The Last Letter(28)

“And what does that mean with all that you’re going through?”

“It means that I’m paying a lot of money. Some of her treatments are covered, some aren’t; some are only partially covered. Any time we go to Denver, we’re out of the network, and then I pay even more.” I was hemorrhaging money at a rate that was simply unsustainable. And it wasn’t just the treatments. We’d had to hire another employee to stay nights at the main house since I was living here now, and all of the extra expenses that came with traveling to Maisie’s appointments added up to money that was flowing out but not in.

“Oh, Ella.” Ada scooted forward and put her weathered hand on my desk. I took it in my own, my thumb running over her thin, translucent skin. She was as old as Grandma had been when she passed.

“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I mean, it’s Maisie’s life. I’m not going to let my daughter…” My throat tightened, and I closed my eyes while I got ahold of myself. This was why I didn’t talk about it. Everything needed to be kept in its own neat little box, and when the time arose, I dealt with each one. But talking about it meant every box seemed to open at once and spill its contents all over me. I drew a stuttered breath. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure she gets exactly the care she needs. No shortcuts. No opting for the cheaper treatment. I’m not risking her like that.”

“I know. Maybe if we took up a town collection? You know, like they did when the Ellis boy wanted to go on the SeaWorld trip the year his mama died?”

My first instinct was to rebel, to outright refuse. This town had turned up its nose at me when I was pregnant and deserted at nineteen. I’d made myself what I was in the last six years, and asking for help felt like I was betraying all that I’d accomplished.

But Maisie’s life was worth way more than my pride.

“Let’s keep that as an option,” I agreed. “There’s nothing we can do about it tonight, so why don’t you get some rest?”

“Okay,” she said, patting my hand like I was five again. “I’ll take myself off to bed.” She rose with effort and then leaned over me, kissing my forehead. “You need to get some rest, too.”

“I’m not tired,” I lied, knowing I had hours of juggling things around for some financial magic.

“Well, if you’re not tired, you should drop by Mr. Gentry’s cabin. From what Hailey tells me, he’s quite the night owl if you’re seeking some company.” She gave me an innocent smile, but I knew her too well to fall for that.

“Uh-uh. Not happening.” I shifted the pile of bills to close the discussion. “Besides, I have two six-year-olds asleep upstairs. I can’t exactly wander off and leave them, can I?”

“Ella Suzanne MacKenzie. I am well aware that Hailey sleeps in your spare room. In fact, she’s out in your living room right now watching something god-awful on your television, and she’s more than capable of listening for your kids. Who, I might add, are sound asleep.”

“Honestly, you think we can count on Hailey as an adult?”

“She works out just fine when you have an emergency at the main house that you need to take care of, doesn’t she? Your babies are perfectly safe, then, and it’s not like Maisie had chemo this week. So if you are hiding out from that utterly delicious man, that’s on you. Don’t you go blaming those precious babies or using them as an excuse. Understand me?”

My cheeks heated. “I’m not hiding out, and he’s not…delicious.”

“Lie.” She pointed her finger at me like I was eight again and sneaking a cookie from the cooling rack.

“Whatever. I’m twenty-five years old, trying to run a growing business, raise twins on my own, and in the middle of…” My hands flailed, motioning to everything on my desk. “…cancer. I don’t have time to go chasing romance. I don’t care how good-looking he is.” Or how massive his arms were. None of that mattered.

“Well, I didn’t say a thing about a romance, did I? Hmmm?” She waltzed out, content with having the last word.

I slumped against my chair, letting my head roll back. It was all too much. The kids. Solitude. The bills. The threat to Maisie’s life. Beckett’s presence threw my carefully constructed system out of whack.

Sure, he was good-looking. And maybe Ryan had trusted him. But that didn’t mean I did. It didn’t mean that I had the capacity to even think about him. Except, well, when I obviously did. But it wasn’t like I thought about him on purpose. He just snuck into my thoughts, invaded really, the same way he’d barged into my life.

I looked at the bulletin board next to my desk. It was bare except for the eight-by-eleven sheet of paper that had one message in big, block letters.

YOU ARE ENOUGH.

Chaos. I missed him with an ache that was almost irrational considering I’d never met him. I didn’t even have a picture to mourn, just his letters, that written voice that had stretched across thousands of miles and somehow reached my soul.

And now he was gone just like everyone else.

And Ryan had sent Beckett. At least, that’s what Beckett had said.

But I’d never actually seen the letter. I should have looked at the letter. That’s what any rational woman would have done when a stranger showed up claiming to have been sent by her dead brother. She checked up on his claim.