Here With You Page 10

  She stuffed her notes inside her book and stood.

  “You’re leaving?” Lily asked, her lips turned down in a pout as if disappointed. “I guess my blabbering about my wedding isn’t as exciting to everyone else as it is to me.”

  “Oh! I can’t wait to hear more. I’m really excited for you. Really.” She tucked her book under one arm and reached out to grab Lily’s hands.

  “We haven’t even talked about the book. You made notes.” Lily pointed their joined hands toward the book.

  “Of course she did. Grace is a planner,” Hope said from her seat.

  Alexis snorted from behind her. Again, Grace let her sister’s passive aggressive disappointment roll off her. If they were still in high school, she would have had a snarky, bitchy comment. Time and life had taught her to take the high road.

  “You’re going to be a stunning bride. Ty’s a lucky man.” She didn’t mean to meet her sister’s eyes as she gathered her empty dish. The lines between Alexis’ brows were deep, her eyes squinty, her lips pursed as if contemplating life’s biggest mysteries. “Sorry to bail on you girls.”

  “Thanks for the pizza dip. I want the recipe,” Jenna called out.

  “Me too.” This from Mia who never cooked anything.

  “We should make a new rule that the snack keeper has to make something homemade. Maybe have themes for our food and drinks,” Hope suggested.

  “You’re forgetting I can’t cook anything other than scrambled eggs,” Lily said.

  “I’m limited on recipes and time,” Alexis added. “Sophie skipped over the terrible twos and is making up for it now. Between her mood swings and her accidents, I don’t know how I’ll ever get anything done.”

  “I remember those days.” Hope rubbed Alexis’ shoulder. “Some days it feels like a hundred years ago, and other days just like yesterday. Delaney’s almost fourteen. She’s been begging for a baby sister or brother ever since Cam and I got married.”

  “Are you...?” Alexis covered Hope’s hand with hers.

  “Trying. We’re trying.”

  Lily screeched. She was the girliest of the group. Grace would have too if she thought it appropriate. Glancing at Alexis, who smiled and patted Hope’s hand, she hid her excitement.

  “Dude. You two.” Mia shook her head. “I’m surrounded by sex fiends and baby makers. You and Cam. And Alexis and Ben. I know you two will be making an announcement soon, and Ty and Lily. Like you’re going to wait long to pop out gorgeous little Barbie and Ken dolls.”

  Alexis pregnant? Grace couldn’t imagine. She adopted Ben’s daughter when she was just a baby. How Sophie’s birth mother could so easily pass her up, Grace didn’t understand.

  When she’d first heard the news that her sister was getting married, and then about the instant family, Grace was thrilled for her older sister. She pictured herself the favorite aunt, bringing her instant niece shopping, dressing her in poofy dresses and such.

  Only Alexis shielded Sophie from her. When Ben and Alexis went out on the rare occasion, she asked their mother to watch Sophie. Grace would get down on the floor and play tea party and read books with her niece, but by the time Alexis returned, Sophie would be sleeping. She never witnessed Grace in the auntie role, keeping her daughter at a distance.

  Their parents mediated from time to time, but for the most part, Alexis kept her distance from Grace. She had a life. A husband and daughter, a busy career running the vineyard. Grace just got in the way.

  She helped with the tastings, but never the tours, not knowing enough about the grapes and the seasons. The giant wall Alexis built couldn’t be knocked down in a day, and Grace didn’t have the tools, the strength, or the knowledge to chip away at it. She respected her sister’s space and kept to herself.

  With loud chatter and playful arguing among the girls, Grace managed to slip away without drawing any more attention.

  BRADY HAD A KNOCKDOWN, dragged out battle with his mom—figuratively speaking—and finally won. He let out a sigh of relief when she finally buckled herself in the passenger side of his truck.

  “You don’t look well, Mom.”

  “Thanks. It’s what every woman wants to hear.”

  “You know what I mean.” He shoved his keys in the ignition and turned on his truck. “All these years you’ve demanded Carter and I see our doctor regularly, but you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

  “I saw Dr. Green eleven months ago. I’m not due for my annual check-up until December.”

  “You’re also supposed to go when you don’t feel well.” Painful memories of his father’s diagnosis replayed through his mind. His father had cursed doctors, saying they diagnosed people with random ailments so they could make money off suckers. Doctors and hospitals were for wussies. If you went to the hospital it was because you were dying.

  Which was exactly when his father went. It had been too late. He’d had stage four pancreatic cancer and decided to let it run its course, opting out of chemotherapy.

  Brady wouldn’t let the same thing happen to his mother. No. She wasn’t terminally ill. She had the flu, maybe. Or was anemic. Although if she was Dr. Green would have diagnosed that with her annual blood work.

  “It’s called old age. I hate to say it,” his mother sighed and leaned back in her seat, “but Henry and Claudia may have the right idea. Giving the business to Alexis and Ben but still living on the land.”

  He’d been dropping subtle hints to his mother over the past year about doing the same. Taking a semi-retirement role from the farm. Do the baking and run the cash register while he, Carter, and the help kept up with the planting, cultivating, and overall management of the fields.

  Like him, she liked to have her hands in the dirt. His mother couldn’t sit still for ten minutes. Even when down with the flu, or whatever was ailing her.

  “I think it’s a great idea. You don’t have to sell me the farm. Just let me run it.”

  His mother laughed. “Let you? You’ve been running Marshall Farm since your father passed away. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” She placed a hand on his knee and patted. “You and Carter. You boys are my world. You and the farm. Not to say I’m not itching to have a daughter-in-law and some grandbabies to keep me company. You should do like Alexis did. Find yourself a nice woman to help with the farm and I’ll take care of my grandbabies.”

  The doctor’s office came into view, putting a stop to that conversation. Brady wiped the bead of perspiration from his brow and helped his mother out of his truck.

  Two hours later, he helped her back in. She clutched a folder with paperwork in one hand and her purse in the other.

  “See? A total waste of time. I’m sorry you gave up your afternoon for this, Brady. Like I told you this morning, I could have driven myself.”

  “It wasn’t a waste. It gave me a break.” He closed the door and rounded the hood to the driver’s side.

  “A break.” She tskd. “You forget who you’re talking to. You and I, we’re too alike. Your brother is just like his father. Full of life and fun. If your Daddy didn’t have the farm to keep him grounded, he’d have—”

  “Run off with the circus,” Brady continued for her, familiar with the tale of his father’s antics.

  “Did I ever tell you about the time your father stacked ninety-eight bales of hay on the inside of the barn door, so when his daddy opened it in the morning he walked into a wall of hay?”

  “And had to go cut down his own sapling so Grandpa could hide his ass with it.”

  His mother chuckled. “And then had to move all those bales of hay back with his rear end sorer than a cow after it’s been prodded.”

  Brady listened as his mother rattled about other stories he’d heard dozens and dozens of times. She didn’t want to talk about the blood test or the unspoken words from the doctor. We’ll have to wait for the results of the blood work and x-rays to come back, and then we’ll talk.

  It wasn’t good. The questions, scribbl
ing of notes, quiet head nods and tapping of Dr. Green’s foot spoke louder than any words, any diagnosis.

  They’d continue the Friday as if it was any other day in November. He and Carter would ready the fields for winter. Next week they’d set up the greenhouses. And his mother, thankfully, could rest.

  CHAPTER TEN

  STUNNED. SHOCKED. SCARED.

  Even though the doctor said it could be treated with chemotherapy and possibly surgery, Brady was scared shitless. The endoscopy she was called in for two days ago made it clear without a shadow of a doubt. His mother had cancer. Stomach cancer.

  It explained the nausea, the loss of appetite, the stomach pains, and her lethargy. If he hadn’t forced her to go to the doctor to get checked out last week, it could have been too late.

  “We’ll get through this.” He reached across the wooden armrest of the chair and held on to his mother’s hand. Carter, sitting to her right, grabbed the other.

  “Is this hereditary? Are my boys at risk?”

  “Smoking and unhealthy eating habits put you at risk,” Dr. Green said from behind his desk.

  “I don’t smoke, and my cholesterol levels and weight are all within normal range.”

  “Ulcers can put you at risk. There is evidence you may have had one for quite some time.”

  And it was just like his mom to power through any pain she’d been experiencing.

  “So what do we do now?” he asked.

  The doctor had removed his white coat for the meeting. Despite the dreadful news he dropped in their laps, Brady liked him. He’d been the one to diagnosis his father and was the one Brady, Carter, and their mother visited once a year for their annual check-ups.

  “I’m glad your boys convinced you to get some tests done, Dorothy. You have options.” Unlike their father had. “You’ll need to meet with an oncologist.” He slid a file folder across the desk, and Brady picked it up. “Depending on how much it has spread, Dr. Moore may suggest surgery.”

  “Surgery? That sounds serious.” Carter bounced his knee as he typically did when nervous.

  “Surgery can get rid of the tumor and will stop the cancer from spreading to other parts of your body.”

  “What would the surgery entail?” Brady squeezed his mother’s hand.

  “That’s for the oncologist to discuss with you, but if you do go that route, he would be removing a piece of your stomach.”

  “That’s one way to diet,” his mother teased, although the joke fell flat.

  “There’s also chemotherapy and radiation. The pamphlets I gave Brady give you a little background on each option. It will come down to what Dr. Moore finds. He’s the best at his job. But if you want a second opinion, I can give you names of a couple doctors in Portland at Maine Medical Center.”

  “No. I’m not going to Portland. I want to be close to home.”

  Brady glanced across his mother at Carter. They gave each other the same unspoken message. If she needed to go to Portland, they would get her there.

  “Is Dr. Moore here today? I’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible.” His mother was never one for drama or emotion. Cut and dried, she was.

  “I talked with him this morning and gave him your charts. I’ll bring you to his office.”

  Dr. Green stood, as did Brady and Carter. Normally their mother would brush off their help, but she accepted their assistance in standing, a sign of how weak she’d gotten, and followed the doctor out the door.

  THREE HOURS LATER THEY sat around the kitchen table in their family farmhouse.

  “You two need to move out. Immediately.”

  “We’re not going anywhere, Mom. Especially now,” Carter said, surprising Brady with his maturity.

  “You heard what Dr. Moore said. My cancer is from asbestos.”

  “No.” Brady corrected. “He listed that as one of the possible causes.”

  “We know it’s not from any of these.” She tossed a packet of information on the table, and Brady couldn’t help but notice the tremble in her hands. “Working in a coal mine, smoking, being overweight. This house was built in 1892. It’s filled with asbestos. You two are young and healthy. Get out now before you get sick.”

  Her face was ashen and the circles that had formed under her eyes last month had turned to a deep purple.

  “Can I make you some tea?” Brady got up and filled the kettle with water.

  “Don’t change the subject. It’s about time you two move out on your own anyway. A thirty-six and a thirty-one-year-old man living with their mother. Who’s more pathetic? Me or you two?” She tapped Carter on the back of the head, which loosened a smile from his lips.

  “I’m the baby, so I’d say Brady is the most pathetic. He’ll be a forty-year-old virgin living in his mama’s basement.” Carter got up and helped himself to a beer from the fridge.

  Brady wouldn’t take the bait. There was no point in defending himself in age or in his sexual partners. He’d had plenty.

  Well, maybe not plenty, but enough to keep him semi-satisfied over the years.

  “I’ve been thinking about renovating the bathrooms and kitchen anyway. I can talk to Ty and see what he’s got scheduled. Winter is usually slow for his construction company.”

  “We’re not going into more debt because I’m sick. The hospital bills are going to be a challenge enough.”

  Marshall Farm wasn’t exactly rolling in the dough, but they weren’t losing money either. With their income dependent upon the weather, they never took a good season for granted. Still, it needed to be done.

  “I’m hurting our finances as it is.” The gray in her eyes was colorless, no longer full of life and spunk. “Carter, this winter you had big plans for your website design business. Don’t stop because of me.”

  Brady’s heart tugged. He wanted his brother to branch off and do something he loved. There was a layer of guilt inside him for keeping Carter on at the farm when his heart wasn’t in it. Sure, Carter complained. Daily. But it was with a joke and a smile. Despite his carefree attitude, his brother was always there when Brady needed him. He wouldn’t leave the family stranded, even though his heart wasn’t in it anymore.

  “No biggie, Ma. Great thing about a laptop, it’s portable. I can work on my business anytime any place. Don’t worry about me. We know Brady doesn’t.” Carter winked at his mom over his beer bottle and took a healthy sip.

  He could read the worry in his brother’s eyes. While he was better at masking his concern with jokes and banter, Brady could still read him like a book.

  His mother placed a hand on Brady’s. “I know how much you’ve had to pick up my slack around here this season. And I appreciate it. I hope to be well by spring planting. If not, you may need to hire more help. We can’t afford to renovate the house now. Maybe after a few more good growing seasons.”

  “Work needs to be done to the house, Mom. We won’t plan any major demolition unless Ty says we need to. I’ll work out a budget with him. And I can do some projects as well.”

  “You’re not exactly handy with a saw and hammer.”

  “I can Google. YouTube has a lot of instructional videos too.” He poured the hot water in his mother’s favorite pig mug and dipped a chamomile tea bag in it.

  “You two aren’t turning your lives upside down because I have a small medical issue.” She took the mug from Brady and rolled her shoulders back. “Life goes on. You heard the doctor. I’m not dying. Some drugs. Maybe a piece of my stomach, and I’ll be as good as new.”

  Which was true. Thankfully the tumor in her stomach was small, and Dr. Moore was hopeful it hadn’t spread. More tests would confirm this.

  “The house is in dire need of a reno, and this is the perfect time to do it.”

  “And risk exposing you to asbestos?”

  “If that’s what has caused your cancer we need to get it out of the house immediately, or you’ll never heal. Think of it as part of your medical treatment.”

  His mother sipped h
er tea and slumped in her seat. Her eyelids were next.

  “You should go lay down. Carter and I can handle dinner.”

  That stirred a reaction in her. “You each can cook about two meals and they both include the grill. I’ll make a big batch of soup and a crockpot meal to last the week.”

  “You will not.” Brady placed his hands under his mother’s elbows and helped her up. “Go rest. Tomorrow is a long day. Next week will be even longer. Carter and I have this under control.” He led her to her bedroom. When she took off her shoes and slid under the covers, he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Carter lifted his head from the fridge. “We’re screwed, man. You and I can’t cook worth shit.”

  “It can’t be that hard. Find a recipe online and follow the directions.” Brady pushed past Carter and opened the cabinets to check out what ingredients they had to work with.

  “Yeah. As easy as fixing a damn toilet.”

  THE CHEMOTHERAPY HAD been harder on his mother than any of them expected. Dr. Moore said it was her body finally shutting down after decades of hard work. Dorothy Marshall wasn’t one who liked to sit idle, and lying around helpless turned his normally optimistic mother into a bear.

  Brady ladled soup from the crockpot into a bowl. His mother didn’t have much of an appetite, or energy to even spoon-feed herself, but he’d continue to bring her meals and coax her into taking a few bites.

  Claudia Le Blanc had been a godsend, bringing over dinners every few days. It gave Brady more time to prep the fields for winter and Carter more time to work on the budget. He’d passed on all the bookwork and accounting to his brother, freeing up another hour in the day to spend outside.

  Carter was spending more time on his laptop, seeking new clients and branching out across other mediums. Brady didn’t exactly know what that meant. Carter said it would bring in more money, so Brady didn’t bug him when he holed himself in the downstairs office.