by Karen Rock
“Eli. I’m so sorry and if any of you need anything—” her gaze swept over the suddenly still group “—please call. If the trial is the one I heard about, the first round of treatment should be over in time for your trip to Yosemite.”
“Will you wait for me outside?” Eli’s eyes searched hers.
She nodded, gave the kids each a kiss that ripped her heart in two then slipped out the door. This wasn’t about her anymore. It was about what Eli needed, even if that meant letting him go.
A moment later, Eli joined her. The familiar smell of him—lemongrass and musk—flooded her senses with a longing so fierce it was a physical ache. If only she could dial back the clock and rush into his arms one last time.
He ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight to his left leg. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. It’s just that I—”
She held up a hand. They were past apologies. “I understand. You thought I couldn’t handle this, would let you down.”
Sweet Pea wriggled and she set down the dog.
Eli’s eyes flashed at her, surprised. “No. I wanted to spare you. Make it easier on everyone.”
He reached for her then stuffed his hands in his pockets, a defeated look on his face. “I’m grateful you’ll be around for the kids when I’m gone. It means a lot.”
“Try to think positively,” she said over the painful tightness in her throat. “The trial might help and—”
“Please, Christie. That’s your way of thinking, not mine. I’ll join the experiment for the kids. But the reality is I’ve got six months to a year. The sooner I come to terms with that the better.”
Christie wiped the rush of wetness from her eyes. “I see.” Inspirational quotes ran through her mind, motivational thoughts that helped her patients live with cancer rather than die of it. But this wasn’t what Eli wanted to hear and that was all that mattered.
“My thoughts are always with you, Eli.” Never had she spoken truer words. “And I’m here whenever you need me.” Please need me, she added silently. Want me. Trust me.
She pushed the elevator button and forced herself not to say more. It would only make things harder. Breaking up with her must have been difficult, something he’d only do if he felt he must. They’d cared so deeply. Had come so close to love.
“Wait. I’ll ride with you. I know how you hate the thing.”
“Thanks, Eli. But I’ll take it from here.” She led Sweet Pea inside then pulled the gate across. “And please take care of yourself.”
His image, a wounded man, yet a warrior still, wavered as the doors slid closed. She made sure she hid her tears until the elevator was well out of sight.
* * *
FOUR WEEKS LATER, Christie sat at the White Horse Tavern’s round wooden table, her fork pushing an anchovy across the top of her Caesar salad.
“Your Eli sure is a fine-looking fellow.” Gran lifted her glass of Guinness. “Let’s drink to his health.”
Christie raised her glass but not her eyes. It’d been difficult keeping her secret from her perceptive grandmother. But so far, she hadn’t felt ready to talk. She couldn’t bear adding Gran’s disappointment to her own.
“To Eli.” Their glasses clinked and she braced herself for the usual minefield of questions she’d have to step carefully across. One misplaced foot and her secret would blow up in her face. She took a sip of the dark liquid.
“So tell me what you did this week.” Gran’s green eyes watched her over the rim of her glass. Gran adjusted the lace collar of her aquamarine dress then waved a napkin in front of her face.
Christie smoothed her white eyelet skirt then dabbed her napkin in her water glass and pressed the cool cloth against the back of her flushed neck. Thank goodness her sleeveless navy blouse had a high neckline, which hid the worst of her telltale splotches.
“The usual. Work. Support group. Oh, and I finally got the Amaya Holiday Tiny Tot doll on the Home Shopping Network, Tuesday. They ran a Christmas in August special.” Christie felt a bit of happiness at the thought, though completing her collection of Marie Osmond dolls didn’t make up for losing the Roberts family. She missed them so much. Sometimes her mind ran over the spot they’d occupied in her heart like a tongue searching for an extracted tooth. They were gone, in Yosemite now for that long-delayed family vacation Eli had wanted. Yet her soul still refused to accept that even when they came home it wouldn’t be to her.
She chewed a salty bite and stared at a group of men and women crowded around the dart board. They laughed and jostled, cheering and catcalling to one another. How strange it felt to watch happy people when she felt so wretched.
“Amaya?” asked Gran. “I was hoping to hear about Eli, Becca and Tommy.” She waved her fork like a maestro.
“Oh. Nothing new to report there,” she said in a rush then stuffed her mouth full of chicken, the tangy dressing barely registering as she chewed.
“Are you certain of that?” Gran’s eyes narrowed.
“Tell me about the seniors’ center.” Christie stalled after swallowing her tasteless bite.
“That trick won’t work with me every time, young lady,” her grandmother warned.
A Bob Dylan song, “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” blared on. Fitting. Christie squirmed and blocked out the lyrics, distracting herself by making a triangle with her fork, knife and spoon.
“The two of you are so happy together. And the children, they’re absolutely precious and need a mother like—”
“Just stop,” Christie whispered and waved her white napkin in defeat, the reminder of all she’d lost too painful to hear. It was a miracle she’d lasted this long without Gran figuring everything out.
Gran’s lotion-soft hand descended on hers, a whiff of rose perfume rising from her wrist. “I’m sorry, dear. You see, I’ve tried to give you time to deal with this, but I’ve run out of patience waiting for you to tell me the truth.”
“The truth?” Christie echoed, stalling. She signaled the bartender for another round. Their second.
“Yes.” Gran gripped her other hand. “You’re skinny as a rail, you’ve got eye circles so dark they’re black and you haven’t smiled—a real one—in weeks. Of course I knew something was wrong.”
Christie forced a grin when an elderly man entered the bar and waved their way. Gran, however, didn’t bother flirting. Her eyes stayed on Christie, the expression compelling her to speak.
“Now tell your gran like a good lass.”
Her eyes stung and she took a deep breath. “Eli broke up with me a month ago.”
Gran’s hands tightened on hers. “The idjit. Why would he throw away the best thing to happen in his life? His kids loved you and he seemed so happy.”
“He was. We were. But then his cancer came back.” Her hoarse voice was interrupted by the thunk of glasses on their table, beige froth seeping down the sides. “Thank you,” she whispered to the bartender, who took one look at her and scurried away with a quick nod.
“No,” breathed Gran. “Then why are you here and not with him?”
“Because he wants to handle this on his own.”
“Without you? Or your help with the children? Why would he be so foolish?”
“He doesn’t think I can handle it.”
“Why? You work with cancer patients and families every day. More importantly, you love them. I could see it at the party.”
Her eyes welled and she dabbed at them with her napkin. “I told him about Bill. Eli thinks I’ll let him down, too.” She cleared her throat and shook her head. “He doesn’t want to put me in that position again.”
Knowing Eli and his generous, thoughtful spirit, that probably came closer to the truth.
“And what do you think?”
“I know I don’t want to hurt him the way I hurt Bill.
”
Gran dug inside her oversized purse, pulling out spare nylons, a rain hat and a Fodor’s book about the Caribbean before producing a careworn envelope, the recognizable handwriting on its cover making Christie gasp.
Bill.
“This is the last letter I got from your brother before he passed. He wrote it the day he died. It was in my mailbox when I flew back from the funeral.” She slid on her reading glasses, unfolded the sheet and cleared her throat.
“Gran, don’t. Please.”
She didn’t know if she could handle this right now.
“You need to hear this, my darling girl. Trust me.”
At Christie’s nod, Gran took a sip of her beverage then began.
“‘Dear Gran,
“‘Not a lot of energy today, but it’s exciting here anyway. Christie’s prom is tonight. I hear her running up and down the stairs, asking Mom to borrow her curling iron or heels. She sounds excited, which makes me glad. It stinks that she’s worked so much and hasn’t had much fun. For tonight at least, Christie gets what I’ve hoped for all along, a chance to be happy and normal like other kids. Imagining her in the blue dress Mom showed me makes me feel like maybe she’ll be okay when I’m gone.
“‘I love you, Gran. I’ll write when I can, though I’ve been feeling kind of off lately.
“‘Keep sending the soda bread. It only lasts about a day when we get it.
“‘Good night,
“‘Bill.’”
Gran lowered the paper, her fogging glasses slipping down her damp nose. “Don’t you see, sweetheart? He was happy you were enjoying your last year of high school. He didn’t want you to work or ignore friends. The way I understand it, seeing you live a normal life gave him the courage to finally let go.”
Christie took a deep breath that hitched on a watery sob. Could it be true? All these years she’d regretted that night, never knowing she’d made Bill happy in spite of herself. A weight nudged from her shoulders and fell away.
“Thank you, Gran.”
“Don’t let old ghosts hold you back from your future, my girl.” Gran sipped her ale, holding Christie’s gaze. “I never knew you carried that kind of guilt around or I would have shown you that letter a long time ago.” She patted her purse. “I keep it handy because I like to have him close.”
Her warm smile made Christie sure that Bill was nearby. A fulfilled spirit that didn’t resent her after all.
“I never knew...” Christie’s voice hitched again, but she finally felt free to think about her future now that she wasn’t focused on the past.
“So the question is...what are you going to do about it?”
Christie smoothed her hair and wiped her tear-stained face.
“Hurry.” She shouldered her purse. “I’ve got a plane to Yosemite to catch.”
She couldn’t cure cancer. But there was another hurt, one she and Eli shared, and she would do everything in her power to fix it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“GOOD NIGHT, DADDY,” Becca and Tommy called. They headed toward their three-room tent in the glow of the dwindling campfire. Flashlights bobbed like fireflies around their site as fellow campers at the California state park readied for bed.
“And don’t stay up too late,” added Becca. “Tomorrow morning is the kids’ scavenger hunt.” The sound of a raising zipper cut through the static hum of cicadas and grasshoppers.
“Got it.” Eli poked at a couple of fallen logs in the flaming pile. They’d been looking forward to the group activity for days. It was the last one before they headed back to New York, where more treatment and his latest radiology results awaited. “Love you,” he called over his shoulder.
“Love you!”
“Hey, that’s my pillow,” he heard Becca grump from behind nylon walls.
“Finders keepers,” argued Tommy. “I want the fluffy pillow.”
“Then you should have brought one.” His daughter. So wise.
Eli enjoyed hearing them talk about normal stuff. He hadn’t made cancer off-limits, but he hoped they’d talked about it enough that the kids didn’t spend too much time worrying. It sure didn’t sound as though it occupied their minds now. The bullfrogs’ deep bass was no match for the sibling tempest brewing inside the tent. The grunts of what sounded like a tug-of-war floated in the crisp wilderness air.
“Didn’t have room ’cause I needed to bring Rexie.”
“Yuck. Get that dinosaur away from me. It’s filthy.”
“Rexie is going to bite you.”
Eli suppressed a chuckle, warmth spreading through him at the thought that they’d always have each other...and Christie.
“If that thing comes any closer I’ll— Ahhhhhh! Dad!”
“Knock it off and go to sleep,” Eli growled, his smile seeping into his voice. “Tommy, give your sister her pillow and borrow mine from the other room.”
“Yes, Dad,” they chorused, and after a few more scuffling sounds, finally all was quiet.
His world was temporarily at peace. But this was the calm before the storm. His life’s visa had nearly expired. He pulled on a sweatshirt against the first chill of a late-summer evening. It heralded autumn—the dying season.
Soon color would blaze across the countryside, nature’s last gasp before winter’s killing frost. And he could relate. He’d been taking pictures nonstop, wanting to immortalize every minute of this amazing trip. He’d taught Becca and Tommy what he could about lighting, framing, angles and lenses. But it was the spontaneous moments of fun—jumping into a warm spring fully clothed, making daisy chains on a hike, discovering Tommy’s first fossil and a geode for Becca—they’d remember. The only legacy that mattered was the love he gave and the memories they made. Now that Christie had taught him to open up about his feelings, they’d poured from him like a broken faucet he never wanted to fix. And while worried, the children had never seemed happier.
Adjusting a blanket beneath him, he crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the twinkling night sky, wishing Christie were here. When wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers, he imagined her in his arms, her soft hair against his shoulder, her deep green eyes gazing into his. But that was all he could do. Imagine. Having her here for real would have been too selfish. She’d only be reliving her painful childhood through him. And he wanted so much more for the woman he loved.
And yet...she would have loved this vacation. He couldn’t deny the guilt that sneaked up on him at odd times of the day when he thought about how much he would have enjoyed looking for shooting stars with her at night.
He scanned the inky sky, searching for one. Which one was John’s? Which one would be his? He’d know soon. While he’d survived the first round of the aggressive experimental treatment, a deep exhaustion dogged him. Now he gripped banisters when climbing steps, gasped for breath when carrying in groceries and napped after finishing graphic-design projects. Not that he’d expected to feel better. He’d done the trial for the kids, wanting them to know that he loved them enough to battle for his life.
And he had Christie to thank for making him realize that, too. It blew his mind that she’d promised to be there for his children, even after he’d broken her heart.
A spark popped from a log and he shepherded the logs into a tidy heap again. He inched closer to the diminished heat, appreciating it all the more since it would soon be out. Had he been wrong to spare Christie with his stilted attempt at a breakup? He wasn’t so sure. And now he’d lost her for good without ever having the chance to tell her how much he loved her.
She might not deserve to deal with his cancer, but that should have been her choice to make, not his. She wasn’t the same person she’d been when Bill died. Yet, he’d treated her like her eighteen-year-old self rather than the woman who worked wi
th pediatric oncology patients and support groups alike. The woman who’d helped Becca through her crisis and taught Tommy—and him—that it was okay to admit their fears.
She was the strong one. Maybe she didn’t recognize it, but he did now. He should have had more faith in her...in them. Maybe it wasn’t wrong, or selfish, to want her with him at the end, to have her in the last picture he took of this world before leaving it.
He sat up in the growing darkness, aware that he’d let the fire go out. He kicked sand on the last embers, letting them hiss and turn black. Too late.
A star streaked across the sky and he wished on it for a miracle, a Hail Mary pass that somehow, some way, Christie would forgive him and stay with him until the end.
His head dropped into his hands. Stupid, idiotic dream. He’d done irreparable harm and it was all too late. He hadn’t been given time to make mistakes like this. Game over.
* * *
CHRISTIE’S GRIP ON her backpack tightened when the morning shuttle bus swung past a wooden sign that read Upper Pines Campground. After an eight-hour flight and two bus rides, she felt exhausted and exhilarated. In minutes she’d locate Eli’s campsite and see him, Tommy and Becca again. Would they be as thrilled to see her as she was to see them? The kids, definitely. Eli...she wasn’t sure.
When they’d said goodbye, he’d seemed sad but unwilling to trust her enough to stay by his side. She raised her chin and watched children race around the campsite holding nature items and papers. A scavenger hunt. Hopefully, like them, she’d find what she was searching for. Eli’s trust and love.
Her heart skipped a beat when the bus slowed then stopped with a high-pitched squeal.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you’ll need to check in at the ranger’s station before I take you to your sites. No need to rush. I’ll be waiting.” The grizzled driver’s teeth appeared in a smile over his thick, salt-and-pepper beard.
No need to rush? She was already four weeks late. Gran said absence made the heart grow fonder and hopefully that was true in Eli’s case. He’d had plenty of time to think this month, as had she. Did she dare hope he’d seen things differently by now? Reconsidered his decision to shut her out of his life? She clambered down the stairs. If not, she’d have to make him understand that she was here to stay. For everyone’s sake, including her own.
