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“It’s okay,” Bess continues. “I gave him some medicine for it and he’s taking a nap now.”
“The last time he did that…” Her gaze rolls over to Kerry-Anne, who is one hundred percent focused on the TV. “The last time my dad did…what he’s doing…my mom took care of him.” Her brow furrows. “He gets really sick.”
“I think a lot of people get really sick…doing what your dad is doing,” Bess says patiently and calmly. Her voice is quiet but sure. “But we are here to help.” Her eyes meet mine. “Eli and I are here.”
“I’m hungry,” Kerry-Anne suddenly announces from her spot on the couch. She still hasn’t looked away from the TV.
I look down at Sam. “What do you guys normally eat?”
She shrugs. “Cereal. She knows how to fix it herself. She’s six.” She stares hard at Kerry-Anne, who must have heard her because she turns off the TV and goes into the kitchen, rattles around in the cabinet, and I hear her pour something into a bowl.
Sam gets the milk out and pours it for her, and I hear her spoon start to clank against the bowl. Sam makes a bowl for herself, too, and the room is quiet aside from the sound of children eating.
“He was really sick, Eli,” Bess whispers, checking over my shoulder to be sure the kids can’t hear her. “He was on the floor, unable to pick his head up off the toilet seat when I got here.” She runs a hand through her hair, which is still all over the place. “The baby was screaming because he hadn’t been fed, and Kerry-Anne walked all by herself over to our cabin to get help.” She looks down at the baby. “Miles exhausted himself screaming, the poor guy.”
“They were all asleep when I came to get Sam,” I explain softly, somewhat defensively. Sam and I had made plans the day before, and Aaron had approved them. She’d been sitting on the couch in the living room when I’d arrived to collect her.
“Where did you guys go?”
“Shopping for Father’s Day,” I admit.
Her eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “Father’s Day?”
“It’s coming up, and Sam had an idea.” I shrug. “So I promised to take her shopping.”
“How did you guys get to talking about Father’s Day?” she asks, and she looks like she’s genuinely curious.
“She brought it up when we were fishing.”
“What did you get?”
“We went to the t-shirt shop at the mall, and she had a shirt made.” It really wasn’t anything fantastic, but it was all her idea. “Oh,” I add, “we went by that little camera shop, too, and I picked up the supplies you’ll need to develop your pictures out back.”
She looks startled. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you know what to get?”
I laugh. “I didn’t. I just told the guy at the counter to give me everything I’d need. I probably bought way too much stuff. Plus I got some extra film. Did you know it’s hard to find real film anymore? Everything is digital now.” I shake my head as I go and sit down on the couch near her. Then I just stare at her. I can’t stop staring at her. She looks so comfortable and relaxed, so un-Bess-like.
“What’s wrong?” she asks me warily. “You have a funny look on your face.”
I lift one shoulder. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
“It’s something.” She lifts her bare foot and nudges my knee with her toe, and all I can think is that she just touched me. On purpose. “What is it? Tell me.”
“You just look happy, that’s all,” I admit sheepishly.
Her cheeks color a little, but she doesn’t freeze up or act like I just called her out on something. Instead, she smiles a little bigger. She lifts Miles up and rests him on her shoulder, where he settles peacefully with his forehead against her neck. “Eli, I’m really worried about Aaron,” she says. She looks toward the kitchen to be sure the girls are still occupied. “He was really sick.” She drops her voice down to a whisper. “I mean like really, really sick.”
“Well, that’s one of the reasons why he came here, to get some help during all this,” I remind her.
“At least he’ll be done with it next week and things can get back to normal.”
Normal. Next week, Aaron will be done with chemo and he’ll be ready to begin palliative care. But Bess doesn’t know that. I open my mouth to tell her, because it doesn’t feel right that she doesn’t know yet, but a faint knock sounds on the door and then Gabby walks in.
“Good morning,” she says. “Mom and I got done quicker than we thought.” She looks around. “Is everything okay?”
