Chapter 67

I can hardly hold my voice steady as I say, "We have to get to Willow Creek." Sophie's grip tightens on my hand.

With her phone out, she responds, "Already on it. I'll book the next flight for us."

I look straight ahead, my thoughts racing with fear. Margo's feeble voice, laced with a worry she attempted to conceal, reverberates in my head. What was the duration of her silent suffering? I shake my head, feeling guilty and angry.

"Em," Sophie says softly, her voice piercing the mist, "we have a flight in two hours. Come on, let's pack our bags."

There is no sound during the flight. Even Sophie, who usually knows what to say, is unusually silent and occasionally gives me consoling pats on my hand, but I am at a loss for words. As I gaze out the window, the minutes pass slowly, each moment seeming to last forever.

We immediately go to St. Mark's Hospital after landing. I feel uneasy as soon as we enter because of the sterile antiseptic odor. As we get closer to the reception desk, my heart is pounding.

I say, my voice softer than I meant to, "We're here to see Margo Clark. She was admitted earlier."

After a moment, the nurse looks at her computer and nods. "To your left and down the hall is room 204."

After exchanging glances, Sophie and I head down the hallway.

When we get to the door, I pause, collect myself, and then push it open. My heart aches when I see Margo lying in the hospital bed, looking pale and weak. When she sees us, she gives a feeble smile that stops short of her eyes.

"Mom." I approach her bedside and whisper.

"My dear, Emily." Despite her soft voice, she makes an effort to speak steadily. "You didn't need to come here in a hurry."

"I did, of course." I take her hand and hold it firmly. "You ought to have informed me of your illness."

With a glimmer of guilt in her weary eyes, Margo looks away. "I didn't want you to be concerned. You have a lot on your plate already."

Growing irritated, I squeeze her hand. "I'm your daughter, Mom. You have no right to shield me from such an occurrence."

As I turn back to Margo, Sophie puts a hand on my shoulder and offers me silent support. "We'll take care of whatever you need. We'll get you the best care and the best doctors, regardless of the cost."

Margo reaches up to touch my cheek as her eyes well up with tears. She whispers, "You've always been so determined. But sometimes, Emily, money isn't everything."

I shake my head and insist, "Don't say that. This is going to be fought. I'll find specialists. Whatever is necessary."

A doctor enters through the open door. His face is serious, and he glances between us before addressing Margo. "We've looked over the scans, Ms. Clark. I want to discuss the specifics with you and your loved ones."

Margo nods and motions for him to go on. I hold my breath, anticipating his next words.

He clears his throat. "Margo has been diagnosed with stage three ovarian cancer."

The words were like a kick to the stomach. As I look at him and try to take it all in, I can feel the air leaving my lungs. Sophie grounds me by tightening her hand on my shoulder.

"I understand that this is difficult to hear," he adds softly. "There are options for treatment, which is good news. Depending on how things develop, surgery, chemotherapy, and possibly radiation may be necessary."

I firmly say, "Then we'll start immediately," looking directly into the doctor's eyes. "I want the best care possible for her."

The doctor nods, but his face doesn't lighten. "We'll do everything we can, but we need to keep our expectations realistic. There are no guarantees, and treatment will be difficult."

I take a deep breath and look at Margo, who gives me a silently resigned expression. I mumble, "You're strong, Mom. You can beat this."

Margo makes an effort to smile, but I can see the fatigue in her eyes. "We'll see, my love. We'll see."

The doctor gives us some privacy. As we sit in silence and each of us deals with the news in our own way, Sophie puts her arm around my shoulders. My mother, who has always supported me, is dealing with a problem that is difficult to resolve with money and influence.

Margo eventually nods off, breathing steadily and shallowly. I lean against the wall and exhale a trembling breath as Sophie and I leave the room. I try to maintain my composure by pressing my fingers against my temples.

Sophie gently puts a hand on my arm and says, "Emily, it's okay to be upset."

I shake my head, attempting to control my mounting anxiety. "Soph, why is this happening? Why am I unable to simply live a normal life? Everything breaks down again right when I think I'm figuring things out."

I allow myself to lean into Sophie's embrace, closing my eyes as I cling to her warmth.

She whispers, "Em, you'll overcome this. And you're not alone."

I nod, but I can't shake the fear. This differs from the other difficulties we have encountered. This is something genuine, something profound. I'm not sure I can handle the weight of the possibility of losing my mother, either.

We wait for Margo to wake up in the hospital well into the evening. When she does, I sit next to her and hold her hand while we have a quiet conversation. Despite her best efforts to reassure me, I can see how tired she is.

"You don't have to stay, Emily," she whispers, her voice just above a whisper. "You will have your own life to live. You shouldn't give up everything for me."

I hold her hand tightly and shake my head. "You are my family, Mom. You have always supported me. This isn't a sacrifice. It's simply what I have to do."

With a sigh, Margo lets a tear fall down her cheek. "You've developed into such a remarkable woman. I'm so proud of you."

Her words struck a deep chord with me, and I blinked back tears while trying to speak clearly. "Without you, I wouldn't be who I am."

Margo closes her eyes once more as we sit in silence, and I watch her with a heavy heart.

The doctor reappears later, his face unreadable. He says, "To see how responsive the cancer is to treatment, we'll start with some initial tests tomorrow. But...  I'll be honest. We'll need to keep our fingers crossed."

His words make my stomach turn, and I can feel Sophie's hand getting tighter around my shoulder. Keep our fingers crossed. It feels so inadequate, so helpless.