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Adin whispered in my ear when she hugged me, “I want all the details. You did use protection right?”

She was tormenting me I knew but it struck a bad chord in me. My calendar was in the small black Liz Claiborne purse hanging from a thin strap on my shoulder. It would be way too obvious if I took the small pocket calendar out and looked at it now to see when my last period was. For the life of me I couldn’t mentally calculate in my brain when it had occurred even though I had assured Kerry it was fine.

Damn.

Shit.

Holy Fucking Hell.

Would I never learn?

Even Yancy knew. In her drugged state she gleefully exclaimed, “When are you coming home?” She asked.

I glanced around the room at the women and my daughter who looked sheepishly back at me. I glared at them. Then, I looked down at my mother who looked frailer than I had ever seen her. “Yancy, how are you feeling?” I asked ignoring her question.

“Gabrielle Ellerton never sounded that good,” my mother persisted.

“Yancy, there was a time when Gabrielle McCoy didn’t sound that good to you either,” I informed her.

“That was before I got to know Esther.”

“Michaela, Gemma, Kat and I are going to the cafeteria for coffee,” Adin piped in on the conversation I was having with my mother.

“Bring me back one,” I said. I was going to need it later. Kerry and I had little sleep the night before.

“Will do,” Adin replied and then they were gone leaving me alone with my mother.

I sat down on a stool next to Yancy’s bed and took her hand in mine. “Are you in pain?”

“Not much,” she replied shortly. “They have good drugs here.”

“Yancy, why didn’t you agree to the total mastectomy?”

“No reason to,” she replied looking away from me.

“Yancy, there was a reason to. Doctor Winkle said a complete mastectomy was preferred but you wouldn’t agree to it before the surgery,” I declared angrily.

Yancy glared at me with drugged out eyes. “I’m the mother,” she declared fiercely, “you do not lecture me.”

Sound familiar?

“I’m the concerned daughter,” I snapped right back at her.

“Gabby,” she said tiredly, “are you mad at me because I wouldn’t let them lop off my breast? Or are you mad at me because I was right about James and happiness is staring you in the face and you don’t know how to grab onto it.”

Tears suddenly sprung to my eyes. I could hate this woman and love her in the same breath. Right now was not the time to be arguing with her.

“I have a few obstacles to get through but I’ll grab my happiness. I won’t screw this one up if that is what you are implying?”

Yancy reached up and caressed my face with her long cold fingers. “I didn’t mean to make you cry dear. I never could stand to see you cry.”

Capturing my mother’s hand I kissed the palm and held it tightly against my face. I had done this when I was a child and needed her reassuring touch. Yancy could be aloof and domineering but she was filled with love for her daughters. No one could fault her for that.

“You can’t die,” I whispered.

“You’re damned right I can’t,” she agreed. “I’m the biggest pain in the ass you girls have and that isn’t about to change. What would Michaela do without me? She would have to rely on one of you girls and I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“No…Yancy, you can’t die because I can’t live without you,” I told my mother sobbing through each and every word.

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