She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the sounds of the curtain hooks whizzing around the metal rail roused her. Karen was still sitting beside the bed and Jess’s doctor was pulling up a second chair.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said.

“If it’s to tell me I can go home, then you’re forgiven.”

He gave a tight half-smile and looked inquiringly at Karen. “And you’re Jess’s mother?”

“No, just a friend.” Karen stood up. “I’ll give you some privacy and come back in a few minutes.”

“No.” Jess shot out her hand, catching Karen by the wrist, not totally understanding why but knowing implicitly she didn’t want to be alone. “Please stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“There’s no one else.”

Karen nodded wordlessly and sat down, sliding her book into her bag.

Dr. Jenkins cleared his throat. “As you know, we’ve been running some tests to work out if there’s more going on making you sick than just a urinary tract infection.”

“And is there?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

A chill raised goose bumps and her mouth dried. It was like she was seeing Doctor Jenkins for the first time since he’d appeared by her bed. On earlier visits, he’d been chatty but now the tone of his voice and the gravitas of his body language screamed bad news.

“Would you like me to explain the results to you now?”

No! Karen’s hand slid into hers and Jess felt the reassuring squeeze. Okay, so it was bad news, but bad news had a gradient. There was no reason to leap to catastrophe. Obviously, a doctor wasn’t going to joke about her needing surgery so why put off knowing? The sooner Jess knew how long she’d need off work to recuperate, the sooner she could set things in motion for Leo and contact Centrelink for income support and …

“Hit me with it.”

His shoulders tensed. “I’m sorry, Jess. The results tell us you have cancer.”

Cancer. The word flung itself around her head, slipping and sliding, banging and crashing. Instinctively she wanted to curl into a ball and hide. “Wh-what sort of cancer?” she heard herself ask, the words echoing back to her.

“Ovarian cancer.”

Thank God she’d already had Leo. “You’ll get it out of me by taking all my baby-making bits?”

He leaned slightly toward her. “I’m afraid it’s far more serious than that, Jess. The tumor’s spread to your liver, lungs, bowel and your spine.”

Over the noise in her head telling her that the surgeon couldn’t possibly remove all those body parts, Jess heard Karen gasp. “So, surgery and chemo?” Jess asked, remembering some of the stories from Relay for Life events. “Will you operate today or—”

“Jess,” Karen said firmly. “Let Dr. Jenkins explain.”