thing to help someone like that. But as I drive home, another part of me is worried. I’m thinking maybe I should’ve offered to stay with her in case she needs more help. At the same time I know Fran is a private person and it’s possible I’ve invaded her space enough already. In fact, by the time I get home, I’m hoping I haven’t offended her by cleaning her apartment. What if she thinks that was my way of saying she’s a slob?
Finally I decide that instead of obsessing, I should simply pray for her. And that’s what I do. I am still praying for God to do a miracle in her, but I’m also praying that God will bring more people into her life. It’s ironic, because there I was feeling sorry for myself because I was lonely. But poor Fran is not only facing a life-and-death challenge, she seems to be very much alone. In comparison, my life is absolutely full.
Chapter
7
Fran calls me at noon on Tuesday and she’s very appreciative of my help last Sunday, which makes me feel good.
“You sound so much better,” I tell her as I take leftovers from the fridge. “Maybe the chemo is really working.”
“I feel pretty good today.” She explains how her oncologist is using a “three days on, four days off” plan. “I get treatments on Friday, Saturday, and the last one on Sunday morning. So I only end up crashing on the weekends. Plus, my doctor thinks it’s the best way to treat the cancer—three days of aggression and four days to recover and rest.”
“So that’s what you’re doing today?” I ask. “Recovering and resting while you’re at
work?”
“Well … I’m taking it easy.”
“You sure were wiped out on Sunday,” I remind her.
“It was a rough day. But, really, I almost feel like myself today.”
She does sound better, and I’m hoping her treatments are working. I want to ask her if Helen is getting suspicious yet,but I just hate rocking her boat. It seems so fragile and tippy already.
“Anyway, I’m on my lunch break and I’m going to take a quick nap. We’ve been putting together the tapes from Saturday.”
“The fashion fiasco show.”
“The footage is really hilarious. I think it’ll be a good episode.”
“Cool.”
“In fact, that’s why I’m calling. We scheduled a preview on Friday at ten. Can you let Paige know?”
“Will do.”
I’m encouraged to hear Fran’s feeling better, but I’m still concerned. Seeing her like that on Sunday was a little disturbing. Obviously, it was unsettling on a personal level because I really care about Fran. It was also disturbing on a professional level because I just do not see how she can maintain her job and her cancer treatment without derailing both. And when I think about the Bahamas trip coming up, I get seriously worried.
“Hey, you,” Mom comes into the kitchen with her arms full of bags.
“Hi, Mom. What are you doing home this time of day?”
“I took a long lunch break to do some last-minute shopping. I’ll make up for it this evening.” She peers at me curiously. “You seemed like you were in a bit of a funk when I came in just now. Everything okay?”
I take in a deep breath, wondering how much I should say.
“Erin?” She cocks her head to one side. “Is something going on with Paige?”
It’s ironic how she immediately goes to Paige when shesuspects trouble. And, in a way, she’s not too far off the mark. “Not
exactly.”
Mom sets her bags and purse on the table then goes to the fridge to retrieve a yogurt and an apple. “What is it then,
exactly?”
She gets a spoon and a paring knife then sits down at the breakfast bar with an expectant look.
“I promised to keep it a secret,” I confess.
Mom’s brows arch as she opens the yogurt carton. “A secret about your sister? From your mother?”
“No, it’s not a secret about Paige.”
Mom looks evenly at me as she dips her spoon.
“Can I trust you, Mom?”
She smiles. “I am your mom, Erin. If you can’t trust me, who can you
Finally I decide that instead of obsessing, I should simply pray for her. And that’s what I do. I am still praying for God to do a miracle in her, but I’m also praying that God will bring more people into her life. It’s ironic, because there I was feeling sorry for myself because I was lonely. But poor Fran is not only facing a life-and-death challenge, she seems to be very much alone. In comparison, my life is absolutely full.
Chapter
7
Fran calls me at noon on Tuesday and she’s very appreciative of my help last Sunday, which makes me feel good.
“You sound so much better,” I tell her as I take leftovers from the fridge. “Maybe the chemo is really working.”
“I feel pretty good today.” She explains how her oncologist is using a “three days on, four days off” plan. “I get treatments on Friday, Saturday, and the last one on Sunday morning. So I only end up crashing on the weekends. Plus, my doctor thinks it’s the best way to treat the cancer—three days of aggression and four days to recover and rest.”
“So that’s what you’re doing today?” I ask. “Recovering and resting while you’re at
work?”
“Well … I’m taking it easy.”
“You sure were wiped out on Sunday,” I remind her.
“It was a rough day. But, really, I almost feel like myself today.”
She does sound better, and I’m hoping her treatments are working. I want to ask her if Helen is getting suspicious yet,but I just hate rocking her boat. It seems so fragile and tippy already.
“Anyway, I’m on my lunch break and I’m going to take a quick nap. We’ve been putting together the tapes from Saturday.”
“The fashion fiasco show.”
“The footage is really hilarious. I think it’ll be a good episode.”
“Cool.”
“In fact, that’s why I’m calling. We scheduled a preview on Friday at ten. Can you let Paige know?”
“Will do.”
I’m encouraged to hear Fran’s feeling better, but I’m still concerned. Seeing her like that on Sunday was a little disturbing. Obviously, it was unsettling on a personal level because I really care about Fran. It was also disturbing on a professional level because I just do not see how she can maintain her job and her cancer treatment without derailing both. And when I think about the Bahamas trip coming up, I get seriously worried.
“Hey, you,” Mom comes into the kitchen with her arms full of bags.
“Hi, Mom. What are you doing home this time of day?”
“I took a long lunch break to do some last-minute shopping. I’ll make up for it this evening.” She peers at me curiously. “You seemed like you were in a bit of a funk when I came in just now. Everything okay?”
I take in a deep breath, wondering how much I should say.
“Erin?” She cocks her head to one side. “Is something going on with Paige?”
It’s ironic how she immediately goes to Paige when shesuspects trouble. And, in a way, she’s not too far off the mark. “Not
exactly.”
Mom sets her bags and purse on the table then goes to the fridge to retrieve a yogurt and an apple. “What is it then,
exactly?”
She gets a spoon and a paring knife then sits down at the breakfast bar with an expectant look.
“I promised to keep it a secret,” I confess.
Mom’s brows arch as she opens the yogurt carton. “A secret about your sister? From your mother?”
“No, it’s not a secret about Paige.”
Mom looks evenly at me as she dips her spoon.
“Can I trust you, Mom?”
She smiles. “I am your mom, Erin. If you can’t trust me, who can you
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