The Wish(10)

“Not really. I haven’t watched any of your videos since I began working here.”

She hadn’t expected that. Even Luanne watched her videos. “Why not?”

“I assumed you would prefer that I didn’t. And when I considered your initial concerns about my working here, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

“But you did know I underwent chemotherapy, right?”

“Luanne mentioned it, but I don’t know the details. And, of course, in the rare times you were at the gallery, you looked…”

When he trailed off, she finished for him. “Like death?”

“I was going to say you looked a bit tired.”

Sure I did. If gaunt, green, shrinking, and balding could be explained by waking up too early. But she knew he was trying to be kind. “Do you have a few minutes? Before you start getting the shipments ready?”

“Of course. I don’t have anything planned for tonight.”

On an impulse, she moved to the rocker, motioning for him to get comfortable on the love seat. “No going out with friends?”

“It’s kind of expensive,” he said. “And going out usually means drinking, but I don’t drink.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

“Wow,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a twenty-two-year-old who’s never had a drink.”

“Actually, I’m twenty-three now.”

“You had a birthday?”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

Probably not, she thought. “Did Luanne know? She didn’t say anything to me.”

“I didn’t mention it to her.”

She leaned forward and raised her cup. “Happy belated birthday, then.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you do anything fun? For your birthday, I mean?”

“Abigail flew out for the weekend and we saw Hamilton. Have you seen it?”

“A while ago.” But I won’t ever see it again, she didn’t bother to add. Which was another reason not to be alone. So that thoughts like those didn’t precipitate yet another breakdown. With Mark here, it was somehow easier to keep herself together.

“I’d never seen a show on Broadway before,” Mark went on. “The music was amazing and I loved the historical element and the dancing and…everything about it. Abigail was electrified—she swore she’d never experienced anything like it.”

“How is Abigail?”

“She’s doing well. Her break just started, so she’s probably on her way to Waterloo right now to see her family.”

“She didn’t want to come out here to see you?”

“It’s sort of a mini family reunion. Unlike me, she has a big family. Five older brothers and sisters who live all over the country. Christmas is the only time of year they can all get together.”

“And you didn’t want to go out there?”

“I’m working. She understands that. Besides, she’s coming out here on the twenty-eighth. We’ll spend some time together, watch the ball drop on New Year’s Eve, things like that.”

“Will I get to meet her?”

“If you’d like.”

“If you need time off, let me know. I’m sure I can manage on my own for a couple of days.”

She wasn’t sure she could, but it felt like she needed to offer.

“I’ll let you know.”

Maggie took another sip of her smoothie. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it lately, but you’re doing really well here.”

“I enjoy it,” he said. He waited, and she knew again that he’d made a choice not to ask personal questions. Which meant she would have to volunteer the information or keep it to herself.

“I met with my oncologist last week,” she stated in what she hoped was an even voice. “She thinks another round of chemotherapy will do more harm than good.”

His expression softened. “Can I ask what that means?”

“It means no more treatment and the clock is ticking.”

He paled, registering what she hadn’t said. “Oh…Ms. Dawes. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do. But please, call me Maggie. I think you’ve worked here long enough for the two of us to use first names.”

“Is the doctor certain?”

“The scans weren’t good,” she said. “Lots of spread, everywhere. Stomach. Pancreas. Kidneys. Lungs. And though you won’t ask, I have less than six months. Most likely, it’s somewhere around three to four, maybe even less.”

Surprising her, his eyes began to well with tears. “Oh…Lord…” he said, his expression suddenly softening. “Would you mind if I pray for you? Not now, but when I get home, I mean.”

She couldn’t help smiling. Of course he would want to pray for her, future pastor that he was. She suspected he’d never uttered a profanity in his life. He was, she thought, a very sweet kid. Well, technically he was a young man, but…

“I’d like that.”

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. Then, with a soft shake of his head, he pressed his lips together. “It isn’t fair,” he said.