As Oma made the pancakes, I set the table. We talked lightly, more about graduation, about the warm weather, and about Emma's budding relationship with Robby.
Flipping pancakes, Oma said, "Robby Bordink. That's a good match. His mother is so friendly."
Watching Oma cooking the two of us breakfast, I smiled fondly.
"Pancakes are done. Hand me the plates, dear."
I handed over the plates and Oma heaped a pile of pecan vanilla pancakes on each plate. She placed a small pat of butter on each pile, which immediately melted on the hot cakes. Then she ladled the sweet, syrupy berry mixture over the piles of pancakes.
I carried the heavy plates to the little wooden table in the breakfast nook and we sat down to eat the yummy breakfast treat.
"These are so good Oma," I tried to say, my mouth filled with pancakes and berries. I took another big bite, washing it down with warm coffee.
"That's good honey," Oma said. I noticed she really wasn't eating, only pushing her food around her plate with her fork.
I stopped eating, my fork just about to enter my mouth. "Oma, you're not eating. Why?" I placed my own fork on my plate, waiting for a reply.
Oma looked up at me, sadness filling her eyes, the corners of her lips turned down.
"It's Cathy. Jacey, she is very sick. She is still at Memorial Hospital right now, but she'll be discharged this afternoon. I need to pick her up and take her home." Oma's voice wavered.
I hadn't forgotten about Cathy. I purposefully didn't ask Oma about her, choosing to wait for Oma to bring it up.
"What's going on? Did they find out why she is so sick?"
"She has cancer. Stage four pancreatic cancer. It has metastasized into the liver and it's inoperable." Oma took her napkin and gently dabbed at her eyes.
"Oh," I said quietly. "What are they going to do?"
"She has already started some radiation treatments. But she's very sick and weak."
"I don't understand. How can the cancer be so progressed? I just saw her a week ago and she looked fine." Was it really only a week ago that she came over and had dinner with Oma, Emma and me?
"They call pancreatic cancer the silent killer because it often goes undetected until it's too late. Apparently, Cathy had some stomach pain, weakness, and nausea, but she just thought it was indigestion."
"Oh, Oma. I'm so sorry."
"I'm bringing her home to make her as comfortable as possible while she's undergoing her radiation treatments. But the doctors are not optimistic."
"How about a second opinion? Take her to Ann Arbor or Mayo Clinic?"
"She doesn't want to do that. She said she just...wants to...die with dignity."
"Oma," I said, my voice filled with sorrow.
We sat in silence. I laid my hand over Oma's as it lay still on the table next to her plate and rubbed my hand over her thin skin. Oma wasn't crying. She was trying to stay calm and strong. But I noticed her chin quivering with the heavy emotions she felt.
"Is there anything I can do?" The words came out before I could even think. Oma turned to look at me, her eyes bright and full of hope.
"Yes, Jacey, there is something you can do. You can heal her."
I sat in the front seat of Oma's Buick staring at the passing scenery as we drove to Oakton, to pick up Cathy.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry and scratchy. I was holding my angel's wings pin, rubbing the rough stones nervously with my thumbs. I didn't think I could do this. Oma wanted me to cure cancer. Terminal pancreatic cancer. So many doubts ran through my head. God, I wished Varick was with me.
I looked at Oma. There was a new hopefulness about her since she suggested I cure Cathy. Her face was not as dark and somber as earlier. She hadn't even wanted to get cleaned up or wash up the dishes from breakfast before going to see Cathy. She hummed a hymn softly to herself.
I groaned inwardly as I recognized the hymn. "How Great Thou Art". She was obviously confident I could pull this off. Staring down at my hands, I had great doubts.
We continued toward Memorial Hospital. The plan was to discharge Cathy, schedule her next radiation treatment with the hospital, and take her home where Oma would tell her about my gift. If Cathy was willing, I would heal her tonight at her house. I swallowed hard again.
Oma patted the top of my thigh gently. "Thank you, for doing this, Jacey. I know you can do it." She gripped the steering wheel again with both hands and continued humming her hymn.
I looked out the window. I hoped she was right.
Soon we pulled into the visitor parking of Memorial Hospital. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw the sprawling brick structure. I'd never been a fan of hospitals. In fact, they usually sent me into fits of anxiety. I tried hard to steady myself, taking even deep breaths.
"That's it, Jacey. Try to relax. This is what you are destined to do." Varick's familiar voice sounded in my ear. My body did relax at his words and the realization that he would be close if I needed him.
Oma parked and we walked to the main entrance of the hospital. Although I didn't ask, Oma volunteered Cathy's location. "She's on the fourth floor of the south tower. The oncology unit." I nodded stiffly in acknowledgement.
I followed Oma into the hospital and over to the bank of elevators that would take us to the south towers and the oncology department. We found Cathy's floor, but I could feel the hospital walls closing in on me as the anxiety threatened to stifle me. I closed my eyes for a moment. I felt a brush on my bare arm. Opening my eyes, I saw Oma's concerned eyes.
"Jacey, dear?"
"Yes," I breathed. "I will be alright."
"Honey, I forgot what hospitals do to you. I'm sorry. I should have just let you stay in the car. Do you want to go back now?"
Pursing my lips tight together, I shook my head.
"Okay, then. She's right over here. Let's go take her home."
My lips still tightly held together, I glanced around the halls as we walked toward Cathy's room. The hallway was brightly lit with fluorescent lights. The walls were a soft pink and beautifully framed landscapes hung every few feet on the wall. The floor was alive with activity. Family members were visiting love ones being treated for cancer. Patients trudged up and down the hallways, most pushing IVs with medications, their heads wrapped in turbans and scarves. Seeing the sick men and women on this floor made my heart ache and caused the anxiety to flare up yet again. But I felt something else too, a strong need filling my heart.
I stopped and grabbed Oma's elbow. "I don't think I can do this, Oma." I felt weak and dizzy, and I thought I was going to pass out. "I need to sit down."
And then, as suddenly as the anxiety and dizziness came it disappeared, a warm thickness enveloping me and filling the void left by the other feelings. I knew my Protector was near, calming and giving me strength. I looked around and there by the elevators stood Varick.
I fought the urge to run to him and to throw my arms recklessly around him. He was smiling his now very familiar half smile. His eyes were shaded by a navy blue Detroit Tigers baseball cap, the bill curved low around his face. His grey t-shirt was tight, showing every sleek muscle and his dark tattoo as it snaked up his arm. His t-shirt was tucked neatly into dark jeans and his heavy boots were unlaced and loose.
I was relieved he was here and I smiled broadly to show him.
I silently mouthed, "Thanks again." Shoving his hands in his pockets, Varick nodded in response.
I was still staring at him and grinning widely when Oma tugged my arm to gain my attention. "Jacey, what are you looking at?" She squinted her eyes to peer down the hallway to the elevators. I watched her face light up with recognition, a small smile on her lips.
"Go to him, Jacey. He's obviously here to support you. When you're ready, I'll be in room 434." Oma gave me a quick peck on the cheek before she left me to enter Cathy's room.
I barely felt Oma's kiss, my entire focus back on Varick. He was really here to see me, to support me. Pleasure and contentment coursed through my body as I looked at him. He pointed at me and then motioned me to come to him.
I happily complied, never taking my eyes off his dazzling smile. It seemed there was no one but him and me in the busy hospital hallway.
"Hi," I said when I reached him.
"Hi," he responded, still grinning. With his finger, he titled his hat up a little so I could see his eyes. My stomach did somersaults on its own when I saw those bright blue eyes. I felt my cheeks blush.
"Uh, how is Asim?" I asked stupidly.
"Fine," Varick answered, his rich voice running over me. "But, I'm not here to talk about Asim." His eyes glittered with mischief.
"Then what are you here for?" I asked breathlessly. I thought I knew why he was at this hospital this Saturday afternoon, but I wanted to hear him say it.
"I'm here for you. To help you through this. You can do this Jacey. I have absolutely no doubt."
I reached my hand toward him, suddenly needing to touch him.
Varick looked at my extended hand. He took his left hand out of his pocket and placed it gently in mine. The electric current his hand gave me tickled up my arm and I wrapped my fingers around his hand, holding it tightly.
"I'm glad you're here," I whispered. "I didn't think I could do this without you." I was referring to both my presence at the hospital and my attempt to heal cancer.
"I'm glad to be here," Varick answered, chuckling. "Are you ready?"
I squeezed Varick's hand and nodded. Varick squeezed back and we walked hand in hand to Cathy's room. Varick stopped before we entered. I turned to look at him.
"You go ahead. I'll just wait out here for you. There would probably be a lot of questions if I went in. Alright with that?"
I nodded, but my eyes grew wide.
"It's alright, Jacey. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be waiting right here for you. Promise."
I smiled weakly in response, nodding my head.
"Just remember to breathe," Varick whispered as I released his hand and reluctantly turned to enter Cathy's room. I still held my angel's pin in my other hand. I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
The only light in the room was from the sun shining in through the windows and across Cathy's bed where she was sitting up. Thankfully, she wasn't connected to any machines, although I noticed that she still had the IV needle taped to her hand. She had dark circles under her eyes and her skin was more yellow then white. She attempted to smile at me, but it just made her cheeks look more hollow. I tried to smile back.
"Thanks for coming, Jacey. It means a lot to me that you are here." Her voice was clear but tired.
Two vases of flowers sat on a cabinet next to her bed and a balloon floated above one of the vases. "I wish I would have brought you some flowers, Cathy." My words were slow, unsure. I really didn't know what to say.
"You didn't need to bring me flowers," Cathy waved her hand dismissively at me. "I'm glad you're here to help Oma. I'm worried about her." She jerked her thumb towards Oma who was sitting in a wooden rocking chair next to the bed. Oma smiled affectionately.
I stared at Cathy incredulously, my mouth open in shock. She was in a hospital bed facing death and she was worried about Oma? I closed my mouth quickly so I wouldn't be rude.
"Jacey, you remember Jane and Joanie, right?" Oma asked.
I turned behind me. Jane and Joanie were sitting in leather chairs, one next to the window, the other next to the small closet.
"Hi," I said, nodding to both of them. Jane and Joanie were Oma's friends who often played bridge with her and Cathy.
"Jacey, dear. You are getting so big. How old are you now?" Joanie asked.
"Uh, I'm 18. A senior at Byron High."
"Senior? That can't be. I'm sure you were just a small child the last time I saw you," Joanie exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Clare, that just can't be true. Is she really eighteen now?" Jane asked Oma as if I wasn't there.
"Yes. My baby is eighteen now. Graduating in two weeks." Oma nodded her head proudly.
My eyes bounced back and forth between each of the old women as they spoke. They continued to remark about my age and how much I resembled my mother at the same age.
Watching Oma's expression fall at the mention of my mother, I turned to Cathy. "Is Chrissy coming up to care for you? I haven't seen her in years." Chrissy was Cathy's grown daughter who lived in South Carolina. I had fond memories of playing in the sand on the beach with Chrissy when we were younger.
"I was hoping she could. But with the new baby, it would be very tough."
"New baby? Does Chrissy have a baby?" Chrissy was just a couple of years older than me.
"Yes. A baby boy," Cathy nodded her head enthusiastically. "My grandson's name is Gage. He's six weeks old."
"I just can't imagine Chrissy with a baby." I shook my head unbelievably.
"You girls are just getting too big." All the women chuckled, murmuring in agreement.
I looked at the open door leading to the hallway. I knew Varick was there, although I couldn't see him.
Breathe. Just breathe
. I reminded myself before turning back towards Cathy. "So, what are we waiting for?" I asked, clapping my hands together. "I bet you're ready to go?" I nodded toward Cathy. I knew I was ready.
Cathy squirmed in her bed, trying to sit up higher. "Yes. I'm ready," Cathy winced. "I've been cooped up in here all week and the weather's been beautiful outside. And this bed is no longer comfortable."
"We are going to get you home, Cathy. But first the nurse has to come back with your next radiation appointment."
"Bah!" Cathy scoffed, waving her hand dismissively at Oma. "You're not my mother, Clare." Cathy smiled at me. She was obviously teasing Oma. Oma knew it. She smiled in response, patting Cathy's hand.
While we waited for the nurse, I sat on the tiled floor underneath the windows, since there were no more chairs in the room. I watched as Oma and her friends laughed, and gossiped together. If I didn't know the four of them were in a hospital room with one of them dying of cancer, I would have just thought they were sitting around a kitchen table, sipping coffee and playing cards.