Page 43 of Open Secrets
My chest caved, lungs collapsing, air gone. “So what—you’re telling me that’s it? That we just—what, take her home and wait for her to die?”
“There is another option,” he said, folding his hands on the table like it would make the next words easier. “It’s risky. But given Rain’s condition… it might be her only chance.”
Every nerve in me screamed. My voice cracked. “What option?”
“Gene therapy,” he said. “It’s still in the trial phase, which means it’s considered experimental and not covered under yourinsurance. But the early data—especially in paediatric cases—has been promising.”
Experimental. Risky. Expensive. The words smeared together, but I clung to the only one that mattered.
“Then we’ll do it,” I said. “Whatever it takes—we’ll do it.”
Lyle — Present
“And I really believed that,” Maria says, wiping her tears with the edge of her sleeve. Her voice trembles, ragged, but she forces herself to keep talking. “When I went to the Patient Advocate at the base hospital. They were kind, but… powerless. They filed the request, yes, but told me straight—Tricare would take months to answer.”
She shakes her head, jaw clenched. “Months Rain didn’t have.”
I shift forward in my chair, heart pounding, every muscle in me tight. “Maria, why didn’t you—”
She barrels past my words, louder now, desperate. “So, I went to your dad.”
My mouth goes dry. “You—what?”
“I went to your dad,” she repeats, her voice breaking on the word. “And his friends. All those men you grew up saluting. They weren’t the traditional path, but I thought—they’re generals, Lyle. They had power. They could’ve pulled strings. Opened doors. Something.”
I can see it, too clearly—Maria in some cold, wood-panelled room, surrounded by men in uniform. Her small frame against their medals and stars. My stomach lurches.
Her eyes close, her breath coming uneven. “I fell to my knees in front of them.”
The image guts me.
“I begged,” she whispers. “Begged them to save my daughter. Our daughter. And they just… stared at me. Like I was pathetic.” Her voice cracks, and she covers her mouth with her hand, fighting for control. “Your dad told me to stop embarrassing myself.”
It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room. My chest caves, sharp and hot. “Jesus Christ,” I breathe, gripping my knees like I need the anchor.
Maria’s tears spill freely now. “So I left. And that day—same damn day—I called Dr. Strand. Told him to get Rain into the trial, and I’d find a way to pay.” She looks at me then, eyes hollow. “And I did.”
My throat burns. “Maria—”
“I maxed the credit cards. Took out loans. Risked the business. Took every private consult I could. Worked nights. Worked weekends. Anything. And when the letter finally came—when the Army advocate called just to say the appeal had been denied—I already knew.” Her laugh is bitter, broken. “I’d stopped waiting for them. I stopped waiting foryou.”
The words slam into me harder than any blow I’ve ever taken.
I shake my head, fighting against it, against the truth clawing at me. “You should’ve told me.” My voice cracks under the weight of it. “Christ, Maria, I was calling every night. I would’ve—”
Her eyes snap up, wet and furious, a storm breaking loose. “What would you have done, Lyle?Couldyou have done?” Her voice shakes, but it doesn’t waver. “You were trapped. If you’d walked away, we would’ve lost the house. The roof over our heads. And if you stayed, knowing everything that was going onhere…” Her throat works, struggling past the words. “I couldn’t put that on you. Couldn’t carryyoutoo. So, I lied. Every time I talked to you, I pretended we were fine. Pretended the cost wasn’t that high. Pretended I wasn’t failing.”
“Stop.” My voice comes out rough, desperate. “You weren’t failing anyone.”
“Yes, I was!” The words rip out of her, sharp and jagged. She shoves her hair back from her face, her hand trembling as it falls into her lap. “I was working three jobs and I still couldn’t afford her treatment. Not really. And the kids—God, they suffered the most. Then COVID hit, and I…” Her voice breaks. She shakes her head, whispering like a confession, “Do you realize if that social worker had ever come back for a follow-up, she would’ve seen me sleeping in a tent in the backyard while our oldest raised his little brother and sister?”
My chest caves. “Jesus, Maria…”
She squeezes her eyes shut, tears slipping free. “I couldn’t risk bringing the illness home. I couldn’t risk her catching anything. So I stayed outside, freezing, and I let Remi and Taylor do what I couldn’t. And you—” Her gaze cuts to me, sharp even through the blur of tears. “You were trapped longer because of it. Deployment after deployment. Just one thing after another. It never stopped.”
Her shoulders slump. The fight drains, but the words still land like stones. “And all through that, I was alone. Because of you.”
My mouth drops. The air leaves my chest. “If you had just told me—”
