Slow Moon Rising (31 page)

“You were dreaming.”

“I was?” My eyes scanned the ceiling. “Oh. I guess I was.”

“Dreaming about your dad?”

I nodded as I shifted my weight to my elbows. “Yeah. I gotta get up. Patsy will be awake soon.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and touching my feet to the chilled, hardwood floor. “I'm good.”

Steven pushed himself until he sat fully up, his back against the headboard. “Do you know what today is?”

I tied the sash of my robe tight along my waist. “No, what?”

“The twenty-second of December.”

I had to think a moment. “Oh. Yeah.” I pulled my hair into a makeshift ponytail and secured it with a scrunchie I'd tossed to the bedside table the night before. “Looks like we're going to live, huh. So much for the Mayans.” My voice caught in my throat. “We're going to live,” I said, now crying. “But Dad. What about Dad?”

Steven gathered me into his arms, shushing me. “It's okay, Boo. Everything is going to be okay.”

“It's not, Steven. Let's face it. We're talking leukemia here. Dad isn't twenty-one. And I've already lost Mom. If I lose Dad, what will I have?”

My husband didn't answer right away. Then: “Me. The boys. Patsy. Your sisters. Anise.”

“But my parents, Steven.” I pulled away from him and wiped my cheeks with my fingertips. “The two people who brought me into the world. The two people who, without them, I wouldn't exist. I guess I . . . I'm just seeing how fleeting life really is. How final death . . .”

“You know better than that.” He stroked my arm. “Our lives don't stop here, Kim. Our lives go on and on. Everlasting life, remember. From the moment we asked Christ to be our Savior, we
chose
eternal life.”

“I know all that, Steven, and it brings a certain amount of comfort. But Dad won't be
here
. With me. With us.”

Quiet moments followed while the stroking continued. Finally, Steven said, “Do you believe your mother is with God?”

I nodded.

“Do you ever talk to her? From your heart?”

“Yes. All the time. Things I would say if she were right here. She may not actually hear me, but it makes me feel better to say them.”

“Because,” he added quickly, “in your heart, she goes on and on.”

I sent a soggy smile his way. “You're starting to sound like that song from
Titanic
.”

“Uh . . . yeah. What I'm saying—badly, I admit—is that your mother and all your memories of her remain in your heart. So when you speak
to
her, you are speaking to your heart. When your father dies—whether sooner or later—he'll be there too. Just like our sweet friend Patsy is there. We carry our loved ones with us, long after they're gone.”

I let the words seep into my spirit. “You're right,” I said. “You're so right.” I kissed him sweetly. “What would I do without you?”

His eyes studied my face; they grew moist. “May you never find out,” he whispered.

I nodded, unable to discuss death and dying another minute. “I have to get up. Wash my face. Feed the baby. Go to the
market. We're nearly out of milk, and you know how much those boys of ours consume every morning.”

Steven stood. “I'm outta here myself. Tour boats don't drive themselves, and the island is crawling with visitors.”

“Just the way you like it.”

“What's not to like?”

I managed to get to the market before the boys woke. I parked on the side of the painted blue building, in front of the mural of Cedar Key's earliest Native American residents. I stepped out of my car and closed the door, not bothering to lock it or to roll up the windows. In spite of my heavy mood, the weather was glorious.

How could that be? Hadn't the weather been told of my father's diagnosis? His prognosis? Hadn't a notice gone out informing the blue sky and the breeze ushering salt air across our little town that my sister and I would soon go through the agonizing process of being tested and waiting for word as to whether or not we were a match?

I shook my head as I entered the store, freeing my thoughts. The familiar blended smells of fresh seafood and an old building met me. I spoke briefly to Maddie, the clerk, before heading straight to the dairy.

I jerked a gallon of milk off the shelf, resting it between the crook of my arm and on my hip bone.

“What brings you out to the market so early on a Saturday, chica?”

I turned toward the familiar voice. “Hey, Rosa.”

The faint smile on her face turned serious. “What's wrong?”

I blinked back tears. “It's my dad. He's . . . he told us last night. He's . . .”

Rosa took a step toward me. As always, she was fashionably dressed, and the smell of her perfume wafted around her. “He's what, Boo? What's wrong with Dr. Ross?”

“He's sick, Rosa. He has AML.”

“I don't know what that is.”

“It's a kind of leukemia. A cancer.”

Her dark, almond-shaped eyes filled with tears. “Noooo,” she whispered. “What . . . what will he do? He'll be okay, won't he?”

I shook my head. “I don't know, Rosa. Jayme-Leigh and Isaac tried to explain everything to us last night. There're steps to be taken. Chemo maybe. Radiation maybe. Stem cell transplant if we can find a donor. Heather and I . . . we're going to be tested.”

She came closer. “When?”

“I—I don't know. We didn't get that far.”

“You said you and Heather. What about Ami and Jayme-Leigh? Why aren't they going to be tested?”

“Jayme-Leigh isn't a candidate because . . . well, she's just not. And Ami is pregnant.”

“Little Ami is having a baby?”

The milk grew heavy and cold. “Yeah.” I tried to smile. “Can you believe that?”

Rosa didn't answer the question. “So, what if neither you nor Heather is a match?”

“The next step, I guess, is a donor bank.” I shrugged. “The best bet is siblings, but Dad's are gone. Next would be children and after that, I . . . I honestly don't know all the answers, Rosa. It's all so new.”

Rosa looked away from me. Her eyes grew darker. Intense. Tears spilled from them and her head quivered. “Mama, tell me what to do,” she whispered.

“Rosa? What is it?”

Her focus returned to me. “Chica,” she said, her whispered words continued. “Can you . . . can we talk? There's something I need to tell you. Something it's time you knew.”

Anise

Ross slept fitfully for most of the night. His waking, turning, sighing kept me awake along with him. Not that I minded so terribly. Every conscious moment with my husband was another to treasure. To count as special, even in the midst of sickness.

Instinctively, I knew our nights were numbered.

Then again, they had always been.

From that first evening back in Seaside Pointe when we'd collided on the steps of the inn, the ticking of the clock had begun. The countdown had started. The pendulum swung. Like most couples, we simply were not aware.

With the exception of Steven and the grandchildren, by lunchtime the following day the entire clan had returned. Heather's older kids had volunteered to watch Patsy and “hang out” with Cody. Chase had gone to work with his stepfather. I'd put together a lunch of homemade chicken salad sandwiches, which I served with homemade potato chips, grapes, and carrot sticks. We ate scattered between the
kitchen, dining room, family room, and balcony. Conversation rattled on, but no one really said what was on their mind.

Considering the general loss of appetite Ross had experienced lately, he ate fairly well. When we'd finished eating and the dishes had been rinsed and were stacked in the dishwasher, I returned to the family room to find him sleeping soundly, once again, in his chair. Around the room his daughters sat quietly, watching him. Doing the same thing I'd been doing since learning of this terrible disease and its effect on our family. Just watching. Taking it all in. Counting the minutes.

An hour or so later, Ross woke in a sweat; he'd started running a fever. I went with him into our bedroom. While he stripped out of his damp clothes, I found him something comfortable to change into, then I stepped back into the family room to ask Jayme-Leigh what would be best to give him.

“I'm on it,” she said.

Later, when the fever had subsided and Ross felt well enough, he asked that we go out to the balcony outside our bedroom so he could watch the day come to its end.

“Of course,” I told him.

After we settled in our patio chairs, he asked, “Where are the girls?”

“In the kitchen. They're all busy making dinner together. It's a sight to behold.”

Ross smiled weakly. “I'd have to see that to believe it.” Then: “And my sons-in-law?”

“Watching an old
Law and Order
. I'm not sure which version of it.
Special Victims Unit
?
Criminal Intent
? Anyway, one of those.”

December's chill fell around us as the sky turned a darker gray. “Ross, are you cold?”

“A little.”

“Just like you not to complain,” I said, rising from my chair. I went into the bedroom, retrieved a throw, and was tucking it around him when Ami suddenly appeared at the open French doors.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said.

Ross turned his head and smiled. “My baby,” he said. “I want to talk more about this upcoming addition to my family.”

Ami pinked. “Yeah, well . . . I still haven't wrapped my mind around all this.”

An uncomfortable expression crossed my stepdaughter's face, as though something were terribly wrong. “Is everything okay in the kitchen?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, Heather has everything under control.”

Ross snorted. “I'm sure she does.”

Ami's smile rose and fell in one movement. “Um . . . can I talk with you a minute, Dad?” She looked at me apologetically. “Alone?”

Ross cocked a brow. “Anything you want to say in front of me, Ames, you can say in front of Anise.”

I continued to stand near my husband as Ami wrung her hands, then ran the palms along her slender hips. “I . . . um . . .” She looked so sad; I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. “This isn't about me. Or the baby.”

Ross sighed. “Whatever it is, I have no secrets from my wife.”

She raised her chin by a fraction of an inch. “All right then.” She sat in my chair, pressed her knees together. I watched her eyes dart back and forth to some unseen pattern on the floorboards. She licked her lips, took a deep breath, and said, “There's one more.”

“One more what, sweetheart?”

“Daughter.”

I looked at my husband, who immediately looked at me. “What did you say?” we said together, now giving Ami our full attention.

“I can't be a donor because of the baby, and Jayme-Leigh can't because of her past cancer. Heather and Kim may or may not be candidates. But . . .” She breathed in and out several times. Rapid, shallow breaths. “There's one more daughter, and I think we should at least be honest about it. See if she is. A match, I mean. I mean, maybe I'm jumping the gun, Dad, but . . .” Tears spilled from her eyes. “I just can't hold this in any longer.” She hiccupped. “Maybe I'm just being hormonal, I don't know, but I can't . . . and I can't lose you, Dad. Not now.”

Ross's own breath left his lungs as though they were a tire with a nail pierced through the rubber. His brow furrowed. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and his face in the palms of his hands. “How do you know that?” he asked, looking to his daughter.

“Mom told me.”

“Mom?”

“Joan knew?” I asked.

Ami looked at me sharply. “You've known, haven't you? You're not shocked by what I'm saying as much as the fact that I'm the one saying it.”

I nodded. “I've known.”

“I told her before we married,” Ross said. “Ami, how did your mother know?”

Ami shrugged. “I don't know, Dad. She just knew.”

“When did she tell you?
Why
would she tell you?”

“That night . . . when you and Jayme-Leigh had the emergency and Mom was so close to death. You left me alone with her. Remember?”

Ross nodded.

“She was out of her head that night. At first I thought it was just nonsense. But then when we went to Cedar Key that Christmas after you married . . .” She looked to both of us. “I overheard you and Eliana talking, and I knew, then, that it was true.”

“Oh, Ami.” Ross groaned. “I'm so sorry, honey.” He leaned back in his chair. He was tired already; this, I knew, would remove any level of energy he had left.

“Dad? Does Rosa know?” Ami asked.

He shook his head, unable to verbalize the answer.

Ami returned her gaze to the floor. “I never told the others. No one knows except Gray and me.”

“I appreciate that, honey. But what I want to know is, is this why you left? Stayed away so long? Because you couldn't . . . couldn't live with this? Couldn't . . .” He didn't finish his thought, though I felt I could have, had I been asked to. Ross's fear, all along, had been that Ami was somehow angry with him for something he wasn't aware of.

With the question hanging between us, Ami remained quiet. She blinked a few times, then brought her long hair over one shoulder. “Yeah. I just—I just couldn't wrap my head around it. That you, of all people, would . . .”

Ross shifted a little in his chair. “Do you want to ask me any questions?”

“Is it okay? Okay to ask?”

“If it weren't, would I tell you that you could?”

“All right, then. Well . . . I mean . . . what happened, for starters?”

Ross rubbed his forehead with the fingers of one hand. “Fair question. All right. After Boo was born, right after, your mother started to . . .” He trailed off as he looked at his child, all grown up with one of her own on the way.

“Drink again?”

He chuckled, but it wasn't a happy laugh. “You know about that too?”

“That same night. Mom told me. She said she wanted me to know the truth so I'd never make the same mistakes she had. She said she didn't have liver cancer like everyone thought. But, to be honest, I'd already known, or at the very least, suspected before that.” She smiled. “Remember how much I loved to play dress-up when I was little?”

“Of course.”

“I went into Mom's closet for my dress-up clothes. There was always a bottle of wine or cans of beer stashed somewhere. Hidden in shoe boxes and hat boxes. Or just plain ol' boxes.” Pain etched across my stepdaughter's thin face.

“Oh, Ami,” I whispered. My heart ached at the thought of this child searching for a floppy hat to go with oversized wedges only to find cans of beer and bottles of wine.

She cast a weak smile toward me. “It's okay. Part of growing up, I guess.”

“No, sweetie. No, it's not. Or, at least, it shouldn't be.”

There was a moment of silence before Ross cleared his throat and said, “Back then, back when Kim was born, Eliana talked her into going into rehab. She loved your mother like a sister; you have to believe that.”

Ami grimaced.

“It was all me, Ami. I took advantage of the situation.” He swallowed hard. “I don't make any excuse for it. It's just how it was. I was hurting. I couldn't believe that after Kim was born Joan would go back to drinking like she did. Back then, I didn't understand the disease. How it works. How it destroys. I stayed in denial for an awful lot of years, so how would I know?”

“I thought you weren't going to make any excuses.”

“It's not an excuse. It's just the way it was. I was lonely. I was hurt. Scared out of my mind. Eliana was in such a bad marriage. Hector treated her like a punching bag.” He shook his head. “Yet, she was always so strong. So tender and giving in spite of what life took from her. Well,” he said, looking directly at his daughter, “you remember.”

“I do. And she was.” Ami swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. “How long did the . . . did the affair last?”

Ross chuckled again. “There was no affair. It was one night. One time. One.” He held up an index finger. “We both cried afterward. Promised it would never happen again. And it didn't.” He swallowed. “She told me two months later she was pregnant and she was quite certain the baby was mine.”

Ami looked out over the marshes. She folded her arms across her chest, crossed her legs, and slumped her shoulders. “I know all about ‘one nights.' This baby,” she said, looking down, “was probably conceived one night when
our defenses—Gray's and mine—were down. Right after Carole got killed. That's why we got married so quickly.” Her eyes widened. “Not because of the baby. We didn't even know about the baby until after we'd gotten married. But, because, Gray felt—we
both
felt—that once that door had been opened, it couldn't be closed so easily and then reopened again later. So I guess . . .” Her eyes turned sad. “I guess I know what it's like to . . . mess up. Who am I to cast a stone?”

“No stones necessary. But,” Ross said, reaching for his daughter's hand, “you do whatever you can to make it right. Sounds like that's what you did too.”

Ami sighed so deeply I was surprised she had air left in her lungs. “So, then what did you do? Once you found out? I mean, you were already married to Mom, and obviously you didn't leave her to marry Eliana.”

“No. Hector was a drunken fool who could be easily . . . deceived. Eliana and I both agreed that to say anything truthful at that point would only disrupt everyone's life. Joan was doing better. In fact, she was doing so well, I thought she'd licked her problem.” He made a tsking sound with his tongue. “I told Eliana I would provide for the baby. Everything she needed and then some.”

“And you did?”

“Right down to college. And there are CDs in the bank for Rosa's children, as Eliana's grandchildren, when I . . . when I'm gone.”

The three of us sat silent for several minutes. The early evening air turned thick with palm fronds rustling and marsh critters chatting. The smell of the marsh rose to where I leaned against the railing of the balcony. “Ross,” I finally said, “if
there is a chance, even a small chance, that Rosa is a match . . . well, that's one more chance.”

“No. I won't hear of it.”

I clasped my hands together. “But why not? To be honest with you, if the girls all tested negative, I was going to suggest it. But now Ami has . . . why not?”

His head jerked toward me. “And have her think that her mother . . . ? No. I'll die first.”

“No, you won't.” The voice came from beyond the opened doors. Kimberly stepped around the corner, and she leaned against the frame. “I'm sorry. I was eavesdropping.”

Ross dropped his head along the back of the chair. His eyes rolled as the lids fluttered shut.

“Dad,” Kim said, her voice firm.

He opened his eyes again, looked at her. “What, Boo?”

“She knows.”

“What?” the three of us spoke in unison.

Kim folded her arms, crossed one ankle over the other. “Rosa knows. She knows she's your daughter. She's known for a few years now.”