No Attachments (25 page)

"
I suspected as much, which is why I didn't shove your nuts down your throat for touching her," he said, turning away from me. "Despite your delay, I'm thankful you found my daughter," he added, stepping into the cottage and closing the door behind him.

I stood looking at the door for several moments
, fighting the urge to storm in and rage at Ashton for giving up. Instead, I forced myself to walk away. I would come back in the morning and tell her our no-attachment deal was void, that I was one hundred percent attached. I would make her see reason so she would know I would be at her side, fighting along with her. Tomorrow everything would look better.

I was wrong.

***

Ashton
's car and the sedan from the airport were gone when I arrived at the cottage the next morning after a sleepless night. My fears were confirmed when I peered in the living room window and saw that all of her personal belongings were gone. She'd left without saying anything. Maybe our affair had been nothing to her. Was it possible all my feelings were completely one-sided? She'd warned me not to fall in love with her, claiming one of us would get hurt. Considering it was my chest that felt like a hole had been ripped out of it, I was guessing I was the one in this scenario.

I left her cottage in a pain
, berating myself for allowing another woman to rip out my heart and stomp on it. This was why I had set my rules. Rules that should never be broken. I returned to the motel and methodically began to pack my personal items. I left the pictures on the wall until the end, intending to tear them up and throw them away since I no longer needed them. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I took each picture down with painstaking care before stowing them carefully in my briefcase. Twenty minutes after entering my room, I was on the road, heading out of town. I looked forward to the long drive home. It would give me time to get my head back on straight.

Passing through town
, I saw Fran's store up on the left. I had every intention to continue to drive by. There was no reason to prolong my agony, but my vehicle seemed to have a mind of its own as I turned into the dirt parking lot. It wasn't until I was standing in front of the store that I realized it was closed since it was Sunday. I turned back toward my vehicle when a voice called my name. Fran approached me, squinting in the bright sunlight reflecting off the snow-covered ground.

"
I was just on my way to come see you," she said, finally reaching my side.

"
You would have missed me. I'm headed out."

"
Then I'm glad you stopped by before you left. Ashton stopped by this morning on her way out of town. She left something for you," she said, extracting a letter from the pocket of her apron.

"
Did you know?" I asked, reaching for the envelope.

"
About the cancer?"

I nodded.

"Yes. Ashton confided her secret to me when she applied for the job. I guess working in a general store in some hick town was on that list of hers. She told me I didn't even have to pay her, she'd just be grateful to be able to mark it off her list. Of course, turns out it was me who was grateful," she said gruffly. "I took to that girl almost immediately. I'll miss her," she added, swallowing hard.

"
Me too," I said, shoving the letter in my jacket pocket. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Fran," I added, reaching to shake her hand.

"
I don't shake hands with family," she said, pulling me in for a hard hug. "You give my girl time. She'll tell you when she's ready to face her feelings for you."

I nodded
, though I was doubtful.

"
You come back and see me someday," she said, turning to leave. "And bring that girl's handsome father with you," she added with a smile.

I waited until she was back in her house before I headed bac
k to my vehicle with the letter burning a hole in my pocket. I drove past the Woodfalls welcome sign, unable to believe it had been just more than a week ago that I drove by it the first time. Merging onto the highway, I ignored the letter in my pocket that taunted me every mile I put between Woodfalls and me. Several hours later, I finally pulled off the highway into a rest stop that had been placed in the middle of a wooded area. I reached in my pocket and pulled out the letter, opening it slowly.

Nathan,

How do you write a Dear John letter to someone who changed your life so completely in one short week? I've spent the entire night wondering how I would ever be able to tell you how sorry I am for
hiding the truth from you. I thought if I kept things casual neither of us would get hurt. I was wrong. You were right about me. I've been so scared of facing the sickness again. I was scared if I decided to fight, it would win in the end anyway. What I wasn't counting on was meeting someone who would give me a reason to fight it. Someone who would change the way I looked at things, someone who would make me believe in love even when facing mammoth obstacles. So I'm going to fight. All I ask is that if my feelings aren't one-sided that you wait to come to me. Wait for me to fight it. I plan on beating it again but if I don't, I can't stomach having you watch me die. If you feel anything for me, I ask that you respect my wishes.

Love with all my heart today, tomorrow, for the rest of my life,

Ashton Garrison

Ashton

The drive back to Florida was bittersweet for me
. My dad decided to drive with me, which gave us a chance to catch up. It wasn't until we were able to finally talk that I realized how much I'd missed him. It shocked me to learn he never believed my letter and had known all along I was sick. I knew my absence had hurt him, but he did not try to make me feel bad about it. He expressed that he was glad I was finally able to do something that made me happy. He worked to keep the conversation flowing so that each mile we put between Woodfalls and us wouldn't hurt as much, but no amount of talking could ease that pain. Saying goodbye to Fran and Tressa had been heartbreaking, even with Fran trying to make me laugh through my tears by hitting on my dad.

"Please make sure you call Brittni. She's gonna be crushed knowing she wasn't here when you left," Tressa pleaded.

"I will," I promised. "You stay away from assholes. They don't deserve you," I whispered as she pulled me in for a hug. She tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks to no avail.

I turned to Fran who held out her arms. "Thank you for everything," I said.

"Honey, I should be thanking you," she replied. "But I want you to do something for me. Fight. Fight hard. If anybody can beat this, I know it's you. I believe it in my heart."

After swearing to them both that I would come back for a visit when I
"beat the cancer's ass," Tressa's words not mine, we loaded up in my car and drove out of town. The hardest part was leaving without saying goodbye to Nathan. Tears had cascaded down my cheeks as my father steered the vehicle onto the highway, leaving Woodfalls and Nathan behind. Writing the letter had of course been another cowardly act on my part. I had stood at the window the previous evening listening to my father and Nathan's conversation. My heart had stuttered before racing out of control when Nathan professed his love for me. At that moment, I knew I would try and fight the cancer, but I couldn't ask him to stand by me if in the end I lost.

Wilma was actually the thing that wound up distracting me from my grief. She made it known right off the bat that she didn
't like the carrier we had picked up for her to ride in. We'd barely been on the highway for ten miles when I eventually caved and let her out. Placing her on my lap, I was relieved when she immediately calmed down and curled up in my lap and promptly fell asleep. She was the comfort I needed as I stroked a hand over her furry back.

The trip home was
longer than I remembered. I chalked it up to the frequent kitty bathroom breaks. By the time we'd on the road for a few days, I was just ready to be home. I felt completely exhausted, even though I did none of the driving, but even watching the changing landscapes as we drove had become taxing. My dad insisted on driving the entire time. I tried to argue, but the truth is I was grateful. Wilma continued to sleep on my lap, so I let her stay out of her carrier the entire trip. Each mile that separated Nathan and me weighed heavily on me. It seemed impossible to miss someone as much as I missed him. It went beyond the sexual connection we shared. I missed the conversations we shared and how we seemed completely in sync with each other. Maybe all of that had just been an illusion since he was trying to get close to me, but something inside me told me otherwise. By the time we arrived back home, my brain was a muddled mess and I no longer knew what I should believe.

We arrived back in
Florida on a balmy eighty-degree day and I acutely missed the cooler temperatures of Woodfalls. Wilma and I settled into my father's house since I had given my apartment up when I had left four months ago. I left my boxes in storage, seeing no point in dragging them out until we knew what we were facing.

Two days after arriving home
, I was back at the one place I'd wished I would never have to visit again.

"
Ashton, I hear we may have a problem?" Dr. Davis said, entering the room where I was perched atop a paper-covered exam table wearing nothing but a smock.

"
I think so," I said as he washed his hands in the small sink.

"Symptoms?"
he asked with his back to me.

"
Fatigue, loss of appetite, aches and pains and sleepiness," I parroted, fidgeting on the table.

"
And you've had these symptoms how long?" he asked, putting his stethoscope to my chest.

"
Four and half months," I admitted, waiting for his ridicule.

"
I see," he clucked. "Are they the same now or worse?"

"
Worse," I answered as he checked my lymph nodes with his fingers.

"
Fever?"

"
Once, but I think it was just a cold," I answered, fighting to keep my thoughts away from thinking about how Nathan had taken care of me during the fever.

"
Possibly, but it could be a sign of something more serious, as I'm sure you're aware of," he said, finishing his exam.

"
It's back," I stated.

"
I don't like to fry the egg before it's hatched, but your symptoms are troublesome. I also don't like the lump I felt under your right arm. The first step is to do some blood work and biopsy the lump," he said, patting my leg. "You get dressed while I fill out the paperwork. We've fought it before, we'll fight it again."

I nodded
, accepting his words. In one swoop, he'd crushed the little bit of hope I had been harboring that I was wrong. I knew the blood work and biopsy were just a formality.

"
Are you going to call Nathan?" my father asked when I told him.

I shook my head no before heading to my room before my tears could fall. I found it ironic that for years I had no problem keeping the tears at bay
, and now with the mention of one name, I was a mess.

My predictions proved to be true as the results from the blood work and biopsy came in. The lump under my arm was taken out
, and I was scheduled to start chemotherapy immediately. Dr. Davis was confident that even though the lump was large, they were able to remove all the cancer cells, but he wanted to treat it with an aggressive round of chemotherapy. Again, my father asked if I was going to call Nathan, but again, I resisted. A week after returning home, I was at the chemo clinic getting my first regimen of chemotherapy. The bitterness I expected to feel when they injected the needle in me was missing. My desire to fight for Nathan made each step that much more important. Instead of viewing the chemo as poison, I looked at it as a lifeline that would help me reach my goal. My optimism didn't change as I kneeled before the toilet puking up everything I ate. I pretended it didn't hurt when the first large chunk of hair fell out while I was brushing my hair. I didn't allow myself to dwell on how I'd been growing my hair out for the last four years, or how Nathan's hands had felt tangled in the strands. Wilma became a source of comfort I would have never thought possible. By October, all my hair was gone and I had lost ten pounds, which made my cheekbones stand out in an alarming way. Thanksgiving was spent in the hospital when my immune system decided to stop working. My time in the hospital floated by in a pain-filled haze as I fought to stay alive. Throughout it all, my father never left my side. He didn't mention calling Nathan this time, knowing this was what I had been trying to spare both of them from witnessing. At one point, in my painkiller-hazed state, I dreamt that Nathan was with me. Even on death's door, I was bitterly disappointed that the dream had to end. I was conscious enough when Dr. Davis told my father to prepare himself for the worst, and still, I fought, willing my body not to give up. Perhaps it was the dream that that gave me the will to fight harder. Three days after Thanksgiving, I was well enough to be wheeled out of ICU and taken to regular room.