Page 90 of The Forever Gift

‘She’s a great kid,’ he says.

‘Yeah.’ I nod. ‘She is. She’s also full of questions.’

‘Oh,’ Jack says, clearly concerned as his eyebrows crinkle. ‘Is there something she’s worried about? Or something confusing her? I do my best to make sure I explain everything that’s happening to all the kids. I don’t want Kayla to ever be scared. And kids get scared when they don’t understand or feel we’re keeping things from them. Is there something I can help explain?’

‘About her treatment,’ I say. ‘Or, more, why it’s stopping.’

‘Oh.’ Jack sighs. ‘Her treatment isn’t stopping. Where did she get that idea from?’

‘No. I mean her chemo is stopping.’

There’s a knock on the door, interrupting us, and a middle-aged woman comes in with a grey paper tray cradling two takeaway cups of coffee with steam swirling out the small holes in the lids.

‘Ah, lovely. Thank you, Matilda,’ Jack says as she sets the coffee down on his desk.

‘And no muffin.’ Matilda sounds disappointed.

‘No,’ Jack says. ‘Not today. Thank you, Matilda. Would you mind closing the door on your way out, please?’

‘Of course,’ Matilda says, leaving.

The door closes with a gentle click and I feel overwhelmed again now Jack and I are alone. It’s such a strange feeling, I can’t quite put my finger on it.

‘My first cup today,’ Jack says, taking both coffees out of the paper tray. He places one in the centre of his desk, right between us, and he sits back in his chair cradling the other between both hands. ‘You’re really not going to make me drink this alone, are you?’

The delicious smell of thick, black coffee wafts towards me and my mouth waters. ‘Okay,’ I say, reaching for the cup. ‘It does smell great.’

‘I drink way too much of this stuff,’ he admits, taking a sip. ‘But if there’s one thing working here has taught me, it’s to enjoy the little things.’

I try not to let his words make me cry. I attempt to slip the lid off my cup to look inside, but it’s finicky. And the flimsy paper cup is so hot it’s hard to hold without burning my fingertips.

‘It’s just black,’ Jack says. ‘I don’t take milk.’

‘Oh, great’ I say, giving up on the lid.

‘Kayla told me you’re lactose intolerant.’

‘She did?’ I wonder why. And when.

‘She talks about you all the time,’ Jack says, a warm smile lighting up his face as he enjoys the rich taste of coffee.

‘She does?’ I say, not entirely surprised. I talk about her all the time too.

‘You’re really close,’ Jack says.

‘Yeah.’ I raise the cup to my lips and take a mouthful, only realising how exhausted I am as the warmth works its way towards my belly. ‘It’s just the two of us usually, so you know, it’s nice.’

‘Heather, you know that I am going to do everything I can for as long as I can to help Kayla, don’t you?’

‘I know,’ I say, sipping more coffee.

‘Would it help if I talked to Kayla? The three of us could have a chat this afternoon, maybe. I don’t want to get ahead of ourselves scaring her with big intimidating medical terms. But maybe I could answer some of her questions, and yours, and put her mind at ease.’

‘That would be great,’ I say, but don’t you need to get home? ‘You’ve been here all night. You must be exhausted.’

‘Don’t worry about me. Let’s just make sure Kayla is okay, yeah?’

‘Thank you,’ I say, feeling lighter than I have in days.

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