Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story)

by Loomis, Lisa

  Chapter 50

  We spent the next several months talking to different doctors and doing research. Mom was more focused on planning the wedding than her health. She and I spent time shopping for her dress, deciding on a menu, getting invitations out, and all the other details. I let her push it along because it was what she wanted. In between, we went to the beach and took walks and drank martinis at Jake’s Restaurant, and now and then we talked about death. I looked at my life in minutes now, and promised myself to treasure them all. To drink in all that I could of her.

  Dad and Pat refused to believe we would not find a solution. They both were in complete denial about the probability of her dying. That left Ryan and me as the ones she could talk honestly with about any negative thoughts she had.

  She confessed to keeping the doctor visits to herself, not wanting to alarm anyone. She went initially because she felt fatigued. Once they found her to be anemic and started the battery of testing, she kept it quiet because they were coming back inconclusive. Why worry us when there was nothing to worry about? She told us she was gardening one day during the testing and had a premonition that it wasn’t going to be good news when it came. I pictured her in her garden, something she enjoyed doing, her pink gloves, remembered the day I came to tell her about Ryan and I moving in together.

  We found a doctor at UCLA who thought there might be a small chance he could get at the cancer and seed it with radiation that would kill it. It was a long shot, but we all agreed she had to try, and she went into surgery again two months before the wedding. The hope the doctor gave us was like a lifeline, and we hung onto it tightly. When it didn’t work, it was another big blow to all of us except Mom. Through everything, she took on a Pollyanna attitude, always looking at the bright side. If she wasn’t feeling well, well, tomorrow would be a better day.

  It was a windy, cool day on the beach, but the sun was out. It was just the two of us, and still she wanted to walk alone. I sat on the rocks and watched her in her jeans rolled up to her knees to keep them from getting wet and a light pink jacket. I watched her move along the shore, her gray hair tossed around by the breeze, bending now and then to pick up a rock or shell from the beach. It was late in the day, and the sunlight spread itself across the water. It was beautiful, the sun reflective in the water, which ran up on to the beach, the blue sky with colors streaked through it; the pinks in the sky almost matching her jacket.

  I got out my camera and took pictures of her against the ocean. It didn’t seem possible that she could be dying right before my eyes. How much more time would I have? Ryan had to listen to me ponder this often, and many times angrily. He was such a saint: helpful and supportive in everything he did. I felt guilty, as this should be a happy time for him, planning a wedding, his wedding. Mom wouldn’t allow many moments of sadness; it wasn’t in her makeup.

  “Don’t look so serious. What are you thinking about?” Mom asked pulling me back.

  I looked up, and she was standing next to me, her hands full of treasures she’d picked up, her feet covered in sand, her hair blowing across her face. I realized I’d stopped watching her, had drifted off in my thoughts. She flipped her head to the side to try and get her hair out of her face. She was still here for now; I smiled at her. Why do you have to go?

  “Ryan,” I answered with a grin.

  “As you should be,” she said. “You got yourself a good one in Ryan. I’m so thankful everything worked out.”

  She set her rocks and shells on the towel next to me and wiped her hands on her jeans.

  “I think it’s time for a martini,” she said.

  “Couldn’t agree more,” I said, standing, brushing the sand from my own pants.

  I climbed off the rock and joined her on the sand, which was cool on my bare feet. She linked her arm through mine, and we headed towards Jake’s. Remember this day. It was early for the dinner crowd, so we were able to get our favorite table by the window. Some of the treatments she’d been getting had made her weak and I was helping her get her jacket off when the waiter arrived.

  “What can I get you ladies today?” he asked in an upbeat manner, pulling the chair out for Mom.

  “Two gin martinis, straight up, dry, and dirty,” I answered.

  I set my bag down and took the chair opposite her.

  “Two olives please,” Mom added politely.

  “You got it,” he said, leaving us.

  I watched him walk away. He was short, but he had a good build, brown hair with light streaks in it. He looked like a surfer type, probably waiting tables so he could surf. He was young, and I suddenly wondered if he’d ever dealt with someone he loved dying. I wondered if anything had ever turned his world upside down and knew that at some point in his life something would. It was too sad. I looked at Mom. She was staring out the window.

  “Why did you want to walk alone?” I asked.

  “To be alone with my thoughts. Don’t you ever feel like that?” she asked.

  I understood what she meant.

  “I guess.”

  She lifted her chin and squinted as if she saw something interesting outside. I followed her gaze: a woman with a small girl trying to fly a kite.

  “Were they sad thoughts?” I asked.

  “No. Just memories. It’s funny how so many things can flood back that you’ve forgotten about. There are so many pieces to a life, like a puzzle,” she said.

  She seemed far away, so I waited for her to come back to me, observing every inch of her face, trying to burn it into my mind.

  “What do we have to do next week for the wedding?” she asked, suddenly turning to me.

  “Flowers,” I answered as the waiter set down the martinis.

  I picked up the frosted glass and took a sip; it was perfect.

  “Yum,” Mom said.

  Snapshots ran through my head: the places and times we had shared a cocktail or a glass of wine. Times we enjoyed each other’s company, and the laughter that went with it. I saw us on our last trip up the coast when I was heartbroken about Ryan, and she was trying desperately to make it better, to kiss the boo-boo away.

  “Ryan’s been so great about letting us do so much of the planning together. I know he’s backed off from some of it because he knows you want to be involved. He’s coming with us for flowers, though; I want him to be there,” I said.

  She smiled.

  “While I was away, and Ryan kept coming to talk, why did you keep pushing him? What made you believe we were meant to be together?” I asked.

  “I never pushed him, Morgan. I don’t want you to ever think that, to ever think I had the ability to convince him of anything,” she said.

  She fidgeted, and I knew she wished she could have a cigarette.

  “From the moment I saw Ryan look at you, that very first time in Park City, I thought he loved you. The sparkle I saw in his eyes, men don’t get that over just any girl. Then I doubted myself over the years because the two of you danced around one another. When you started dating, I thought you both had finally figured it out. I knew you had because we talked about it,” she said.

  She stopped for a minute, seeming to collect her thoughts.

  “I didn’t see Ryan’s hiccup coming. When you broke up, I saw a man who was desperately in love, but who wasn’t seeing it himself. He expressed some fears, but most of the time he talked about how you made him feel, and how much fun the two of you had together. I was his sounding board. I listened so he could hear himself. What he finally realized is that the good in you far overshadowed any of the fears.”

  “I feel bad you were so involved and had to go through so much with us,” I said.

  “Nonsense, I wanted to be there, for both of you,” she said slowly rolling her head to one side.

  “Mom, what makes you sad, about now, I mean? You won’t let me talk about it very often. I know you don’t want us sad, but we are anyway,” I said.

  She looked at me and smiled, then took a sip of her drink. When she set
it down, she looked out the window at the ocean again and contemplated.

  “Overall, I’ve had a good life,” she started. “It makes me sad it’s not going to be longer. Sad I have to leave all of you, miss things. I won’t get to experience so much of what will come in your’s and Pat’s lives. I’m sad that Dad and I have gotten close again because I’ll never know if we could have gotten it back, be in love again. Sad I won’t get to see your and Ryan’s babies. Sad I won’t get to walk on the beach and see the beauty of the world that surrounds us,” she said serenely.

  I watched her as she spoke. I hadn’t thought she would give me so much. She didn’t look at me. I was glad, as I could feel the tears pressing behind my eyes. I took a drink of my martini, letting her words sink into me. I watched the surfers sitting on their boards in the distance, and now and then one caught a wave.

  “Another round?” the waiter asked, breaking the silence.

  “Yes, please,” I said, my voice cracking.

  Mom looked at me when she heard it. I took a deep breath and focused, not letting the tears come.

  “You’ll see the babies, Mom, just from a different place,” I said softly. “When those babies come, you watch over them, okay? Be their angel.”

  She smiled. We’d talked about Heaven. Even though she’d “escaped” the Catholic trap at an early age, she still believed in God and Heaven. We understood without saying as much, that it would be from Heaven where she would be seeing the babies. I reached for her hand and held it tight. We went back to watching the ocean. She wanted to be cremated and had decided her ashes should go into the ocean. It was a place of comfort for her. I will always see you at the ocean.

  Chapter 51

  As plans came together for the wedding, she was getting progressively sicker. She ended up in emergency with another surgery a month before the wedding, and I truly feared we might lose her. She was so focused on being there that I couldn’t imagine what I would do if she didn’t make it, how I would put the pageantry in motion without her.

  “Ryan, it’s so damn tough to watch,” I said as I lay in his arms.

  “I know it is,” he said, stroking my hair.

  “What if she doesn’t make it? What will I do?”

  “She will. She’s determined, she’s tough,” he said, kissing me. “Just like her daughter.”

  “Tough can’t beat terminal cancer,” I said.

  He pulled me tighter to him. I needed him, and he knew it. I needed him to remind me that life would go on, even after, that the world would not stop spinning when she was gone. She wouldn’t want it to stop spinning. My job reminded me of that too. I had to go in and do normal routine things, things people got up every day to do. Ryan kissed me more passionately.

  “Make love to me,” I whispered to him.

  When he did, for a split second I could forget about the sadness, and concentrate on the two of us. Focus my thoughts on only him. Let him take me away from the pain on a magic carpet ride with his touch.

  Mom made it out of the hospital and actually had a good month. The night before the wedding, Mom, Gayle, and I stayed at the Rancho Bernardo Inn, and the three of us reminisced about old times. We dug deep in our memories to relive times we’d shared. I could tell that for her it was therapeutic, going back over her life. Not once did we talk about her being sick, there was no room for it.

  Liz, along with my other bridesmaids, arrived the next morning. We drank champagne and reminisced some more. We laughed so hard, we cried. Mom made me promise that I wouldn’t be sad on our honeymoon.

  “This is about you and Ryan, not about me” she said.

  I suspected that the large number of people who were coming from out-of-state had two reasons to be there. Even if she didn’t want an ounce of it to be about her, it was.

  “You look beautiful,” I said as the hairdresser finished her hair and makeup.

  She smiled at me in the mirror. This wonderful woman who gave me life, who became my best friend, now had to teach me life’s hardest lesson. I tried to envision life after she was gone, and I simply couldn’t. I reached out and ran my hand down her soft warm arm.

  The day started off with a light rain, and I was nervous because the ceremony was scheduled to be held outside. As we burned the morning away with more laughter, the sun finally decided to break through. It was almost as if she’d made it happen, had willfully wished the sun to shine, continuing to make the world right for me.

  “Looks like your day is shaping up,” Liz said, as I heard the slider being opened.

  I peeked around the corner of the dressing area at her and could see it was bright outside. The droplets hanging from the overhang glistening like crystals in the light.

  “Yeah, sunshine!” I said excitedly.

  I hadn’t seen Ryan for two days. He was spending time with his family in La Jolla where they were staying, and following tradition; I didn’t want to see him the night before the wedding. I thought about the phone call from Mathew, asking me if I was sure. Having come to some crazy conclusion that he was losing me forever. I couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, what had caused him to say, “there’s me”. There hadn’t been him for years and with all that was going on our past seemed silly, the whole Mathew ordeal. Mom, you listened through all that drama too.

  As we got closer to noon, there was a knock on the door and to my stunned surprise Mathew walked in. He looked incredible handsome and yet a little sad. I knew Ann and Brad were coming, had no idea he was. We talked in the bathroom and again he said he wanted to make certain I was sure about marrying Ryan. I was so sure. I understood how much better my life would be because Ryan had given me his whole heart.

  After Mathew’s departure Gayle helped me get into my dress and put on my veil. I looked at my reflection in the mirror as she adjusted the hairpiece. The girl that I saw certainly had been forced to grow up over the last year. Love finally sorted itself out, only to have life give me a completely different, crushing blow. I saw Gayle looking at me in the mirror, and our eyes locked.

  “She made it,” she whispered.

  I smiled and nodded my head slowly in acknowledgement.

  The sun was shining, and the setting was beautiful as Dad walked me down the aisle. I smiled at my mom seated in the front row. Pat fiddled nervously with his bow tie as he stood lined up with the groomsmen, with Ryan’s youngest brother, Tommy, being his best man. Ryan stood calmly at the flower-bedecked altar in his tux, looking so handsome it made my heart overflow with love. When Dad walked me down the aisle and turned me over to him, Ryan smiled and his blue eyes sparkled. I let out a small joyful laugh.

  The ceremony was a blur, then we were hustled off for pictures. Ryan looked at me with such love in his eyes it filled my heart. After pictures were finished we moved into the reception room where we moved about as a couple, talking with our guests. I watched as guest after guest made it to the table we were sitting at with my mom. She was radiant and enjoying her wine. I couldn’t help but smile—she always loved a good party.

  We delayed leaving on our honeymoon to spend a little more time with Ryan’s family, and for the party my parents threw at their house the day after the wedding. We opened gifts and drank cocktails by the pool. As excited as I was to be getting away with Ryan I was nervous that something could happen to Mom while we were away.

  Later that afternoon, I saw Ryan lace his arm through Mom’s and walk her out to the bench in the yard. I mingled with the guests outside as they talked, glancing their way occasionally to see if they were still there. At one point, I saw Ryan drop his head and focus on the patio. I looked from him to Mom, who was dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex. Ryan was trying to stay strong for me, but I knew it was ripping him up as well.

  We spent our honeymoon week in Kauai, enjoying each other, making love, and catching our breath. So much had occurred in such a short amount of time. Worse, we knew what we had to face when we got back home. We called home everyday so we could hear her voice, hear
the excitement in it when we told her about our day. Her dream for me had come true, and I wanted to share the happiness I was feeling. Ryan and I promised her no sick talk between us or with her, and we honored her request. For one short week, we felt sheltered from it.

  Once the wedding and honeymoon were over, she seemed to decline at a rapid pace, and within three months she was gone. It was one of the hardest things any of us ever had to watch. The pain of being helpless to prevent it was gut wrenching. To the very end, she never gave up, never stopped believing that something might change. She never let it get her down, and I marveled at her ability to keep up the Pollyanna attitude. The finality of her leaving us took days to sink in.

  Ryan and I spent a lot of time at my parents’, my dad’s, house now. The four of us—Dad, Pat, Ryan, and I—circling around each other, trying to perform the normal day-to-day things like getting a meal on the table. Pat and I talked and remembered and even managed to laugh. Dad seemed lost. In the ebb and flow of my parents’ love, he had realized they still loved each other.

  I suggested that, after the service was over, we go camping for a few days, and I made reservations at Van Damme State Park in Northern California. I figured a few days with nature and away from familiar things would be good for everyone. Force us to be together and talk amongst ourselves about our grief.

  In a strange way, her death was almost a relief; the pain and suffering she endured was over. The doctor visits, the chemotherapy that made her so sick, the utter failure of her body. The morphine finally stopped most of her pain near the end, but by then she didn’t know it. She had slipped into a coma the last two weeks. I told her that it was okay to go, and I made Pat and Dad do the same. I heard that sometimes it helped dying people if the living didn’t try to hold onto them.