So here I was, staring at Quinn and wishing for time, feeling angry that I even cared. For my children, yes, but not for romance or a man. Men were nothing but trouble.
Quinn sat on the chair and picked up the MacGyver DVD. “No way. I loved these growing up. They were my favorite. Should I put it in?”
What could I say? No, because I’m dying?
I let him. He scooted the chair closer to the bed and laid his hand beside mine. Next to his strong and healthy hand, mine looked fragile, and more so because of the IV. My heart thudded in my chest.
After about ten minutes, he looked me in the eye and took my hand, his thumb rubbing my skin softly. “What happened? Can you tell me?”
“I have these headaches,” I said, debating how much to say. The last thing I needed was to lose my job before I absolutely had to. “They were bad yesterday, and I had a reaction to the medication. It’s never happened before.” The doctor had mentioned taking something else, but that was before I’d told him about the tumor. Nothing else worked, or at least nothing that was less dangerous. I would simply have to be careful, maybe work up a system where I wrote down when I took the pills, or maybe I could time them when Kyle was around so she could double check.
More responsibility for my little girl. I sighed internally.
“I’m sorry it happened,” Quinn said. “Is there anything I can do?”
You can make me better. You can support my children. Or give me a million dollars. But of course he could do none of those things. “Well, you did mention something about teaching me how to change the oil.”
He laughed. “That’s easy. Why don’t I do it this time, and I can show you the next?” He should have let go of my hand, but he didn’t, and I didn’t pull away. It had been so long since I’d let any man get this close. I hadn’t put on my perfume that morning, and I wondered if he could smell death on me, the death I imagined was always emanating from my body, despite the perfume. I wondered, too, if I should tell him my truck would probably never need another oil change. Not while I owned it.
His attention swung back to the TV, and I let myself float. Float. Let go. Just for now I wouldn’t worry about telling my children. I wouldn’t worry about Dante and Becca loving my children. I would feel Quinn’s warm hand on mine and let myself pretend.
* * *
When Charlotte came back later with my doctor and his specialist in tow, Quinn was gone. I must have fallen asleep. My head was hurting again, and I had to ask for something for the pain. Charlotte waited outside while the doctors talked to me. Nothing new. Nothing they could do.
Sometimes I really hated doctors.
I blinked back the tears as Charlotte returned to the room. She took one look at my face and sat silently in the chair next to the bed, giving me time to recover. Her eyes were on the tray where my medication bottles stood like small sentinels.
“They said I could go,” I said, swallowing hard. “I guess I should change so I’ll be ready when the nurse comes to bring me the paper and wheel me out. Becca brought me an outfit.”
She didn’t speak for the space of several more heartbeats, and then, “This isn’t something you have to do alone, Rikki.”
“What?”
“The cancer.”
I searched her face. “How long have you known?”
She motioned to the pill bottles. “Those are names I’ll never forget. But there are other signs, too. What kind is it?”
“It’s a tumor. A brain tumor. There’s nothing more they can do.” My voice broke at the words.
“Oh, Rikki.” Charlotte’s eyes watered. She seemed lost for several moments but then straightened her back. “It’s going to be okay. God loves you, Rikki. Don’t ever forget that.”
“God loves me,” I sneered. “That’s a good one. If there is a God, He certainly doesn’t care about me.”
“Oh, honey.” Charlotte leaned over, her hand on mine. “He brought you back to us, child. He brought you back to people who love you and who will take care of you and your babies. He put me here to share this time with you. If He didn’t love you, He wouldn’t have bothered.”
Tears escaped my eyes. “I thought Dante . . . I wanted him to . . . take the children. But I couldn’t ask . . . He seems so overwhelmed.”
“Give him time, Rikki. You’ve had a lot of months to come to accept what’s going to happen and what your children need. He’s only had a day. He may be our bishop, but he’s also just a man.”
She was right. Heroes weren’t made in a day, especially not one who’d begun as broken as Dante.
“Look at me.” Charlotte’s voice was gentle. “Don’t you ever again doubt the Lord is here for you. Pray, child. Pray as you have never prayed before. He will answer.”
Her eyes held mine, both of us tearful. My mouth worked. “I—I don’t know how.”
“You can learn.” She took both my hands and held on tight while she said a prayer aloud, not stopping even when the nurse came in.
I clung to her helplessly and tried to believe.
When the nurse finally wheeled me to the hospital entrance for my release, Charlotte was outside in her car waiting. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to take you somewhere before I take you home.”
“I’m pretty tired.” I was always tired.
“It’s about Kyle. She’s been going to this dance studio to watch. I thought you’d like to see it. She’s there now.”
“She’s supposed to be grounded.” Though since she saved my life, maybe I should give her a break.
“She is? Well, Becca thought you’d be okay with it. Just a few minutes.”
Well, if the perfect Becca thought so, then by all means. “Okay, let’s go.” I felt bad at my bitterness. Both Becca and Charlotte had been nothing but kind.
It wasn’t far, but I was surprised the studio was in a residential area instead of downtown. I recognized Becca’s van outside. It was already five-thirty, and I wondered that she wasn’t home making dinner for her family. Had she brought James with her?
All at once, I wanted to hug my children, both of them. And never, ever let them go.
“Need a hand?” Charlotte asked, coming around her car.
My heart felt as if hands were squeezing it inside my chest. “No. I’m fine.”
We went up the walk and down a flight of steps to a basement studio, where Becca waited for us. James wasn’t with her. “Good, you’re here. Don’t worry. James is at my house playing with Lauren. Allia’s watching them. Come closer. Over here is the best view.”
The curtains in the observation area were open to the dance floor, though the girl inside with the teacher didn’t look our way. It took a few seconds for me to realize that the girl was Kyle. I didn’t recognize the moves or the eager way she watched the teacher.
I must have made a sound because Becca and Charlotte both reached for me. Ignoring them, I sat down on the chair closest to the observation window and watched my little girl who no longer seemed like my little girl but someone else, all grown up. I recognized a step or two from the dance she’d been choreographing the other night, but there was far more I didn’t recognize.
Charlotte sat down next to me. “She has a lot of talent.”
“Yes.” I felt a deep sadness. Why couldn’t Kyle be content with crushes on boys and a longing for a horse or something? Instinctively, I knew these lessons were as far from my budget as I was from owning a Porsche.
“The teacher is willing to take her at a discount,” Becca said. “It’s still a lot of money, but Charlotte and I and a few others would like to sponsor her. If you’re okay with that.”
A few others? Embarrassment flamed over my face. Had they gone through the ward list and asked everyone to donate to poor Rikki Crockett, the new, barely active member with the daughter of bapt
ismal age? Had they hinted that baptism for Kyle was likely if they donated? How many of the ward members had refused?
“I know what you’re thinking.” Becca’s fingers felt like feathers on my arm. “But she’s been coming here every day after school to watch the other girls dance. She brings James when he’s not at my house, and he plays in the backyard. Look at her. She’s so happy.”
She was. Every part of Kyle glowed. Not with happiness but with pure joy.
I didn’t want her to hope and then to fall without me around to catch her when I was gone, and that meant I couldn’t accept their offer.
“The shoplifting,” Becca added softly. “She was trying to find enough money for the lessons.”
I’d suspected there’d been more to the incident than simple greed, but Kyle had been so belligerent of late and I’d been so tired that we hadn’t gotten around to that conversation yet.
“You were like that, Rikki,” Charlotte said. “I couldn’t help you, but we can help give Kyle the chance you didn’t have.”
They were wrong. I’d had chances, and I’d pursued them. Though I hadn’t taken lessons on this level, I’d gone as far as I could alone. I’d practiced, I’d sweated, I’d worked hard. Now I saw that effort as a useless, stupid thing. What good did dancing do for me when I was destined to die? I should have found a stable life, a job with good insurance, a husband who wouldn’t leave me. My children were the best thing that had ever happened in my life, and dancing was part of the reason I wasn’t able to assure their future, or at least the monetary part of it. Some dreams were a waste of time.
Yet there was Kyle, my baby, and I knew how she felt. I knew it intimately. And I didn’t care if I had to knock on every door in Spanish Fork, if I had to milk every bit of sympathy out of my tumor, no matter how I had to debase myself, I wanted her to have the chance to fulfill her dream. Maybe her dream wouldn’t end as bitterly as mine. I had to believe that.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. But I pay a share, too, and I want to know who’s helping us.” I didn’t want to wonder, to look into everyone’s eyes and think, “Is this person sending a check each month? Are they wondering why I didn’t make better choices to support my daughter?”
I’d taken charity before—from the government, from friends, from boyfriends, from strangers. This was different. It wasn’t food or clothes or shelter. It was what my daddy would have called a waste of money. Hardworking people throwing away good money on a hobby that would never bring in a decent paycheck. The pressure inside me built until I could hardly breathe. Maybe I was setting up Kyle for as hard a fall as I was suffering.
“I feel exactly like Kyle,” Becca whispered so softly, I knew the words were meant only for me. “You were right. I needed to see those gardens in Saint George.”
Just that easily, everything was all right. Becca understood. She didn’t look down on me or judge my past—at least not so it mattered. She saw a girl with a dream and wanted to help, regardless of who that girl was. She knew what it was like to dream. And dreams sometimes kept people alive.
I had a dream. A dream that I was healthy, that I’d married one of the nice men I’d met in my life, the ones without the nice cars but with the steady job and the ability to commit. I didn’t dream of dancing.
Well, sometimes. But in those dreams I was always dancing with Kyle and James, and we were together. Always.
“Rikki?”
I looked at Becca, startled for a moment. There I was wandering again.
“You okay?”
I was nauseated and exhausted, and I was dying. “I’m fine.”
“We didn’t tell Kyle anything, just that the teacher was willing to give her a free private lesson,” Becca added. “Apparently Kyle attended a group lesson last week with the younger class. Anyway, the teacher had a couple girls move on to a dance school in New York at the beginning of school, so she has openings. Probably not for long, though.”
New York. That was impressive. Hope for Kyle blossomed through me. Maybe if she had this, she wouldn’t be so angry at me. After.
“Come on,” Charlotte said, a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”
“I’ll bring Kyle and James in a bit,” Becca said. “Kyle’s almost finished here.”
That was too long. I needed my boy now. “I’d like to stop and get him.”
Becca regarded me silently, compassion in her eyes. Did she know? Did Dante break my trust? No. He wouldn’t break his word.
“We can do that.” Charlotte went for the door, holding it for me while I concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other.
At Becca’s, James ran into my arms joyfully. “Look, Mommy. Look!” He showed me a plastic container full of chocolate chip cookies. “They’re letters. Lauren’s mom helped us make the dough and cut them out. We made words from them and baked them in the oven. We got to keep all the words we could read. Cool, huh?”
I felt gratitude toward Becca once again. “That’s great, sweetheart.” I hugged him tightly. He felt so good in my arms, so right.
Already James was making a lot of progress. The school had retested him and diagnosed him with minor dyslexia, but like Becca, they suspected that the glasses would do the most for him in the long run.
That started me worrying about the additional tests the optometrist wanted in two weeks. He worried James might have a more serious degenerative condition because of how rapidly he’d lost sight. What if something was seriously wrong? It was going to be hard enough to find someone to take care of my children, and if James was going blind, it would be that much more difficult. It would also be one more thing ripped from him.
Another part of me felt guilt. Guilt because I’d been so focused on my own fight these past eight months that I hadn’t made my son’s increasing eye problems a priority. Logically, I knew there was only so much I could process, but it still meant I’d failed him.
Bad mother.
Becca would do it all.
No, I must not resent her. Dante knew about my problem, but he hadn’t swooped in and become my hero like I’d dreamed he might. Becca was my real hope now.
James tugged my hand. “Mommy, are you listening? I said I also played video games with Cory and Travis. They’re so good, but they didn’t care that I always got killed.”
“That’s so cool!” Once I would have asked him to show me and take a turn myself, but I was barely standing upright at the moment.
“You’ll get better like me,” Lauren told James. “I’d be even better if Mom let us play more.” She gave a surprisingly teenage-like sigh. Dante and Becca were going to have full hands with that one.
Travis came into the living room from the kitchen, as though drawn by his name. “Oh, hi.” He paused a minute, looking awkward. “Glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks.”
He flushed and stood staring at me with that abashed look I’d seen in far too many teens I’d waited on in restaurants. The boy had the definite beginnings of a crush. One more reason for Kyle to hate me and Dante and Becca to back away.
Nothing I could do about it now.
The drive to my house went far too fast. To my surprise, Charlotte didn’t leave us but came inside. “My husband will be here in a few minutes with your dinner,” she said as we went up the steps. “I hope you like lasagna. It’s really the best thing for him to cook while I’m not home.”
“Your husband cooks?”
“Goodness no. Or nothing besides steaks on the grill, anyway. He’s from my generation, not yours. I made the lasagna, and he put it in the oven for me.”
James laughed. “I’m going to learn how to cook.”
“I like the sound of that,” Charlotte said. “You come over to my house, dear, and I’ll teach you.”
She meant it, too. Tears made it hard for me see James�
��s face, but I could tell from his bouncing that he was happy.
Happy.
All at once I was fiercely glad I’d come home to Utah and to this house. It was the right thing to do for my babies. Never mind that I didn’t want to face what was ahead. I had to be strong for them. For once in my life, I had to do the right thing.
“Oh, there he is.” Charlotte moved back through the doorway to meet her husband, who climbed out of the car. I didn’t remember him from before, but I recognized his rotund figure from church. “Come on, James. You can help.”
Within minutes, Charlotte and her husband had a full meal on the table, including milk, garlic bread, a salad, and the makings for root beer floats in the fridge and the freezer. “Do you want me to stay to put things away?” Charlotte asked.
I made a show of strength, reaching up to get James a plate from the cupboard. “I can do it. Thank you so much, Charlotte, for everything.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m happy to help, and I’m so glad you’ve come back to us.” Charlotte surprised me by hugging me, and I surprised myself by letting her. Who knew that I would ever crave human contact the way I did now?
Charlotte went on. “You’ll have to tell me all about Kyle’s reaction when you tell her about the lessons. Oh, and I’ll be the one gathering the funds since I’ll put the lesson on automatic deduction from my checking. That way we’ll never be late.”
It also meant I could never spend the money on anything else.
I was being ungrateful again.
“I’ll tell you all about it,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll be crazy with joy.”
Before I Say Goodbye Page 27
