“I can’t believe this,” said Sam as Eli set his cup down on the table.
“My God. Poor Mom. I hope she hasn’t been in any pain…” Sarah buried her face in her hands.
Eli touched his wife’s shoulder. He rubbed her back. He saw the bits of crushed leaves in her hair, a grass stain on the back of her skirt. He pictured her sitting out by her favorite pond, fretting about Ruby, worried about him. He had failed her. He’d failed her for months, for more than a year, for too long. He was not going to fail her now. Whatever she needed, she would have; whatever he could do for her, for her mother, for her family, he would.
Sam
Two hours after the exploratory surgery was over, Sam was sitting beside his mother’s bed when Ronnie opened her eyes.
“… time is it?” she asked. Her words were slurred.
Sam told her, and held a cup of water for her, raising the top of the bed, angling the straw so she could sip. “We talked to your doctor,” he said. “She told us what’s going on. How are you feeling?”
Ronnie shrugged. In a raspy voice, she whispered, “Didn’t want to ruin Ruby’s big day.”
“It’s okay,” Sam said. He held his mother’s right hand, rubbing it between both of his hands. “Everything’s okay.”
A few minutes later, Ronnie whispered, “What’s going on with you?” She touched his sleeve, looked into his eyes. “I know it’s something.”
“Oh.” Sam thought, and said, “It can wait until you’re feeling better.”
Ronnie managed a laugh. “Not… sure I will.”
Sam did his best to keep his voice steady. “They’re going to try to get you stable enough so that you can come home. That’s the plan.” We can make her comfortable, Dr. Dominguez had told him and his sister, when the surgery was over and they knew just how dire things were. We can coordinate with the palliative care team. We will make sure she’s not in any pain. And there’s a hospice nearby, if you’re interested?
At the word “hospice,” Sam and Sarah looked at each other, communicating in that old twin telepathy. As always, Sarah spoke for them both. “No. If that’s where we are in this, if she’s dying, she’ll want to be home. And we can stay with her…” Her voice cracked and Sam was the one to finish her sentence.
“We can stay with her for as long as it takes.”
In her hospital room, Ronnie took another sip of water, and looked up at her son. “I’m sorry,” Ronnie whispered to Sam. “Sorry about all this.”
“No,” said Sam. “Mom, please. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
I do, though, Ronnie thought, and cursed her sister and those DNA kits, and wondered how to begin.
“Just rest,” Sam said, and patted her shoulder. Ronnie tried to keep talking, but the breath wasn’t there, and her tongue wouldn’t move, and then a nurse came into the room and did something with her IV. She felt the blackness rise up again, an irresistible wave, and was powerless as it swept her away.
Sarah
It was after midnight when Sarah made it home, and the lights in the guesthouse were still on. Sarah climbed the stairs, knocked softly on the door, and waited until Ruby, clad in a white T-shirt and pajama bottoms patterned with Snoopy, opened the door. She hugged Sarah hard, then pulled away to look at her.
“What’s going on? Is Safta okay?” Ruby asked.
Sarah felt her eyes fill with tears. Not trusting herself to speak, she just shook her head. Ruby’s eyes got wide. “Oh, no,” she whispered. Sarah pulled her close and reminded herself that she was a stepmother, a mother; the de facto matriarch of the clan, which meant she did not have the luxury of falling apart.
“She has pancreatic cancer,” she said in a voice that only wobbled a little. “It’s… advanced. She’s very ill. I guess—it seems like she’s known she was sick for a little while, and she didn’t want to tell anyone until the wedding was over.”
“Oh.” Ruby’s shoulders shook with sobs. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, honey,” Sarah said, and held her tight. “No, no, no,” she said, but Ruby was inconsolable.
“I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I put everyone through.”
Sarah made a crooning noise, rubbing the spot just below Ruby’s ponytail, right at the nape of her neck. “You have no reason to feel responsible. You didn’t make this happen.”