Page 195 of Halo

He studies her for another second. “And she can’t talk because of her brain?”

“That’s right, but remember, we keep questions like that between us.”

His eyes widen behind his glasses. “Oh. Right.”

He presses one finger over his lips.

Mama’s face changes when she sees me. Her smile isn’t what it used to be, but I know it when it comes.

“Happy birthday, Mama.”

I kiss her cheek before bringing Leah closer.

Leah kneels carefully beside her chair and takes her hand.

“Happy birthday, Mrs. Crawford. I’m Leah.”

Mama looks at her for a long moment before curling her fingers around Leah’s.

That alone nearly does me in.

Later, while everyone starts getting ready for the barbecue, I carry our bags into my old bedroom. Leah follows and closes the door behind us.

“I don’t feel good.”

I turn immediately.

Her eyes are already wet.

“I’m so tired, Nick. I don’t want to ruin this weekend, but I feel terrible.”

I pull her against me carefully.

“You’re not ruining anything.”

“I want to go downstairs.”

“Then we’ll go downstairs. And if you last ten minutes, we stay ten minutes. If you need to come back up here, I’ll bring you a plate and sit right here with you.”

She looks up at me.

“Nobody downstairs expects you to pretend you’re not sick, darlin’.”

Her forehead settles against my chest.

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

I kiss the top of her head.

“But you don’t have to be good at having cancer for my family to love you.”

Leah decides she wants to come down for dinner after all, although I make her promise that the second she gets tired, nauseated, overwhelmed, or just plain sick of being around Crawfords, she’ll tell me.

She lasts longer than either of us expects.

We spend most of the evening on the back porch with paper plates balanced on our knees and enough barbecue spread across the tables to feed everybody twice. My family wastes absolutely no time giving Leah an education in Nicholas Crawford before he learned how to defend himself, and apparently eighty-five years of Mama’s life can’t be celebrated without discussing every humiliating thing I did during the first fifteen of mine.