Sister's Choice (37 page)

“I’m planning to sit in the front row at their college graduations.”

“And if you can’t?”

“I’ve already spoken to an attorney. If you and Isaac consent, I’d like you to take them. I don’t think either Larry or Seamus will fight it.”

Kendra felt a sob rising in her throat. “If you can trust me with your daughters, why couldn’t you trust me with the truth? Why couldn’t you trust me with your
life?
”

“Because you’re a mother now, and mothers are some of the least objective people in the world. So are sisters.” Jamie took Kendra’s hand. “Would you really have let me make this decision on my own? Without trying hard to influence it?”

Kendra considered, and when she nodded, she knew it was the truth. “For the very reasons you just voiced. Because I
am
a mother and a sister.”

Jamie looked unsure.

“Jamie, it’s not too late for you to make another choice. I’m sure if you’re willing, you can start chemo immediately. Your doctors would only use the drugs they felt were safest for the babies, and I could certainly live with that. But I’m not going to tell you to do it now, just like I wouldn’t have told you then. I
will
tell you that if you change your mind and schedule treatment, I’ll support you one hundred percent, just the way I will if you don’t.”

Tears slipped down Jamie’s cheeks. “I hated lying to you. I needed you. I just couldn’t…” She shook her head. “I just couldn’t ruin this for you. Not when you’ve waited so long. I just wanted to give you something once and for all to let you know how sorry I am for all those years you had to worry about me. No strings, no anxiety, no problems. Despite everything. And I couldn’t—and can’t—take a chance with the babies’ health. I would be watching them for the rest of my life and wondering. Tell me you understand.”

Kendra knelt in front of Jamie’s chair and put her arms around her. She felt Jamie relax, and in a moment she wasn’t sure which of them was hugging the other harder.

Jamie found Grace working on her latest quilt. It wasn’t a wall hanging, and it wasn’t a bed quilt. Grace called it a play quilt, and it was a bright grass green, appliquéd with a curving gray roadway lined with pop-art buildings with doors that opened. A field with grazing cows adorned one edge; a gas station sat at the widest turn in a small town with a church and city hall.

She planned to present it to Kendra once the twins were born, along with appropriate toy vehicles for two little boys to guide along the road once they were older. In her own inimitable style, Grace was making up the pattern as she went along, sticking to bright colors and large shapes she could easily see. Jamie could already imagine how many future hours of activity had been stitched into the surface. Kendra’s children would love it.

“If you’re going to be up a little while longer,” Jamie said from the doorway, “would you mind listening out for the girls? They’re asleep, and I doubt they’ll wake up. I’m going for a little drive. Not far, I promise, so I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not ready to go to bed. You go ahead.” Grace looked up. “Unless, dear, this is something that ought to wait until morning and a night of contemplation?”

Clearly Grace, who had not chided her about driving again, knew exactly where she was going. “I’m afraid not.”

Grace looked sad. “It’s so easy to make mistakes and think you understand how somebody else feels about you. I made my share along the way.”

“There are mistakes. And mistakes.”

“It’s easy to make the second kind when you’re trying hard not to face your feelings. That’s one way to rid yourself of the problem.”

“Sometimes it works.”

Grace shook her head, but Jamie knew that was as much interference as her friend believed in.

Outside, the temperature had fallen into the midforties. By Sunday, the temperature would drop below freezing again, and snow was possible. Her daughters were hoping for inches, although Jamie wanted clear roads in case she had an emergency doctor’s appointment.

Isaac had loaned her his largest ski jacket for the duration of the pregnancy, and now she zipped it and pulled on woolen mittens. She considered cutting through the orchard to Cash’s trailer, but she’d spent the evening thinking about this, and she didn’t need time to reconsider. She wanted this conversation over with.

The drive was short, over almost before it began, which was the only kind she could really manage now. She was afraid he might have gone somewhere for the evening, but there were lights on in the trailer, shining from the windows and spilling out of the insulation-stuffed cracks in the walls. She asked herself why the trailer itself hadn’t been a dead giveaway to Cash’s personality. Nobody lived this way unless they had to, or unless they had given up all thoughts of real intimacy or a future. Cash might as well have installed a blinking neon sign.
No Woman Need Apply.
But maybe she wouldn’t have seen that, either.

She knocked on the door, but nobody answered. Arms folded against the cold, she walked over to the riding ring, which wasn’t lit, then on to the stables, which were.

Cash wasn’t in the stables, either, but she saw that Sanction’s Folly was missing. Apparently he was out for a ride.

The wind was picking up, and although she was protected from it here, Czar Bright and Lady’s Choice were uneasy with her presence. She wasn’t sure how long she could afford to wait. She didn’t belong here alone this time of night, and the horses knew it.

Outside, huddled on the stoop of Cash’s trailer, she debated returning to Grace’s, or just sitting in her van and hoping Cash showed up soon. She was still trying to decide when she heard hoofbeats. In a few minutes Cash and Folly appeared on one of the dirt paths weaving through the orchard.

She got to her feet, dusting off the seat of her maternity jeans, and walked down to meet them.

“Have you been here long?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Let me unsaddle him. I’ll be right with you. Why don’t you go inside?”

She wasn’t excited about the invitation. The lack of enthusiasm in his voice matched what she was feeling. But the wind was still picking up. She shrugged and headed for the trailer.

Every other time she had been here, the place had at least been tidy. Tonight it was a shambles, clothing on the floor, frozen dinner cartons overflowing from the trash can beside the counter. She moved stacks of newspapers off the sofa so she could sit, but she didn’t touch the crumpled beer and soft-drink cans on the coffee table. She wasn’t here to clean house.

Cash took his time, but that didn’t surprise her. She’d had hours since Kendra left for Arlington to consider her response, and now he only had the time it took to unsaddle Folly.

Although surely Cash had known she wouldn’t just let this go without a word.

When he finally did come through the front door, he looked cautious, as if he expected an ambush. “Sorry about the mess,” he said.

“I really don’t care.”

“There’s not much to be done with it, anyway.”

“I’m curious, would you let any of the orchard workers live in this place?”

“No.”

“I’d ask you what you’re trying to prove, only that’s not why I’m here.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea why you are.”

“Kendra came to see me after she talked to you. Or rather, after
you
talked to
her
and told her everything I asked you not to.”

He didn’t answer. Instead he went to the refrigerator and got a bottle of water. He turned and held it out to her, but she shook her head.

Cash took his time opening the water and drinking half of it. Then he joined her, sitting in a stained canvas director’s chair that looked as if he had rescued it from the dump.

“Somebody had to tell her,” he said at last.

“And what exactly did it change? Now she knows the situation just a little sooner than she would have if I’d been allowed to do this my own way. But I’m still not going in for chemo until after the babies are born. And I’m not going to let the doctor induce labor one moment sooner. The only difference I can see is that now we know you can’t be trusted with a secret. And I can’t trust you to let me make my own decisions.”

“I can’t believe this. You’re still planning to wait?”

She got to her feet. “Yep, that’s what I came to tell you. Not out of some knee-jerk reaction to what you’ve done. Not because I’m stupid. And certainly not because I have a death wish. But because it’s the right thing under these circumstances. Is it easy? No, it’s not. And you haven’t made it one bit easier by talking to Kendra. Luckily she and I are still okay. You didn’t ruin that. But just in case you thought you’d helped matters? Don’t go to bed tonight patting yourself on the back.”

She started toward the door, but he was on his feet, hand gripping her arm. “What’s it going to take for you to see reason?”

She faced him. “What’s it going to take for you to stop filtering my decision through your past? Your life is one big reaction to Kary’s death, Cash. Everything about it. This God-awful trailer, your indecision about your future, your refusal to step up to the plate and help your grandmother figure out how to save Cashel Orchard.”

“Don’t get all psychological on me and turn it in my direction. You could die from this. Your decision could kill you.”

“Of course you’re afraid I’m going to die. Trust me, in case it slipped your notice, I’m afraid of the same thing. As soon as I reasonably can, I’m going to fight this cancer with every tool medical science has. I’m not worried about losing my hair or my breast. I
am
worried about my life, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect it. But you know, I could get hit by a car on the way to my next doctor’s appointment. Or I could have an allergic reaction to a beesting or spider bite and drop in my tracks. So could you. And that’s the way you live your life. Like that’s a given. You don’t get involved, and that way you think it’ll hurt a whole lot less when something finally does happen. Because tragedies that happen to strangers aren’t so tragic, are they?”

“And what about you? Are you trying to tell me this pregnancy wasn’t about proving something to yourself and everybody else? And now this so-called rational decision you’ve made to wait months before you treat a malignant tumor isn’t about proving something, too?”

“First, I
have
treated it. The tumor’s gone. And when I have radiation and maybe chemo, hopefully that will take care of any stray cells.”

“Not soon enough, it won’t!”

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And maybe the pregnancy
is
a way to prove to my sister I’ve changed, that I can be trusted and that I care enough about her to want to make her life happier. But wow, what could be wrong with that?”

“A whole lot is wrong when you start risking your life.”

“No, I took a chance, a big one, that I could make all that happen. And I have. I’ve done something good. Really good. And nothing can ever change that, even in the unlikely case I die sooner rather than later. Now tell me, what have
you
done? What risks have
you
taken lately? You’re a good man, but you dance at the edge of everybody else’s lives. Well, enjoy that little tap-dancing solo, but don’t try to convince me that putting myself first, no matter what, would be good for me, as well. Because you never will.”

“I’m not asking you to be selfish!”

“Then what? What
are
you asking?”

His lips were drawn tight. She waited, but he didn’t speak.

“I don’t need a man to run my life,” she said, when clearly nothing more was coming from him. “You were right about one thing. I made a mistake when I didn’t trust my sister enough to tell her the truth. No, I guess I made two. I really thought I could trust you to keep silent about this, no matter how you felt, and I was wrong. But those were the only mistakes I’ve made. Now stop trying to interfere. You’ve done your worst, and it hasn’t changed a thing. So just let me get on with having these babies and dealing with my treatment afterward. You’ve already said you were done with me. This time, make sure you mean it.”

She turned and left. He didn’t come after her, but she hadn’t wanted him to. She got in the van and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, trying not to cry. When she was calm enough, she backed out of her parking spot and headed for the farmhouse.

Lights were on in the kitchen, and she heard the sizzle of water coming to a boil when she got inside. She debated going straight to bed. Grace would understand if she missed this chance to talk.

She started toward her room, but two halting steps later she knew she wasn’t really ready to be alone. Grace wouldn’t ask what had transpired. That wasn’t her way. But the comfort of her presence was enough to make Jamie turn toward the lights.

Grace was just pouring water into tea cups. She didn’t look up. “When Ben was alive, this was always my favorite time of day. Of course, it was coffee he drank before bed. Can you imagine that? But it was such a strong habit, he couldn’t sleep without it.”

Jamie took a seat at the table. “When I was a little girl, I used to imagine this.”

Grace put the kettle back on the stove. “What?”

“Having a mother, or a grandmother, who poured tea—and sympathy with it—when I was lonely or sad.”

“Oh, dear…you have no idea how much I wish I could have been your grandmother. You deserved tea and sympathy. You still do.”

“You’ve been as kind to me as any of my fantasies.”

Grace took Jamie’s hand. “I don’t know what happened tonight with my grandson, but whatever he did or does, Jamie, don’t think it’ll change the way I value you and your daughters.”

Jamie squeezed, but she knew she had to change the subject or risk sobbing on Grace’s shoulder. “Tell me something. How could you and Cash’s grandfather have been any more different?”

“As different in our ways as you and Cash are in yours? In later years, I realized we simply balanced each other. Of course, we disagreed about so many things that, when we finally found things we could agree on, we knew every possibility had been covered, so we didn’t have to think about it anymore.”