A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,71

planned to build up Harper’s immune system. In the three years since her first battle with cancer, the advancements in treatments were truly astonishing. Although much of what he explained was lost on me, his words offered hope, and that was something we all desperately needed at this point.

“Told you,” Harper said with a hint of triumph in her voice. “You’re all so full of gloom and doom.”

“Are there any other questions I can answer for you?” Dr. Carroll asked, ever the professional.

Lucas and Chantelle held hands and I watched as Chantelle brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. “We’re good.”

“Thank you, Dr. Carroll,” I said as I stood. “This means everything to my family.”

“Absolutely. Don’t hesitate to call me anytime.”

“Thank you, we will.”

The atmosphere was much lighter than it had been before his arrival. Chantelle hugged Harper and then she hugged me. Lucas did the same. “This calls for a celebration,” my brother declared. “A big one, with champagne and—”

“Naked male dancers,” Harper inserted, and then grinned at the shocked look that came over me.

“Honestly, Willa, you can be such a stick in the mud sometimes. I was only joking.”

“Maybe so, but I think John might object to you being around a lot of naked men.”

To my surprise, Harper’s face filled with color. “He probably would. He’s been wonderful. Did you know he comes and sits with me every morning before he goes on shift? He gives me strength and encouragement. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

I didn’t know about his early-morning visits, but it didn’t surprise me. John gave my sister all the incentive she needed to fight, and for that I would be forever grateful.

* * *

—

Over the next few days Harper and I had long talks. She slept a lot of the time but when she was awake, she told me about her and John’s conversations. He thought of himself as an introvert who worked hard and didn’t have time to date. His mother’s death changed him. He was determined to do everything within his power to heal cancer patients.

Although Harper tired quickly, she encouraged me to talk about Sean and the possibility of our future together. Not being able to communicate with him was hard, although he was never far from my thoughts.

* * *

—

On the weekend Leesa and Carrie arrived, bubbling over with news. They brought coloring books and fancy pens and sat and colored with Harper. It was a bit awkward for me, so I went to the hospital cafeteria for a bite to eat. Seeing that most of my meals came from the cafeteria, I was on a first-name basis with the staff.

It was hard for me to stay away from Harper’s room, knowing that while well-intentioned, the arrival of her two BFFs was sure to quickly tire my sister. Sure enough, when I returned, Harper was sound asleep, a coloring pen in her hand. The book lay open in her lap. I noticed very little on either page had been colored in.

Leesa and Carrie sat silently at her bedside, coloring away, as if nothing was amiss.

“How long did she last?” I whispered, not wanting to wake Harper.

“Only a few minutes,” Leesa whispered back.

Seeing the question in their eyes, I asked, “Are you okay?” I knew Harper’s appearance had shocked them. She was a shell of the vibrant, outgoing, fun young woman she’d once been.

Tears filled Leesa’s eyes and I noticed that Carrie struggled to hold back her own.

Leesa nodded. “I barely recognized her when we arrived. At first I thought we had the wrong room.” She wiped her hand across her face, her mascara raining black streaks down her cheeks. “How could this happen so quickly?”

“It was like this when she first got leukemia,” I assured both friends. “I should have better prepared you. It’s bad before it gets better. She’s sick now, but the turning point is coming. Think positively. That’s my mantra. Believe. Hold on to hope.”

I understood what Leesa and Carrie were saying. It had all come on so quickly. It shocked me that my sister had functioned so well for as long as she had, teaching yoga and fitness classes while ignoring any symptom she might have had.

I accepted part of the blame myself. I should have paid closer attention, should have watched for the signs. In thinking back, I speculated that deep down, Harper must have somehow known. I remembered the phone call I’d had with my brother earlier that