because I totally lost my shit and had the breakdown of all breakdowns because dying is hard. I’d spare him and the rest of the guys the dramatics — the cancer would be enough of a blow.
I pulled away. “I was just out, running errands, lost track of time.”
“Your phone is showing up on the map down by the old cannery. Says you’re still there.” His hands rested on my shoulders as he ducked down to eye level, waiting for answers. It was like he was searching my expression for the secret to life, so intense, so Liam.
“It’s still pinging down in the Foundry District, bro,” Dace said in the distance.
“M-My phone? The Foundry?” I asked. Something wasn’t right. Was the universe doing me a favor? All I could think in that moment was run with it. “Oh. Uh. I think I lost my phone somewhere.”
“Yeah. It’s been there a while. We were getting geared up and heading down there,” Liam said.
Well, that’s interesting. I hadn’t known I’d lost my phone, but I was really fucking glad I had now. I needed all the help I could get. I wasn’t ready to deal with all the whys and hows with my husband because I didn’t have my own mind wrapped around any of it just yet.
“Oh…well, um…I’m not down there. I’m…here.” I gave him a soft chuckle while I tried to figure out what he knew, or better yet, what he didn’t know. He seemed upset I was in the Foundry and late…no mention of the big C.
“Clearly.” He brought me in for another tight embrace. “Jesus. I thought something had happened to you. You weren’t here. You weren’t answering your phone…I was worried.”
He didn’t know. He was just worried. He did this every now and again. In the beginning, I couldn’t go to the bathroom without him asking if I was okay, did I need anything, or should he call the doctor. I cut him a lot of slack because I wasn’t the only one who had gone through treatment the first time — he went through it too, just in a different way.
A pinch in my chest had my attention. I knew he worried even though I was fine, or…had been fine until today. That heavy emotional sensation was flooding back in, and I couldn’t let it. Not here. Not right now. Not in front of everyone. I wasn’t ready to tell my husband, much less the entire family. The days of going to the bathroom or sneezing without an army of caretakers surrounding me would soon be coming to an end.
This wasn’t going to destroy only him; it would touch all of them because our family was close — really close. I hadn’t prepared for how this was going to affect Liam and Reagan, much less the rest of them. I couldn’t go there. I needed to keep it together. There was something else going on here. Liam was home early, along with all the boys. Their case had wrapped sooner than expected, it seemed, and he didn’t tell me? No call. No text. No warning at all — as if I needed a warning. On any other day, I wouldn’t, but this wasn’t any other day.
There was only one reason why he wouldn’t clue me in, and normally it would make me as giddy as a schoolgirl. Not today. There was nothing giddy about today. Why was the universe such a cross bitch? Hadn’t I had enough?
“Well, you’re home early,” I said, trying to add a little cheer to my delivery. I was, after all, happy to see my husband. I was just surprised to see him. I’d thought I had a few hours to get into my groove before I had to face him with a really big secret. “I take it the case went well?”
“Oh.” He put a little distance between us again. I noticed his expression lift, shifting from concern to something a little cocky. “That was a slam dunk. I planned this on purpose. I’ve been here since this morning.”
This morning? He’d been there all day — I’ve been gone all day. Shit.
“Planned?” I put on a smile to mask the guilt. “What exactly are you planning, O’Reilly?”
I played along — played the part — or what I thought that role would look like had this been a regular day in the life of Cass and Liam. A day before I knew. It was hard to look back and try to find a similar moment to mimic. How did I behave the last time he did this — whatever this was? I didn’t even know. Was it a gift? Was he taking me to dinner? Did he get the latest version of some video game and he was about to geek out all weekend so he was sending me to the mountains for a girl’s weekend with Reagan and the other O’Reilly ladies?
“Go say goodbye to your daughter, Cass.”
I froze. There was nothing rational about my thinking in that moment — hell, there was nothing rational about my thinking the entire day. It was done and gone — my mind that was — and those words didn’t hit me right. Tears welled up, and I just froze.
They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, and they — whoever they are — were right. As his brothers finished packing up all the tactical gear they had set up in some exaggerated rescue effort when they thought I was being held hostage at the cannery because I wasn’t answering calls, I didn’t notice the snickers or knowing grins. I didn’t notice the eerie calm of the place — certainly not a mood that would have been present had anyone really known. And most certainly not the mood had Liam known where I was all day and why. There wouldn’t have been smirks or chuckles. There would have been tears and a whole lot of hugging.
None the less, I hadn’t picked up on any of the cues, read the situation entirely wrong, and I froze. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I wouldn’t be no matter how much time I had left — and that hit me like a shit ton of bricks to the chest. I…didn’t…want…to say…goodbye. It was too soon. Way too soon. I wouldn’t, and he couldn’t make me.
I was all but a sturdy foot stomp away from a full-blown toddler worthy tantrum when my eyes decided to leak. The tears flowed, and there was no stopping them. Reality: I was letting go of some pent-up emotion I hadn’t let out during my previous mental break. In that moment, however, it was the idea of letting go of my daughter before it was time. Sure, it didn’t make sense — that whole hindsight thing — why would my husband tell me to say goodbye to our daughter even if he did know? Short answer: he wouldn’t.
“What is it, darlin’?” Liam cradled my head so he could swipe my rogue tears with the pads of his thumbs.
His brow had that concerned furrow again. I was hurting him and didn’t even have to try. Liam, despite his size, strong physique, and ability to look so tough and rugged on the outside, was a soft-hearted man who felt everything. It was what I loved most about him. He was, dare I say it, sensitive. To everything. How I felt, how Reagan felt, how his family felt. He was compassionate and nurturing. So, when he wore that look, it was a stab to the chest because it was like he felt those tears he brushed away.
That was my fault. And this was just the beginning. It was only going to get worse, and I didn’t know how long I could endure that — it had nearly claimed me the last time.
“Wh-What do you mean?” I played dumb. I was getting really good at that.
“Why are you so upset?” he deadpanned, doing that searching expression thing again. Like the answer was right there in front of him, and all I had to do was wrinkle my nose or something and the big secret would be out.
“I’m not.” Another lie. “I’m just happy to see you — early at that. Sometimes I worry when you leave, so getting you back early is…everything.”
“Well, the tears are a first, but I’m flattered, baby.” He pulled his mouth to mine for a quick sweet kiss. “You don’t ever have to worry. I’m surrounded by those assholes.” He tossed a thumb over his shoulder at his brothers who were making t
heir way to the elevator. “They’re afraid of you — I’m the last one they’d let get hurt.”
A few choice words came from the men huddled at the elevator. Despite their backs being turned to us as they waited for their ride up to their floors, they were listening.
“As they should be,” I said as tough as I could, adding a little chuckle. “I guess I’m just a little tired.”
Wrong answer, I thought, but it was too late to take it back.
“Why? What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay? Should I call Mendoza?”
“No!” I replied a little more hasty than intended. That was the last person I wanted Liam to talk to. “I mean…Reagan and I stayed up a little later than we should have, but we had a movie marathon and the mermaid just wouldn’t get her happily ever after fast enough.”
“It’s always the damn mermaid.” Liam laughed. “That one always takes the longest.”
“Yeah.” Yeah? Really? That was the best I could do…yeah?
“Well, if you’re tired, you probably don’t want your surprise,” Liam teased, leading us to the elevator just as the doors started to close on the guys. “I mean, I thought it was a really good one.”
“Surprise?” He had my attention. Liam’s surprises were always the best. He was so romantic. In the beginning, they weren’t so great — but he’d finally learned the latest version of his favorite video game just didn’t do for me what it did for him. This was something I didn’t have to try at or play a role — I was genuinely excited. “I love your surprises. Is it you being home early? Going to dinner? Catching a movie while we’re out? Oh! I know…we’re going to that theatre that serves dinner while you watch the movie! Just so you know, I’m ordering those tri-tip things and a glass of red—”
Brother's Keeper V: Wylie (the complete series BOX SET): NEW RELEASE + Series Box SET included! Page 56
