He didn’t really know what he was doing back in the Red Stevens wing of the hospital. But here he was.
And he didn’t know what he was going to say once he saw her. His heart raced as he followed the same path to Emily’s room. He was prepared for a fight. Alexia wasn’t going to be happy when she saw him. But he would stand his ground.
What was his ground, anyway?
Ignoring the “Keep Out” sign, he entered her room, only to find a dark-skinned, ample-figured nurse smoothing the bed covers.
“Hey, where’s the girl?”
The nurse looked annoyed that she was going to have to stand upright and address him. “Who, Emily? She’s with God.”
Jason swallowed, scraping his fingers over his scalp. Why had he been such a fool? Why hadn’t he come back yesterday? Made things right then? Why hadn’t he gone into her room? Said hello to her? He pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to squeeze out all the regrets.
“Don’t go all weepy on me. I meant the chapel. Down the hall on your right.”
All his emotions came to a screeching halt. “You’re kidding me.”
“No, but what I wouldn’t have given to see you boo-hooing all over the place.”
“She told you about me.”
The nurse smiled slightly. “Only the part about you being a moron.”
Jason went back to the hallway, briskly walking toward the chapel. He found it at the end. It was small, dark, lit only with candles. A miniature version of a life-size chapel.
There was no doubt Red had had his hand in this. He always liked church, kept insisting everybody else should too. “If you don’t like the sermon,” he would say, “then stare at the stained glass. Sometimes that can say more than words.”
The stained glass here seemed to hover over Emily, tiny against the large statue of Jesus that overpowered the room. His arms were outstretched, but he didn’t comfort Jason. He looked cold and impersonal. Jason drew his eyes away from the statue and concentrated on Emily.
She sat very still, staring at something in front of her, maybe the statue, maybe the candlelight. Jason stepped farther into the room. She glanced back, then quickly looked away.
“Oh. There’s my best friend.” That was a lot of sarcasm coming out of such a small body.
Jason walked softly and slid into the pew behind her. Biting his lip, he tried to find the right words. “Listen, about the other day . . .”
“So now you know all about me. No more mysteries.”
“Look, I’m really sorry—”
“Shut up. Don’t be pathetic.”
Jason sat back, holding in whatever his brain thought should come out of his mouth next.
Emily broke the silence. “I wonder if he takes advance orders.” Jason glanced up at the statue. “For what?”
“For my place. You know, up there.” She looked up at the ceiling.
Jason exhaled, trying not to look uncomfortable. “What do you think it’s going to be like?”
She glanced at him, and for once, Jason let his guard down. There was no use having it up. She saw right through him anyway. “Butterflies,” she said. “Lots of butterflies. Did you know God paints every color on a butterfly with his fingers?”
“I didn’t know you thought about stuff like that.”
“I think about dying.” She looked up into the face of the statue. “There’s something basically unfair about a person dying. I even hate the idea.”
Jason heard the sob that caught in Emily’s throat and let his gaze fall to his lap. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through. And it broke his heart to know she feared it. He supposed he thought little kids who were going to die had some sort of magic peace about it. But to fear it. To hate it. Just like he did . . . Except she was living it. He only imagined it.
The statue, looming over them both, didn’t look cold anymore, but instead, illuminated by candlelight and Emily’s sense that it was more than stone, seemed warm with life.
“You know, I don’t know much about God,” Jason said, staring into the eyes of the statue. “Or Jesus. But I can promise you that those arms are meant for you.”
“What’s going to happen to my mom? I really don’t hate her, you know.”
Tears dripped down Emily’s face. Her sobs seemed to be the only childlike thing about her, for in her eyes there was a wisdom that stretched far beyond her years.
He rose and went to sit on the pew next to her. He’d never held a child before. Had rarely touched one. But looking into the eyes of Jesus and at the wide-open arms that beckoned all who stood beneath, Jason knew that he was supposed to close the gap by wrapping his own arms around her.
And he did.
It was awkward at first. Her body was stiff with grief, and Jason didn’t know whether to hold her tighter or let her go. But then, inch by inch, she relaxed, letting her head lay against his chest. Her small hands clutched his arms.
Jason touched her cheek and held her close. Wasn’t he supposed to be the strong one? Yet even as he held her, something told him she was stronger.
After a while she pulled away and looked at him, brushing the tears off her cheek. “Did I mention I wouldn’t be upset if you kissed her?”
A surprised laugh erupted from Jason. “Do you think . . . your mom and I . . . ?”
“Okay, it’s official,” she said, shaking her head like he was a nuisance. “You are the slowest person I have ever met. You two were made for each other. I knew that back in the park.”
“In the park I looked like a bum.”
“Let’s not be delusional. You were a bum.”
Jason glanced up at the statue. I could use some help right now.
“So,” Emily said, turning to him, “what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“Mrs. Drummond?”
Alexia turned from the counter at the nurses’ station.
“I want to send Emily’s charts and blood work off to a specialist,” Dr. Allen said. “See whether or not she’s a candidate for another transplant.” His words were sterile, like usual, but this time his eyes showed a deep sadness, and that scared Alexia.
Alexia’s mind raced, trying to remember everything every doctor had told her, trying to remember the statistics, the side effects, the other options, but it all seemed a blurred mess inside her head. All she could see was her baby girl, wrapped in a pink blanket, rocked in the warmth and comfort and safety of her mother’s arms.
“I’ll always protect you,” Alexia had said in that early morning when Emily had entered her life. “I will never let anything hurt you.”
Dr. Allen cleared his throat, and Alexia tried to take in a deep breath. “Oh. Will that give her a better chance than chemo?”
“Unfortunately, chemotherapy isn’t going to be enough. I’m sorry.” Dr. Allen squeezed her elbow but couldn’t look her in the eye. He grabbed the chart off the counter and disappeared down the corridor.
Alexia wanted to collapse onto her knees, scream at the top of her lungs, hit him. But there she stood, composed, nodding, swallowing back every vicious word that wanted to escape out of her mouth.
Over the many months she’d spent here, she’d watched this scene play out many times. She and Emily would be returning from lunch or a walk or a short trip to the mall, and she would see the doctor, the mom and dad, standing nearby, and by the looks on their faces, she knew it wasn’t good news. Averting her eyes, and Emily’s attention, she would walk past them, telling herself that it wouldn’t be them.
But now it was them.
“No . . .” Alexia covered her mouth, trying to hold it all in, trying to go back to the time when they were safe, together, just the two of them. A horrible pain radiated through her stomach. She clutched it, bent forward, and could hold it in no longer. Every moment they had ever shared together swept through her mind like a wind gust, gone in an instant, replaced by a flood of regret that she hadn’t taken the most out of every moment. Why hadn’t she rocked her longer? Held her mor
e? Why had laundry been so important on those days when Emily had begged her to go to Chuck E. Cheese? Why had socks on the floor and water out of the bathtub made her lose her temper? Made her yell? So much time wasted. So many minutes thrown out, and now she couldn’t get them back. She couldn’t get any of it back . . .
“No!” she sobbed. “No . . .”
She barely noticed as Jason rounded the corner of the nurses’ station and reached out to support her. Emotions rolled through her like the fierce wave of an angry ocean. She clutched him, bore her fingers into his skin, hated him with everything in her, but she couldn’t stand on her own, and the only person holding her up was the most pathetic man she had ever met.
She buried her face into his chest. What she would give if money could take this all away. Her own life. Anything.
But no amount of money could buy Emily a miracle.
The diner had become a familiar place. They sat across from one another, and there was a strange comfort in being there with another person. Even if it was Jason. He seemed a little different from before. Maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t talking much, which was a good thing.
Alexia stirred her coffee, watching the cream swirl into the darkness. “We’d dated for two years in high school. It was stupid,” she said with a small laugh. “We thought we knew everything. Thought we were really in love. We got careless.”
She dumped more sugar in. She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see whatever expression he was wearing. And it had been a long time since she’d talked about it. Most of the time she forgot it had ever existed . . . he’d ever existed. She had to, to survive. Every once in a while, when she noticed Emily observing fathers at the hospital, it would gnaw at the very core of her soul, condemning her, shaming her. Maybe she should’ve tried harder to keep him from leaving, but in her heart, she knew that he didn’t love her and didn’t want a life with her.
“So when I found out I was pregnant, he was getting ready to leave for college and, uh, didn’t want anything to get in his way.” She found the courage to look at Jason. He looked like he understood, but she couldn’t be sure which side he understood more. She sipped her coffee and gathered a little strength. “But Emily, she’s . . . she’s the best decision I ever made.”
He smiled. And Alexia found herself smiling too.
“So,” she said, leaning toward him, “apparently someone came by and covered my back rent. Was it you?”
Jason just shrugged.
“Thank you.”
“So I have a question for you, and I hope I’m not being too out of line here.”
Well, that wasn’t a stretch, but she kept quiet.
“I was wondering if you’d like to join me for Thanksgiving.”
Alexia’s mouth opened in surprise. Had he just invited her for Thanksgiving dinner? She laughed, causing him to blush and look a little regretful, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been on a date or even been asked out. Was he asking her out? To Thanksgiving dinner? This was bizarre.
“Oh . . . um . . . thanks. That’s nice of you to ask, but I can’t. Obviously Emily needs me here, so . . . but thanks.”
He didn’t look the least bit deterred, and the smile turned into a confident grin. “That’s too bad, because you’re missing out on a splendid example of a way-too-wealthy dysfunctional American family.”
Alexia laughed. “You know, I have the strangest feeling I might have enjoyed it.”
Emily liked to rub the top of her head. It was smooth. Her mom had bought her some special lotion that smelled like strawber- ries. She kind of thought hair was overrated these days anyway. You had to brush it and wash it, it got into ketchup and stuff if you weren’t careful, and it always hung in your eyes when you were trying to do something important.
But she liked her mom’s hair. Sometimes, in the right light, it looked perfectly golden. She liked playing with it sometimes, combing her fingers through it.
Her mother had a book beside her and was looking down at it, but by the way her eyes weren’t moving back and forth, Emily knew she wasn’t reading.
Daydreaming. Emily used to get in trouble for that. She used to get in trouble for a lot of things. She didn’t get in trouble anymore, and that’s how she knew that the news was getting worse. She could hang from the ceiling and break every valuable thing in the hospital and nobody would say a word.
“What are you thinking about?”
Her mom looked up, wearing the same expression Emily used to wear when she felt the urge to take Sharpies to the walls. There was something about the word permanent that made her smile.
Her mother recovered, putting that annoyingly reassuring expression on her face. “Nothin’.”
“You’re thinking about Jason.”
“Yeah. He’s weird,” her mother said, moving to the bed, “isn’t he?”
“He’s a good weird.”
Her mom closed the book she wasn’t reading. “You know, uh, he invited me over to Thanksgiving with his family.”
“Oh, really?”
“Of course I told him, ‘Whatever, loser.’”
Yeah, right. “I think you should go,” Emily said.
“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t dream of missing Thanksgiving with you.”
That was the problem with her mom these days. She’d stopped dreaming.
Emily watched from her window as she stroked the curtains next to her. There she was, walking down the sidewalk. Emily had helped her pick out what to wear. She was really clueless about fashion. And makeup? Forget about it. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but finally she’d had to explain to her mom that without a little blush, she was going to look awfully pale.
Belinda watched out the window with her. “Mission accomplished.”
“Two completely opposite people who wouldn’t have had a chance without me.” She glanced at Belinda. “Destined to make each other miserable.”
“Well, aren’t you the romantic?”
“Just practical.”
Belinda tickled her ribs. “Oh, come on now. I see how you look at Michael down the hall.”
Emily folded her arms and watched Belinda return to messing with the monitors. “He’s gross. He’s disgusting. He picks his nose.”
“Don’t worry. They all pick their noses. It’s just what men do. They also breathe fire and smell like garbage.”
Emily laughed. “Plus, I can beat him at Jenga, which is just pathetic.”
“Get used to it, girl. You’ll always be smarter than the boys.”
Emily smiled and turned back to watch her mom. She was waiting down below with Jason at the bus stop. “Think they’ll have a good time?”
“As good a time as any woman can have with a stinky boy.”
“He better not mess up, or I swear I’ll give him a black eye he won’t forget.”
Alexia had forgotten how awkward dates could be. Or whatever this was. She certainly had never gone on a date to celebrate a major American holiday, that was for sure. Stop fussing with your scarf, she told herself. You’re going to look nervous.
She was nervous. One, she was on a date. Two, she was on a date with a guy who just days ago had actually been a bum. Three, something told her as dysfunctional as he seemed, his family might put his dysfunction to shame.
As they waited for the bus, Jason turned to her, his hands clasped in front of him like a perfect gentleman. “So why did you decide to come?”
“My daughter banished me.”
He smiled. “So I have you by decree?”
“Knowing Emily, by design.”
She could smell the fumes from the bus long before it rounded the corner. It rumbled toward them and Jason stepped back from the curb a little. The bus doors swooshed open, and Alexia stepped on. But as she turned to go to the back of the bus, she noticed Jason wasn’t coming.
What now? Could this guy be any more high maintenance? Had he changed his mind?
She glanced dow
n at her scarf. Maybe it was the scarf. Maybe she should’ve left the scarf off. She’d told Emily she shouldn’t wear the scarf.
But as she studied Jason, she realized it wasn’t regret on his face. It was fear. Actual fear. He was going pale. “You okay, Jason?
” He nodded, but his eyes had a weird glazed look about them.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never been on a bus before.” By the way he wasn’t moving, it was likely he had never taken any sort of public transportation. She stepped down and grabbed his sleeve. He followed, stared at all the people staring back at him. She took a seat. “Just a little warning. You might have to grab a—”
The bus lunged forward and Jason stumbled backward, nearly knocking the people behind him down like bowling pins. She pointed to the strap he was supposed to be holding. He gave a nervous smile and grabbed on to it.
Ah, the beginning of a Cinderella moment made in public transportation heaven. But, she had to admit, he was growing on her.
chapter 10
the long, exquisite table seemed like something to be found in a castle, not a dining room. Alexia listened to the conversations around her. The family looked familiar with one another but not exactly eager to be together. A strange tension hung over the room, stifling what should have been a festive occasion. Alexia glanced at Jason, who smiled.
A voice suddenly rose over the noise. It was Bill, the man Jason had introduced as his uncle but said nothing more about. “You know,” he said, peering around the table, “I had my firm do an informal audit—just the financials of the publicly held side— and there’re still several hundred million floating around.”
“You knew him better than I,” said the other uncle, Jack. “Most of those companies were privately held.”
“Maybe we should check into some of his favorite charities? They do have to report large contributions,” Bill said, stuffing his mouth full of turkey.
Alexia felt something under her feet. A cat? She glanced down. A kid. A little big to be crawling under the tables, but at least that gave this family a sense of normalcy.
“That’s a great idea. You know Daddy was always a sucker for a begging hand.”