Page 24 of Hard to Kill

Fiona tells me she has ovarian cancer. I tell her that’s what my mother had. She asks about my prognosis. I share the news from Dr. Ludwig and the rest of the boys and girls in the band.

“So you’ve more time than I.”

“Just how much more is to be determined.”

I’ve downshifted to match her pace. Even with that, she is beginning to slow. When I ask her again if she’s ready to turn around, she says, “A bit longer, if it’s just the same with you.”

I tell her I’ve got no place to be except back down the hill, where the cancer is waiting for both of us.

When we do finally begin to make our way down the trail, she asks, “Are you spending your own time wisely, Jane, if that’s not too impertinent or personal of me to ask?”

“I’m working as hard as I ever have.” No point in wearing her out with the details about the trials and extraordinary tribulations of Rob Jacobson. “When I get back home, I’ll begin prep work for a new murder trial.”

“When will it begin?”

“Going off the usual timetable, sometime next year.”

She stops. So do I. In this light, her eyes seem more hazel now. Almost opaque. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to.

“I’m going to ask the judge to move it up,” I say. “Usually, lawyers want as much time as possible to prepare. I want less.”

Fiona nods, as if I’ve answered her unspoken question. “Your work, does it make you happy?”

“It’s the one thing that makes me feel as if I’m going to live forever.”

“Even more than the man in your life?”

“Something else that’s to be determined,” I say, and she smiles again.

On our way back, the sun finally begins to set, dropping toward the mountains.

“I read somewhere that if there were only a handful of sunsets in our lives, how valuable would they be?” she says now. “Well, I try to approach every hour of every day like that.” Fiona drinks in more air. “Make me one more promise that you will do the same.”

“I promise.”

When we’ve made our way back to the front door of the clinic, she says, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making this last hour even more valuable than I’d already planned for it to be.”

I ask her if I’ll see her again before she leaves.

“I think not. This shall be our one and only good-bye. I’ve only got so many of those left in me. Good-byes, I mean.” She smiles one last time. “I’m afraid I can only allow one to a customer.”

Her room is on the fourth floor. I watch Fiona walk down the long hallway leading to the elevator, moving more slowly than ever.

It’s as if she feels me watching her. She stops and turns and gives me a small wave.

“Don’t forget your promises.”

The elevator doors open and close and then she’s gone.

“Good-bye,” I say.

EIGHTEEN

Jimmy

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