Before I Say Goodbye Page 26

  “Are we going to be late to school?” Lauren asked. “Because I don’t want to miss math.”

  “Just a little late,” I said. “We’ll only stay a minute for James to hug his mommy.”

  “Okay. Hurry, James.”

  James picked up his bowl and chugged down the milk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He was wearing some of Cory’s hand-me-down clothes that I’d kept for some reason, just as I’d kept Allia’s and Lauren’s. Keeping Allia’s made some sense because I could save them for Lauren, at least the classic ones, but Cory was eleven, and we hadn’t planned on more children. Maybe it was time to let it all go.

  The children chatted on the drive to the hospital, but inside the building they fell silent. “Mom, do people die here?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes, honey.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “It can be really sad, especially for the families, but you have to remember that people go back to live with Heavenly Father when they die, and all their parents and grandparents are there to meet them.”

  “Like a family reunion.”

  “What’s a family reunion?” James asked.

  That was something Lauren knew. “It’s when you get together with your family, like cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. And you eat a whole bunch of cake and pies and stuff, and you play all sorts of games and laugh a lot.”

  “I don’t have any family, just Mom and Kyle.”

  “Well, your mom’s fun, but you can’t have a reunion without cousins and stuff.”

  James frowned, so I took his hand. “Don’t you believe that. You can have something just like a family reunion with close friends. It’s basically a party.”

  “Oh,” James said.

  “Well, don’t you at least have grandparents?” Lauren asked him.

  “They’re dead,” James said. “They used to live in our house. Can I come to your family party, Lauren? The next time you have it, I mean.”

  “Sure. You can pretend to be my cousin.”

  James and his family would probably be long gone the next time we had another family reunion at my brother-in-law’s parents’ farm, but nothing would be served by bringing that up now.

  As we approached the room, James began to walk slower. I could feel his fear and resistance, and I hoped it was because he was remembering the last way he’d seen his mother, not because he felt frightened at what he might see now. “It’s okay,” I told him.

  “If you see any blood, just close your eyes,” Lauren said.

  Sometimes that child simply begged for a good swift kick. Fortunately for her, I possessed a lot of restraint. Restraint was one of the first rules of motherhood. “There isn’t any blood,” I told James. “Your mother is fine.”

  “Knock, knock,” I called, though the door was open.

  “Come in,” Rikki answered. She was lying in bed watching TV, but she immediately switched it off when we came in. “James, baby!”

  He ran to her, climbing up the side of the bed and into his mother’s open arms. All the tension had left him now, and he began telling Rikki everything he’d done that morning, including how we’d practiced the alphabet with pancakes.

  Lauren surveyed the room with interest that quickly turned into boredom. No blood, no doctor shouting commands, and no needles, except for Rikki’s IV, and that was obscured by tape. Her hand slipped into mine. “Can we go?” she said in a whisper that was loud enough to carry. “I really don’t want to miss show and tell.”

  “In a minute.” I approached the bed, having to plaster a smile on my face as I remembered Dante’s behavior. “How’re you doing?”

  “Much better. Thank you. Well, except for this IV. I told them if they didn’t get in here to take it out, I was going to do it myself.”

  I laughed, hoping she wasn’t serious but suspecting she was.

  “I’m really fine, Becca,” Rikki said. “They’re going to let me go today. As soon as they can get me cleared.”

  “You do look good.” Well, except the too-thin part, but that seemed to be her normal.

  “Thank you so much for looking after James and Kyle. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  “No problem. You’re lucky Kyle was there. It was she who called 911.”

  “So I heard.” Rikki looked past me. “Is she here?”

  “No, she’s at my house with Sister Gillman. She was asleep when I left. She was up most of the night, but I’ll get her to school before her English class.”

  “Thank you.”

  “James and me are going to school, too.” Lauren tugged a little on my hand.

  “James and I,” I corrected.

  “James and I,” Lauren said, pulling harder.

  James gave a huge yawn. “That’s right.”

  Rikki’s arms were still around James, and she looked reluctant to let him go. “I could take Lauren to school and come back with James,” I said. “Or leave him here if the nurses don’t mind.”

  “Oh, no, he should go to school. They’ve been testing him because of the reading, and I don’t want to mess that up.” Rikki bent her head to kiss James. “You go to school, sweetie. If I’m out of here before you finish school, I’ll pick you up. If not, Kyle will come to get you.”

  “I’ll pick them both up,” I said, “and we’ll make sure you have a ride, too. Sister Gillman’s already planning on bringing dinner.”

  Rikki laughed. “Good old Sister Gillman.”

  There was a bit of derisiveness in her tone that made me say, “Charlotte’s glad to have a chance to give back. There was a time not too long ago when the sisters brought her family dinner for months.”

  “She had cancer,” Lauren said importantly. “We made her cards in Primary. We all thought she was going to die, but she didn’t.”

  Rikki’s smile faded. “I didn’t know. So that’s why she’s lost so much weight from when I knew her.”

  “She hasn’t gained enough back yet. It still seems strange to see her like that. She’s a good woman.”

  “Yes, she is.” Rikki buried her face in James’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Go with Becca,” she said. “I’ll see you later. I love you, honey.” I couldn’t see her face, but I heard the catch in her voice.

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  “Oh,” I said, remembering the shopping bag in my hand. “Your purse is in here. Kyle and I stopped by your house to get it and a change of clothes when I picked her up here this morning. She put my number in your phone, so call me when you know what time they’re letting you go. That way Charlotte or I can pick you up.”

  Rikki took the purse from the bag, her lips clenched tight. For a moment, I thought she was angry. “Do you always take care of everyone else, Becca? How is there ever time left for yourself?”

  I laughed. “Some things simply matter more.”

  “Priorities?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What about Saint George?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll get the pictures developed and go from there.” I could tell my answer didn’t satisfy her.

  The children were more talkative than ever as we drove to school. I walked with them into the office to sign them in, staying to talk with the principal to let him know what had happened to James’s mother.

  “She’s going to be okay, right?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I think so.” An emotion filled me—thankfulness that James hadn’t lost his mother last night. It had been far too close. Hopefully, that meant James would remain as happy as he’d been seeing his mom at the hospital. I was beginning to really care about that child.

  Kyle, however, was a different story. I still didn’t know what I was going to do about her. Last week at the dance studio, it had been plain that
Kyle longed to be in the class, and when I’d talked to her dance teacher at school, she had raved about her raw talent. I’d gone through a phase as a child where dancing had been my life—lasting for all of about three months—and I’d enrolled both Allia and Lauren, who’d both shared my short attention span, but not one of us could begin to approach Kyle’s dedication. According to James, Kyle had been dancing all her life and practiced for hours every day.

  That she’d tried shoplifting to get enough money for the classes made me want to weep. Most parents would love to see their child go after something with so much passion, yet to watch her stoop to illegal means was painful. Not having the classes was clearly punishment enough for Kyle for the shoplifting, but such a drastic and permanent punishment was surely overkill. The dying of a dream went deeper than sad, deeper than I had words to describe.

  The cost of the special dance lessons was staggering, and when I’d told the teacher about Kyle’s situation, she seemed willing to work with Rikki in regards to payments, but I had no idea what that would mean in the end. As far as I knew, Kyle still hadn’t talked to Rikki, and I felt I would have to do so. I hoped Kyle didn’t feel betrayed when I did. Even so, if there was any way to help Kyle achieve her dream, I had to act. At least dancing would be a start to keeping her out of trouble.

  * * *

  When I arrived home, I found Charlotte sitting at my kitchen table with a cup of hot chocolate. “Well?” she asked, taking her eyes from the window.

  “Rikki seems to be doing well.”

  “But?”

  I couldn’t tell her that Dante was hiding something, though she probably knew how it worked better than I did. At her request, he’d kept her cancer a secret for weeks until the chemo and radiation made her too weak to hide it any longer. Why did we do that? Hide our troubles from those who could help?

  “I don’t know,” I said. “No one’s talking much about what’s wrong, but she’s taking an awful lot of medication for someone who’s supposedly going to be all right.”

  Charlotte looked out the window again with more intensity than even the beauty of my flower beds demanded, her nose more prominent in outline. I shifted position so I could see what she was looking at.

  “She’s been out there since she woke up,” Charlotte said. “I don’t know anything about dance, but I think she’s really very good.”

  When Kyle was moving, she didn’t resemble the questionable-looking girl with the too-tight clothes and the short skirt but became something else entirely. Something flowing, vital, alive. I could almost see the music that she must hear in her head.

  “Her mother was like that,” Charlotte said in a reverent voice. “A waste, really. I wished then that I’d had the means to help her, but the kids were all at home and money was tight.”

  I knew what she meant. “The lessons she needs cost more than all the lessons my children take.”

  “Means she’s good. Maybe I can help.”

  I knew her battle with cancer had seriously depleted her savings, and her husband had delayed his retirement to try to make up somewhat for that. I sighed. “It would take more than just one person.”

  Charlotte pulled her hand away from her mug and sat up straight. “Good thing we have more than that available to help. I, for one, am not ready to watch history repeat itself.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes. “No,” I said. “Neither am I.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Rikki

  Life stinks. I never let my children say that, and all my life I’ve always corrected any friends or strangers who said the phrase. After all, I’d been the child with the verbally abusive father and frightened mother. I’d been the girl whose best friend was a boy whose father barely spoke to him. I’d been left by men I’d thought loved me, and I’d made more wrong choices than I could count on all my finger and toes. If anyone had the right to complain aloud, it was me. Up until now, I hadn’t.

  But you know what? They were right. Life does stink, but even then it is ultimately precious. I’d do anything to cling on to my rotten, stinking life.

  Not that I was left much time alone for reflecting upon my woes. Teri Bunk, my old Primary teacher, showed up shortly after Becca left, her eyes large in her lined face, and her gray hair curled, if anything, more tightly than usual.

  “Hi, dear,” she said, shuffling in, her hands carrying a brown shopping bag with a rope handle that had obviously been used many times. “Brought you a few magazines and some MacGyver videos. Sometimes he gets a little too free with his lips, I know, but I think I threw out the bad ones.”

  She thought MacGyver was too racy? Was that a dig about my own life? No, the woman didn’t have a subtle bone in her achy old body. I was an ungrateful wretch.

  “Thanks,” I said. “How did you hear?”

  “Oh, I use a hearing aid these days.”

  “I meant about me being here.”

  “Charlotte called me. You poor thing. I came over as soon as I could.”

  “I’m okay. I think they’re going to let me out soon.” After the doctor confronted me about my many medications, I’d told him about my tumor, and he insisted on consulting a specialist before signing me out. If he didn’t come soon, I could always leave on my own.

  “Well, I’ll stay and watch this with you.” Teri put a gnarled hand in her bag and pulled out not a video after all but a DVD. “My favorite episode is on this one.”

  I wanted to give an excuse so I didn’t have to watch it, but what else was I going to do? Sit here and worry about how well Becca was taking care of my children and how I’d never in a million years be able to pay for this hospital room?

  Besides, it felt nice not being alone—and MacGyver was kind of cute, I had to admit. His hair reminded me of Dante’s before he cut it to go on his mission. Dante’s hair had been lighter, and the resemblance didn’t stretch much further, but it made me smile. In case I missed anything, Teri kept up a running dialog during the show, which was every bit as fascinating as the plot.

  An hour later Debra Lungren arrived, her makeup perfect, including the outdated blush, and her brown hair ratted three inches off her scalp. She carried a romance novel and a box of chocolates. The women talked ten minutes before Teri left us with a bright smile that finally put some color on her pale cheeks.

  I was beginning to see a pattern. These were two of the women who’d come to help me clean my house when we’d moved in. Did they do most of the service in the ward, or did Becca and Charlotte call them because they thought I’d feel more comfortable with them?

  During my visit with Debra, she assured me the sisters would bring dinners in for the next few nights.

  “Actually, I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll be back at work tomorrow.” The doctor didn’t say I could go, but he didn’t have to worry about my bills, either.

  “Well, then, for tonight at least. You need to rest.”

  My next visitor was Charlotte Gillman herself. It was only when she walked into the room that I remembered what Becca had told me about her cancer. This woman with the big nose and sagging cheeks had faced death. Maybe not certain death but the very real possibility. She’d spent months in recovery.

  For the first time since Dante, I wanted to tell someone else, someone who would understand. But could she really? Her children were grown and had been when she’d fallen ill. She couldn’t know the ache of leaving behind helpless babies.

  “Are you in pain?” Charlotte asked.

  I blinked away the tears. “Just a bit tired, I think.”

  “Well, no wonder.”

  “The doctor should have been back an hour ago. I’d really rather be home.”

  She plopped into the chair. “Yeah. That’s what doctors do, but he’ll get here in the end. Why don’t you rest, and I’ll sit here and read a bit?” She picked up the ro
mance novel Debra had left.

  I wouldn’t be able to sleep with her there, but I didn’t want to tell her to leave. What was up with me? I guess it’s true that dying changes a person.

  The next thing I knew, Charlotte was touching my shoulder, and I jerked awake. “Huh?”

  “Sorry to wake you, but it’s been a couple of hours and someone’s here to see you.”

  Instead of the doctor, it was Quinn from work. He smiled at me uncertainly. “Heard you were here, so I thought I’d stop by.”

  I checked the clock and saw it was barely one, so he was on his lunch break or he’d cut out early. “I hoped to be out of here already,” I said, my voice croaking from disuse.

  Charlotte cleared her throat. “The doctor stopped by, but he wouldn’t let me wake you. Promised he’d be back at two, but that probably means three.” She looked from me to Quinn pointedly. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back soon.”

  I wanted to ask her to stay because I was starting to like Quinn, and that was the worst thing that could happen now. To me and especially to him.

  Of course he hadn’t changed my oil yet, so maybe I could hold off alienating him for another week or two. I could barely afford groceries, much less someone to change my oil.

  He brought his hand out from behind his back and handed me a bouquet of roses. Red. I loved red roses, and I really appreciated the gesture. He couldn’t possibly know I loved sunflowers more. “I know it’s kind of cliché,” he said, “but at least I came prepared.” His other hand held a vase, which he filled at the sink in the corner before settling the flowers inside.

  “Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say. I felt overwhelmed. When I’d come to Utah, my solitary goal had been to find Dante, to get him to love my children so I’d know they were taken care of. Here, suddenly, I had a lot of other people looking after me, and they didn’t even know the terrible secret. I felt guilty for hiding it, for letting them think there was something to look after, to protect. No one could protect me from this.

  People often talked of miracles, but I knew my body. I’d tried everything I’d heard about these past eight months, from chemo to natural remedies I bought on the Internet. I’d seen three doctors and four alternative caregivers, and every single one, except the man who wanted me to sign over the life insurance policy I’d bought when Kyle was born to pay for his radical treatment, told me the same thing: there was nothing they could do. At the end, I’d exhausted the tiny savings I had and pulled in every favor from anyone I knew. I owed everyone money now, money I’d never be able to repay.