One Mountain Away (29 page)

Two women were called, one immediately after the other, and two chairs opened up. A young Asian couple with an adorable toddler sat down. The man was one of only two in the room, and he immediately gathered the toddler on his lap and put his arms around him, whispering in the little boy’s ear. The woman was obviously pregnant, but probably months from delivery. The little boy laughed, then the mother did, too. They began to play a game with their son, something that included slapping hands and chanting a rhyme. Both parents were absorbed in the little boy’s participation, encouraging him, obviously delighted in everything he did.

The mother, with a waterfall of black hair, and the child, with a darling spiky haircut, were certainly worth watching, but Harmony’s attention was riveted on the father. Dressed in carefully pressed casual clothes he was here, with his family, a long wait ahead of him, but he still seemed content. Maybe he had taken off work to come today, to watch his son while his wife was checked. Maybe he wasn’t employed and had taken time away from a job search, or maybe he worked for himself and only earned an income when he was on the job. Whatever his situation, he was making the most of this time with his son.

As she watched, Harmony realized that no matter what choice she made, her son or daughter would never have what this little boy did, two parents who thought he was the ace in whatever hand life had dealt them. She knew the parents had to be poor, like her, or they wouldn’t be sitting here. But she thought their children, this little boy and the baby his mother carried, would be two of the wealthiest children in the world.

* * *

Harmony had been settled in a cubicle somewhere in the warren of rooms off the waiting area about ten minutes ago, and Charlotte imagined there was still a long wait ahead. She’d finished a chapter and reluctantly pulled out some paperwork she needed to look at, but the activity in the waiting room caught her eye instead.

Samantha Ferguson worked here; in fact, Charlotte thought she might even be the director who was gone for the day. She could imagine her here, and she could imagine her making changes, too. But what kind of budget did the clinic have to work with? Very little, she imagined, in a time when everyone from the government on down was strapped.

The largest problem were the children. Many of the mothers who came to Mountain Medical probably had few resources. They might be single. They might be living far from their families, or estranged from them. Whatever their stories, they had been forced to bring their other children here because no one was at home to care for them. And how difficult was that for the clinic staff? How could they do a proper exam when children were present? Did a nurse keep an eye on a patient’s children while she simultaneously tried to do her job?

Her telephone vibrated, and she pulled it from her pocket to glance at the number. Surprised, she grabbed her purse and went outside to answer, since there were signs in the waiting room against making or taking calls.

“Charlotte?”

“Phil.”

Phil was otherwise known as Dr. Granger, a friend from the country club who today sounded like the oncologist he was. “You have a moment?”

She knew from experience that Phil was speaking in a tone that ultimately led to bad news, and she was sorry she’d answered.

Again from experience, she knew the news would be easier if he got straight to the point. “I do have a moment, but no time at all for you prettying up whatever you called to say.”

“We got the preliminaries on your blood work back.”

She was amazed. “Already?” Her heart sped up, and she was sorry now that she wasn’t sitting.

“I don’t like your counts. In fact, they’re alarming. I want you back this afternoon for a transfusion. And I think you’ll need more than one before we figure out the next phase of your treatment. We can do the transfusions outpatient—”

“We will,” she said firmly, doing the unthinkable and interrupting him. “You know I don’t want to go into the hospital here.”

“You’re going to have to let people know what’s going on.”

“I will when I have to.”

His voice softened. “You need to ask yourself why that matters, Charlotte. Why do you care?”

“Oh, I have. Really.” She was standing outside, with people passing and cars gunning engines in the parking lot. There might have been better times for this, but if she had learned one thing from her illness, it was that
this
was the time she had.

“Charlotte, are you still writing in your cancer journal?”

She was surprised he remembered. She’d told him about the journal the psychologist had suggested. He’d been pleased and said he was going to investigate for his other patients.

“I am,” she said. “I’ve been catching up with my past.”

He was silent for a moment, then his tone softened even more. “I think it’s time for you to write about the leukemia, don’t you?”

She was standing in sunshine, but she felt cold inside. “I will when I need to.”

“You need to,” he said. “If for no other reason than to stop pretending you can go through this alone.”

She closed her phone, but long minutes passed before she went back inside.

Chapter Twenty-Six

First Day Journal: May 29

When Taylor is born I have no faith in myself or my daughter. When my marriage begins to fail I’m certain if I control every facet of our lives, I can bring us through the bad times. When Taylor gets pregnant I’m certain she’ll listen to reason once we refuse to support her.

I’m terribly wrong in every way.

In the years after the divorce, love no longer has a place in my life. I commit fully to establishing myself and Falconview as unshakable pillars of the community. When I’m not working, I serve on boards, sure I know what’s best for everyone—although the proof I don’t is all around me.

One morning in the fall, I oversleep. An inventory of the past weeks tells me why. I’ve worked late every night. The economic downturn has kept me on my toes and given me an even greater opportunity to play lady of the manor. Telling others how to live their lives has pushed me to the edge of my own.

I decide a long weekend away will be good. I check into a spa for healthy meals, massages and sleep. Afterward I’m still tired, but functioning. I schedule more time away from work, but when I do, the emptiness of my life becomes apparent. I respond by working longer hours.

Weeks go by, and getting out of bed is even harder. I sleep fitfully and experience night sweats. My appetite disappears, and I tell myself menopause is playing tricks. I ignore bruises, telling myself to be more careful. When winter arrives I get a cold that hangs on tenaciously, but I steel myself and ignore it.

My secretary schedules my annual checkup, but I’m too busy. At last, almost eighteen months after my last one, I visit my internist, who asks why I’m dieting and expresses concern about enlarged lymph nodes. I explain about the cold that’s dragged on forever. He schedules the usual blood work and gives me a lecture on slowing down.

Two days later he calls me back into the office and tells me he wants me to have a bone marrow biopsy. My white blood cell count is alarmingly high. I tell him I’m fine. He tells me I may well be wrong.

One week later I clear my schedule. Until that moment I’ve managed to push worry away. But when I’m waiting for the local anesthesia to take effect, as the hematologist explains what’s in store, I’m forced to face the fact that this is not a test that’s performed without merit.

The following week I’m back at my internist’s office. His expression is grave, and for the first time I fear the worst. He tells me I have leukemia, acute myelogenous leukemia, and I will need more tests to determine how best to treat it. He talks about chromosomes and molecular testing and blood smears. I hear the word leukemia and little else.

When he suggests a local hematologist I tell him I’m calling Phil Granger, a top oncologist I know from the country club. He tells me Phil’s a good choice, too, and wishes me luck. I realize as he’s saying goodbye that he believes this may be the last time he ever sees me.

The next day, when I arrive for an emergency appointment, Phil’s prepared with all my test results. He concurs with my internist’s diagnosis, and I’m disappointed he’s been influenced. I promise to make appointments for more testing, but instead I make preparations to go to Duke to begin the evaluation process all over again. I tell myself I’m lucky I can afford the best, that all the hours I’ve put into Falconview will finally pay off. But I can’t keep the other voices in my head at bay.

If I hadn’t put in all those hours, would I now have friends and family surrounding me? Would Ethan and Taylor be here to help me prepare for the inevitable? Because even as I stubbornly make my appointments and reservations, I know what the doctors at Duke will tell me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

BETWEEN CUTTING UP fresh strawberries and heading to the stove to check muffins, the kitchen phone rang. Harmony answered, because even though Charlotte was awake, she was still in her room and would probably ignore the phone. Harmony knew she kept a journal, and morning seemed to be her favorite time to write in it.

Harmony liked that idea, only she wasn’t sure what she would say if she was keeping one.

May 29: Last week the doctor told me my due date is mid-December, and I will be able to hear the heartbeat at the next appointment. I had more questions than he had time. When I told Davis, he said I’ll have a lifetime of that ahead of me if I don’t marry him.

The woman on the other end of the phone sounded close to Harmony’s own age. “Do I have the right number?” she asked, after she said good-morning. “Is this the residence of Charlotte Hale? Is this Charlotte?”

Harmony explained.

“This is Marilla Reynolds, Harmony. Call me Rilla. I think you and Charlotte have my dog. Velvet?”

“Oh, sure, we do.” Harmony launched into the story of Velvet and the five perfect puppies and ended with: “We left a message at the kennel for your husband, but we didn’t hear back. Are you doing okay?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m getting better faster than anybody expected. I’m doing therapy here at home three times a week, and with some effort I can get myself to and from the bathroom and kitchen. Brad’s back at the office.”

“Office? I thought he farmed for a living.”

“I do the farming. Brad does the lawyering.”

“Pretty handy if one of your chickens ever tries to sue you.”

Rilla had a lilting laugh, and Harmony liked her immediately. “If he sues anybody it’ll be the other driver’s insurance company. So the puppies aren’t too much trouble?”

“They’re more fun than anything.”

“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us. It helps a lot to know Velvet isn’t in a cage at the vet’s. She deserves better.”

“I’ve fallen in love with her, and the puppies, too.”

“I wish I could see them.”

Harmony hated to ask, but knew she had to. “Do you want them back? Now that you’re home, I mean?”

“No chance. I’ve still got a long way to go. In fact, my kids are still at my mom’s. She brings them here on her days off and helps around the house, but it’ll be months before I’m really able to do much of anything useful.”

Harmony was both relieved and sad. She hated the thought of parting with Velvet and the puppies, but she also hated hearing that this nice woman still had so far to go.

“I could bring photos,” she said, before she thought the offer through. “Of the puppies, I mean. I took a whole roll with a disposable camera. They’re just so cute.”

“It’s a long way to come just to show me photos, isn’t it?”

The photos were the least of it. Harmony liked the idea of going to the country for a little while, and she suspected Rilla was probably lonely at home by herself.

“I need some fresh air,” she said. “And you’re not really that far away. I won’t stay long and tire you out.”

“You have no idea how nice it would be to have a little company. Everybody’s been great, but most of my friends work, or they’re busy with their kids. I’m just lucky I’m alive and my mom can help out until I can take over again.”

Harmony wondered what it would be like to have that kind of support. Then she thought of Charlotte. Her mother couldn’t help her, but a stranger had taken her place. Charlotte was a pretty great consolation prize.

“I can get there in about an hour, maybe a little more,” she told Rilla.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

* * *

After Harmony left for Capable Canines, taking a packet of photos and a loaf of zucchini bread, Charlotte considered the rest of her day. She’d been up since dawn working on her journal and an even more difficult project, the letter to Taylor. She felt wrung out, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. Since hearing from Dr. Granger she’d had two transfusions, and she felt better physically, but the second project of the morning had been wrenching. Now she wanted to be finished, and there was only one way to make that happen.

She took a shower and dressed carefully, although she was torn about what to wear. Jeans were too casual, and out of character, as if she was trying to prove she was somebody else these days. She settled on a pale lime sundress and sandals, since the day promised to be hot, but she topped the dress with a thin cotton cardigan of salmon-pink.

In the shower she’d debated whether to call Ethan or simply show up on his doorstep. After the scene at the hospital, she didn’t want to run into her daughter and granddaughter, nor did she want to run into some strange woman who might be spending the day with her ex. On the other hand, she didn’t want to give him a chance to refuse. She wasn’t going to stay, and she wasn’t going to ask for anything new.

After lunch she finally made her decision. She called from her cell phone when she was only a mile from the address she’d found for him. When he answered on the third ring, she cleared her throat.