I look at Dean over the top of Nicholas’s head. He nods, indicating he’ll back whatever I choose to say right now. Relief flows through me. Dean and I have been so tense and snappish lately that I can’t even take it for granted we’ll present a united front to our children.
I ease back to look at our son. His thick-lashed eyes. His perfect, smooth cheeks. I remember seeing him for the first time, when the doctor held him up and my eyes met his, and I could almost hear him thinking, “Oh, hi, Mom.”
Love washes over me like a breaking wave.
“Nicholas, do you remember…” I swallow and force my voice to sound calm and reassuring. “Do you remember when you had to go to the doctor for a shot, and you were scared of what it would be like?”
He nods.
“That’s kind of what I’m scared of now,” I explain. “I have to go to the doctor too, but not for a shot. I have a sickness called cancer inside my body, and the doctor is going to help me get better.”
Nicholas frowns. “Why are you sick?”
“I don’t know. But the doctor has to do a surgery and give me some medicine. And like you were with the shot, I’m a little bit scared.”
He processes this.
“But after you got the shot, you told me it wasn’t that bad after all,” I remind him. “Do you remember that?”
He nods again.
“So it’ll probably be the same for me,” I continue. “I’ll find out I really didn’t need to be scared after all.”
Nicholas doesn’t respond, but I can see the confusion and questions brewing in his sharp mind. I steel myself, prepared to answer honestly, but instead of asking any questions, he says, “I could go with you.”
“Go with me?”
“Yeah.” He scratches his head. “When the doctor gave me the shot, you told me to squeeze your hand and think about that instead of the needle. I could go with you, and you could squeeze my hand when the doctor gives you the surgery.”
I can’t speak. A thousand tears fill my throat, an ache ready to break me in half.
Dean steps forward and puts his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder.
“That’s a great idea, man,” he says. “You’ll probably be at school when Mom has the surgery, but I promise I’ll be there to hold her hand. Hey, you want to help me make French toast for breakfast?”
“Sure.” Nicholas pulls away from me and wanders into the kitchen.
Dean looks at me, his eyes filled with unbearable love. He presses his lips swiftly against my forehead before going back to the stove.
I watch as he pauses to lift our son into a hug so hard and tight that Nicholas makes an “oof” noise. Dean grins and tickles him. Nicholas laughs, squirming to escape.
I stumble out of the kitchen and make it to the bedroom before the sobs bring me to my knees.
Chapter 16
Olivia
December 8
“Hi, Liv.” Allie pulls open the door of her and Brent’s little cottage at the base of the mountains. “Come on in.”
My nerves tense as I follow her into the living room. I’d called her this morning asking if I could come over to talk. As my business partner and close friend, she’s the first person outside of the children whom I need to tell.
Last night, Dean and I sat down with Bella and told her in simpler terms exactly what I told Nicholas. Both children understand the phrase “Mommy is sick,” but Bella especially doesn’t seem to connect sickness with the fact that I look and act the same as before.
Since they know, however, it’s time to tell everyone else.
I sit on the purple sofa, thinking that the house is a reflection of Allie—bright, cheerful colors, fun paintings, whimsical artwork, shelves stuffed with books.
“The town council set up the time and date for the spring Art Fair,” Allie calls from the kitchen. “They’ll give us our usual spot for the Traveling Wonderland Café. We should put out a few extra tables this year.”
“Good idea.”
“Do you want coffee?” Allie asks. “Or something else?”
“Just water, thanks.” I smooth my skirt over my thighs, plucking at a loose thread on my tights.
Allie comes in with a glass of water and a plate of blueberry muffins, which she puts on the coffee-table.
“So what’s going on?” she asks, sitting beside me on the sofa. “You said you needed to talk to me about something important. Please don’t tell me you’re moving to Bulgaria.”