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  Olivia kept her feet planted on the floor, as if she stood in cement, and held her narrowed eyes squarely set on her son. He needed to understand her message. “You're going to let me find someone to get you on track, Matthew. Do you understand me? I am done accepting excuses from everyone.”

  He nodded this time. “Please help me get better, Mom. My girls are too important to me. If I ever did anything to hurt them, I couldn't go on.”

  “Don't even say such a thing, Matthew. I have little left as it is.”

  Chapter 20 – Ethan

  It was the first day of classes for Ethan's new rotation at school where he should have studied anesthesiology and phlebotomy. As he entered the office, he could smell the chemicals the maintenance staff used to wash the floors the previous evening. The antiseptic odor seemed appropriate for the tone of the conversation he'd been playing on repeat in his mind all morning. He intended to keep his message relatively curt. He needed to thank his advisors for placing their trust and time in him over the last year. He wanted to let them know due to medical reasons, he could no longer continue his studies. And he hoped to assure them his medical condition, which he'd only recently discovered, had in no way impacted his decisions while working for them in the hospital. He was afraid they might express concern over his prior judgments when treating patients.

  Ethan listened through the closed door as they discussed his exams, papers, journals, lab work, and various interactions at the hospital in the last few months.

  After telling his mother and meeting with his doctor to establish a treatment plan for the next few months, Ethan's first priority had required elimination of the key activities consuming his days—medical school and training at the hospital. He had known there was an urgency to tell his brothers and to let Emma know what he'd learned about his grim future but deemed it necessary to clear off all the non-emotional connections before telling those to whom he was closest.

  The door to his advisor's office opened. An older Chinese woman poked out her head. “We're ready for you, Ethan. Please join us.”

  He walked toward the couch in the seating area to the right of her desk and sat. His advisor and the assigned physician already both positioned themselves in chairs directly across from him—their usual location during his quarterly meetings.

  “Ethan, you scheduled this time with us to discuss something about the upcoming academic year; however, more pressing matters have come to our attention.”

  “Yes, I have an issue we need to discuss.”

  His advisor reached out and placed her hand on his knee. “We know about your diagnosis. And may I say on behalf of both of us, and on Boston University, we're humbled to have enjoyed the time we've had with you over the last few years. We're also deeply saddened by the news. May I hug you?” she asked.

  “You're the first two people I've talked to about this, except for my mother. Unless you count when I went to my father's grave to tell him, but since he's already gone, I suppose that doesn't count.” Ethan smiled, recognizing her genuine concern rather than simple professional courtesy. “Yes, you can hug me.”

  And she did. Ethan swallowed hard and fought back the lump growing higher in his throat. “I'm not even going to ask how you know about my illness. With such little time left, I'd only scheduled this meeting today to inform you I would be leaving Boston University.”

  Ethan finished meeting with his advisors and talking about his condition. They guided and encouraged him to confide in his family as soon as possible. He thanked them for everything and soon walked off in a silent vacuum on the campus where he'd spent the last five years of his life, knowing he'd never step back on its comforting landscape again.

  * * *

  As he pulled to the curb noticing all the spots were taken, Ethan hopped off his bicycle and carried it up the steps into his building. When he arrived in his loft, he locked the bike and admired the new curtains Emma had installed while he was away for the afternoon.

  “The curtains look fantastic, Emma. Just like you.”

  She stepped back from the window and nodded her head in agreement. “They are amazing, as you thought they would be. I'm so glad we selected these instead of the green ones.”

  “I'm so glad I selected you instead of… well never mind.” He'd met her roommate the same day as he'd met Emma several years ago, and almost went out on a date with her that first week, too. Luckily, Emma returned his call first and stole his heart.

  Emma scrunched her eyes close together and displayed a slight pouty face. “You better not finish that statement, Ethan Glass. I'll call your mother and tell her you're being mean to me. She might love me even more than she loves you since we've met.”

  “I'm starting to believe that may be true. Hasn't she called you every day this week?”

  “Yes, she has. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to bond with her…”

  “But?”

  “I'm not so sure why.”

  “You never know with my mother. Just be happy. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

  “Yes, we're definitely on. I need to run errands for a few hours, but I'll meet you at the restaurant at eight.” Emma kissed her boyfriend goodbye and left the loft.

  Ethan pulled out the folded-up paper from his wallet and verified his checklist of tasks to do that evening before he asked her an important question.

  Checking the time, Ethan verified he had a few minutes before he needed to meet Emma at Le Joliet. He'd selected the restaurant as it was her favorite French bistro in all of Boston. Ethan booked the chef's table in a private room off to the side where the chef would personally deliver each course to his guests, tempting their palates with his latest inventions.

  Ethan dialed his mother, and she answered on the first ring.

  “Are you ready for tonight?” Olivia told him about the day his father had proposed to her under the cherry trees in the botanical garden, evoking in her mind the scent of lilies and image of Ben on one knee. Such a comfort would never be forgotten.

  “Yes. Everything is set. I have Grandma Eleanor's ring in my jacket pocket. The hostess knows to sneak it into the chef who's gonna deliver it with the appetizers. Are you sure I'm doing the right thing, Mom?”

  “Yes, I'm confident she will want to marry you. I've spent many hours with her on the phone the last two weeks, Ethan. She's become a daughter to me. She cares for you so deeply.”

  “Does she know I'm going to propose tonight?”

  “She didn't let on anything to me when we spoke earlier. Did you love the curtains? I told her to go with those and not the green ones. She emailed pictures to me last week, and the green ones were awful.”

  He laughed. “Yes, they looked great. I'm glad it will be a surprise for her tonight. But this is hard, Mom. It's not a normal proposal.”

  “No, there's nothing normal about it. There's also nothing normal about this situation. You're supposed to have so much life ahead of you. It should be me, not you.” Exasperation stole the perimeters of her weakened voice. Her hands shook as she tried to maintain her emotions.

  “We can't change it. We have to accept it. I'm not wasting any of the time I have left.” Ethan's voice remained calm and encouraging.

  “I know. I'll stop. We still need to have more conversations. Did you tell the school today?”

  “Yes, they know. They were very caring and pushed me to recognize the good work I've done to date, concerning, you know, the things I won't be able to finish.”

  “That's their job, Ethan. They're your advisors. They want the best for you, too. Just as your family does. I have something to ask of you, Ethan.” Her voice quivered as she spoke.

  “What, Mom?”

  “I want you to come back home. I want you to live at the house with me. With your brothers.”

  “I see.”

  “I want you to come for your father's birthday party next week and stay here until…”

  Silence filled the room for a painful ten seconds that felt more lik
e a hundred hours in dark and blistering hell.

  “Until I die? You need to say it, Mom.”

  “Yes, until you die.” Idle fear resonated in Olivia's voice. She calmed her tone and continued. “And you must bring Emma. She belongs here with us.”

  “I will think about it, Mom. I haven't planned that far ahead. I'm taking it a few steps at a time. I ended my ties to the university today. I'm telling Emma tonight and giving her the option of marrying me or of leaving before I get sick.”

  “She will choose to marry you.”

  “I hope she will, too. You will need to be available for her afterward. Her strength is a façade, not a certainty.”

  “You have no idea how much strength people have until they're truly tested, Ethan.”

  * * *

  Ethan sat at Le Joliet's high rectangular marble chef's table waiting for Emma to arrive. Everything was in place. He'd told the chef to pick the menu needing one less task to hold responsibility for. While he wasn't nervous, Ethan couldn't sit still. He'd started to notice minor tremors occurring in his extremities the last few hours. It was an early symptom, his doctor warned him.

  Emma arrived and walked toward their table. Ethan sat in the higher platform section of the split-level room and could watch without any obstruction as she entered. She wore a glimmering purple satin dress that fell just a few inches below her knees. A thin black braided rope, with the two ends gently resting on her slim hips, lay delicately cinched together around her waist, enticing him, and flaunting her perfect figure and ivory skin. Her shapely legs glided across the floor toward him. She'd chosen the diamond earrings and necklace her parents had given to her for graduation, and as she walked past the chandeliers in the main room, the jewelry sparkled and danced around her radiant expression. A butterfly clip pulled her hair tightly to the sides of her head casting an exquisite regal appearance. A few auburn locks cascaded over the mesmerizing eyes he often found himself lost in.

  “You look stunning, Emma.”

  “I am stunning.”

  “Maybe we should go home right now.”

  “Is that what you wanna do, Ethan?”

  “Yes. I mean no. Later. Not right now. Let's sit.” His face bubbled with a devilish grin that remembered its remaining life was brief.

  After the waiter dropped off their drinks, Ethan knew it was time to tell Emma about his condition. He didn't want to tell her, but he had no other fair options. He thought about taking her to the doctor to let a professional explain it. He even considered asking his mother to deliver the news since she'd become close with Emma. Ultimately, he knew it was his responsibility, and if he only had a few more months left, he was determined to follow through on all the normal steps a couple would take when getting engaged. First, he needed to tell her he was sick, and then he'd be ready to pop the question in the most romantic way possible, given the limitations of the future.

  “Emma, there's something I need to talk to you about.” He reached for her hand.

  Her trembling fingers fell against his cool, shaky grip.

  “I learned surprising news recently. It has a huge and unexpected consequence for my future. For our future.” He paused to search her rich brown eyes losing himself second by second in the fireworks that were the specks of green waltzing around them from the candlelight on the table.

  She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I'm listening.”

  “I visited the doctor a few weeks ago after I had a couple of dizzy spells and passed out several times at the hospital during rounds. I never told you about them, as I didn't want to acknowledge it was serious.”

  Emma, eyes glassy at the unexpected directional change in the conversation, attempted to pull her hand back, but Ethan wouldn't let go.

  “Ethan, you're scaring me.” Her face fell a few shades paler than a harsh winter's white storm.

  “I know, but I don't have any other way to tell you. The doctors ran several tests. I checked with another specialist and scheduled a second round of tests. They came back with the same results.”

  Emma's shoulders shivered as the chill surrounding the table nipped at her skin.

  Ethan's fingers had jagged icicles running through them. “I have a brain tumor, and the doctors can't do anything to fix it. If I attempt surgery, I won't survive. At best, the doctor gives me three months. At worst, I may only have a few weeks left.”

  “Please tell me you're joking.” She stood appearing desperate to find herself anywhere else but in the restaurant at that moment. The table shifted from the pressure her body placed upon it. Choosing between locating an escape route or flipping the table across the room, tore Emma into pieces.

  No smiles, no laughs, not even a breath of air emanated from Ethan's mouth. Emma yanked her hand back and pushed both to her lips, biting her nails and willing her eyes not to betray what surfaced in her mind.

  “Emma.” He stood and walked to her side of the table. “Emma, I'm not joking.” He wrapped her in both arms. The warmth of his skin overtook the coolness of hers.

  “There's nothing to be done?” she whispered, as she stood against him.

  He turned her stiffened body around to face him and stared directly at her sullen expression. “Nothing.”

  While they stood holding one another entrapped in a moment few people ever have to experience, the chef dropped off their appetizers and discreetly walked away careful not to disrupt what should have been the happiest moment of a woman's lifetime.

  Ethan grabbed her hands, placing them in his. “I have adored you for the last few years of my life. And regardless of what I learned from the doctors in the last month, it was always my intention to ask you something important this summer. I still want to ask you because I can think of nothing I would want more than to have you by my side for whatever time I have left. But I could never pressure you under the circumstances.”

  Ethan reached back toward the table and lifted the silver domed cover where his grandmother's wedding ring lay atop a porcelain dish.

  Emma steadied her body against the back of the chair, her mind caught between the potential for sheer joy and the painful weight of the truth.

  “It would make me the happiest man alive if you would stand by my side Emma, for however many weeks or months I have left, as my equal, my friend, my companion, my support, and my wife.”

  He pulled her hands toward his lips with one arm and kissed them, and his other retrieved his grandmother's engagement ring.

  “If you choose to become my wife, we will live as happily as we can together until I'm gone. But I must give you the opportunity to protect yourself from a future where you will watch me die. I will not ask any questions. I will not pressure you. I will not be upset with you. I love you beyond anything I can explain in words. I want only for you to be as happy as you can be for the rest of your life. And if that means you want to leave right now and never see me again, I understand.”

  He released her hand after placing the ring on her finger, forgetting his fears, and stepped back toward his seat, his eyes not once leaving hers.

  “Emma, knowing everything I dropped on you these last few minutes, I want to give you the opportunity to decide for yourself if you want to marry me.”

  Chapter 21 – Olivia

  Olivia walked toward the bedside table admiring the new frame with Ben's picture she'd set on it the day before replacing the long-dirtied coffee mug. As she fiddled with her notes containing her talking points for Betty to assume control of their philanthropic responsibilities, the phone rang. Olivia checked the caller ID and collected the phone to talk to the attorney.

  “Hello.”

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Glass. This is Ira Rattenbury.”

  “I expected your call today. Do you have news?”

  “Yes, I finished my investigation and met with Miss Hector myself earlier in the week.”

  Olivia breathed in each whisper of air that stole her remaining courage. She was filled with utter disappointment upon learning I
ra had been successful. “So, she is alive?”

  “Yes, living in Michigan. Rowena moved away after the baby was born and took a job at a manufacturing company where she still works, believe it or not.”

  Olivia sat on the bed with her eyes closed. I choose to believe not.

  Her toes scratched against the carpeted floor pushing the woven threads from side to side, knowing she would soon discover how much of her life would once again pivot toward another unexpected arc—a consistent pattern the last few months. Initially, she'd hoped the woman had passed away years before, so she wouldn't have to face the consequences of Ben's decision. She had already decided if Rowena had died, the secret would stay buried as there would be no sense in destroying her family if her son would never be able to meet his birth mother.

  As the weeks passed, and Olivia had spent time with each of her sons, part of her wanted to meet the woman who had abandoned her baby, uncertain if it were to thank her or to throttle her. After observing the pain harboring within each son, Olivia had developed, and at times encouraged, a morbid curiosity that it would have been better if Rowena Hector could become part of their lives to correct the sins of the past.

  The silence on the phone stung as she prepared to ask the question.

  “Does she want to meet her son?”

  * * *

  Olivia pushed the prior day's conversation with Ira Rattenbury as far away as she could. She turned to Diane and said, “At first, I felt it odd to celebrate Ben's seventieth birthday… since he'd only passed away a few months ago… but when each of the boys encouraged me to look for a sense of closure and to find a way to move forward, I knew throwing a party was the right decision.”

  Olivia placed her hands on the back of the chair at the breakfast nook. She'd chosen a soft white sleeveless dress with an empire cut and let her hair fall with a gentle ease around her shoulders, rather than tied back in its usual restricted state. No shoes on her feet, minimal jewelry, a necessary change of appearance as she set the course for her future. “Are you ready?”