Chain Reactions

by Lynn Ames

  Diana swallowed hard and withdrew from Nora’s touch. “Well, you might change your mind when you hear the full story.”

  “There isn’t anything you can say that will make me love you any less.”

  “How about that I’m a lesbian?”

  Nora nodded slowly. The admission didn’t come as a shock to her. “Is that why you don’t talk to your folks anymore?”

  Diana laughed mirthlessly. “More like the reason they don’t talk to me. I’m an embarrassment to their sensibilities, something intolerable and abhorrent.”

  Nora sighed and closed her eyes. She’d hoped that somehow Robert and Edwina had broadened their minds over the years. When she opened her eyes, Diana was staring at a spot on the floor, discomfort and defeat evident in her posture. Well, that wouldn’t do at all.

  “I’m sorry for you. I’m sorry your grandfather taught his son to be as small and narrow minded as he was.” She frowned. “Your father always was a daddy’s boy. The sun rose and set on Bill for him. All the time I knew him, Robert tried everything to win Bill’s approval. I could’ve saved him a lot of time and heartache; Bill never cared about anybody but himself. I never understood how he got to be that way. Our parents didn’t raise us like that.”

  Diana met her gaze. “You don’t seem the least bit fazed by my sexuality.”

  She shrugged. “Why would I be?”

  “Why…?” Diana blinked. “Your generation…”

  “Look. I’ve lived a long time. Long enough to see too many wars, too much hatred, and never enough love.” She paused. “Are you happy?”

  “Am I…?”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  Diana blanched.

  “Well, do you?”

  “No. I was in a long-term relationship for twelve years, and then Bethany decided she should’ve played around more before settling down. Our life was too staid. I was too boring.”

  Nora raised an eyebrow. “Too boring, eh? Well, her loss. She probably wasn’t good enough for you, anyway.” Another cough rumbled up in her chest and she grabbed for the box of tissues on the end table.

  Again, Diana rubbed circles on her back as she fought her way through the spasms. When the episode was over, Nora fell back against the seat cushions. Her breathing was shallow and her chest felt as though someone were sitting on it.

  After several moments, Diana asked, “What does the doctor say?”

  She shook her head.

  “How long?”

  “It’s an inexact science, but not long now.”

  Diana got up, grabbed her glass from the end table, and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with water and helped Nora hold it while she drank.

  “What’s the diagnosis?”

  “Advanced small cell lung cancer.”

  Diana nodded as tears once again filled her eyes. “Is that why you had your lawyer call me?”

  She struggled, and failed, to sit up straighter. She hated that these coughing jags robbed her of her energy.

  “I should go,” Diana said. “You need to get some rest.”

  She closed her eyes momentarily as she tried to gather her strength. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to hear. “This damned disease takes a lot out of me. The doctor says it might also have something to do with my age. Seems some people consider one hundred old.” She winked.

  Diana offered a sad smile. “You need to lie down. Can I help you into your bedroom?”

  As independent as she was, she recognized she was too weak and exhausted to get herself into the wheelchair and from that onto the bed. “That would be most helpful.”

  When Diana had her situated in bed, with pillows propped behind her and a glass of water on the night table, Nora asked the question that weighed heavily on her. “Will you be coming back?”

  “I booked a bed and breakfast in Provincetown. I’ll be back first thing in the morning. Will you be all right until then?”

  “You could’ve stayed with me. I have a guest bedroom.”

  “I didn’t want to impose.”

  She felt herself starting to drift. What Diana meant, she was sure, was that she wasn’t certain she wanted Nora back in her life at this late stage.

  “We’re family,” she murmured. “There’s no such thing as an imposition.” Warm lips brushed against her forehead.

  “Sleep well, Aunt Nora.”

  “I love you, Diana. Always have. Always will.” She heard the quiet click of the front door closing.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Diana stood with her hands inside the pouch of her hoodie. Her bare feet sunk into the sand, soaking up the remaining warmth from the day’s heat. The wind flowed through her hair, brushing it off her face. She watched as the sun set, the orange glow on the horizon disappearing from sight, leaving behind faint pastel streaks across the darkening sky. Her thoughts scattered like the swirling wind, impressions overlapping like the grains of sand slipping between her toes.

  She hadn’t been the cool, calm, consummate professor of neuroscience and neurobiology today. No, she’d been that devastated little girl, looking for answers, longing for love and acceptance.

  The woman she remembered as larger-than-life, vibrant, effervescent, young, and endlessly fascinating, was dying. Her frail, fragile, faded, elderly great-aunt barely resembled the dashing figure Diana recalled with ease.

  How could it be that the reunion she had dreamed of for so long would serve as Aunt Nora’s last act? It hardly seemed fair. Diana stopped short. “Last week, you weren’t even sure you wanted to see Aunt Nora or talk to her. Now you’re mourning her loss before she’s even gone. Make up your mind, D.”

  She reviewed what Aunt Nora shared about her parents and Grandpa Bill. Those facts didn’t jive with the narrative she’d been fed as a steady diet in her formative years. Whom should she believe? Which source was more trustworthy? A scientist would evaluate the available data and reach an objective conclusion. Her father told her Aunt Nora worked for the government on top secret projects and traveled frequently. Her mother insisted Aunt Nora shunned the family and didn’t have either the time or the desire to remain in touch.

  What was it her grandfather had said about his older sister? She’d been twelve when Grandpa Bill died suddenly of a heart attack. She remembered she didn’t enjoy spending time with him. He was a stern, joyless man—such a sharp contrast to Aunt Nora’s gentle, teasing, loving demeanor. In truth, she resented that Grandpa Bill wasn’t Aunt Nora.

  Her eyes popped open wide as an image crystalized. She’d had a bad day, and her parents had insisted they were too busy to pick her up from school. In the past when this happened, Aunt Nora would drive her home, they would talk about whatever piece of science Diana was studying, and Aunt Nora would devise an experiment they would conduct together to solidify the lesson in Diana’s mind.

  In this particular instance, several months after Aunt Nora’s abrupt departure, Grandpa Bill was coming for her and Diana was in no mood to filter her feelings.

  “Where’s Aunt Nora?”

  “Not here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  “That’s not a reason.”

  “Don’t sass me, young lady.”

  “When will she be back?”

  “She’s never coming back.”

  It was after uttering those words that Grandpa Bill spat on the ground and muttered something under his breath, too low for her to hear. The two of them never spoke of Aunt Nora again.

  Diana wondered if Aunt Nora knew her brother was dead. She made a mental note to ask her in the morning.

  A large wave broke close to the shore and she jumped back in order to avoid getting splashed. She rolled her pant legs up one more turn and walked a little farther down the beach, reaching into the recesses of her mind for glimpses of moments she’d done her best to leave in the past.

  Inevitably, her thoughts turned to late spring, 1998. She was about to receive her doctoral degree
in neurobiology and behavior from Columbia University. Her parents had driven into the city from their home in Greenwich, Connecticut, to take her for a celebratory dinner in the Crystal Room at the fabled Tavern on the Green restaurant in Central Park.

  “Your father and I are so proud of you,” her mother gushed.

  “Thank you.” She dug into the petit filet mignon with gusto.

  “That’s right, pumpkin. We still can’t figure out where you got the math and science gene from. It sure wasn’t either of us.” Robert Lindstrom buried a piece of lobster tail in melted butter.

  Diana bit her lip, something she often did when weighing whether or not to risk a confrontation with her parents. For once, they’d been having such a nice time. Still, she was only going to get her Ph.D. once. Maybe, just maybe…

  “I know where I get it from,” Diana ventured.

  “What?”

  “My aptitude for science. Do you remember all those neat experiments Aunt Nora used to do with me when I was little? She was a genius!”

  Her father’s back stiffened at the mention of his aunt, but Diana was determined to push on anyway. “Do you know where she is and how I could get in touch with her? I bet she’d come to graduation if I invited her.”

  She peeked up just in time to see a look pass between her parents. After several awkward moments, during which the only sound at the table was the clanking of silverware against the plates, her father said, “Aunt Nora is dead, so you can stop this fantasy that someday she’ll just show up on your doorstep.”

  The words cut through her like an arctic blast and she shivered. “Aunt Nora died? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her mother shrugged. Her father said, “Her name hasn’t come up in years. We didn’t think there was any need to talk about it.”

  She dropped her fork and knife on the plate, the clatter loud enough to draw the attention and disapprobation of nearby diners. “Aunt Nora is the reason I became interested in science in the first place. She’s the reason I’m about to graduate with high honors. I always was driven by how proud she’d be of me if she knew.”

  “We’re the ones who paid for your education, young lady.” Her father pointed his fork at Diana. “Not Aunt Nora. Us.”

  “I got a scholarship. A full ride, or have you forgotten that?”

  Her mother broke in. “Don’t you dare—”

  “I can’t believe you kept this from me. I can’t believe it.”

  She pushed her chair back and ran from the restaurant. She kept running until she couldn’t see through the tears. Then she flopped down on a park bench and put her head in her hands. All her dreams of walking across the stage on graduation day, looking out into the audience and seeing Aunt Nora beaming proudly at her…

  Diana wiped the moisture from her cheeks. It was true that Aunt Nora hadn’t seen her walk across that stage, but clearly she had kept track—she’d said as much.

  Diana bent down, picked up a stone worn smooth by the ebb and flow of the ocean, and skimmed it through the waves. She had no doubt it was Aunt Nora who’d been telling the truth. Why had everyone else lied to her?

  Tomorrow. She would start to get answers tomorrow.

  Brooke Sheldon stopped running, held up a hand, and bent over to catch her breath. “No más, Daniel. You win.”

  “Say that again, this time a little louder? I’m not sure I heard you correctly.” Dr. Daniel Goodwin jogged in place next to his best friend.

  “Don’t push it.”

  “You’re getting soft in your old age.”

  “Old age?” She gave him a playful shove. “Fifty is the new twenty, or haven’t you gotten the memo?”

  “I must’ve missed that one.”

  “Well, it’s true.” She inhaled the salty ocean air. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

  He checked his watch. “I’ve only got about half an hour. I need to get on the road, and I’ve got a special stop to make along the way.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.” She led them to the parking lot. “Meet you at the usual place.”

  When they were settled at an outdoor table, Daniel said, “How are you feeling?”

  Brooke removed the lid from her coffee cup and blew on the hot liquid. “Is that a doctor question or a friend question?”

  “The latter. From where I’m sitting, it looks like the change of scenery is helping.”

  She nodded. “It is. I just couldn’t take losing one more patient, you know?”

  “I do. Dana-Farber is a fabulous institution, and Lord knows we improve patients’ outcomes and make extraordinary breakthroughs, but the morbidity rate takes a toll.”

  “Especially in peds. Losing a six year old before he gets to take his first bike ride. That just…” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. She knew Daniel understood. It’s why she’d left the cancer institute for the quiet of Provincetown, and why he’d gotten himself reassigned from the pediatric floor to geriatrics.

  Brooke decided it was time to change the subject. “Was I right about getting a weekend place out here, or what?”

  “As always, you were right. I love it here. A beachfront cottage is a nice counterpoint to the rigors of the job, even though it’s only an occasional reprieve. And Orleans is close enough that it’s not a bad commute back to Boston and close enough in the other direction so that I can buzz out here to check up on my friend, about whom I’ve been worrying way too much.”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

  He leaned forward and regarded her intently. “You know you can’t run away from the world, right? You’ve been out of circulation for months. Renting a house at the end of the Cape is an admirable way to escape, but what are you going to do next?”

  She looked away. “I don’t know. I need more time.”

  “What you’re going to need is money. I know you invested wisely, but I also know that you couldn’t have socked enough away as an oncology nurse to retire at fifty.”

  She hated that he was right. But every time she sat down to think about her future, she came back to the same thing—watching children suffer, even if she could positively affect their long-term outcome—took too much out of her. She’d lost three relationships to the job, three good women, all of whom left because she gave everything she had to the children and had too little left to give at home.

  “Listen,” Daniel said. “What if I had the perfect solution?”

  She scoffed. “There is no such thing.”

  “Hear me out. Do you remember Dr. Lindstrom?”

  “Nora Lindstrom? Of course. She’s a legend. She did more to help us understand and treat childhood leukemia than almost any other researcher except for Sid Farber. The thing I most admired about her, though, was that she never hid herself away in the lab. She would show up on the floor and talk to the staff about the patients, and then she would visit with the kids to cheer them up. She was one of a kind.”

  “Right. She’s the stop I’m making on my way back to Beantown.”

  “Dr. Lindstrom is on the Cape?”

  “She bought herself a cottage on the harbor in Truro when she retired.”

  “Good for her. But, my God, she must be over ninety.”

  He walked to the trash can and deposited his empty cup before returning to the table. “Just turned one hundred last month.”

  “Wow! That’s amazing.”

  “She’s phenomenal. Living on her own and still sharp as a tack.”

  “Imagine the knowledge she has and the stories she could tell.” Brooke polished off the last of her coffee.

  “Come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Come with me to see her.”

  “I can’t just… She’s not expecting me.”

  “She’s not expecting me, either. But I’m here, she’s my patient, and it’ll save one of her neighbors bringing her all the way to DFCI to see me in the office tomorrow.”

&nbs
p; “Did you say she’s your patient?”

  “Yeah. End stage small cell lung cancer.”

  “Oh, no. That’s horrible.”

  “It is.”

  “You know that breaks doctor-patient confidentiality. You shouldn’t be talking to me about this without Dr. Lindstrom’s permission.”

  “Unless I’m having a professional consultation.”

  She noted the glint in his eye. “What are you saying?”

  “I told you. I have an idea.”

  “Whatever it is, count me out.”

  “Don’t say that until you hear my proposal.”

  “Daniel—”

  He pushed on. “I’m going to refer Dr. Lindstrom to hospice tomorrow.”

  “How sad.”

  “It gets worse.”

  “How in the world can it get worse than that?”

  “She’s all alone,” he said softly.

  Brooke recoiled in horror. “How is it possible that a woman like that has no one?”

  “I can’t answer that. She wanted to leave all the decision making to me. I told her she couldn’t do that. I insisted she find a relative or loved one who would step in. In the end, grudgingly, she admitted that she has a great-niece who’s a professor at Columbia University Medical School.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Yes. At least there’ll be someone who can handle her affairs and carry out her wishes. But you and I both know that the great-niece won’t be able to stay out here. Fall semester just started. I’m sure she’s locked into teaching a full course load.”

  “Where are you going with all this, Daniel?”

  He fidgeted in his seat. “Dr. Lindstrom is going to need expert care.”

  “Uh-huh. You just said you’re going to have her invoke hospice.”

  “I did. But hospice can only do so much. She’s going to need full-time care. There’s no way she can live alone safely without it now.”

  “She could move into an assisted living facility or skilled nursing home and have hospice care there,” Brooke offered.

  “Maybe, but she’s fiercely private and independent and wants to stay in her own home.”