Chapter 1
They say it’s healthy to be around family when you’re dying. Most people didn’t know my family. Maybe if they did, they wouldn’t suggest that I visit them. Maybe they would advise me to hole up in my apartment and wither away without telling anyone. That’s what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to be surrounded by people who would cry and make me feel awkward. Or suggest new treatment ideas. I wanted to be in peace.
But I went anyway.
As I drove toward a huge estate, I glanced at the GPS. Surely, the program had taken me to the wrong address. I slowed down and caught the house number on the mailbox. I was getting close. Going by house numbers, my parents’ house should have been the next one.
But I found myself coming to a stop so I could take it all in. A massive three-story house, made of stone, sat behind a tall wrought-iron gate. Beyond the gate was a large circle drive and a fountain in the middle, complete with a massive stone sculpture that reminded me of ancient Greece.
There were shrubs all over the front, some tall, some short, but all perfectly sculpted.
It was a grand estate. And a bit out of place, given its surroundings. The houses nearby, which were all grand in their own right, were much smaller and on much smaller lots, from the looks of it.
More than likely, the estate had stayed in the family in a long line of wealth, while the adjoining properties had been sold to developers to be turned into a fancy subdivision for the more modestly well-to-do.
When a four-door sedan passed me on the left, I took my foot off the brake and crawled forward. As I gazed up at the house one last time, I imagined what it would be like to live in a house so massive. It would need constant cleaning. By the time I got done cleaning the entire house, I’d have to start all over again. A house that size would definitely require paid help.
With a shake of my head to clear away my dreamy thoughts of living in a home such as that one, I stepped on the gas pedal and drove until I reached the next driveway, this one of a more modest, but still fancy Gothic Revival home. As I pulled my Fiat into the driveway, the front door opened and my mother stepped out onto the patio.
I groaned. I needed a moment of peace to prepare myself mentally for the visit before I got bombarded with questions and a house tour.
I gave her a little wave and then followed the circle of the driveway and parked away from the door and near the far end of the house. If not to have a few extra moments to myself, then to park out of the way.
I tried not to glance in the rear mirrors to see if she was coming. I didn’t want her thinking I was avoiding her on purpose, which of course I was. I needed more time. Maybe I should have stopped for a quick bite to eat first. But she had said she would have lunch ready for me.
I closed my eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, blew it out, and then pushed against the car door. When I stepped out, both my parents walked across the paved driveway to greet me.
“My baby,” my mother said, pulling me into her arms. She held me in a tight embrace.
“Hi, Mom.”
“It is so good to see you,” she said, still hanging on. “I’m so glad your father and I could move closer.”
“Me, too.”
Finally, she let go so I could give my dad a hug. But it didn’t take long before she was guiding me into the house and giving me the grand tour, leaving my dad behind to haul my suitcase into the house.
“This house has been a dream,” my mother said, leading me through the grand foyer. “We just love it.”
I nodded idly, but I was too busy gazing up at the staircase with its dark wooden rails and then at the chandelier above the entry to pay much attention to what she was saying.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked, taking a break from her ramblings to get my input.
I looked over at her, meeting her gaze, and smiled. “It is. Really beautiful, Mom.”
With one hand on my back and her other on my arm, she guided me down the hall. Leaning in close, she said, “Wait until you see the fireplace in our master bedroom. Or the deck at the back of the house. We’ll have so many wonderful summer nights out there. I’m thinking a string of tiny bulbs to keep it lit and of course, brand new patio furniture.”
I gave her my best facial expression and a quick nod to affirm her idea.
“I’m already thinking of shrubs to plant in the backyard, but that will take some time. You can’t rush that kind of thing. Once you plant it, it’s hard to have the heart to tear it out.”
That was one thing I loved about her. She could talk my ear off, rambling on and on about topics that really didn’t mean anything to me, but she had a heart for plants. Once a seed was sprouted, it became a living, breathing thing, and come hell or highwater, she wouldn’t be the one to kill it. It became a precious thing, in her eyes. She’d water it and feed it and care for it because that was the right thing to do.
I struggled to get through the rest of the house tour. My body ached, not just with fatigue but all the aches and pains that came with my diagnosis, and all I wanted to do was go sit down.
“Are you feeling okay?” my mom asked, stopping in the doorway of their master bedroom. She had just shown me the bathroom with its whirlpool bathtub and walk-in shower with the rain shower head. Add that to the stone fireplace, the bathroom was a dream.
I tried to shrug off her question. “I’m just really hungry,” I said. “I didn’t eat anything before the drive here.”
“Oh, that reminds me. I still have our lunch warming in the oven.”
When we made it back out into the main hallway, my dad was coming down the stairs. I didn’t blame him for skirting out of the house tour. And there’d be plenty of time to chat with him later in a more relaxed setting.
