Kate squeezed her husband’s hand. “Anyway, there’s nothing for you to worry about, but I’m . . . sick.”

All three of them looked at her.

“Don’t worry. They’re going to operate on me and then give me a bunch of medicine and I’ll be fine. I might be tired for a few weeks, but that should be about it.”

“You promise you’ll be okay?” Lucas said, his gaze steady and earnest and only a little afraid.

Kate wanted to say, Certainly of course, but such a promise would be remembered.

William rolled his eyes and elbowed his brother. “She just said she’d be fine. Will we get out of school to go to the hospital?”

“Yes,” Kate said, actually finding a smile.

Lucas rushed forward to hug her first. “I love you, Mommy,” he whispered. She held on to him so long he had to wrench free. The same thing happened with William. Then, as one, they turned and went to the stairs.

“Aren’t you going to finish your movie?” Kate asked.

“Naw,” Lucas said. “We’re going upstairs.”

Kate glanced worriedly at her husband, who was already rising. “How about a game of basketball, boys?”

They jumped on the idea and all went outside.

Finally, Kate looked at Marah.

“It’s cancer, isn’t it?” her daughter asked after a long silence.

“Yes.”

“Ms. Murphy had cancer last year and she’s fine. And Aunt Georgia, too.”

“Exactly.”

Marah’s mouth trembled. For all her height and pseudo-sophistication and makeup, she looked suddenly like a little girl again asking Kate to leave the night-light on. Wringing her hands together, she moved toward the sofa. “You’ll be fine, right?”

Stage four. Already spread. Caught it late. She put a lid on those thoughts. They could do her no good. Now was a time for optimism.

“Right. The doctors say I’m young and healthy, so I should be fine.”

Marah lay down on the couch, snuggled close, and put her head in Kate’s lap. “I’ll take care of you, Mommy.”

Kate closed her eyes and stroked her daughter’s hair. It seemed like only yesterday she’d been able to hold her in her arms and rock her to sleep, only yesterday that Marah had curled into her lap and cried for their lost goldfish.

Please God, she prayed, let me get old enough that someday we’re friends . . .

She swallowed hard. “I know you will, honey.”

The Firefly Lane girls . . .