Page 30 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
Andy wrapped his cone with a napkin like he was wrapping up his feelings and tucking them away. “You might have realized Danny never stops talking.”
She was studying him in that serious way of hers, like she was trying to figure out why he’d gotten all flustered back there. He scanned the room casually, trying to act cool, something he definitely didn’t feel.
“He’s different from you that way,” she said, licking her scoop with delight. “You were always a quiet kid.”
It was hard not to notice how sexy she looked eating her ice cream. “He got that fromKim.”
An awkward silence descended—as uncomfortable and unwelcome as snow after Easter.
“I really am sorry about earlier,” she said, fiddling with her napkin. “I talk to kids who’ve lost their parents all the time. You’d think… Well…those kids are used to people dying. They don’t…”
When she trailed off, he fought the lump in his throat. Suddenly he couldn’t hold back his own sadness—the grief he felt every time he had to tell his sweet little boy about things like angels and heaven when all he wanted to do was see Kim standing right in front of their son, loving him and doing normal things like taking him to school and teaching him how to ride his bike.
“They don’t what?” he asked, hearing the rasp in his own voice.
She took a deep breath, lowering the cone. “They don’t ask a lot of questions about where their parents have gone after they’ve died. At least not to me. They…it’s not right or wrong. It’s just the way it is. They’re so concerned with surviving, getting their next meal, maybe getting into a school so they can be educated. I…hate seeing anyone so young lose a parent. I don’t like that part of this world.”
Her grief was palpable, and the earlier brightness in her eyes faded to something darker. This was the Lucy he sometimes knew online—the one whose inner light was sometimes dimmed by the things she saw, the things she chronicled with her camera. Seeing this Lucy in person tore at his heart.
How many times had he raved at the injustice of losing Kim before realizing he needed to accept that bad things happened to good people? It sucked, and he didn’t understand it, but Lucy was right—it was just the way things were. Kim had gotten cancer and died. He was alone now,and his job was to raise their son in as loving and happy of an environment as possible. And he wasn’t doing a bad job, if you asked him, dammit.
“On that we agree,” he simply answered, not wanting to debate the big questions of life and death in this ice cream shop.
He was a doctor, and it was something he dealt with on an ongoing basis. He tried not to let it bleed into his off-time more than it naturally did.
“How about you spill this secret now that we’ve gotten all deep and everything?” he added, making himself take another taste of his ice cream.
She stared at her cone. “I hesitate to mention this after our conversation earlier.”
“Lucy,”he said, gesturing with his hand.
“My mother bamboozled me into telling you this because April didn’t feel like she could. Your mom doesn’t want to stir up unhappy memories. And after tonight, I can kinda see why.”
His stomach twisted into a knot. “Just spit it out.”
“Our mothers have decided to raise money to support breast cancer,” she told him.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why would that bother me? I think that’s a great idea. If you ask me, we need more money for research and mammograms and the like.”
“I’m happy you feel that way,” she said, tracing circles on the counter with the tip of her cone. “It’s how they plan to do it that might give you pause.”
“What are they going to do? Knowing our mothers?—”
“Exactly,” she said, taking a bite of her ice cream. “Ever watch the movieCalendar Girls?”
“Uh…yes,” he answered with a sinking feeling. Surely they didn’t…
“They asked me to take photos of them and ten other people who have lost someone to cancer.” She swiped a rivulet of ice cream cresting down her sugar cone. “Here’s the kicker. They’re going to be the humorous, risqué kind. They suggested using cantaloupes to cover their…” She gestured to her own chest, making him super uncomfortable after his earlier awareness of her.
“Cantaloupes.” And then it hit him. “Oh, no.No.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, biting her lip. “And they’ve recruited some men too, apparently. Dr. Jeff is one of them.”
He sat back in the booth. “You’re kidding! What are they planning to do? Buy out all the cantaloupes and hot dogs in Dare Valley?”
She thrust out her cone. “That’s whatIthought at first. And then I saw Jeff’s face when he told me his mom died of breast cancer.”
He swallowed thickly at the compassion threading her voice now. He knew that face. She could break his heart with that face.
