here.” He presses his lips to the top of my head. “And I knew you needed some time with your BFF.”
I squeeze him around the waist. “And my BHH.”
“What’s that?”
“Big Hot Husband.”
His chuckle brushes against my temple. We part slowly as North comes toward us with a box in his hands. He extends it to Dean.
“Practice,” he orders. “When you come back, I’ll challenge you to a game.”
“Deal.”
We say our goodbyes—bittersweet and happy at the same time. As Dean drives down the long road leading to the highway, we wave at the crowd of Twelve Oaks residents who gathered to see us off.
Dean turns the media player on. Jack Johnson’s “Better Together” comes through the speakers, and Bella soon joins in singing.
I roll down the window and take off my scarf to let the cool, sea-salted wind brush against my scalp, my face, my skin.
It’s in your name. North’s words from years ago echo in my mind. It’s both the easiest and hardest thing in the world.
Olivia…Liv…live.
Yes. I will.
Chapter 40
Olivia
The visit to Twelve Oaks gives our family a new surge of hope and energy. Nicholas and Bella chatter for days about the beach, the animals, the orchards, and North with the little red ribbon tied into his bushy beard.
“When can we go again?” Nicholas asks.
“North, east, south, west,” Bella says. “I go back too.”
“Oh, yes,” I promise, squeezing Dean’s arm. “We’ll go back.”
On my last day of chemo in late May, Dean brings several boxes of cookies and parfaits to the nurses who have seen me through months of treatment. I pull myself through the rough days following the infusion, which seem less severe this time. The last time. A week later, I’m back on my feet and anticipating the day when I’ll feel entirely like myself again.
After dropping Nicholas off at school one morning, I take my usual walk through downtown, enjoying being outside, the lightness in the air over the approach of summer. I have an established route that I’ve followed since the weather warmed, but today I find myself turning right on Emerald Street.
I stop across the street from the Wonderland Café. The sign above it has been repainted, the whimsical White Rabbit looking especially fresh and spiffy in his plaid waistcoat. The red rockers that we store during winter are back out on the front porch, and pots of colorful tulips line the railing.
A wave of both pleasure and longing hits me hard, like I’m gazing at a long-lost friend with whom I share a thousand memories. I cross the street and walk up the porch steps. My nerves tighten with anxiety, but the instant I step inside, happiness floods me.
The café is filled with the familiar sounds of talking, laughter, and silverware clinking on plates. The smells of fresh-baked muffins and hot brewed tea and coffee drift through the air, and the servers are weaving between the tables, refilling water glasses and delivering plates of toast and jam.
Since it’s still the breakfast rush, a few people are waiting for tables. I slip behind them so as not to disturb the flow of service and simply enjoy the feeling of comfort and belonging.
As the family in front of me moves to be seated at a table, I notice two large poster boards sitting on easels by the front counter. The board on the right is marked by a calendar of every month, with most of the squares filled in with writing.
Printed along the top of the board on the left is a rainbow of monarch butterflies hovering over the words:
OPERATION BUTTERFLY
For a minute, I stare at the boards, feeling like this is something momentous but not understanding why. I move closer, reading the smaller words below the title.
Let’s brighten Liv West’s life with butterflies!
Sign up to deliver an anonymous butterfly gift of your choosing to give our friend Liv a boost as she battles cancer.
Contact Allie Lyons with questions and to sign up.
For every gift Liv receives, Allie and Brent will make a donation to the Cancer Fund at the Rainwood Children’s Hospital.
I blink, rereading the poster three times and still not certain I understand.
“Liv!”
I look up to find Sheryl hurrying toward me, her face breaking into a smile. “Well, fancy seeing you here,” she says warmly.
“Thanks, Sheryl.” I give her a hug, even though I just saw her a few days ago when she stopped by to deliver a stack of new paperbacks. Everyone from the café has called and come to visit me over