Chapter Three
Eric
I watched from the doorway as Helen tried to teach her granddaughter how to make cookies. It was the perfect scene of domestic bliss, something Norman Rockwell might have dreamed up, except for how Emma was doing a better job making a mess than making cookies. I was pretty sure she had dough in her hair, for crying out loud!
But they looked happy, and there were so few moments when Emma looked happy these days. Helen too: it was hard on Emma, losing her mother, but I could only begin to imagine how hard it must be for Helen to have lost her only daughter.
“That's a little too big, sugar,” Helen said, breaking one of Emma's cookie balls into two and helping her reform them.
“I wanted a monster cookie, though,” Emma pouted.
Helen hid a smile. “What if I let you have two regular cookies when they're ready?” she asked.
Emma beamed at her. “Okay!”
I shook my head; that girl had us all wrapped around her finger.
But as much as I wanted to be amused by their antics, I couldn't stop thinking about the other family that I was about to visit. About the news that I was about to deliver. What was worse, I knew Jeannie Sable too well already: she wasn't going to listen to my suggestions. I would be fighting an uphill battle, trying to get her to accept the treatments that I knew she needed. I was hoping that having Olivia there would help things and that Jeannie might see reason with her daughter listening in. Or if nothing else, I hoped that Olivia might be able to talk some reason into her mom.
But I hated having to give the bad news to both of them, especially when Olivia was so new in town.
“All right, you two, don't burn the house down while I'm gone,” I teased, coming into the kitchen to say goodbye to my two favorite people. “And Emma, keep an eye on this one,” I said sternly, putting an arm around Helen's shoulders. “Don't let Nana eat all the cookies before I get home.”
Emma dissolved into giggles as I bent down to kiss her cheek. I kissed Helen's cheek as well.
“See you in a little while,” Helen said warmly, her eyes twinkling. It was moments like these, I thought distractedly, that made me forget that there was anything potentially wrong with Nana.
I sighed and headed over to Jeannie Sable's house, my heart heavy.
When I knocked on the door, Olivia was the one to answer it. She and I had only exchanged perfunctory greetings at the daycare that day, as though we were both saving our energy for tonight. Now, she looked anxious and drawn. I looked closer at her face. Maybe a little shy, even.
I wanted instantly to pull her into my arms and comfort her, but before I could do something to embarrass myself, she opened her mouth.
“My mom is—”
“Right here!” Jeannie finished cheerfully as she bustled around the corner, wiping her hands on a pineapple print apron. “Now, Dr. Jones, dinner is already on the table, so let's all go have a seat. We wouldn't want the roast to get cold before we tucked into it, after all.” She winked at me, and after a moment's hesitation and one last glance at Olivia, I trailed after the woman into the dining room.
I knew this tactic. She knew that I had bad news, and she wanted to delay hearing it for as long as she could. Unfortunately, I still would have to give her the news that night.
“Can I offer you a glass of wine?” she asked. “Or water? Soda? Juice?”
“Whatever you're having,” I said, my thoughts still turned deeper than that evening's meal.
“Wine it is,” Jeannie said, already pouring a glass.
We sat down at the table. I sat across from Olivia and Jeannie sat on the end in between us. After a moment, we started to eat.
“So how is Emma doing?” Jeannie asked after a pause.
“She's great,” I said. “You know her. Just...always chattering away.”
“That's good,” Jeannie said. There was another awkward silence until Olivia cleared her throat.
“It is good having her at the daycare,” Olivia offered shyly, looking at me through her lashes. “Harlan has been so quiet. All he wants to do is play video games all day. But today he played with Emma for a while.”
“She told me,” I said, grinning. “I didn't understand what she was going on about, but she seemed happy. Something about dots, though.”
“Pixels,” Olivia said, grinning fondly. “That's how I got Harlan to go outside: I told him that he'd be amazed by the pixel quality of the backyard. I didn't think it would work, but with a little help from Emma, we had him outside in no time. Then, he still wanted to play his favorite video game, so he and Emma made up some sort of game on the spot.”
“Sounds fun,” I said, hearing the quiet enthusiasm in her voice.
“What do you mean, the pixel quality of the backyard?” Jeannie asked, sounding confused.
Olivia turned toward her, and I felt a momentary sense of loss once that smile was no longer directed at me. Stop that, I chided myself. I was there for work. It wouldn't be right to start developing a crush on Olivia.
“Harlan plays a lot of video games,” Olivia explained. “Those video games, and your computer screen and your television screen, are made up of pixels. They're these little boxes of color that make a picture when they're all together.”
“I don't understand,” Jeannie said. How could she not understand? It had to be her memory.
“You grew up with analog photography,” I stepped in. “When your photos were printed, how did that happen?” Jeannie looked blank. “Lots of little dots of ink on a sheet of paper,” I said.
Jeannie frowned. “Emulsifier,” she corrected. “It wasn't ink.”
“Right, emulsifier,” I agreed. I scratched the back of my head. “I don't know enough about analog photography to finish the analogy.”
Olivia laughed and shook her head. “You know those photos that are made up of a bunch of little photos, Mom?” she asked, taking another tack.
“A collage?” Jeannie asked, and we all laughed.
“No, like those photos that all make up...” Olivia trailed off and shook her head. “I guess it doesn't matter anyway. Just, I convinced him that the real world was just another video game.”
Jeannie's face clouded with worry. “I hope you didn't tell him that he had unlimited lives,” she said, and we shared another laugh.
I sobered a little, thinking about those test results that I still had to share with them. It was such a pleasant evening that I didn't want to spoil it. I was surprised at how comfortable I felt, like I was there for just a social visit rather than for an appointment. I had to get it over with.
“About those test results,” I began, as Jeannie brought out slices of rich pound cake for dessert. Just like that, the good mood shattered: all three of us now wore matching frowns. I sighed and forged ahead. “Unfortunately, the cancer is progressing,” I told them. “It's still early enough that we have plenty of treatment options. But we need to act fast before it can spread any further.”
Jeannie waved a hand, trying for a smile. “Come now, Dr. Jones. We're having a pleasant evening; let's not spoil it with that kind of talk.”
I frowned. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Sable, but the whole reason I'm here is so that I can talk to the two of you about these results,” I reminded her. “Now, I know that last time I saw you, we were concerned that some of your levels were off, but this time, it's looking like something is really, seriously wrong. Now, I can get you started on chemotherapy treatments, but you'll probably need Olivia to drive you to and from those appointments, which is why I wanted—”
Jeannie stood up, interrupting me by noisily beginning to clear the plates off the table.
“Olivia, talk to your mom,” I pleaded. “She needs to hear this; you know she does. Like I said, we need to get acting on this sooner, rather than later.”
Olivia shook her head, her sad eyes watching her mom move around the table. “I have to let Mom deal with this the way she chooses,” the woman said softly.
I barely bit back some insensitive words about Olivia pretty much allowing her mother to die. With Emily, we'd found the cancer too late for treatments to be effective. With Jeannie, we still had a fighting chance. But neither of the women seemed to realize what a big deal that was.
I got to my feet, following Jeannie as she headed toward the kitchen. “You can't just ignore this,” I told her.
Olivia caught my arm, though. “Wait,” she said softly, and something in the way she looked at me gave me pause. Olivia sighed, and her hand dropped off my arm. “Give me a little time,” she said. “To adjust, to try to talk to her.” She gave me a small smile. “As you can see, confrontation is not the best approach with my mother.”
I sighed and ran a hand back through my brown hair. “There isn't much time to delay,” I told her.
“I understand that,” Olivia murmured. “But if you badger her over this and make her shut her ears, she's never going to listen to you. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
I was momentarily distracted by the way she bit her lower lip; it took me a second to drag my eyes back to hers. “I won't bother leaving the test results with you because I know they're gibberish if you don't know what you're looking at. But if you want to come into my office at any point to talk to me, just give me a call. You have my number because of the daycare stuff.” I paused. “Better yet, if you could have your mom come into my office sometime this week, I'd appreciate it.”
“I can certainly try,” Olivia said.
I frowned, wanting to urge her to do something more than try. But I checked myself at the last moment. I could see in her eyes that she knew how serious this was. There was nothing more that I could say to her. “I wish I had better news,” I said softly.
Olivia put on a brave face. “But there's still time,” she said firmly. “That's the important thing.”
“That's the important thing,” I echoed, thinking again about Emily.
“For now, it's getting late,” Olivia said. “Thank you for coming by for dinner, and I'll see you tomorrow morning at the daycare.”
I nodded my head and impulsively pulled her into a quick hug. Her small frame was warm in my arms, and I could feel how stiff and anxious she was. I wanted, I realized, to lay her down and massage her shoulders until she was able to relax a little.
I shook the thought away and quickly released her, feeling embarrassed. But Olivia, despite the faint blush staining her cheeks, looked pleased by the gesture. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she repeated softly.
“I'll see you tomorrow,” I agreed.
I couldn't stop thinking about that hug for the rest of the night. The way her curves had pressed up against me, the way she'd splayed her fingers across my back. I felt horrible for thinking about her like that, with everything that was going on with her mother.
But that's not the real reason you feel guilty, my brain reminded me, as I went into Emma's room to check on the sleeping toddler. I shouldn't be thinking about anyone like this, not so soon after Emily's death. Not when I am still grieving that loss. I was ashamed that I found myself even considering what it would be like to take Olivia out on a date, to have a proper dinner, just her and I.
It had been two years, but I had promised Emily that she'd be my only love, for the rest of my life.
I shook my head and tried to force the thoughts out of my head so that I could sleep. But even when I finally managed to sleep, I was plagued by uneasy dreams.