“But why hospice? What about chemo and radiation and all those other things they do for cancer?” My calm, no-nonsense New England demeanor had packed its bags and left me with only images of ancient oak trees that wore their grief in the gnarled bend of their limbs.
She must have sensed my rising hysteria, and placed a hand on mine. “Mrs. Heyward, I’m sorry. This is a very aggressive cancer. Unfortunately Mrs. Connors discovered it only after it had spread.” Ms. Tanner flipped up a page on her clipboard. “She pursued other treatment options in Georgia, but she and her doctors agreed that although she might prolong her life slightly, it wouldn’t increase her quality of life. I believe that protecting her son from an extended illness was a strong motivator for her.” She paused a moment, waiting for the wave of grief to pass through me, to carry with it the sediment of guilt and remorse before settling in the pit of my stomach. Her voice was gentle when she continued. “Once the cancer has spread, there is nothing that can be done except to make the patient comfortable.”
I bit my lip hard, trying to keep it from trembling. “How long does she have?”
Her expression was sympathetic. “You’ll need to speak with Dr. Ward, but I will say that once a patient reaches end-stage, it won’t be long. Maybe a month, maybe a little longer.”
I jumped up, unable to sit one second longer. “May I see her now?”
“Of course. She’s in a private room, and there’s a lounge chair in there that can be converted to a bed if you’d like to stay the night.”
“Thank you, but I should be with her son. Somebody needs to tell him, and he shouldn’t be alone.”
She regarded me with kind eyes, as if she knew long before I did whom that somebody needed to be. “I’ll have the information for you at the nurses’ station when you leave, along with my card and cell number. Call me if you have any questions—any questions at all. You’ll need to let me know what you and Mrs. Connors decide concerning her care.”
“Thank you,” I said, then followed her from the room and down the brightly lit corridor of patients’ rooms, passing a janitor wearing headphones mindlessly polishing the linoleum floors, the sound oddly ordinary. I had the strongest compulsion to whip the headphones from his ears and shout at him to pay attention, to stop taking for granted even the most mundane tasks.
Carmen Tanner pushed open a door and stepped back, allowing me to enter. She put a gentle hand on my arm, then left the room, closing the door behind her.
I noticed very little about the room except for the single bed with a person lying on it, an IV drip in the back of her hand. I almost didn’t recognize Loralee. She seemed to have shrunk, her life diminished under the fluorescent lighting. I wanted to throw open the window, allow in the sunshine and fresh air, to immerse her in a garden of pretty and fragrant flowers where fireflies danced at night. Her breath came in little gasps, as if her lungs were filling with fluid, and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed it before.
Her hands rested on top of the bedclothes, her wrists and elbows looking swollen compared to the size of her arms. Her skin was yellow against the bright white of the pillow, her blond hair flat and dull. I wanted to deny that this person in the bed was Loralee, but then her head turned and she smiled that big, beautiful smile that I had once hated.
“Thanks for coming. Is Owen all right?”
“He’s with Maris. Her mother, Tracy, said he can stay as long as we need him to. I told him that I would bring him to see you as soon as I could.” I looked up at the white ceiling, willing my eyes not to betray me with tears. I was an expert at hiding my tears. Seven years of being married to Cal had been a good teacher.
“Thank you,” she said.
I had to take a few deep breaths before I could look at her. “You’re pretty damned good at hiding things. Even in plain sight.”
Her smile faltered. “I guess my secret’s out. I’m so sorry, Merritt.”
I sat down in a chair and pulled it up by the side of the bed. “Don’t you apologize to me or I’ll feel even worse.” I placed my purse on my lap, ready to go as soon as somebody let us know this was a huge mistake, and we could go home. “I’m thinking you’re not really broke, and you just used that as an excuse to move in with me.” I almost laughed. “Why didn’t you just tell me? In the beginning, when you first came here. I wouldn’t have turned you away.”
“I know that, Merritt. But I couldn’t. You would have taken us in because it was what you thought should be done. Or what you thought your father would have wanted. But I wanted you to do it because you believed in your heart that you could.”
“Could do what?” I asked, too distraught to be embarrassed about the sob in my throat. “Watch you die?” I hadn’t meant to use that word, but it propelled itself from me like a dart seeking its target.