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Authors: Carla Cassidy
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eloquently than words. His eyes were so like Richardâs, a soft brown that radiated his emotions.
âI donât know, Andrew. Youâve got school and Iâve got work. I donât see how itâs possible for us to just pick up and leave for a couple of weeks.â
âBut, Mom, Dad is sick. He needs us.â
Andrewâs words ripped through her. Richard was sick, and more than anything he wanted the support and love of his family. Wanted them around him. How could she deny him? How could she deny her son this time with his father?
She reached out and stroked Andrewâs dark hair. He was the spitting image of his father, although even at nine, Andrew had a maturity and inner strength that often awed Elizabeth.
âIâm not going to make any decision tonight,â she finally said. âIâm really tired and I need to think things through with a clear mind.â
âOkay, but I really think we should do it, Mom. I think we should do it for Dad.â
Elizabeth kissed him on the forehead and wished him good-night, then left his room and went into her own bedroom. A sudden, staggering exhaustion overtook her.
She peeled off her clothes and slipped on the pale-pink cotton nightshirt that was as familiar as a hug from an old friend. She turned out the light, then crawled beneath the covers of her bed with the aid of the night-light that burned in a socket next to her bed.
It was funny. Most children had night-lights in their bedrooms, but in this household it was the mother who needed the illumination to ward off the things that went bump in the night.
However, at the moment it wasnât the night that worried her. Rather, it was the coming of dawn, when she knew sheâd have to make a decision.
Richard needed Andrewâ¦and Andrew needed her. Richard was right in that she knew her son wouldnât be comfortable for a couple of weeks away from her.
For the past nine years Richard had been sporadic in his visitations, often canceling at the last moment. Andrew had borne his fatherâs shortcomings good-naturedly, always embracing the time they spent together, but never holding a grudge when plans didnât materialize.
Elizabeth knew if she didnât agree to this time with Richard, Andrew would never forgive her if something horrible happened. And she would never forgive herself.
But there were practical considerations. Andrew had just started in the fourth grade, and although he was an excellent student, missing two weeks of school couldnât be good.
As a substitute teacher, she could take off the next two weeks, although she would be financially pinched. There were so many things to consider.
For the first time in years, she wished she had somebody to hold her through the night, to stroke her back and whisper that everything was going to be just fine. She frowned, irritated by the uncharacteristic yearning.
Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the shadows on the ceiling. Touching her lips, she thought of that moment when Talbotâs mouth had claimed hers.
As his lips had touched hers, heat had soared through her, searing her from their point of contact down to the tips of her toes.
She shoved the memory firmly out of her mind. She couldnât think about that kiss, and she couldnât think about Talbot. Thinking about it, thinking abouthim, filled her with an uncomfortable guilt, and she wasnât sure why.
Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep, afraid sheâd make the wrong decision and somehow equally afraid sheâd make the right one.
Chapter Five
A brain tumor.
Talbot stood at the window in the huge McCarthy kitchen and watched as the sunâs first rays peeked over the horizon. His eyes felt gritty as he sipped his coffee. It had been a long, sleepless night.
Richard had arrived home by eleven the night before. Talbot had been in his study, taking care of what business he could that had reached crisis stage during
âI donât know, Andrew. Youâve got school and Iâve got work. I donât see how itâs possible for us to just pick up and leave for a couple of weeks.â
âBut, Mom, Dad is sick. He needs us.â
Andrewâs words ripped through her. Richard was sick, and more than anything he wanted the support and love of his family. Wanted them around him. How could she deny him? How could she deny her son this time with his father?
She reached out and stroked Andrewâs dark hair. He was the spitting image of his father, although even at nine, Andrew had a maturity and inner strength that often awed Elizabeth.
âIâm not going to make any decision tonight,â she finally said. âIâm really tired and I need to think things through with a clear mind.â
âOkay, but I really think we should do it, Mom. I think we should do it for Dad.â
Elizabeth kissed him on the forehead and wished him good-night, then left his room and went into her own bedroom. A sudden, staggering exhaustion overtook her.
She peeled off her clothes and slipped on the pale-pink cotton nightshirt that was as familiar as a hug from an old friend. She turned out the light, then crawled beneath the covers of her bed with the aid of the night-light that burned in a socket next to her bed.
It was funny. Most children had night-lights in their bedrooms, but in this household it was the mother who needed the illumination to ward off the things that went bump in the night.
However, at the moment it wasnât the night that worried her. Rather, it was the coming of dawn, when she knew sheâd have to make a decision.
Richard needed Andrewâ¦and Andrew needed her. Richard was right in that she knew her son wouldnât be comfortable for a couple of weeks away from her.
For the past nine years Richard had been sporadic in his visitations, often canceling at the last moment. Andrew had borne his fatherâs shortcomings good-naturedly, always embracing the time they spent together, but never holding a grudge when plans didnât materialize.
Elizabeth knew if she didnât agree to this time with Richard, Andrew would never forgive her if something horrible happened. And she would never forgive herself.
But there were practical considerations. Andrew had just started in the fourth grade, and although he was an excellent student, missing two weeks of school couldnât be good.
As a substitute teacher, she could take off the next two weeks, although she would be financially pinched. There were so many things to consider.
For the first time in years, she wished she had somebody to hold her through the night, to stroke her back and whisper that everything was going to be just fine. She frowned, irritated by the uncharacteristic yearning.
Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the shadows on the ceiling. Touching her lips, she thought of that moment when Talbotâs mouth had claimed hers.
As his lips had touched hers, heat had soared through her, searing her from their point of contact down to the tips of her toes.
She shoved the memory firmly out of her mind. She couldnât think about that kiss, and she couldnât think about Talbot. Thinking about it, thinking abouthim, filled her with an uncomfortable guilt, and she wasnât sure why.
Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep, afraid sheâd make the wrong decision and somehow equally afraid sheâd make the right one.
Chapter Five
A brain tumor.
Talbot stood at the window in the huge McCarthy kitchen and watched as the sunâs first rays peeked over the horizon. His eyes felt gritty as he sipped his coffee. It had been a long, sleepless night.
Richard had arrived home by eleven the night before. Talbot had been in his study, taking care of what business he could that had reached crisis stage during
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