A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,67

little after five in the afternoon. Seattle time was around two in the morning. I hated to wake Willa and toyed with letting her sleep, but what if this was the only chance I had to connect with her the entire trip?

Taking the chance, I logged my phone on to Wi-Fi and called her. It rang four times and I was afraid it would go to voicemail before I heard her groggy voice.

“Hello?” It was more question than greeting and laced with concern.

“Willa, it’s me.”

“Sean. Oh Sean.” After saying my name, she immediately burst into tears.

“Baby, baby, what is it?” The pain in her voice broke my heart.

It took several moments for her to control the hiccupping sobs enough to speak. “Did you get my email?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m calling. I’m in this village and only have a few minutes. Tell me. What’s going on? Why is Harper in the hospital? What were the test results?” I pounded her with questions, not giving her a chance to answer one before I asked another.

“Her earlier blood work was good and we assumed everything was great. It isn’t. She got another rash and then she complained about chest pain. When we went to see Dr. Annie, we all assumed it was walking pneumonia. After a round of X-rays and more tests at the hospital we learned there’s a cancerous tumor on her lung.”

She drew in a deep breath before she continued.

“It’s bad, Sean. Worse than before, and I didn’t think that was possible. On a positive note, John is working closely with her oncologist. Harper’s in Seattle for treatment now…the chemotherapy is supposed to be one of the best available. I was with her today when it was administered, and the nurse checked the dose twice. She said she’d never seen this dose before and wanted to be sure she was following the doctor’s instructions.”

“Oh Willa. I am so sorry. How’s Harper holding up?”

“She’s doing great. She never complains. The nurses and doctors are wonderful. They all love her. Everyone does. John is with her as much as his schedule allows. He’s been wonderful.”

“What happens after the chemotherapy?”

“This is only the first session. After this week she’ll stay with me at Lucas’s apartment until her white cells are built up enough for her to proceed with the second round of chemo.” She hesitated before she could continue. “It’s killing her, Sean, killing her. She’s desperately ill, worse than before…I don’t know how she does this day after day. It’s more than I can bear, seeing her like this.”

“What can I do?” I asked, desperately wanting to be there for Willa and her family.

“Come home when you can. That’s the best thing you can do.”

I could feel how badly she needed me at her side. Willa was only so strong, and she needed me to lean on, to comfort and support her. I hated that it wasn’t possible, and coward that I was, I didn’t mention the extension, and left her to read it in the email I’d sent earlier.

I knew it wasn’t only Harper who required Willa’s support. “How’s your father dealing with the news?”

“Dad is doing better than ever…which is a surprise. When I told him that Harper’s cancer was back, he said he’d do everything he could to be there for all of us, and he has. He calls every day for an update and has been talking to Pastor McDonald, praying for us all. Snowball is with him and seems to have adjusted to her new home.”

That was good news. “And you?”

She paused and sniffled. “Oh Sean, I’m so afraid. Harper has had a horrible reaction to the chemotherapy. She’s constantly sick and is already losing her beautiful hair. She barely eats and is losing a pound a day if not more. She looks…” She stopped and sobbed into the phone before she was able to continue. “She looks like death.”

“Oh baby, I wish I was there with you.”

“Lucas and Chantelle are thinking of moving up their wedding date. It means making a big adjustment on their part. We talked about it this evening, and Chantelle is going to talk to the hotel about the possibility. If it can be arranged, we’ll do it in the time between the two treatments.”

I closed my eyes, hating like the devil to tell her, but I refused to give her false hope. “I’ll miss the wedding.”

Silence.

“Our job is taking longer than anyone anticipated,” I admitted, my words heavy with reluctance.