I missed Colt’s Thanksgiving play yesterday. He was the Pilgrim with the line that invited the Native Americans to the feast. He practiced his lines for weeks. Talked about it constantly.
And I missed it.
Maisie wasn’t strong enough to come home after her first session of chemo. Her cell counts dropped, and they wouldn’t let us leave Denver until they rose to safe levels. It happens, at least that’s what I’ve been told by one of the other moms here. Her name is Annie, and she’s been a godsend these last two weeks. Her little boy is here, and I guess you could say she’s taken me under her wing. The learning curve is unforgivably steep.
We’ve been in Denver for almost two weeks now. It’s the best Children’s Hospital in Colorado, and it’s where her oncologist is based, but I found out a few days after we got here that it’s also not in our insurance network. How funny that I never thought about things like that before.
Why can’t I keep my thoughts straight? Even my letters are scattered now, but so is my brain.
So yeah, two weeks, and I missed Colt’s play. Ada went and taped it for me, but it’s not the same. He put on such a brave face when we FaceTimed right after, but I know I let him down. I swore when they were born I’d never let them down, and now no matter what I do, one of them suffers for it.
How is that fair? I see the parents here who take shifts between the mom and dad, or the parents with only one child, and I feel this pang of horrid, selfish longing for what they have—the ability to balance.
I know, in the scheme of things, missing the play isn’t a big deal. It’s the first of many, right? There’s loads coming for him that I can be there for, and Maisie needs me right now. But I can’t help but feel like it’s the first drop in the bucket, and I’m so scared it’s going to eventually fill. I missed his first play when I swore I’d never miss anything, and as the doctors are presenting me with treatment plans, I can see how much she’ll miss. How much he will.
Because I didn’t just miss the first play, Maisie did, too. And instead of being on stage, she was in a hospital bed. The docs tell me her counts are on the rise, and they’re hopeful we can go home tomorrow.
God, I hope they’re right.
I hope you guys are getting some semblance of turkey over there, or at least a little downtime. Rest when you can.
~ Ella
…
I rubbed Havoc’s head as I turned the truck through the Solitude gate, then drove along the curved road toward my cabin, passing Ella’s. Her SUV was gone, which meant they must have left for Denver as planned. She’d been here this morning when I’d gone for a training session at my new job, and I’d had a flash of worry that something had changed their plans.
Not that she’d tell me.
Not that I even deserved to know.
She’d killed me last night, asking those questions, calling me a stranger. I’d nearly broken right there, but our circumstances hadn’t changed, and if being only Beckett let me close enough to help, then I’d bury Chaos next to Ryan. God knew that was mostly the case already. I hadn’t been far off when I’d implied that he’d died on that mission, too.
I didn’t want to lie to Ella—even by omission—but if she knew who I really was, she’d kick me out of her life. Knowing would only lead her to asking questions I couldn’t answer, and even if I did, the truth would exile me just as quickly as her discovery of the lie I’d been living. As long as she didn’t find out, and I kept my feelings in check, I’d be the only one burdened by the ugly truth.
Once Maisie was healed, and Ella didn’t need me anymore, I’d tell her.
I made the turn into my long driveway and then hit the brakes hard enough to bring Havoc to attention.
There was a strange Jeep parked in front of my cabin.
Who the hell could it be? I crept forward slowly, until a familiar figure walked around the side of the Jeep. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark eyes, hair, and skin; I knew him at first glance.
Captain Donahue.
What could he possibly want?
“It’s okay, girl,” I told Havoc. “Just Donahue.” I parked the truck and got out, Havoc jumping down after me.
“Loose Dog!” I called out the warning as she bounded toward him, knowing full well she wouldn’t attack him.
“Ha, very funny,” he said, dropping down to her level.
She came to a halt directly in front of him and sat on her back haunches as I walked up to him.
“What are you doing here, Donahue?”
“Nice shirt,” he said, nodding at my new Telluride Mountain Rescue shirt.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated.
He sighed and stood up. “Always one for words, aren’t you?” He opened the Jeep door and leaned in, coming back out with a red Kong. “I brought you a present,” he told Havoc. Her ears perked up as he showed it to her, but she didn’t budge when he threw it into the woods. “Seek!” he called, but she still looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “What? You love those things.”
I stood at her side and crossed my arms over my chest.
“She’s really still that stubborn?” he asked, lifting his sunglasses to the top of his head.
“Yep.”
She didn’t even look at me, just kept her eyes trained on him.
“Fine. I was hoping with some time off, we wouldn’t have to retire her…or you.” He shook his head in exasperation.
“Seek.”
With one word, Havoc sprung toward the woods to find her new toy. A smile spread across my face as Donahue rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. Point proven. She’s yours and always has been. It’s good to see you.”
“Ditto, but you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”
“Can we sit?”
I took him to the small patio behind the cabin where a full set of furniture sat in the shade of the three p.m. sun.
“You’re about forty-five days out,” he said as we sat in the red Adirondack chairs.
“Yep,” I said, launching the Kong toward the lake. Havoc was overjoyed to run for it. She’d been put through her paces today in seeking work, keeping her skills honed for finding people, and she was tired but happy.
“I’m here to ask you to reconsider.” He leaned forward a little.
“Nope.”
“Gentry.” He sighed, rubbing the area between his eyebrows. “We’re a team.”
“Not anymore.” My voice dropped.
He looked across the lake to the small island. “Have you been out to see him yet?”
My silence answered.
“There was nothing you could have done for him,” he told me for the hundredth time.
“Yeah, well, that’s where we see things differently.”
Havoc returned, and I pitched the toy again, the familiar motion comforting.
“Do you think this is what he’d really want? You to leave the team? Leave your family? You and Havoc are part of us.”
“I’m doing exactly what he asked.” I pulled the letter from my back pocket and handed it to him.
He read the letter and cursed as he returned it to the envelope. “I should have read the damn thing before I gave it to you.”
“There’s no chance I’m leaving. As much as I appreciate what you’re doing here, I can’t go back. I’m on terminal leave, and in forty-five days, I’ll be out.” I’d be permanently separated from the only life I knew.
“What if there was another option?”
“Unless that option is Mac coming back from the dead, I don’t care. I can’t care. What I want doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I get that. And I understand what you’re doing here. Hell, I admire you for it. It’s the ultimate sacrifice, and I have nothing but respect for you. But I know this…situation won’t go on forever. I don’t want you to turn around and regret this choice.”
I shot him a look that clearly said I wasn’t going to, but he kept going.
“What if I told you that due to the nature of our unit, I have the ability to place you on a kind of temporary disabled list?”
“I’m sorry?”
Havoc brought the Kong back, but I saw the exhaustion in her eyes and motioned for her to lie down. She’d fetch that thing until she dropped unless I gave her the signal, so I gave it.
“It’s not what you think. You’re not…disabled. But it was the only way the higher-ups and I could think to give you an out, here.”