City on Fire (Danny Ryan, #1)(80)

“I don’t want to disturb her rest.”

“She’s not contagious, John.”

John’s eyes get watery. “It’s just so hard, you know, Danny.”

Harder on her, Danny thinks. And fuck you, John, you weak, selfish old prick. “Yeah, well . . . I know she’d love to see you.”

Catherine, she comes over almost too much, bringing casseroles—which do help a lot, Danny has to admit—and clean laundry, but she bugs the shit out of Terri.

And Danny.

“Can’t you make her eat, Danny?” she asks.

“She just throws it up, Catherine.”

“But she has to eat,” Catherine says. “She’s wasting away, poor thing. It’s those goddamn chemicals. I swear they’re worse than the cancer.”

Cassie comes around a lot, too, but she’s pitch-perfect with her sister, hanging out watching TV, playing with Ian, just shooting the shit. She’s usually there when Danny comes home, and he appreciates her.

She makes Terri laugh—“I don’t know, sis, lying there with a needle in your arm full of socially sanctioned drugs? I’m kind of jealous.”

As good as she is with Terri, she’s that good with the baby—holding him, feeding, bathing him with a gentle humor that calms the anxious boy.

“You ever think about having one of your own?” Danny asks her one time.

Cassie shakes her head. “Not for me.”

“You’re so good at it.”

“Not for me.”

He lets it go.

Ian’s first birthday arrives.

It’s a big deal and Terri wants to have a party, but Danny isn’t so sure. “Do you feel up to it?”

“No,” Terri says. “But how many of his birthdays am I going to have?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Danny says.

“I want my son to have a birthday party.”

“He’s one,” Danny says. “He won’t know.”

“I’ll know,” Terri says.

That settles it.

Terri wants to have it at their place, which makes no freakin’ sense because it’s so small and she invites the entire family. So Danny goes out and buys a Carvel’s, a bunch of cold cuts, some bread, beer, wine, and soda for Cassie.

The whole crew crowds into their place: John and Catherine, Sheila and Johnny, Cassie, Jimmy Mac and Angie, Liam and Pam, and Bernie Hughes. Danny drives down in the morning and picks up Marty and Ned. The Altar Boys drop by and bring a toy truck that Ian is far too young to use, but it’s a nice thought anyway.

They stick one candle into the Carvel ice cream cake and Terri blows it out for Ian, who proceeds to get more of the cake on his face than in his mouth. They sing “Happy Birthday” and open presents and it’s actually a pretty nice time but Danny sees that Terri is getting tired, and Cassie picks up on it and says she has to be going as a broad hint that everyone should leave.



One member of the family who isn’t there is Madeleine.

Terri invited her on the sly without telling Danny, but she reluctantly declined, not wanting to cause any problems between the couple.

Instead, she holds a little party of her own, replete with a small cake, a candle, and presents that she bought for Ian. Not gifts for a one-year-old, but for a three-year old, figuring on a two-year plan that will reconcile her with her son and give her access to her grandson.

A big toy truck.

Some clothes.

And the pony that now grazes the pasture with Manny’s Thoroughbreds.

So now Madeleine sits, looks at the cake and thinks about the phone calls she made to the best oncologist in Rhode Island and to the hospital.

“I want you to provide Terri Ryan with the very best treatment in existence,” she told them, “regardless of cost. Send the bills to me. Just one thing—neither she or her husband are to know. Just tell them that insurance covers it or something.”

“I’m not sure of the medical ethics of that,” the doctor said.

“I couldn’t care less about the medical ethics,” Madeleine said. “What’s it going to take? A contribution to the hospital? A new wing, perhaps? Do you have a favorite charity?”

Madeleine gets it done; she always does.

She only hopes that it’s enough.

She sings “Happy Birthday” and blows out the candle.



The summer moves along into September.

Danny’s favorite month. The beaches are empty, the water is still warm and the sky still blue.

And Terri is dying.

The doctors, the chemo, and the surgeries can’t stop the fucking cancer.

Danny learns another word: “metastasize.”

The cancer spreads to Terri’s liver.

The doctors give her months.

Like that’s a gift, Danny thinks, like it’s theirs to give. Like they’re little gods, handing out life and death.

September gives way to October and then suddenly it’s Thanksgiving, and a dismal family dinner at the Murphys’ with everyone trying to pretend that Terri isn’t dying. John babbles on about Christmas, makes the usual lame joke about Liam eating so much he must have a hollow leg, everyone makes out like they don’t hear Terri puking behind the bathroom door.

Cassie can’t take it.