“When are you telling the kids?” Nancy asks, gripping her daughter’s hand in hers.
Molly sniffs and uses the cuff of her shirt to wipe her nose. Spotting a box of tissues, I grab them and hand them to her. All three women grab several squares.
“Not until after we get the results back of their genetic tests. We want to get it all over with at once. If they….” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “If they have it too, we’d rather tell them about me and them at the same time, versus dropping this on them one day only to drop another one a couple of weeks later.”
Any time I think about losing the kids, it nearly brings me to my knees. I can’t lose the three most important people in my life. I won’t survive it.
“What will you tell them when they go in for the test?”
“That it’s just routine blood work that all kids need.”
“And Dr. Becker said this came from my biological parents?”
“Yes, he believes so. Since you and Dad haven’t shown signs of the disease, it’s the only logical explanation.” Molly turns and regards her sister. “Dr. Becker wants you and Aubree to come in to get tested too.”
Fear darkens Lindsay’s eyes, but she nods. “I’ll call tomorrow for an appointment.”
“No need. We already made you one for tomorrow at the same time the kids are being tested.”
“Okay.”
We spend the next few minutes talking with Nancy, Douglas, and Lindsay, although there wasn’t much that was said. What do you say when you’re faced with the fact that a loved one will die in the near future and there’s nothing that can be done about it?
Seeing the exhaustion on Molly’s face, I’m just about to walk to her when her eyes meet mine. She switches to look at her mom.
“We’re going to go. I’m ready to get home and snuggle with my kids and husband.”
“Okay, sweetie.” When they stand, they embrace in another hug. “You call us if you need anything.” Her eyes meet mine over Molly’s shoulder. “Anything at all.”
I nod.
After letting her mom go, Molly does the same to Lindsay and their dad. Everyone’s eyes are tearing again, and before it gets out of control, I put my arm around her shoulders and lead her out of the room to get the kids. Minutes later, we have them buckled in, and we’re on our way home.
“How are we going to get through this?” Molly whispers hours later. Her gaze drops to the little girl in her arms before moving to our son, who’s lying next to his sister.
Both kids are asleep in our bed with us. After I made us a quick dinner, Molly, her expression strained, announced we were having a family movie night in our room. Gemma jumped at the opportunity to snuggle with us for a movie. I expected a protest from Gray, claiming to be too big to watch a movie in his parents’ bed, so I was surprised when he readily agreed. He still hasn’t asked what was going on, but I’ve seen the question in his eyes. He knows something is wrong, but I don’t know if he’s kept quiet because he’s scared of the answers or because he’s giving us time to tell him on our own.
“We’ll do whatever we have to. No matter what, we will get through it.”
I have no damn clue how we’ll get through this, but it’s not like we have a choice.
My chest tightens for what seems like the hundredth time today.
“I’m not ready to give them up.” Her words are spoken quietly, but I hear them loud and clear. “If something happens to them because of me…. How am I supposed to handle that? And how are you? If the three of us….” She trails off, and I’m glad she does. I don’t know if I can hear the rest of her sentence.
Instead of answering her, I gently get up from the bed. Waking up a zonked-out Gray, I walk him to his room, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him when he stumbles into a wall. I turn to leave his room, but his sleepy voice stops me.
“Dad?”
I turn back. “Yes, son?”
“Is everything okay?”
My throat thickens, and I try to clear away the feeling. “It will be.”
I’ve never lied to my kids before. I may have stretched the truth or omitted something, but I’ve never outright lied. My heart cracks for doing it for the first time.
“Love you, Dad.”
Walking back to the bed, I bend and place a kiss against his forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut before whispering back, “I love you too, Gray.”
Walking back into the bedroom, I find Molly lovingly running her fingers through Gemma’s red hair. Her cheeks are red, so I know she’s been crying again.
I go to her side of the bed and scoop my beauty up and carry her to her own room, making sure the blanket is tucked around her tiny body. After pressing a kiss to her forehead, I walk out, gently closing the door behind me.
Molly has rolled to her other side, so her back is facing mine. Her knees are drawn up to her chest, and she’s hugging her legs. Gripping the back of my shirt, I tug it over my head before dropping my pants to the floor. I leave them where they fall and quickly get into bed. Scooting over to her side, I press on her shoulder until she releases her legs and is forced to roll to her back. Seeing the devastation on her face is almost too much to bare.
Leaning over her, I cup her cheek and put my face as close to her as I can get without kissing her.
“Listen to me, Molly. I see the guilt in your eyes when you look at our kids. If Gray or Gemma carry this gene, it is in no way your fault. You need to get that out of your head. The only thing you could have done to prevent it is to not have them. That means giving up two of the most precious things we’ve ever created together. As much as it hurts to know they may have this thing, I wouldn’t give up a single second of their lives.”
She hiccoughs on a sob. Tears fly from her cheeks when she rapidly shakes her head. “I wouldn’t either.”
“We need to heed the advice Dr. Becker gave us and not let the unknown ruin the precious time we have left. We’ll know their fate in a couple of weeks. Until then, I refuse to use the time I—” I abruptly stop when the words get clogged in my throat. Only the feeling of Molly’s lips gently pressing against mine gives me the courage to finish. “I’m not going to let these two weeks ruin a second I have left with you. The fate of our kids is unknown at the moment. Yours isn’t.”
The tears I’ve been holding back since this afternoon in Dr. Becker’s office come flooding back. Without the fear of the kids seeing, I let them fall.
Dropping my head, I press my lips against Molly’s. I taste her tears, and I’m sure she tastes mine.
“I love you,” I whisper raggedly against her lips. “No matter what life has in store for us. I’ll always love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispers back. “Forevermore.”
“Forevermore.”
That word has never held more meaning than it does in this moment. Even when Molly is gone—an eternity can go by—and I’ll still love the red-headed girl who stole my heart in third grade.
The next morning, I wake with my face buried in a head full of red hair that smells like vanilla. I breathe in deep, wishing I could keep the smell in my lungs forever. The diagnosis we were given yesterday suggests I’ll only have it for two to five more years.