Fuck, the world was all screwed up because in that moment he knew. “You’re sick.”
She nodded, a tremulous smile on her lips. “The big C as they say, but I call it the big, O. Ovarian.”
“I’m sorry.” What else was there to say? He’d watched his mother die of the same fucking disease. A slow, painful death and it wasn’t something he would wish on anyone.
Celia shrugged. “It is what it is. I’m trying to stay positive and though my prognosis isn’t great I believe in my heart that I can beat this. It’s partly why we moved back to New Waterford. I love the city. I love the frenetic pace, the shopping, the museums and theatres. But right now, I need a slower kind of life and James agreed it was the right thing for us.”
“And you think dinner will be good because…”
Pia chose that moment to rush down the stairs, her small body shaking in her effort to get to Shane. Once she reached her master’s side, she gave him a lick on his boot and then ran back to Celia. The little animal sniffed and snorted and then moaned when Celia sank her French tipped nails into the soft fur under her bright pink collar.
She smiled, the first genuine, natural smile he’d seen and glanced up at him. “She’s a girl, I’m presuming?”
“I hope so, ‘cause if not, that dog has got to be the most confused animal in New Waterford.”
With one more pat on the head, Celia straightened and settled her fur hat back onto her head. “I know you hated the fact that your father and I got married so soon after your mother passed.”
Any lightness they’d shared was gone. The woman had balls bringing that shit up.
“Five months isn’t soon, Celia. Five months is fucking wrong.”
A shadow passed over her features, one that didn’t quite leave her eyes. “You think that I’m the enemy who swooped in and took him from you. But the truth of it is, I saved him after your mother died. I saved your father back then, Shane, but now he’s barely holding on.”
He thought of how old his father had looked, of the pallor on his skin and then there were the rumors of an illness back in the fall.
“Is he…is he sick?” The question fell from his mouth before he could stop it. Did he care? If he didn’t, did that make him the biggest bastard in the state?
“Other than a mild heart attack in the November, physically he’s fine. It was mostly stress related but his soul is tired and sick, Shane. Nothing is heavier on the heart than regret. He’s made some mistakes.” Her eyes narrowed. “We’ve all made a lot of mistakes.”
Celia turned and walked over to the door but paused before leaving. “I saved him once, but this time I need your help, Shane. He needs you. He won’t survive the next year unless he has his son back and I need him on his game. I need him to be there for Eden because she’s not as strong as you.”
She turned back once more and nailed him with a direct look that told him Celia wasn’t going to give up. “I need you to be there for Eden.”
And then she left.
Chapter Sixteen
It was nearly six o’clock Sunday evening when the doorbell rang. Slinging a tea towel over her shoulder, Bobbi unplugged the crock pot and pushed it back into its spot between the toaster and the fridge. With Billie at Logan’s and Betty not yet returned from her Saturday night out with Matt Hawkins, there had only been the three of them—Bobbi, Herschel, and her father. So, leftover chili and garlic toast was more than enough.
With a sigh, Bobbi tossed the towel over the drying rack next to the sink and headed for the foyer just as the doorbell went again.
“Twins! One of you going to get that?” Herschel said loudly, as the volume of the television increased tenfold. Her father and Gramps were already in the family room, no doubt each in their favorite seats, eyes glued to the flat screen.
God forbid they miss 60 Minutes.
“I got it,” she mumbled, reaching for the doorknob. “And in case the two of you didn’t notice I was the only one at the dinner table.”
Twins my ass, she thought, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. From the earliest memories she had, Gramps had always referred to the three of them as twins. No matter if one or three were around. It confused more than a few folk, but it was just Gramps.
She opened the door and a fresh gust of wind tickled her nostrils. For a moment she wasn’t sure who was standing on the porch. The lights weren’t on yet and it was already dark outside.
“Hey.”
Bobbi hoped the weird little squeak she heard in her head hadn’t made its way into the outside world, but judging from the small smile Shane sported, that wasn’t the case.
“I would have called but I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”
Shane’s rakish grin was offset by the thick waves that curled from beneath his plain black toque. A cream colored turtleneck kept him warm beneath a North Face coat, though he wore jeans and his regular boots.