Two years, Rachel thought. Thats longer than Ive got. I hope she enjoys every day of it.

With that thought, the only thing that kept the tears from spilling was the smile on Grandma Tates face despite the grim future that awaited her. But even that bit of joy was overshadowed by her own wretched secret, a truth that seemed to already be peeling apart her thoughts and dreams of the future while looking for a way out into the light.

If anything, though, it made her more anxious to get back home to see Peter and Paige. Yes, she was still wrestling with her secret diagnosis, but she also knew that she could take a lesson from Grandma Tate. Maybe telling them would be okay. Maybe she could be brave and strong like Grandma Tate.

Maybe it was time to tell them after all.

CHAPTER THREE

She only made a single stop during the seven-and-a-half-hour drive, and that was for a quick snack and to fill up with gas. Perhaps it was the bowling dream or just the overwhelming wait of her own diagnosis now coupled with Grandma Tates, but she very badly wanted to see Paige. She wanted to see Peter, too, of course, but her heart ached to see her daughter.

Because shed woken up so early and left almost two full hours before shed originally planned, she arrived home just shy of four oclock. The house was empty, as it was Thursday and Peter would have taken Paige to soccer practice. It was the one time of the week he intentionally took time off of work to spend daddy-daughter time with her. The routine was soccer, a quick stop for ice cream, and then home to help mommy with dinner.

Standing in the empty living room for two whole minutes, Rachel almost left the house and headed over to the soccer fields but knew that was silly. Theyd be home in less than half an hour. She sat at the kitchen counter contemplating an early glass of wine when she thought of the ease in which Grandma Tate had made her decision to not pursue any treatments. It was a decision Rachel had made in her own mind but had yet to confirm with her doctor. If she truly did only have a year or so left, shed be damned if shed spend that bit of time hooked to machines and in a constant state of pain and nausea. More than that, she did not want her daughters last vision of her to be a ruin of the woman shed once been.

While she had the nerve to do so, she pulled her phone from her pocket and called her doctors office, using the number from the business card that had come in the initial packet of information following her diagnosis. It was answered on the second ring by a soft, pleasant voice.

Dr. Greenes office, how can we help today?