Authors: Hope Navarre
The physical discomforts from the drugs administered before the chemicals had run their course. Still, Cassie was wiped. She'd slept more during these four days than any of the other treatments combined. A part of her suspected her emotional side had needed some time off. Sleep had offered a fine escape.
Today, she felt stronger. Thank goodness. Brian and her friends had planned a fund-raiser for her tomorrow night. She wanted to be well enough to attend, visit with her friends and personally thank them for rallying to her financial aid. Most of all, she wanted Peter to see firsthand how important her network of friends were to her. She wanted him to understand the benefits of trusting in more than his insulated world of just him and his brother.
She sighed. It didn't matter anymore. She'd sent him packing. What he chose to do now was his business.
Cassie ate another forkful of potatoes. After a few days of very light, almost nonexistent meals, she had woken up this morning with a powerful hunger and a distinct craving. Her dad had anticipated her cravings, and because the guys were headed out early this morning to fish for tomorrow's fund-raiser, Bobby had hit the grocery store last night for the ice cream and chicken wings she'd wanted. She wondered if she'd have such crazy cravings when she finally had kids.
Then, ruthless reality struck.
She'd never have kids. The chemo took care of that possibility. She put down her fork, appetite done.
The pressure of tears rose in her eyes so fast, she choked back a sob. Covering her mouth with her hand, she turned her gaze out the open window and inhaled a deep breath. The sun streaming in was exactly what she needed. Outside, birds chirped in the trees, the leaves rustling in the air making a sound like distant applause. The cheery day acted as a balm to her sad thoughts.
What exactly had she done to deserve this trial?
Cassie was also fighting a huge bout of conscience. After mentioning Kyle's name out loud when she hadn't intended, and seeing the effect her words had on Peter, she'd chosen to speak very little since. Cassie was hoping Peter would have called, but no one said anything about him the few times she had awakened. She wondered if maybe she chose to sleep so much because not only did she feel physically exhausted, but she also wanted to hide from her blunder. She had wounded Peter again.
Given the mess this cancer had made of her, she'd probably done him a favor driving him away, one more time. He may have been understanding about her becoming sterile, but instinct told her Peter Chapman would love to see a baby made from his own seed. She didn't want to live with the guilt of depriving him of such a desire.
A soul-deep sigh escaped her lips. She'd made a pact with herself. The job of dealing with her illness and her own demons rested on her until she was healthy again. Right now, she had some more healing to do. Given the aborted chemo sessions, there would be different types of treatments, like radiation, to consider for her recovery if the lymphomas had not been destroyed. Her own personal fears and her guilt over hurting Peter simply had to wait.
Her mom walked in with an armload of magazines. A large basket with handles dangled from her arm.
Cassie swiped away the brimming tears and grinned. God bless Mom for finding busy things to do to help distract her. “What do you have there?”
No doubt Beth noticed her melancholy but said nothing. “If you feel up to it, I thought we'd make some soul cards.”
Cassie tilted her head. “Soul cards?”
Beth climbed onto her bed, nestling next to her against the headboard. She splayed the magazines on the spread.
“Yeah. We go through these different magazines. Tear out any pictures that we're drawn to, either in a good way like achieving a goal, or a treasure or a place we'd like to visit. Then we pick photos that affect us in a bad way, like being repulsed or angered or disgusted by something.”
Sounded interesting. “And then?”
Beth pulled scissors, a paper cutter, glue sticks and a stack of five-by-eight blank cards from the basket. She lifted a card. “We title each one. Then cut out and glue pictures we've chosen to represent the title.”
“Like what?”
Beth shrugged. “Like a love card. A career card. An adventure card...”
Cassie held up a hand. “Got it.”
“Want to?”
She lifted her tray. “You know what? I'd love to. Let's clear this food away.”
Beth lifted the tray onto the floor, pushing it away from the bed with a toe. “We'll take care of that later.”
She pulled a pair of reading glasses from the basket. “The most time-consuming part is finding the pictures. Don't even think. Just rip or cut out whatever gives you a strong gut reaction.”
Cassie chose a high-gloss fashion magazine. Inside the cover was an outside-the-box advertisement for designer clothesâa pregnant woman dressed in an elegant white, bejeweled halter gown that draped her rounded breasts and swollen belly in a rich satiny fabric that fell over her bare feet. The woman screamed of sex appeal, sophistication and class. Close behind her stood a dark-haired man in a white tuxedo, a shadow of a beard on his chiseled face, his large hands possessively on her hips. He joined the woman in staring at the camera as if they had achieved the sensual and erotic secrets to the perfect, fairy-tale family life with the person of their dreams.
Oh, God! She would never be pregnant!
Anger hit like a lightning strike. Cassie ripped the page from the magazine and tore it into shreds. The tears she'd held back earlier burst like water through a floodgate. With each rip, she cried, “Why. Did. This. Happen. To. Me?”
“Cassie!” Her mother watched her, bewildered.
Cassie threw the scraps away from her. Tossed the magazine. “I'm sorry, Mom. I can't do this.”
Beth bundled her into her arms. “Honey, what's wrong?”
She couldn't answer, and buried her face in her mom's shoulder and wept.
Rocking her slowly, Beth whispered, “Cassie. Please. Tell me how I can help.”
“You can't do anything.”
“I can listen.”
Cassie let her emotions drain while her mother held her. No matter if they were good times and bad, she and her mom had seen them through together. This was one of the bad times. Yet, Beth was hereâready, willing and able to do whatever needed to be done to make the situation right. Cassie felt safe to air her regrets. Mom would never judge her.
She wiped her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her hoodie, then met her mother's penetrating gaze, ready to accept whatever she had to say.
“The fact that I'll never have kids is hitting me hard today. Sorry. I feel pretty foolish.”
Beth scoffed. “Foolish? Becoming sterile against your choice is not an easy reality to bear. You have every right to be upset.”
Cassie frowned. “At least you had me. One kid is better than none.”
A sad smile crossed Beth's face. “Honey, we tried to have more children before the cancer, but they never came. Then I got sick and the rest is history.”
“You had the chance to experience childbirth.” Cassie grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.
Beth chuckled. “Some women prefer never to have the experience, yet still become wonderful mothers.”
Cassie closed her eyes, let her head fall back against the headboard. “Adoption?”
Beth waited until Cassie looked at her again. “Yes. Don't discount the option, honey.”
She hugged her knees up to her chest. “Peter said the same thing.”
“Peter is wise.”
“He'll make some woman a wonderful husband one day.”
Beth grew silent. After a moment, she slipped from the bed, picked up the tray and headed for the kitchen. The weight of her unspoken words hung in the empty space between them. Cassie pulled socks on her feet and followed her mother.
Beth had her back to Cassie, staring blindly at the counter.
“Mom, what is it?”
She turned, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Cassie, I think I've done you a huge disservice.”
“What do you mean?”
She blotted her eyes. “You know, I have always lived honestly and openly in front of you.”
“Yes. I don't think there's anything wrong with the way you raised me, Mom.”
She released a sigh. “I appreciate you saying that, honey, but I'm beginning to think I exposed you to too much of my own personal crisis.”
“Your cancer?”
She shrugged. “That and afterward, my lingering anger toward your dad.”
“But you got over being upset.”
“Until a few days ago? No.”
“I don't understand.”
Her smile was sad. “Sure, you do, honey. You've simply worked around the knowledge, or better yet, ignored it.
“Resentment has been simmering inside me ever since I was sick. I used a negative emotion to keep myself safe and strong.”
Cassie pressed a hand to her forehead. “If you're talking about becoming self-reliant, I don't see anything wrong with that choice.”
Beth chuckled. “I'm sure you don't. You've mastered the art.”
“What are you saying?”
Beth held out a hand. “Come on. Let's sit on the couch in that glorious sun. I want to tell you some recent developments.”
When they were seated, Cassie tucked her legs beneath her, facing her mom. “Does this have anything to do with Peter?”
“Yes and no.”
“You are being so vague!”
Beth laughed. “Give me a chance to warm up to the conversation. This is very difficult for me to say.”
“Okay. I'm listening.”
Cassie sat back against the cushions. An unbidden memory of Peter holding her on this couch, when she'd first learned of her cancer, flooded her mind. He'd helped to lighten her burdenâhis promises assuring her he'd be there every step of the way. Yet, now...
“Your dad and I had a long talk the other night. I have to tell you that I don't think the conversation ever would have happened if Bobby hadn't spoken with Peter.”
“Really?”
Beth smiled. “Lots has been happening while you've been catching your breath.”
Catching your breath. That's what Mom always called the days after chemo regimens. “Well, I guess you're planning to fill me in?”
“Do you want to hear?”
Did she want to know? Was her mother about to collapse every belief she held strongly in order to carry on? “I suppose so. Facts are facts. I can always draw my own conclusions.”
Beth nodded. “Fair enough.” She pulled at a piece of lint on the throw blanket across the back of the couch. When Beth looked at Cassie again, a light of contentment burned in her eyes, which she hadn't seen in a long, long time.
“Mom. What happened?”
“Your dad apologized.”
“That's it?”
Beth looked incredulous. “Sweetheart, that's everything.”
“Sometimes they're just words. Empty. Nothing changes.”
“I understand what you're saying, but in this case, Dad spoke from his heart, explained himself.”
“But we knew why he ran. He couldn't handle seeing you sick.”
Beth reached for her hand. “When you love someone, you don't stop to think how their crisis makes you feel. You rise above your own pain to meet theirs. Be there for them. Even if you simply stand there and hold their hand.”
Flashes of Cassie as a child standing by her mother's door feeling inadequate and helpless, because Mom wanted Dad and no one else, had her closing her eyes at the memory. She whispered, “I remember how much it hurt you that Dad was gone.”
“I know you do. This is where I think I should have taken a different tack back then.” She sighed. “But hindsight is twenty-twenty, they say.”
“What would you have done differently?”
Beth grew thoughtful. “I wouldn't have bottled up my hurt. Dad and I should have had counseling after I recovered. Even the fear of recurring cancer had us keeping each other at arm's length. So we ran. Bobby out to sea. Me, work. My friends. Family. Anything and anyone who could help reinforce that I was not alone.”
Cassie had suspected this about her parents. As her mom spoke she felt herself become lighter. The cloud of negative emotion governing her parents' relationshipâdespite how well they got alongâwas the reason Cassie had feared telling them about her own developing cancer. “This was why you and Grandma Mica were worried about telling Dad about me.”
She nodded. “Of course. We were enabling the situation, when we should have been dealing with my emotions and your dad's fears head-on.” She shrugged. “Guess it's old-school thought to sweep it under the rug. Truth is, unless you deal with negative emotions, they never go away.”
“They end up governing your choices.”
“Exactly, Cassie. And my concern is that I taught you how to be afraid of vulnerability. Thanks to Peter, I know differently now.”
Her heart hammered in her chest at the mention of his name. The last time he'd been in her house, he'd accused Cassie of so many truths she had refused to admit. He had a way with words. A way of pummeling softly at her heart and mind with certitude that made her want to listen, even if it hurt. She knew why. Peter delivered his insights with compassion, not a pointed finger. She could only imagine the role he played with Dad.
“Why Peter?”
“He had lunch with your dad. Of course, you came up.”
She wanted to ask what they said about her, but right now, she wanted to be present for her mother's story. This conversation wasn't about her. “My illness?”
“Yes. Dad tells me Peter was direct and forthright. Peter asked a few pointed questions about my cancer. Bobby started pouring his heart out about how badly he screwed up not being here for me when I was sick.”
“Really?”
She nodded, amazement still clear in her eyes. “Peter suggested to Dad that he tell me his feelings. Apologize. Take the time to prove to me now how much he knows what he did was wrong by sticking around and supporting you.”