by Elena Aitken
“Can you believe this?” Christy greeted Cam with a hug, pulling her in for a tight squeeze. “I’ve been thinking about it all night. I can’t even…”
“Christy? What?” Cam detached herself from her friend’s grip and stared at her friend. “Your hair?” It wasn’t just her hair, though. Christy was dressed in distressed jeans and a bright-green v-neck top that made her newly red hair shine. “You look so…”
“Do you like it?”
“I do,” Cam said truthfully. “It’s different. But I like it.”
“Oh, good.” Christy looked visibly relieved. “Mark said he liked it but I’m not really sure if he meant it and—”
“Hello?”
At the sound of Drew’s voice at the door, Christy and Cam exchanged glances. Cam nodded and together they went to greet their friend.
It was always good to be back together in the same room, but given the circumstances, there was no celebrating.
Cam settled them around the kitchen table and poured everyone a cup of coffee. She’d dug a box of cookies out of the pantry and placed them on a plate in the center of the table, but no one was eating.
“I wish Amber were here.” Christy looked to be on the verge of tears, and Cam silently hoped she wouldn’t cry. It was going to be a hard-enough morning.
“Me too,” Drew said. “But I’ll call her later. I feel so fortunate that the two of you are here. I mean, I never thought I’d be moving back to Timber Creek.” She looked down into her coffee cup. “And I certainly never thought it would be because my…”
She let the sentence drift off, and no one pushed for more.
Finally, it was Christy who asked, “Is it cancer?”
Drew nodded. “Pancreatic cancer. It’s been…” She shook her head. “It’s been a crazy year.”
“A year?” Cam stared at her friend. “You’ve known about this for a year and didn’t say anything?”
“Drew.” Christy reached across the table and took her friend’s hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? Oh my God, you were just here and…that’s why Eric didn’t come.”
Drew nodded.
“I thought maybe you were having problems.” The words sounded dumb even as Cam said them. “I meant…you know what I meant.”
Drew smiled a little. “I know you all would have totally been there for me, but the truth is, we didn’t want to tell anyone. When Eric was first diagnosed, we were optimistic and didn’t think anyone needed to know. Eric was convinced he could beat it. I mean, he was young, fit, strong.”
Cam didn’t miss the use of the word was. She flinched a little and hoped Drew hadn’t noticed.
“And then when it became clear that maybe it wouldn’t be as easy as he thought it would be, well, we didn’t really know what to say. Eric insisted on not worrying anyone. He was still so sure he could…well, let’s just say that it took him a little longer to accept what was happening to us.”
“But now?” It was Christy who asked.
Drew nodded. “Now he’s closer to accepting it. I mean, he has but I think he still holds out hope.”
“I guess you’d have to,” Cam said.
“I guess.” Drew shrugged. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I still pray every night for a miracle that will keep my husband here with us.” A tear slipped from Drew’s eye. She didn’t bother to wipe it. “But I think I’m a little more practical. I also know the survival statistics aren’t good and we’ve tried almost everything. We need time to get things in order and to…well, time to just be without the drug trials, the treatments, and the hospitals. You know what I mean?”
Cam nodded, although she really had no idea. She simply couldn’t imagine what Drew was going through. Her friend still looked so composed and self-assured. She knew Drew must be a mess on the inside, but she’d always been strong. Physically, she reminded Cam of a porcelain doll, but they all knew better. Drew was tough. Even so, no amount of toughness or inner strength could possibly prepare a person to go through the pain of watching your husband die.
It had been a hard night. After the phone call that had interrupted the dinner Christy had so clearly put extra care into, just for them, whatever mood they’d been trying to recreate had been ruined.
The fact that it hadn’t been just the phone call that had ruined their evening, but also his news about the ultra-marathon, didn’t seem an important detail anymore.
Mark had debated with himself all night whether he’d done the right thing by encouraging Christy to answer Drew’s call. Obviously he’d known what Drew was calling to tell her. He could have encouraged her to let the call go to voice mail so they could have spent the evening together, and maybe he should have. Maybe they would have been able to talk about his decision to run, and maybe she would have pushed back a little more. Truthfully, he’d wanted her to push back a little more. He’d wanted her to care; maybe even part of him wanted her to tell him not to do it, to spend the time with her instead. But she hadn’t.
So he’d let her answer the phone.
He was used to dealing with life-and-death situations. Not that it got any easier, but he was stronger in that way than Christy was. He should have known she’d be distraught at hearing the news about Eric.
But whether he should have let her ignore the call or not, Mark knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid the topic. Even so, when she left to meet the girls for coffee, Mark went straight to the store to buy her a big bouquet of flowers. It was his way of trying to tell her that he appreciated the gesture of the dinner the night before, he loved her and…well, hopefully she wouldn’t think they were just guilt flowers.
Just to be sure, he scratched a quick note:
Can’t wait to see you tonight.
Love, Mark
* * *
He probably should have come up with something a little more original, but it was the truth and he’d never been very good with words.
Office hours didn’t start for another few hours, and despite the fact that there was a “honey-do” list on the fridge that had more than enough chores on it to keep him busy for a morning, he changed into his running clothes, tied up his runners and went to burn off some energy. Running had always allowed him the opportunity to think things through, and after Eric had come into his office the day before, informing him that he needed Mark to act as his respite care doctor and allow him to die as easily as possible, he had a lot he needed to process. Never mind everything else going on.
Besides, he was now officially in training. Although that seemed a whole lot less important at the moment.
It only took Mark a few minutes to fall into his stride. Just as he had been the last few times he’d been out running, he pushed himself to go faster, run harder and farther.
The burn in his lungs and the ache in his muscles as he demanded his body to push harder felt good. It made him feel alive.
Alive.
He shook his head and tried to push thoughts of Eric from his mind. The man had asked him to help him die gracefully and ease him through as many days as he had left. However many that was. And he’d do his best, too. Eric was a friend, and even if they weren’t close, their wives were and that made them practically family as far as he was concerned. He’d do anything and everything he could to help because he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be not only for Eric, but also for Drew and their little boy.
Maybe the one thing that was worse than not actually being a father was being one and knowing that in only a few months you’d be leaving your son fatherless.
The thought spurred Mark on, and he pushed harder in his run. He was breathing so hard, his eyes blurred with sweat, he hardly noticed the woman sitting on the grass next to the path. He ran past her before his brain had a moment to register what he’d seen—a woman holding her foot, obviously in pain. He took a couple strides to slow his pace before turning around and jogging back toward her.
“Hey there,” Mark called before he was too close. He didn’t want to spook her by sneak
ing up on her. “Are you okay?”
He slowed to a walk as she looked up. She was clearly a runner as well, her athletically toned body dressed in only tights and a sports bra, her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. His eyes drifted to her foot. “Are you hurt?”
“Hi.” She dropped her hands in frustration. “It’s my stupid ankle. It’s been giving me a little trouble lately, and then wouldn’t you know it, I was totally lost in thought and got too close to the edge of the path here.”
Mark glanced down to the path. There was a definite edge where the concrete met the grass. He’d come close to slipping off it a time or two himself.
“I can take a look if you like. I’m a doctor. My practice is on Main Street. Timber Medical.”
“I know it.” She leaned back on her hands, sticking her leg out for him to examine. “I’m sure it’s just a sprain. But…since you’re here. If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Mark eased his six-foot-five frame to the ground and knelt in front of her. She had the long, lean legs of a serious runner. He lifted her foot gingerly and palpitated the ankle, looking for signs of something serious. “Does this hurt?”
“No.”
“How about this?”
The way she flinched and tried to pull her leg back was answer enough. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t do that again.” He moved his fingers slowly, asked her to bend her foot, which she could do, curl her toes, which she could also do and finally, the exam was done.
“I think you’re right. It’s just a slight sprain.” He looked up at her pretty face. Her lips turned down in a frown at his announcement and her bright-blue eyes dimmed. For the first time, he looked at her like a woman, and not a patient.
She was younger than him by a few years, but maybe it was just her sporty look that made him think that. Mark caught himself looking at her a moment too long before he remembered himself and put her leg down on the ground as gently as he could.
“I thought so.” She dropped her head back and looked up at the sky.
“At any rate, you should try not to put too much weight on it for a day or two. Ice and elevate. It should be fine in a few days, but I’d recommend that you start taping it up to make sure it’s as strong as it could be if you’re going to keep running.”
“Thank you.” She shook her head. “I think my friend has some crutches I can borrow. If I can make it home.”
“Where do you live?” The second it came out of his mouth, Mark realized the question probably sounded a bit creepy. “I mean…that’s not what I mean.”
“It’s okay. I parked over by River Park.”
“That’s not too far.” Mark wiped his hands. “I’ll help you to your car.”
She gave him a smile of thanks and groaned. “This is just so annoying. Last week, I committed to a huge race. This is the worst timing.”
“Well, at least it’s not broken.” Mark stood and helped the woman up. She balanced on her good foot and he supported her with an arm around her slender waist. He tried to ignore the closeness, and the fact that she smelled vaguely like oranges. “Besides,” he said. “It could always be worse.”
She laughed, a light, refreshing sound. “I suppose that’s true. I could have broken my leg, I guess. You’re right.”
Still supporting her, he held his other hand out. “My name’s Mark, by the way.”
She took it. “Alicia.”
“What’s your training plan?” he asked as they started to make their way slowly in the direction of the parking lot. “I just started training for an ultra-marathon.”
“No way.” Alicia whipped around so fast she almost lost her balance. “An ultra? Which one? I just signed up for Polar Peeks.”
“That’s the race you committed to?” Mark shook his head. “Me too.”
“Are you kidding?” She laughed again, and deep inside him, Mark realized how much he liked the sound and how her laughter made him want to smile. “What are the odds.”
He helped her the short distance to her car as they compared training notes and strategies.
“We could maybe get together sometime,” Alicia said as she unlocked her bright-blue Jeep. “To train, I mean.”
“Oh.” Mark waved her suggestion away, but the idea appealed, probably more than it should have. “I actually have a running partner.”
“Really?” Alicia made a show of looking around for Aaron, who obviously wasn’t there. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Well, I don’t run with him all the time.”
She smiled and once again it surprised Mark that he noticed the way it made her face light up. “Maybe for those times you don’t run with him,” she suggested. “My running schedule can vary but I’m for sure here every Tuesday and Thursday night at seven. Keep it in mind.” She sat in the driver’s seat and unrolled the window. “Thank you for helping me out, Mark. It was nice to meet you.”
“You too, Alicia.” He shifted from foot to foot, oddly nervous. “You take care of that ankle.” He shifted into doctor mode. “Make sure you don’t push yourself to start running again, and tape it up just to be safe.”
“Will do, Doc.” She smiled again. “And maybe I’ll see you out here again.”
As she drove off, Mark stared after her, stunned. What had just happened? He couldn’t remember even one time since he’d been with Christy feeling the way he just had about another woman. Especially not a woman he’d known for all of ten minutes. It had to be stress. Stress and all the pressure he’d been under.
And there was only one sure-fire way Mark knew to relieve pressure. He watched as the Jeep rounded the corner and disappeared before he turned back to the path and once again started to run.
After spending the morning with Drew and Cam, Christy was wrung out. She’d done her best not to cry when Drew explained the way they’d discovered Eric’s diagnosis and how for the last few months they’d tried every treatment available to them, including a number of experimental drug trials. The thing that sat with Christy the most wasn’t the devastation of the original diagnosis, but the subsequent roller coaster of emotional highs and lows that Drew had been on for the last twelve months.
With each new drug trial, or treatment option, she’d been hopeful and excited, thinking only the best thoughts because she had no other option except to be positive about the outcome. And when ultimately the treatment didn’t work or the drugs failed to make a noticeable impact on the cancer, she’d been plunged into depression and devastation that she couldn’t even dwell in because she had little Austin to think of.
Austin.
The thought of Drew’s little boy made Christy want to cry all over again because as much as she’d done her best to control her own emotions, she’d mostly failed. She felt guilty for being sad, but Drew wouldn’t hear of it.
“You’re allowed to feel whatever you need to feel,” Drew told her. “I know this isn’t just about me. It affects all of us. It’s okay.”
Her friend’s understanding only made her feel worse. After all, she wasn’t the one losing her husband.
She still had hers.
Even if some days it didn’t feel like it.
After she left Cam’s house, Christy contemplated just going home and spending the afternoon baking cookies or puttering in her garden the way she used to. Pulling weeds from her flower beds always made her feel better. But for some reason, the thought of going home only unsettled her. She wandered aimlessly up the street away from Cam’s house before reaching into her purse for the piece of paper with the phone number on it that Jamie had given her the day before.
She still didn’t believe she was actually good enough to rehearse with them. He’d just been nice so he wouldn’t hurt her feelings. She knew that.
But still.
Christy ran her fingers over the piece of paper and she traced the numbers Jamie had written down.
“Oh, what the hell?”
Before she could change her mind, she pulled her cell phone out an
d typed in a quick message.
It’s Christy. From the Log and Jam yesterday.
Were you serious about rehearsing?
She punched in the number and sent the message before she could chicken out. She watched as the text bubble changed colors on her phone, indicating that the message had been sent. Christy stared at the screen for another few seconds before she laughed at herself and put her phone back in her purse. She was a grown woman; she couldn’t stand in the middle of the street, staring at a phone like a teenager.
But a moment later when her phone beeped, she snatched it up quickly and squealed when she saw Jamie had texted her back.
Of course.
We’re rehearsing right now.
201 Elm Drive
* * *
An address? He’d given her an address. He actually wanted her to rehearse with them. For real.
Christy bit back the urge to squeal again. But she couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face.
There were so many reasons why she shouldn’t go running off to an address that a stranger had sent her. Hell, there were a million reasons why it was a terrible idea. Nonetheless, now that the idea was in her head, there was no way she could get it out again.
After a quick consultation with her cell phone and the map feature, she was on her way. Less than ten minutes later, she stood outside a garage, the muffled sounds of a band practicing on the other side of the wall, pulsing through her.
What would Mark say about her singing with a bunch of strange men?
Christy almost laughed at the idea. Mister Straight-laced play by the rules. Mark would stare at her as though she had three heads and tell her that there was no way she should even consider going into a strange man’s garage.
He could be a serial killer.
But he wasn’t strange and he definitely wasn’t a serial killer. He was Jamie.
Not that she knew much more than that. But she’d always been a decent judge of character and Jamie seemed like a nice guy. Decent. There was nothing about him that had sent up any red flags for Christy. Quite the opposite. Besides, he had nice eyes.