A Walk Along the Beach(28)

“Okay.”

Harper snickered. “Not asking your permission.”

“I know.”

“You’re such a mother. You should marry Sean and have half a dozen kids.”

My smile was decidedly forced.

“Don’t give me that look. You’ll be a wonderful mother. Look at all the practice you’ve had.”

She wasn’t wrong there. How I wished I could have been a normal, carefree teenager.

Halfway into the two-and-a-half-hour drive, my sister glanced over at me, shook her head. “Would you stop.”

“Stop what?” I hadn’t been doing anything.

“Worrying. You’re like this every time I go in to have my blood tested. I’m feeling great. I’ve had three good years. If it turns out the cancer is back, then it’s back. We’ll deal with it the same as before and thank God for the extra years I had.”

    She was right. I’d been stewing about this upcoming blood draw for days. Learning what I had about Sean didn’t help put my mind at ease, either.

“I’m always nervous when it comes to your blood tests.”

“Remember when you gave me your bone marrow?”

That wasn’t something I was likely to forget. “Of course I remember.”

“We’re about as different as any two sisters can be, and yet you were a perfect match. Your bone marrow saved my life. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Ah, no, what is that supposed to mean?”

Harper’s smile was huge. “I am as healthy as you are. Now smile, we’re going to have a fabulous day. We’ll be in and out of the hospital in less than an hour, then we’re meeting Chantelle for lunch and looking at dress designs. Personally, I can’t think of a better way to spend my afternoon.”

My sister was correct. I had no right playing the role of Atlas, carting the weight of the world upon my shoulders. Harper herself claimed she’d never felt better. I was smothering her natural enthusiasm for life with my worries, unable to hide them from her or from anyone.

“I love that she chose burgundy as her wedding color,” I said, changing the subject to something more pleasant. “It’s perfect for December.” When I thought about Lucas and Chantelle marrying, my spirits lifted. It did me good to see my brother move forward with his life.

“I love it, too,” Harper agreed. “Have you ever thought about what colors you’d want for your wedding?”

Good question. “I need to find a groom before I think about a color scheme.” I could see Harper was about to say something. I cut her off before she did. “What about you?”

    “Lilac. I’ve always loved that color and the flowers, too,” she said dreamily.

“You’ll make a beautiful bride.”

“You too, big sister.”

“Just not yet.”

Harper sighed. “Not yet for me, either. One thing I know for sure. There’s someone out there for you.”

“And you,” I countered.

She took the next exit and that was the end of our conversation.



* * *



—

Harper was right. It took far less time than I imagined for her blood draw. The waiting was the worst, and that took anywhere from three to six hours before we could get the results. If any abnormality showed, the doctor would phone that day. The longer we waited for a report, the less chance there was a problem.

Chantelle was sitting at a table when we arrived at the restaurant. She chose Mediterranean cuisine because it was healthy and tasty, and because Harper was a bit of a health nut and had been since her bout with cancer.

My sister had her phone on the outside of her purse. Despite all my efforts, I kept glancing at it every few minutes, willing it not to ring.

“I have the sketches of the dresses I designed for you,” Chantelle said as soon as we’d placed our order. “While the colors are the same, I have a different style for each. My sister gave the go-ahead for her maid of honor dress. Once I get your approval, I’ll start on yours.”

She handed each of us a sketch to look over. My dress was a classic, floor length, with long sleeves and a deep V-neck. It was simple and beautiful, more of a deep rust-red than burgundy.

“What do you think?” Chantelle asked anxiously.

I couldn’t stop looking at the design. “It’s perfect.”

    Harper showed me her design and it was strikingly different. Three-quarter length, full skirt, flaring out from her waist. The top was similar to mine, with small changes. Each dress fit our personalities to a T.

“Love it,” Harper said.

“Then it’s a go?”

“Oh yes.” I hoped my brother appreciated how lucky he was to be marrying Chantelle.

The call with the test results came on the ride home. Harper’s phone pealed as we neared Tacoma.

“Answer it,” Harper said. “You can pretend you’re me. The assistant won’t know the difference.”

“You’re sure?” This was sooner than I’d hoped, which made me uncomfortable.

“Answer the damn phone,” she barked.

“Okay, okay.” I reached for it, my hand pressing so hard against the case that I feared my fingers would leave indentation marks. “Hello, this is Harper Lakey.” I swear I held my breath for the entire conversation, which thankfully was brief. I got the report and set the phone down.