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I couldn't keep from glancing over at Olivia as we drove home. I felt horrible for the things that I'd said about her mother's illness at the restaurant. I didn't want to scare Olivia into thinking about her mother potentially dying, but I didn't know how else to galvanize the pair of them into taking some sort of action. Now, though, Olivia just seemed upset, and I didn't know how to fix it. We'd been having such a fun evening, too.
I tried to tell a joke. “You know you’re a doctor when, within minutes of meeting someone, you’re telling them to take their clothes off, lie down, and let their knees fall open. And they do it!”
Olivia looked over at me, startled by the joke, and she laughed. But then, as though that release of emotion unlocked the rest of her feelings, she suddenly burst into noisy tears.
I winced and pulled over next to a cornfield. There was no one else on the road at that hour, but I flicked the hazard lights on anyway. Then, I pulled Olivia into my arms.
Normally, I wouldn't embrace a patient's family member like this, and I couldn't help thinking about how this was the second time that her pain had moved me to pull her into my arms. But then again, there were all these thoughts about Emily in my head lately. There were all the ways that Jeannie's illness and Olivia's sorrow reflected everything that had happened in my life two years prior.
In some ways, at least.
But Emily had never had a chance, not like Jeannie did. Emily had had pain in her back that she’d assumed was a natural part of getting older. She hadn’t wanted to bother me with extensive exams, and she'd downplayed the extent of the pain. Eventually, it had gotten to the point where she couldn't downplay it anymore, and I'd finally insisted on the tests that we should have done long before that point. But by then, it was too late.
Emily had died two months later. I'd still been in a state of shock after her diagnosis, and I was devastated. I blamed myself for her death: if I'd only noticed things sooner, we could have gotten the treatment that she needed. I was a doctor; I should have realized that the pain was worse than a normal backache. I should have said something when the pain persisted month after month.
But I hadn't. And because I hadn't, I had lost her.
Part of why I was so insistent that Jeannie start her treatments right away was because I couldn't handle having another Emily on my hands. I couldn't sit back and watch Jeannie fool herself into thinking that there was nothing wrong with her, to let things go until it was too late to help her.
Olivia sniffled, still clinging to me, and I just gently rocked her back and forth, wishing that there was something I could say. No matter how many difficult situations I'd had to deal with over my years of being a doctor, I couldn't seem to muster the words to soothe her now, though. Everything just seemed contrived. Fake.
Finally, she composed herself and pulled away, wiping at her eyes.
“I'd tell you another joke, but I'd be afraid it would go over as poorly as the last one,” I finally managed to tease. “I don't think I'd ever be able to show my face again!”
Olivia giggled and shook her head. “I'd hate for that to happen,” she said sincerely.
As I put the car back in drive, she reached over to take my hand, holding it timidly, like she thought I might pull away. I lightly squeezed her hand and rubbed my thumb across her knuckles.
We got closer to Tamlin, and I suppressed a sigh, hating the tension in the car and hating that the comfortable banter from earlier in the evening seemed to have all dried up. If it weren't for this cloud of her mother's illness hanging over us, I had a feeling that Olivia and I could be good friends. Maybe even something more than friends, since God knew I was smitten with her good looks and charm.
Not that I should be thinking about that.
“Hey, would you mind if we swing by Nana's house and pick up Emma?” I asked suddenly. “It's on our way.”
“No problem,” Olivia said, smiling over at me, and I was glad to see that she was feeling better, or at least putting on a brave face.
When we drove up to Helen's house, the lights were on in the living room. “You're welcome to come in,” I told Olivia. “I'm sure Helen would love to meet you. Emma's told her all about you, after all.”
Olivia smiled shyly. “All right,” she said, undoing her seat belt and following me up the walk and into the foyer.
In the living room, Helen and Emma were busy putting together a puzzle on the coffee table. They clearly hadn't heard us come in, but that made sense since Emma was chattering away in a voice that was a little too loud for being indoors. But then again, Helen's hearing wasn't that great; maybe Emma was just trying to make up for that fact.
Helen put in the final piece of the puzzle, patting it with satisfaction. “Look at that, Emily dear,” she said. “All finished!”
I felt a pang go through my heart, and I quickly turned to Olivia to explain. “Emily was Emma's mom,” I murmured. “My former wife.” I grimaced. “Like I said, Helen's memory isn't great these days. She sometimes forgets who she's talking to.”
Olivia blinked at me and then shook her head. “Emily and Emma aren't such different names,” she pointed out. “And my grandmother, when I was growing up, sometimes would call out the name of every other grandchild before she finally got to mine!” She grinned fondly at the memory.
I couldn't tell her how relieved I was to hear that, but something must have shown on my face if the way she reached over and lightly squeezed my hand was any indication. Then, she stepped toward the living room, and I hurriedly followed after her.
“Daddy!” Emma squealed delightedly, clapping her hands together. Then, her eyes narrowed at Olivia. “What is she doing here?”
I grimaced, embarrassed by Emma’s reaction. She'd had only positive words to say about daycare all week, but I could tell that Olivia was pretty frazzled every evening when I came to pick up my daughter, and I knew that it wasn't Harlan giving her trouble. I frowned at her. “Now Emma, that's not very nice,” I scolded.
“I don't want to go to daycare now,” Emma said, her lower lip wobbling.
It was Helen to the rescue, though. “Of course you're not going to daycare now,” she said soothingly, petting the girl's hair. “I bet your Daddy has just come to take you home for the night. You won't go back to daycare until Monday. Remember, you promised to go on a long walk with me tomorrow, and then we were going to bake cookies on Sunday.”
