Chapter Six
Olivia
I wasn't sure why Eric wanted me to meet his mother-in-law, but it was sweet, seeing the three of them interact as a family. It cemented the idea in my mind that Emma really was a good kid. Looking for attention, certainly, but all her brattiness made sense in that context. I'd just have to work harder to show that I was paying attention, even when she wasn't having one of her temper tantrums.
The whole evening had been sweet. I knew that I shouldn't be thinking of things that way, but I couldn't help it. I could only imagine what it would be like to date the man.
Eric was silent on the drive from Helen's house back to my place, and I would have given anything to know what he was thinking. But I didn't dare ask, not with Emma in the back seat. She might be falling asleep back there, but I didn't need her to overhear us talking about my mother's cancer or whatever else might be weighing on Eric's mind.
It wasn't my place to ask, anyway.
I turned toward him as we reached my front door. I couldn't help the smile that crept across my face. “You didn't have to walk me to the door, you know,” I told him softly.
Eric reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. Then, he shook himself, looking embarrassed. He glanced toward the car. “I think Emma's already out,” he said.
I hummed an agreement, trying again to figure out what he was thinking.
“I'm sorry I upset you earlier,” he finally said.
I shook my head. “I'm glad to know that you care about my mom,” I told him. “And thank you for being so kind to me. Sorry I went to pieces on you like that.”
Eric waved away my apology. “Talk to your mom,” he finally urged, his voice gentle but earnest. “Soon.”
“I will,” I promised. I gave him a lopsided grin and held up a pinky. “I pinky promise I'll talk to her soon.”
Eric snorted but dutifully linked his pinky with mine, just as we'd watched Emma and her Nana do a little while earlier. “I didn't mean to scare you,” he said. “But cancer is a very serious thing. I should know.”
“Well, I would hope you would know,” I said mockingly. “Since you're a doctor and all.”
Something flickered across Eric's face, but whatever that feeling was, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, we lingered there in silence, each waiting for the other person to make a move.
I wanted him to kiss me, I realized. I knew that this hadn't actually been a date, but there had been moments where it felt like one, and right now was one of those moments. We were close enough that our breath was mingling in the crisp spring air, but he didn't move to close that gap, and I wasn't sure whether I could. Instead, I was frozen there, transfixed, waiting.
When Eric finally moved, though, he didn't kiss me. Instead, he pulled me into his arms for a quick but tight hug. Then, without saying anything, he hurried back to his car, lifting his hand in farewell before slipping inside and driving off into the night.
I slumped against the door, breathing out a heavy breath. I headed inside, feeling a tad disappointed by the lack of a kiss. But I felt better about all of this, as though a weight had lifted from my chest. Mom might have been getting worse still, but we had a plan of action. I needed to talk her into doing the chemo treatments.
Easier said than done, but if you really want something, you just have to push until you get it.
The next day, I went over to Mom's house, under the guise of helping her weed her extensive gardens.
“You know, I had dinner with Dr. Jones last night,” I said slowly, as we moved through the pepper plants, retying them to stakes as needed.
“Did you?” Mom asked, waggling her eyebrows at me.
I grinned. “It wasn't like that,” I told her. “I mean, it sort of was. He took me to this nice Italian restaurant over in Kingsfield, and he looked sexy in a suit. We had a good night. But it wasn't a date. I wanted to talk to him about those test results.”
Mom frowned, her earlier good humor gone. “Those test results,” she scoffed, viciously pulling a weed from the ground.
“He says that the only treatment option is for you to start chemotherapy right away,” I told her. “He thinks that would slow down the progression of the cancer.”
“Of course he does,” Mom said, rolling her eyes. “Olivia, do you have any idea how expensive those chemo treatments are? I barely have insurance anymore, and my supplier won't foot the full cost of the treatments. Nowhere near the cost of them, probably. I live on a meager pension and what little savings I could scrape together, with all my years of being a teacher. You know that.”
“Mom, if it's just the money that's holding you back, I'm sure we could figure something out. There are plenty of websites where you can ask for funding for things like this. We could at least talk about our options with Dr. Jones.”
“I just can't afford it,” Mom said stubbornly. “And I'm not going to take other people's well-earned money to do so.”
“You can't afford not to, though,” I said softly. “Mom, think about it. You could be...” I swallowed hard, unable to say the word.
“I'm not dying,” Mom said exasperatedly. “I appreciate your concern, but it's really nothing to worry about. Tests have been wrong before.”
“But what if it isn't wrong?” I pressed. “Mom, I moved here from Chicago because you were diagnosed with cancer a while ago. You haven't done anything about it, and now we hear that the cancer has progressed. It all seems to make sense. And Eric doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would be scamming you out of your money. He seems like he genuinely cares.”
“You worry too much, sweetie,” Mom insisted. “I haven't felt anything wrong with me since the initial lung discomfort that sent me to the doctor's, to begin with. I'm sure that this is just allergies, and it'll all blow over soon enough.” She grinned. “Don't you think your old Ma knows a thing or two about this sack of bones that she's been dragging around for years?”
“I'm sure you do, Mom, but I also think that Dr. Jones, as a trained medical professional, might know a thing or two about it as well,” I sighed, but I could tell that I was losing the battle.
“You're just blowing things out of proportion,” Mom said firmly, clearly meaning to end the conversation there.
I wasn't quite ready to let it go, though. “Mom, I can't imagine what I'd do if I lost you,” I said softly. “You're my best friend. I want you to be around to see all the things that I get up to in my life. I want you to be there when I eventually get married and have children of my own. I don't want to lose you to this.”
“You're not going to lose me to this,” Mom said. “Like I said, I'm sure it's just allergies, nothing more. I'm in better shape than most people my age, you know.”
“I know,” I agreed tiredly. No matter what I said, I couldn't seem to get through to her. She refused to believe that the cancer was real, and I wasn't sure how to proceed in that situation. It was something that I should have mentioned to Eric the previous night, but I'd been too busy pretending that I was on a date with him.
I felt a stab of guilt, wondering if I was letting my feelings for him cloud my ability to rationally assess the situation with Mom.
“So tell me more about this dinner with Eric,” Mom said, emphasizing his name rather than calling him 'Dr. Jones'.
I shook my head. “There's not much more to tell,” I told her. “We had a nice time. I met Emma's Nana, too.”
“Mrs. Beal is a lovely woman,” Mom said. “I'm surprised that he took you to meet her already, though. But then again, I suppose I already know him.”
I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning. “Mom, he and I aren't dating,” I said firmly. “I only met Helen because we stopped by to pick up Emma on the way home.”
“You may not be dating, but I can tell you're interested in him,” Mom said, grinning right back at me. “I can't remember the last time you went to dinner with a man. And watching the two of you interact the other night was something, too. You seem happy.”
“I am happy,” I said, knowing that I needed to change the topic of conversation before I said something that I might regret. As soon as she started thinking there might be a possibility that Eric and I would start dating, I would start to get my own hopes up.
I gave her a hug, heedless of the dirt covering both of us after a couple of hours in the garden. “I am happy,” I repeated. “I get to see you all the time, and I'm settling into the new daycare. Things are going well for me right now.”
“Are you really happy, living here in Tamlin?” Mom asked, sounding uncertain, and I wondered if maybe that wasn't part of her refusal to admit that she had cancer. Maybe she didn't want to admit it was serious because she didn't want me to feel like I had to be there.
“Mom, I like it here,” I told her firmly. I frowned, knowing that she would expect more of an answer than that. “I love it in Chicago. You know that,” I admitted. “But it's a good change of pace, to come here for a little while. It's been a while since I was able to relax. The other day, I sat down with a book and did some reading out on my porch. Do you know how long it's been since I did any reading?”
That finally got the conversation changed over to what book I was currently working my way through, and I breathed a mental sigh of relief.
All I could think about, though, was that I was happy here, and Eric was part of the reason I was so happy. I swallowed hard and plucked a few last weeds from the ground, using the manual labor in a futile attempt to distract myself.