The original treatment protocol had been to continue two-week cycles of daily infusions over a number of months, or perhaps a year, if possible. Unfortunately, after only a few cycles, the treatment had to be stopped. John Junior’s immune system, despite the previous chemotherapy, had developed an allergy to the mouse protein, causing a dangerous side effect. The new plan was to wait a month or two, then recheck John Junior’s sensitivity to the mouse protein. If it dropped low enough, treatment would start again. There was no other option. John Junior’s disease was too widespread for autologous stem-cell therapy, surgery, or radiation.

“He’s so darling when he’s asleep and not crying,” a voice said in the darkness.

Jack started. Caught up in his thoughts, he’d been unaware that Laurie had come up alongside him.

“I’m sorry to have startled you,” Laurie added, looking up at her husband.

“I’m sorry to have awakened you,” Jack said sympathetically. Given the demanding circumstances involving JJ’s care, he knew she was chronically exhausted.

“I was already awake when you jolted yourself awake. I was afraid you were having another nightmare, with your rapid breathing.”

“I was. It was my old runaway-car dream, only this time I was hurtling toward a group of preschool children. It was terrible.”

“I can imagine. At least it’s not hard to interpret.”

“You think so,” Jack said with a touch of sarcasm. He wasn’t fond of being psychoanalyzed.

“Now, don’t get your dander up,” Laurie added. She reached out and grasped Jack’s upper arm. “For the hundredth time, JJ’s illness is not your fault. You have to stop beating up on yourself.”

Jack took a deep breath and let it out noisily. He shook his head. “It’s easy for you to say.”

“But it’s true!” Laurie insisted, giving Jack’s arm an empathetic squeeze. “You know what the doctors at Memorial said when we pressured them for an etiology. Hell, it’s more likely it was I, considering the chemicals we’re exposed to as forensic pathologists. When I was pregnant, I tried to avoid all solvents, but it was impossible.”

“Solvents as the cause of neuroblastoma has not been proven.”

“It’s not proven, but it’s a hell of a lot more likely than the supernatural curse you keep torturing yourself with.”

Jack reluctantly nodded. He was afraid of where the conversation was going. He didn’t like to talk about his curse as he didn’t believe in the supernatural, nor was he particularly religious, two beliefs he thought related. He preferred to keep to his immediate reality, things that he could touch and feel and generally appreciate with his own senses.

“What about my taking fertility drugs?” Laurie said. “That was another one of the doctor’s suggestions. Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Jack admitted testily. He didn’t want to talk about the issue.

“The truth is that the cause of neuroblastoma is not known, period! Listen, just come back to bed.”

Jack shook his head. “I’d never fall back asleep. Besides, it’s got to be close to five. I might as well shower and shave, and head in to work early. I need something to keep my mind busy.”