Page 41 of Dare to Fall

Ms. Maribelle walked me up to Lucas’ office door where his name was engraved in a metal plate on the wall next to it. “Here we are, honey. You let me know if y’all need anything, okay?” She gave me a knowing look.

“I will.” I reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Ms. Maribelle.”

As she turned to leave, I knocked on the door.

I heard Lucas say, “Come in.”

Opening the door, I wasn’t sure what state I would find him in. But I wasn’t expecting to see my childhood friend completely disheveled, his head drooped low in his hands.

“Lucas”—he looked up at me—“what the hell is going on?” I walked into his corner office, shutting the door behind me.

I took a seat in one of the large leather chairs placed in front of his cherry oak desk. Leaning forward, I clasped my hands between my knees and waited for Lucas to respond. He just stared at a fixed spot in front of him, unmoving. Our entire lives, I’d never seen him like this before. Even when Lily died, I found it odd how well he held himself together. Over time, I just thought it was who he became. It scared me seeing how broken he looked now, as though the light that kept us all alive and moving forward had finally burned out for him.

“Lucas,” I urged.

Glossy eyes met mine.

“You have to talk to me, Lucas.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Worry clenched my throat, making it difficult to breathe. “Why don’t you start by telling me what happened,” I croaked.

Lucas drew in a long breath then let it out in a whoosh. “They had their last appointment today before she gets transferred to palliative care. I had to tell her father there was nothing I could do for his daughter anymore.” His bottom lip quivered. “The man got on his knees and begged me to help her. Literally, on his knees, begging me. He had already lost his wife to cancer a few years back. They were high school sweethearts, completely in love until the cruelty of the world settled over them.

“Now this. His child gets terminal brain cancer before she’s even nine years old. And I can’t do a damn thing about it.” He slapped the top of his desk hard and leaned back, shielding his eyes with his hands. “What’s the point of all this? You go to school for decades to help people, to cure them and make them better.”

“You can’t make everyone better, Lucas,” I said cautiously.

“I saw her today,” he said.

“Who? Who did you see, Lucas?”

He looked up at me; his face was grave. “Lily. I saw Lily.”

“What do you mean you saw Lily?”

“When I was in that patient’s room, talking with her dad, I looked over at her lying in the bed. But instead of seeing her face, I saw Lily’s face. That’s why I called you, Garth. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. I didn’t know what to do, so I practically ran out of the room and cancelled my afternoon patients.” He ran a hand over his horror-stricken face. “Something’s wrong with me.”

While I didn’t know much about the human psyche, I’d heard of stories that people have seen their lost loved ones during times of great distress. Years had passed since we lost Lily. I didn’t understand why all this was coming up now for Lucas when I was sure he’d treated dozens of kids just like this girl. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Lucas, look at me.” I waited for him to meet my eyes. “There is nothingwrongwith you. For whatever reason, this case is impacting you more than others. That’s okay. It was bound to happen at some point. You lost your sister to cancer, and now you treat children who are the same age Lily was when she died,” I sighed, shaking my head.

“I do think that maybe it would be good for you to take a step back from this case. Get someone else to work with her and her father. If it’s affecting you this much, you aren’t in a good headspace to treat her anyways.”

Lucas nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” I joked, trying to lighten the air in the room, but he didn’t smile.

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked.

“I don’t have anything planned.”

“The art exhibit at the university is tonight. Why don’t you come with me?”

“I don’t know if—”

“Come on,” I interrupted. “You can’t leave me hanging. It’s a big opportunity for me to network with the next generation of artists. I’ll need your charm to counteract my stoicism.”

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