They spent several hours with the kids, and Andrew was glad when Jasmine joined the group half an hour after he arrived. She looked as sullen as the first time he’d met her, but he also detected a hint of insecurity. She went to the same chair by the window as last time, and he joined her.

“Hey, kid,” Andrew greeted.

Jasmine scowled. “I’m not a kid.”

“How old did you say you were? Twelve?”

“Fourteen.”

“Oh, yeah.” He grinned and she ignored him. “What are we gonna do today?”

“I’m looking out the window. I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What are you looking at?”

“Anything but you.”

Andrew let that pass. “See that tall silver one? The ninth floor is the law firm where I worked last year.”

“You’re a lawyer?”

“Almost. I’m in my last year of school.”

“My mom says lawyers are liars.”

“Some of them are.”

Jasmine continued to stare out the window.

Andrew put his forearms on his knees. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Jasmine’s eyes flashed to his. “I won’t grow up.”

Andrew’s stomach dropped. Shit. Lauren had said Jasmine was terminal… He hadn’t given any thought to the words he said. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, but at the same time he wanted to fold this young, thin girl up in his arms and give her a hug.

But she’d probably kick him in the shin if he tried.

He swallowed, holding back his emotions. “Okay. What do you want to be tomorrow?”

She frowned. “What do you mean, what do I want to be tomorrow?”

“Don’t people say we should live every day like it’s our last? Make each one count? People like us, who have cancer, should probably take that advice pretty seriously. If you could be something else, instead of a cancer patient, what would it be?”

Jasmine’s dark eyes dropped to her hands. “I don’t know. I guess I’d want to be a regular kid. Ride the bus, go to school. Eat lunch in the cafeteria. Play soccer after class. Eat dinner with my family and watch TV until it was time for bed.”

Andrew sat beside her, not speaking, ideas spinning in his brain. Finally, he said, “That sounds like a good day. When were you diagnosed, Jasmine?”

“A year ago.”

“Before that, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

“An artist.”

“That’s cool. What kind? Drawing, painting? Something else?”

“I like to paint.”

“Don’t they have painting supplies here?” Andrew twisted in his chair and pointedly looked at the art supply cabinet.

Jasmine shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Then tomorrow, I think you should be an artist.”

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen