The Last Letter(36)

“We’re going to watch Aladdin. Wanna watch, too?” she asked.

“We were not going to watch Aladdin. You were going to sleep,” Ella said with a stern nod.

“I’m nervous,” Maisie whispered to Ella.

If my heart wasn’t hurting already, it was screaming now. She was so little to have a surgery like this tomorrow. To have cancer. What kind of God did this to little kids?

“Me, too,” Ella admitted. “How about this. We’ll start the movie, and I’ll curl up with you? We’ll see if we can’t get you to sleep.”

“Deal.” Maisie nodded.

Ella cued up the movie, and I moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you girls to your evening.”

“No, you have to stay!” Maisie shouted, stopping me in my tracks.

I turned to see her eyes wide and panicked. Yeah, I wasn’t going to be the cause of that look on her face ever again.

“Ella?”

She looked from Maisie back to me. “Maisie, it’s really late, and I’m sure Mr. Gentry would rather have a nice big bed—”

“There’s a bed here.”

Ella sighed, shutting her eyes. I saw the battle she’d written about—the need to parent Maisie as if there wasn’t an overwhelming chance that she was dying warring with the knowledge that she most likely was.

But that pleading in Maisie’s eyes wasn’t an issue of being spoiled; there was a stark need there. I crossed to her bed and sat on the edge. “Can you give me a reason?” I whispered so Ella couldn’t hear us.

Maisie glanced back at Ella, and I looked over my shoulder to see her busying herself with inserting the DVD.

“You have to tell me, Maisie. Because I don’t want to weird out your mom, but if it’s a good reason, I’ll go to bat for you.”

She glanced up again and then at me. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

Her whisper ripped through me louder than an air raid siren. “Tomorrow?” I asked.

She nodded quickly. “If you leave, she’ll be alone.”

“Okay. Let’s see what I can do.”

Her little hand gripped the edge of my jacket. “Promise.”

There was something solemn in the way she was asking that reminded me of Mac, of the letter. It was almost as if she knew things she shouldn’t…couldn’t.

“Promise me you won’t leave her alone,” she repeated, her whisper soft.

I covered her small hand with my own. “I promise.”

She searched my eyes, passing judgment again. Then she nodded and lay back against the raised bed, relaxed.

I crossed the darkened room to Ella as she slipped off her shoes. “I’ll absolutely leave if you want me to, but she’s pretty adamant.”

“What’s her reasoning? I’ve never seen her demand something like that.”

“That’s between us. But trust me, it’s pretty sound. What do you want me to do?”

“There’s just the couch and that little bed.” Ella bit her lower lip, but it wasn’t intended to be a sexy gesture. Mac had the same tell when he was worried. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

“I’ve slept in far worse conditions, trust me. It’s not a problem. What do you want me to do, Ella?” I’d do whatever she wanted, but God, I hoped she wanted me, any part of me. Knowing how scared she was of this moment, of what was coming for Maisie tomorrow, and not being able to comfort her in the way she needed was killing me.

She released her lip with a sigh, her entire posture softening.

“Stay. I want you to stay.”

My chest constricted in a way that made taking a deep breath impossible. So I sucked in a shallow one and ditched my jacket on the back of the rocking chair. “Then I’ll stay.”

…

The procession in front of me was solemn, almost reverent. The nurses pushed Maisie, in her bed, down the hallway toward the thick blue line that marked where the surgical wing became doctors-and-patients-only.

Ella walked by her side, Maisie’s hand in her own, leaning over her daughter. Their steps were slow, like the nurses knew Ella needed every single second she had left. They probably do know. After all, this was just a normal day to them. Another surgery on another kid with another type of cancer. But to Ella, this was the day she feared and longed for with equal ferocity.

They paused just before the blue line, and I hung back, giving them the space she needed. With her hair pulled back, I could see the faint, forced smile on her face as she ran her fingers over Maisie’s scalp, where her hair would have been. Ella’s lips moved as she spoke to Maisie, the strain visible in the tense muscles of her face, the periodic flex of her neck.

She was holding it together, but the string was thin and fraying by the second. I’d watched her unravel since six a.m., when the first nurses came in to begin Maisie’s prep. Watched her bite her lip and nod her head as she signed the papers acknowledging the risk of removing a tumor this size in a girl this small. Watched her put on a brave face and smile to keep Maisie comfortable, joking about how Colt would be so jealous of her new scar.

Then I watched the FaceTime conversation between Maisie and Colt, and my heart broke for them. Those two weren’t just siblings, or friends. They were two halves of a whole, speaking in half sentences and interpreting one-word answers like they had their own language.