Never Forgotten (Never Forgotten Series) (28 page)

“And your father?” Dr. Riley asked.

“He’s on a business trip,” I said. “We haven’t been able to reach him. Please, Dr. Riley, how is my mom?”

Dr. Riley sighed. “She’s resting right now. I’d prefer to speak to all of you together. Would you like to go and get your grandparents, or would you like me to have them paged?”

Evan squeezed my hand. “I’ll go. You can stay here.”

I watched Evan walk away, and I didn’t know what to do. Something was wrong. Doctors didn’t wait to give you good news.

Dr. Riley cleared his throat. “I’m going to check on your mom, and I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”

I nodded before sinking into the chair. Where the hell was my dad? How was I going to find him? Silently, I pleaded, Please, Dad, if you can hear me, come to the hospital. Please. Hurry. If Ula hadn’t reached him, I didn’t think he would get my message, but I didn’t know what else to do.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the poster that gave disease prevention tips. When I heard David’s voice, I turned around to see him crossing the room to me.

“Meara, what’s going on? Where’s your mom?”

“Well,” I started. That was as far as I got before the dam broke and the worry, guilt, and sadness came pouring out. I tried to continue through my tears, “S-she collapsed…and…the a-ambulance…and…”

David pulled me into his arms and patted my back. “Calm down, Meara,” he crooned. “I can’t understand you, honey.”

I tried to stop crying, but I only cried harder. Luckily, Evan returned with my grandparents, and the three of them took turns filling David in on what happened.

As promised, Dr. Riley returned within ten minutes. “Are you Mr. Quinn?” he asked.

“Yes, but you can call me David.”

“David.” Dr. Riley shook my dad’s hand before he motioned to all of us. “Please come to my office.”

We followed him through the side doors and down the hallway. His office was bright and organized. Besides his diplomas and certifications, the walls were covered with beautiful nature scenes. A brown leather couch ran the length of one wall, and two cushioned chairs faced his desk.

“Please have a seat,” he said. David took one of the chairs near the desk, and I sat next to him. Evan sat with my grandparents on the couch. Dr. Riley waited for us all to be settled before he began. “Sharon is stable, but she suffered an internal hemorrhage. We’ve stopped the bleeding.”

“So, she’s okay.” Relief flooded through me, until I noticed Dr. Riley was frowning.

“She lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion.”

“Is she in pain?” My father looked ready to bolt to find her.

Dr. Riley shook his head. “We gave her a sedative. She’s resting peacefully now.”

David relaxed back into the chair, but Dr. Riley leaned forward. “The cancer has spread throughout her abdomen. Although we stopped the bleeding, there’s a good chance it will start again. The prognosis does not look good.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Dr. Riley looked at me. I shrank back from the concern in his eyes. I didn’t want his sympathy.

“Your mother needs hospice,” he said. “We can ensure that she is comfortable, and that her pain is manageable.”

“Hospice care?” I asked. “I don’t understand.” Wasn’t hospice care for the elderly and terminally ill? My grandmother sobbed behind me. Hands rested on my shoulders, and I looked up into Evan’s eyes. I reached for one of his hands, and he covered mine with his.

“Can she come home?” my dad asked. His voice broke when he said home. He reached over and squeezed my other hand, but continued to look at Dr. Riley.

“We can certainly arrange for care in your home,” Dr. Riley said. “It will take a few days, of course, for equipment and staffing.”

Equipment? Staffing? “When will she get better?”

Dr. Riley frowned, and this time I clearly saw pity in his eyes. “She won’t,” he said, not unkindly. “The cancer has progressed too far. We’ve done all we can do. Our goal now is to make her comfortable.”

No! I screamed in my head, as my dad asked, “How long does she have?”

Dr. Riley shook his head. “I can’t say. It’s different with each patient.”

“An estimate, then,” he insisted.

Dr. Riley took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Finally, he said, “Anywhere from two weeks to six months, I would guess.”

I
stood inside the doorway, watching the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest. The medical equipment arrived the previous week. Next to her bed, machines beeped and whirred, their sounds foreign to me. They tracked her heartbeat and breathing. At irregular intervals, she gasped in pain and the machines spiked in response. I cringed, my nails biting into the flesh of my palms. How could I endure watching my mother, the person who gave me life, fight a losing battle to keep hers?

Her eyes moved restlessly under bruised eyelids, though she never opened them. What did she dream about? I wondered. When would she wake up? I tried not to worry that she wouldn’t. Her alertness was fading away. When she was conscious, she made little sense. The painkillers had a hallucinogen effect. She saw angels in the corner of the room, David, when he wasn’t there, and occasionally, she mistook me for my grandmother or Lydia.

Those lapses were scarier than watching her struggle in her sleep. She was my mother, but in those moments, she was a stranger—easily angered, confused, and demanding. The stranger surfaced more frequently during Mom’s conscious hours. My hope crumbled. I knew our time together was limited to days, maybe hours, rather than months or years.

I heard a throat clear and looked up, startled. David sat against the headboard, holding Mom’s hand. His eyes were filled with pain and sorrow, but he searched my face and asked, “How are you holding up, Meara?”

I shrugged, not wanting to answer. I was tired of everyone’s concern for me. I wasn’t the one who was dying, at least, not physically.

“Maybe I should ask you the same thing,” I said. “You look like hell. You should get some sleep.”

“Do I?” He looked down at Mom’s fingers. “I feel like hell, too.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “That sounded kind of jerky.” I wasn’t trying to be mean, but he was a mess. His eyes were bloodshot, his face lined and whiskered. He must have aged five years in the last two weeks. His clothes were wrinkled, like he slept in them all week, which he just might have done.

He rubbed his eyes roughly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry about it, Meara. It’s a tense time for all of us.”

I glanced down at my mom. Over the past couple of days, her skin had turned a yellowish hue, the onset of jaundice. That meant the cancer was in her liver, and it wouldn’t be long now.

“She’s not doing well,” I observed. It wasn’t a question, but David answered me anyway.

“No.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. He laid it back alongside her and stood to stretch, rubbing his temples. When he bowed his head, his shoulders shook. He looked up, his eyes full of tears. “I would trade with her, Meara, if I could. If it was in my power, I would do anything to keep her alive and here with you.”

In that moment, I saw the man my mother loved – kind and generous. I hugged him to comfort us both. I’m so selfish, I thought. I never considered my father’s feelings. Of course, he was in pain. Of course, he would grieve Mom’s loss when the time came. He loved her.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That you’re in so much pain.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I love your mother more than I’ve ever loved another, but you love her, too.” He reached out and squeezed my hand.

The tears I held back, in a useless attempt to be strong, poured out. I cried for my mom, for my dad, and for what could have been. If Mom had stayed in Peggy’s Cove all those years ago, would we have become a family sooner? Could we have made it work in some strange way?

“Your mom asked me to look after you once she’s gone,” he said quietly. “I’d like you to come with me.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure…”

“Remember, you are half-Selkie, so you’ll have the ability to transform.”

“It’s not that,” I said quickly, “but Evan, my grandparents…” I looked at him and sighed. My shoulders sagged. “I don’t want to leave them all.”

“You could appear as human for brief periods, like your aunts do.” He studied me. “It’s your choice, of course. I can’t pretend you’re a child and make decisions for you. But could you live, truly live, without ever knowing that other part of yourself?”

Could I? I would probably wonder what I missed, but life without Evan? A day here or there would not be enough. Could I just leave him, as David left my mother? Would he be willing to have me just a few days a year? Would I want him to?

David moved close to me and lifted my chin to look into my eyes. “You don’t have to make your decision today, Meara. I’m not planning on leaving your mother’s side until she’s at peace. And…after…I will give you time.”

“If I go,” I considered, “can I come back? I mean, will I be able to come back to my human form, my human life, if I want to?” The question I left unasked—Will I want to?—was what worried me most.

“If you so choose, you may return to being human.” Then, as though he read my mind, he answered my unasked question. “Will you want to? I can’t answer that. Since you are only half-Selkie, the pull may not be as strong. What I can tell you is that it’s not possible to live a dual life. At some point, you must choose—Selkie or human.”

I nodded. I didn’t expect it to be easy—not really. Nothing ever was. “If Mom wasn’t sick, would you choose human?”

He met my eyes. “I didn’t before, but this time? Yes. I already made the choice. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be living with you day in and day out like this.”

Tears filled my eyes, and I blinked to clear them. I looked down at Mom; she relaxed and smiled in her sleep. “Looks like the morphine is working. Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll stay with Mom.” When he hesitated, I added, “Dad, you’re no good to her if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, Meara.” He smiled slightly when I said ‘Dad’. It was amazing that such a small word pleased him so much. He kissed my forehead before heading out the door.

Once he was gone, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. The only light came from a small lamp in the corner, and the green glow of the machines. I listened to Mom’s rhythmic breathing, taking her pale, bony hand in my own. The skin felt fragile, and her hand was cool. I leaned over and brushed a few strands of hair off her forehead. Her pillowcase was a cheery floral, but the bright, colorful pattern only accentuated her paleness. I shuddered and bent to kiss her paper-thin cheek.

“Mom,” I whispered near her ear. “Can you hear me?” Her lips lifted in the hint of a smile. There was no other change in her expression. I felt a desperate need to talk to her, to confess my fears. I might never have another chance.

“I’m so scared, Mom. I’m so scared of losing you, but I want you to know that it’s okay. When—” I broke off with a sob, blinking furiously. To calm myself, I stroked her arm and leaned in to kiss her cheek again. I wiped my tears from her cheek, sniffed, and started again. “When you’re ready, when it’s time, don’t hold back because of me. I’m going to be okay.”

I curled up next to her on the bed, propping my head on my hand so I could look down at her. I took deep, calming breaths and watched her for a while. When I felt I could go on, I continued. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. Dav…uh, Dad, wants me to go with him, to become Selkie. And, well, I can’t deny that part of me wants to try, you know? I mean, a magical creature? Me? It’s so wild! But…then there’s Evan. I know I’m only eighteen, but I think when you find the person who you’re going to love forever…”

I looked down to see if she was hearing any of this. She looked the same, but I could hope. “How do I choose what life I want to live? If I go, I’ll learn a lot about the other side of myself, but what will it cost me? I can’t ask Evan to wait, to put his life on hold. I can’t believe I’m even considering it. What about my life here?”

I brushed the back of her hand with my fingertips, resting my cheek on the top of her head. I thought I heard her sigh. “Whatever happens, I’ll figure it out, Mom. You’ve done a great job of raising me, and I’m an adult now.” I choked the last words out. “I love you, Mom. I’ll never forget you, and I’m ready to let you go, if that’s what you need.”

Mom gasped, and her eyes flew open. She grasped my hand tightly. “Meara?”

“I’m here, Mom,” I said calmly, touching her forehead. “I’m right here.”

“David?” She scanned the room.

“Right here, Sharon.” David stood in the doorway, his hair damp. He came to Mom’s other side, taking her hand in his. How long he had been standing there? He gave no indication whether he’d been listening before Mom woke up.

His eyes met mine briefly. “Get your grandparents.”

I ran to the living room and announced, “She’s awake.”

They rose and followed me. They spent hours every day at our apartment, staying in the living room to give us time with her, but asking to be notified when she was alert.

When we returned to the room, David sat at the headboard on Mom’s right side once again. She swallowed with some difficulty and closed her eyes. I thought maybe she was going to go back to sleep, but she opened them slowly. This time, she seemed more herself, more alert. I realized that David was probably helping her fight the effects of the drugs.

“I’m glad you’re all here.” She spoke with calmness, turning her head to acknowledge each of us. “I love you all so much.”

Her lips trembled, and tears pooled in her eyes and overflowed. David gently wiped them from her cheek, and she smiled up at him gratefully, seeming to regain her composure. “I don’t have much more time. The pain is crushing and, frankly, I don’t want to fight it anymore.” When Grandma opened her mouth to object, Mom just shook her head to silence her.

Mom looked at me. “Thank you, Meara. Although I may not have looked like it, I heard every word you said. I have no doubt that you will choose the right path for yourself. I am so proud of you, honey. I love you.”

She kissed me and stroked my hair like old times. I hugged her and rested my head on her shoulder.

“David.” Her voice shook with her emotions. “You will never know what it has meant to me that you came back. I’m at peace knowing that you are now part of Meara’s life. I’m so sorry for taking her away.” She frowned, and David leaned down to kiss her.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated as though he hadn’t spoken. “And I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Sharon.”

Then Mom looked up at my grandparents, who were standing at the foot of the bed. Grandma hugged herself, her eyes bloodshot. Grandpa’s arm was around her shoulder.

“Mom, Dad.” She smiled up at them. “Thank you for taking us back into your lives and into your home.”

“Oh, Sharon.” Grandma was openly crying now. “Of course you were welcome home at any time. We love you.”

“I know, Mom,” she said. “Thank you, nonetheless.”

Mom sat up and gestured for my grandparents to come forward. I stood and moved back so that they could get close and hug her. When they stepped away, Mom was smiling, but her face was pale. It seemed that this last round of exchanges wore her out. I watched her warily, but she just patted my hand.

“I’m just tired, Meara. I’m not going to die on you this second.”

“Mom!”

She chuckled then, although it sounded a bit raspy. “Sorry, honey, but it’s true.” Mom’s eyes settled on my grandma. “Mom, would you mind getting me some tea?”

Grandma left to fix Mom’s tea. My grandfather wrung his hands. “I’ll be in the living room,” he said, turning quickly to leave.

Mom sighed, but her eyes lit with humor. “Emotional displays make him nervous.”

David and I resumed our positions on either side of the bed. Grandma came back with the tea, and then left us alone. The three of us talked about everything and nothing as Mom drank her tea. She finished it, eventually settling back to sleep.

Once I knew she was out, her breathing deep and regular, I looked at David. “Will she make it through the night?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” He frowned down at her. “She might, but I don’t think she has more than a few days left. I’m having little impact on her now.”

I nodded, biting my lip to keep the tears from starting again.

“That was a brave thing you did, Meara,” David said.

“What?” I asked.

“Letting your mom go.”