Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
The first time I saw Roman Dante King, he stuck out like an odd puzzle piece that got mixed up in the wrong box. It wasn’t his blue eyes in the dim light of the bar, the tattoos that covered his arms and hands, or even his arrogant personality. It was something else—something I couldn’t see—that told me he didn’t belong in our small beach town on the Oregon coast.
Elora Mazie Barlow reminded me of a hummingbird zipping from one flower to another, never stopping, never allowing anyone more than a glimpse before she was gone. Never letting anyone in… until me. Then she gave me her smiles that were more valuable than anything I ever owned and wrapped me in her peace without asking for anything in return.
Her tragic story sounded achingly familiar to my own.
Our connection is knotted up in loss. The journey we’re on together will eventually come to an end. But will we be able to untangle the mess of strings that have tied us together?
Will we even want to?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
43.0760° N, 107.2903° W
Elora
With the weight of my mom’s shoulder pressed into mine, I flip through a travel magazine that’s so tattered that some of the images have started to disintegrate off the worn pages.
“I’ve always wanted to go to New Orleans,” Mom says wistfully when I turn the page to a photo of St. Louis Cathedral lit up at night.
“Really?” I ask, studying the pictures on the other page, photos of cobblestone roads, people drinking at cute bars, and couples walking hand in hand on sunlit streets.
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“You’ve never talked about it.”
“I’ve never had the money or the time to take a trip like that.” She laughs while my insides shrivel up. We’ve never had money—or at least not enough—so that’s never been a big deal to me. But time is something I always assumed we’d have plenty of.
“Millie Hart.”
Hearing Mom’s name, I get up and grab my purse along with hers, then take her hand as we walk across the waiting room toward Tiffany. The pretty redhead has worn an ever-present reassuring smile every time we’ve seen her. “How are you today, ladies?”
“Good, and you?” Mom asks as we walk down the cold hallway toward Dr. Howards’ office.
“All right. Jackson’s summer break started yesterday, so you’ll have to ask me that question again in a couple of weeks when he’s been home every single day.” She laughs, and Mom and I join in. Her son is a little older than the kids I teach at the preschool where I work, so I imagine having one of those little rascals around all summer when they’ve been at school all year would be a lot. Especially since he’s a boy. I mean, don’t get me wrong; girls can be a handful. But boys have an energy inside them that seems unlimited most days.
“Are you guys doing anything fun this summer?” I ask as Mom removes her shoes and steps onto the scale Tiffany stops in front of.
“I have to work, so he’ll be at camp for a few hours each day. Then, at the end of the summer, we’re taking a Disney cruise for a week, so that should be fun.” She jots down Mom’s weight.
“I’ve heard those are fun,” I say as Mom leans her weight into me and slips her shoes back on.
“Me too.” She pushes open the door across the hall and smiles at us. “Dr. Howards should be just a couple of minutes. Do you want any water while you wait?”
I look at Mom, and she shakes her head.
“I think we’re okay, thanks,” I tell Tiffany, and she nods before she backs out, closing the door.
As Mom gets settled in the seat next to me in front of the huge desk taking up most of his office, I look at all the plaques and framed newspaper clippings on the walls around the room. Each one showcases Dr. Howards’s accomplishments in the field of cancer.
“Millie, Elora.” Dr. Howards steps into the room, seeming so much older than the first time I met him eight years ago. “How are you feeling today, Millie?” His gaze becomes laser-focused on Mom as he takes a seat behind his desk.
“Great.” Her hand finds mine on the arm of my chair.
He nods, then steeples his fingers under his chin. “I got your labs from the blood work you did today. I wish I had better news, but your numbers don’t look good,” he says, and Mom’s cold fingers squeeze mine.
“Okay.”
“So what is the next step?” I ask him.
“Honey,” Mom whispers, and I look over at her. “I’m done.”
“What?”
“I’m done. I’m not trying any more treatments.”
“You still have options.” I turn to Dr. Howards. “She still has options, right?”
Her fingers around mine squeeze tight once again. “I don’t want to spend the last… however long I have left… in bed, because I’m so exhausted and can’t get up. I want to live.”
“You just said you’re done,” I bite out, getting angry.
“I’m done with chemo, radiation, and getting poked and prodded like some kind of science experiment, honey.”
“Tell her that she has to keep trying.” I look at Dr. Howards, pleading with my eyes. “Tell her we can do other things and have other options.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Mom repeats, and when I meet her gaze, the mask she’s worn for years has slipped. The pain I see in her eyes is so overwhelming my chest constricts while my knees turn to Jell-O. If I weren’t sitting, I know I would fall over.
“But what about me?” The question is whispered.
“You’ll be okay.”
Will I? She’s been my whole life, my entire life, and now I’m just supposed to start figuring out how I’ll survive without her? I can’t do that. She’s my best friend.
“Mom.”
“We still have time.”
“But how long?” Tears clog my throat, and she looks at Dr. Howards.