Marcus laughs out loud. I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing myself. “Would you be appeased if I bought you an expensive lunch tomorrow?” I offer.
The other end is silent for several moments. “My choice of restaurants?” she barters.
“Absolutely,” I confirm.
“Done.” The line goes dead.
Marcus stands up, still laughing. “I think that’s my cue to go do some real work myself. Make sure Sandra gets dessert tomorrow, too.”
I give him the finger as he opens the door and we find Bonnie standing on the other side. “See you later, Marcus,” I say as Bonnie enters and the door closes behind her. I catch her look over her shoulder appreciatively trying to get another glimpse of Marcus. “Miss Bonnie, this is a surprise. I don’t think you’ve ever been here.”
“I haven’t,” she confirms. “Had to get someone to program that damn GPS system Mark bought for my car just to get here.”
I chuckle, walking around my desk to give her a hug. Immediately I notice her appearance had deteriorated since Thanksgiving when I last saw her. Then she looked tired; now she looks very ill. Her hair seems to be thinning out along with the rest of her body and her eyes are sunken in, her skin paler than ever. I do not like this… We sit down on the couch against the wall and I grab a couple bottles of water, mostly because she looks like she might crumple if she doesn’t have the hydration, but I know better than to say that to her so I’m covering by taking a large gulp before speaking. “So what brings you all the way out here?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light.
She raises an eyebrow at me, silently telling me she knows what I’m up to. “I wanted to talk to you about something and didn’t want to bring it to your home, mostly because of Samantha. I don’t want her worrying about me when her health is far more important right now.” My brow furrows at her words. “You’re not stupid and you’re not blind. If you haven’t worked out what’s wrong with me, it’s because you’re trying not to think about it.”
Sighing, I give her a half-smile. “You’re not wrong,” I agree. “I take it you’re about to tell me?”
She nods. “And I don’t want to put you in a bad position with Samantha, but I would prefer for this to stay between us right now. I certainly understand if you tell Samantha and I’m not asking you to keep it secret if you feel she should know. I just believe it would be better for her right now to not know.”
I frown. “Okay…” I say slowly. “I’ll use my judgment.”
“That’s all I ask,” she says quietly. “I have a malignant brain tumor that is inoperable due to its location. They can’t safely operate without risking further problems and to be truthful, Matt, I’m okay with that. That being said, I have been receiving radiation treatments, but it’s not affecting it quickly enough and it’s growing. I’ll be lucky to make it to next fall.”
Even if there was some way to describe how I’m feeling about this news, I’m not sure I could vocalize it. I try to just focus on the facts of what I’ve been told rather than thinking too far down the line. “I’m beyond sorry to hear that,” I tell her, clearing my throat in an attempt to keep my voice even. I take her hand that rests closest to me, squeezing it. “There’s nothing they can do?”
She shrugs as though we’re discussing something completely innocuous. “They’ve given me a list of options,” she informs me almost dismissively. “But let’s be realistic about it. I don’t want to go through that bullshit. I want to live out however long I’ve got left in comfort, not going from treatment to treatment feeling sick and being in pain. Besides, I’ve had a good life up to now with the exception of losing my husband and maybe this is just my time.”
My vision is slightly blurred and my eyes are burning as I force myself to look away from Bonnie. She sounds like she’s completely accepted whatever will happen to her and that’s something I don’t understand. I’d be a complete wreck in her shoes, desperate to find anything to save my future with my family. But she said it herself, didn’t she? She’s lived out her life and though I didn’t know her when her husband was still alive, I’ve been told by other residents of the town that she’s not the same as she had been back then. If down the line I lost Samantha to illness, I don’t think I’d want to go on after that. Forget trying to pick up my life and move on; there’d be no point for me.
And speaking of Samantha, I now realize why Bonnie never told Samantha about the nature of her illness and I’m very glad she didn’t. “I can’t tell Samantha about this,” I say to Bonnie. “Not yet.”
She nods understandingly, squeezing my hand. “I thought as much,” she says quietly. “I think you told me once about her mom, that she died from the same thing. I don’t want to risk her health or that baby’s. My news can wait until she’s in a more stable place.”
I run my free hand through my hair, inwardly thinking selfish thoughts that I would never voice aloud to anyone, let alone Bonnie. Haven’t I lost enough? Why do I have to lose another friend? And Bonnie has become more than that to me—she’s become a second mother. The thought of losing Bonnie is devastating.
“I didn’t come here to ruin your day with bad news,” she tells me. I turn back to her. “But I needed you to know before we discuss what I came here to discuss.”
“And what’s that?” I hate that I can’t seem to raise my voice above a whisper.
She sighs. “I’ve been trying to get all my affairs in order now so I don’t have to deal with it later. For the most part, I don’t have anything worth leaving to anyone. The one thing I do have is my bookstore. It’s my baby; you know that.” I nod slightly jerkily. “I wanted to ask your opinion on whether Samantha would want to run it for me completely. And I know the two of you have the baby coming, so her free time is about to be down to nothing. The only thing she would really have to do until she gets back to a place that she can work is sign off on a few deliveries, maybe write a work schedule for the employees. I’d be happy to give her whatever tools needed and I’m sure you’d be right there to help as well. But of all the people I’ve met in my life, that girl is the one who I would be happy to leave my baby with. She’s smart, she’s dedicated, and she knows her books. I want her to have it.”
I’m flabbergasted. This is certainly not what I was expecting, but I have to agree with her that Samantha would flourish running a bookstore. Well, if she stopped reading the books long enough to actually open the store every morning. “I would have thought that would be something you wanted to keep in your family,” I respond tentatively.
She raises an eyebrow at me. “What family, Matt? My nephew? The boy is a doctor and his schedule is erratic at the best of times. He’s got no time to run a store and give it the attention it needs. Besides, you and Samantha and Tyler are the closest thing I have to real family. I only met Mark last year and I don’t really know him enough to trust that he’d take care of something so important to me.”
I swallow hard. “You’re family for us too, you know,” I remind her. She gives me a smile. “And I think Sam would absolutely love running a bookstore and I know she’d appreciate you thinking of her.”
“When I brought her into the bookstore, this was my intention,” she admits. “But I wanted to see how she handled things, even though I knew she’d be perfect.”
“Yeah, she would be perfect,” I agree, smiling fondly. The first time I ever took her to Bonnie’s bookstore, her eyes lit up and I think she would have been perfectly content to spend all her free time there. Luckily she liked me marginally better than the store, so I didn’t lose her to the books.
She smiles. “Glad you agree,” she says quietly, patting the hand that holds hers. “Like I said, I’m sorry for putting a damper on your day, but I thought it would be best to have this conversation away from Samantha. You decide what to tell her; I’m certainly not going to urge you to hide things from her.”
“Not that I could hide anything from her at this point,” I say wryly. “That woman knows me better
than anyone.”
“And that’s the way it should be,” she replies briskly, standing and grabbing her handbag. I stand beside her. “I’ve taken up enough of your time today, I think. I should get back to the store anyway.”
I walk her to the door, still trying to come to terms with the idea that she’s dying slowly and probably very painfully. Not that she would ever let on that she’s hurting. “Look, if there is anything Samantha and I can do,” I say quietly. “Please let us know.”
Giving me a small smile, she reaches out to squeeze my upper arm. “You can do one thing for me,” she says. “Take care of your family, Matt. Don’t lose Samantha again and keep that boy of yours—and your girl when she arrives—safe and happy. Focus on them, don’t spend so much time in this damn building, and don’t age before your time.”
I smile. “Sounds like more than one thing,” I respond jokingly. “But I will do all of that.”
“You’re a good man, Matthew. You’ve got a huge heart and a great head on your shoulders. Don’t lose sight of that.”
I swallow hard, unable to think of anything to say to that, and open the door for her. “Drive safe,” I tell her hoarsely.
“I will,” she says, then her brow furrows slightly. “Oh, and tell your dad I hope he feels better.”
My brow furrows. “What?” I ask cluelessly.
Bonnie pales a little more at the expression on my face and her eyes widen. “Nothing,” she says quickly. “I saw him at a grocery store a few days ago and he seemed to be feeling a little off, that’s all. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
I stare after her as she quickly leaves my office. There are several things wrong with the last bit of discussion we’ve had this afternoon, aside from Bonnie and my father shopping at the same grocery store. I haven’t even spoken with my father in weeks, not since I called to tell my parents about Tyler’s kidnapping and Leo’s death. During that conversation, I was, admittedly, distracted by several different things, not least of all having just said goodbye to Samantha and Tyler for what I believed to be the last time, but I’d like to think I would have heard anything in my father’s voice indicating he was ill. Then again, if Bonnie’s on the spot fabrication was accurate, this is a recent thing…
I try to return to my work, but my visit from Bonnie sits at the very forefront of my mind and all I can concentrate on are her words about focusing on my family. It’s common knowledge that I could easily lose myself in my work—particularly when I’m stressed—and I won’t even look at a clock until close to midnight. Now, though, all I want is to be at home, if for no other reason than to confirm that not everything in my life has changed. I might be losing Bonnie, but I’ve still got Samantha and Tyler and I’ll soon have my daughter Olivia. And while I have no intention of telling Samantha about Bonnie’s failing health until she’s at a more stable point of her pregnancy, I know she’ll realize something is wrong and will do whatever she can to comfort me.
Really, that’s all I need in my life. The rest is just details.
––––o––––-
With just over a week until our wedding day, I’m starting to feel rather anxious. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to schedule such a stressful event during the time of my pregnancy when I need to remain stress-free. So far, though, I feel fine. I think that has a lot to do with the blood pressure meds and the sedative Mark prescribed for me the afternoon Tyler was kidnapped. Whenever I start feeling my blood pressure rising, I take half of one of those and within half an hour, I’m already feeling better and can continue whatever was stressing me out in the first place. It certainly doesn’t hurt that I’ve got both my little sister and Claire to help take away some of the more stressful tasks; between the two of them, more often than not, I’m sent upstairs for a nap while they sort out whatever needs sorting.
Matthew has, of course, been a huge help as well. I am noticing, however, that he seems to be withdrawing into himself a little more often than what I’m used to. Last week, he came home from work and hardly said two words to anybody and spent most of the evening staring sadly into space. When I finally asked him what was wrong, all he told me was that it isn’t his news to share and that it doesn’t directly affect my or Tyler’s safety. He seemed surprised when I just accepted his reasoning for keeping things from me. It’s one thing for him to keep something a secret when he’s just doing it because he thinks it’s best for me to not know; I’d never be angry at him for keeping someone else’s secret. Whatever it is, though, it’s affecting him deeply and I have half a mind to sit him down and ask him to just tell me so I can help him cope.
Aside from that, things couldn’t be better. A couple nights ago, we spent an evening decorating the house for Christmas. Matthew went all out for a giant tree that just barely fits beneath the ceiling. Along with all the decorations the two of us acquired during our marriage—when I discovered he’d kept that box, my pregnancy hormones kicked in full force and I burst into tears—we made popcorn strings and between Tyler and Matthew, we barely had enough popcorn to actually do any decorating since they spent more time eating it than anything else. Tyler, the little dictator, had a blast sitting on the couch while Matthew, Lily, and I took directions from him about where to put baubles and garland and light strings. It took us a while to realize what he was doing, but once we did, we had to take a break for an impromptu tickle Tyler session. We took several pictures of the decorating process and my absolute favorite is the one in which Tyler is sitting on Matthew’s shoulders with a star in one hand and his little tongue poking out of his mouth as he tries to reach the tip of the tree. Afterwards, we made hot chocolate and lounged in the living room with a lit fire and just stared at the tree. It was a perfect night.
This evening we’re having our a joint session with Matthew’s therapist Dr. Morris. We agreed on seeing her together after the wedding, but Matthew thought it might help us both to relax a little if we did it sooner. I have no idea what to expect. I’ve never seen a therapist in my life. My father’s opinion of therapy was that it’s for the rich folk who don’t know how to handle their own problems. He also believed therapists brainwashed their patients into believing there is something wrong with them so the pharmaceutical companies could sell more of their drugs. It was all a huge conspiracy to him and it amused me to no end to hear him going on and on about it. I always thought that was part of the reason he died when he did—he always refused medical attention unless my siblings or I tricked him into seeing a doctor. Either way, I didn’t inherit his suspicion of doctors, but therapists always seemed a bit sketchy to me.
I think the only reason I’m going along with this with no complaint is because Matthew seems to trust her implicitly. And since I trust Matthew implicitly… Well, you can see where this is going.
“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Matthew tells me quietly as we step into an elevator. “You don’t have to discuss anything you’re uncomfortable discussing and if you want to leave, we’ll leave.”
I nod slightly and he presses a kiss to the side of my head. “You are probably the only person in the world I would do this for, you know,” I grumble to him.
He chuckles. “And I appreciate it more than you know,” he responds. “I want you involved with this, Samantha. I want you to know me better than I know myself. For the most part, you already do, but Dr. Morris has a knack for getting me to think about things in a completely different way. I just want you to see that.”
“I know,” I respond, looking up at him with a small smile. “And it means a lot that you want to involve me in this. Though my father would tell you seeing a therapist means you’re certifiably crazy.”
Huffing a laugh, Matthew grins at me. “Well, he wouldn’t be wrong,” he says wryly. “But even he’d admit you’re probably the main cause of that craziness.”
“I should be insulted by that,” I say matter-of-factly. “But I think the making the other crazy thing goes both ways.”
He onl
y smiles at me when the elevator doors open and we head into the office where we only have to wait a few minutes before Dr. Morris is ready for us. And really, that might have been a few minutes too long, since I spent the whole time wanting to gouge out the eyes of the receptionist who did nothing more than to stare at my fiancé, and I’m pretty sure she was drooling. I think Matthew made it a point to stand between me and her desk to keep me from her, which tells me he’s noticed her ogling. Normally I’m not a terribly jealous person and I think I’ll blame the pregnancy hormones for this. Though if I see her staring at him like that again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.
I look over at my fiancé when he starts chuckling. “What?” I ask as he closes the door.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he murmurs, then turns towards the woman crossing the room towards us. “Dr. Morris, this is my fiancée, Samantha. Sam, this is Dr. Morris.”
I think part of me expected a younger, supermodel to be posing as Matthew’s therapist, so I’m a little surprised to find Dr. Morris is more of a grandmotherly type. Matthew also told me he’s terrified of her, but she seems perfectly normal and nice to me. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Samantha,” she says, smiling, reaching out to shake my hand. “Matthew has told me so much about you.”
“Oh,” I say in surprise, glancing over to find the man himself smiling at me in reassurance. “Did he?”
Dr. Morris chuckles softly, gesturing for us to take a seat on the couch while she sits across from us. “Indeed he has,” she says. “All good, I assure you.”
Matthew and I settle on the couch, our fingers still entwined. The next few minutes are a little uncomfortable, mostly because the doctor and Matthew are both watching me expectantly, and I have no idea what they’re waiting on. Finally, Dr. Morris smiles and reaches for her notepad. “I understand the two of you are quickly approaching your wedding date,” she says. “Very exciting.”
Young Revelations (Young Series) Page 47
