might accidentally reveal her identity. But, was she really ready to share this with anyone, and more specifically with him? The painful memories were sometimes more than she could bear.
Chris sensed her despair and clearly saw it reflected in her eyes. She looked terribly vulnerable, so opposite to the feisty professionalism she normally projected.
"I assume, then, it wasn't a trip taken for pleasure?" The raw concern in his voice caught Libby by surprise.
"No... I... that is, my mother," she stammered, trying to put into words the emotions that had been locked away, safely but destructively, inside her these past few weeks. Feelings that were demanding to be released before causing permanent damage. Now that the first few words were out, she had to continue.
"Mom called me from the hospital in Boston. Actually, she left a message on my answering machine saying she was back in the hospital and to please call her when I got in. When I listened to the message I could hear the resignation in her voice. She had been battling breast cancer for five years. Surgery, radiation, chemo. She'd been through it all. She was no stranger to hospitals, but she didn't sound her usual upbeat and optimistic self this time."
Libby paused to look at Chris and found him listening carefully as she told her story.
"So, I took the first flight I could get to Boston and arrived late that night to find her desperately ill again. The doctors told me her cancer was out of remission. They recommended another round of aggressive chemotherapy, but couldn't guarantee it would work this time. Mom thought about it for a few days before deciding she was tired of being poked and prodded and filled with chemicals that made her violently ill in an attempt to make her well again. I think she knew her time was up, so she refused further treatment and decided to go home to die with what little dignity she had left."
Libby exhaled heavily and continued. "We talked about her coming back to Borden's Landing, to spend her final days with me. But she was too sick to travel by then, so I stayed at her house outside of Boston. A wonderful group of hospice nurses helped me care for her." Libby's voice quivered at the memories. "She died a little more than a month ago, peacefully and in as little pain as possible."
Two tears, hot and wet, slid down her cheeks. The telling was cathartic and she felt enormous relief at having finally brought her grief out into the open.
Chris said nothing, but reached over and took her hand possessively into his. His touch was warm and reassuring, as if by holding her he could make her pain his.
"I know what it's like to lose a parent," he sympathized gently. "The loss is staggering, leaving you feeling alone, empty, and very mortal. Until you go through it yourself, you don't really understand how much it can change you, for better or worse."
He took a napkin off the tray. With great tenderness, he wiped the tears from her face, carefully dabbing the corners of each eye.
Libby was melting from his touch, so caring and considerate. When was the last time anyone had shown such obvious concern for her? Certainly Rick had never been this selfless. He’d been too caught up in his own problems to help anyone else with theirs.
Chris continued without questioning why he felt the need to share his experience with her. "I was ten when my dad died and for a long time I thought my life had taken a turn for the worse from that day on."
He didn't dare reveal more of his personal history. Remembering the shame and humiliation so long endured, he hesitated, trying to decide how to continue.
"I was so mad at him for dying and leaving me alone to face the world that I vowed I would be everything he wasn't." He looked at Libby thoughtfully. "You will come to terms with your mother's death in your own way and the choice is yours whether you become stronger or weaker from the experience."
Libby nodded in silent acknowledgement, knowing he was right. There was a tender side to this man who could also be so cold and domineering. His concern for her was unexpected and out of character. It hinted at the promise of a relationship that could be filled with caring and sharing, something she wanted beyond measure.
But a relationship between them could never be, Libby