“Hi!” I chirped. “Want some breakfast? Or lunch?”

She looked around and blinked. “How did I get here?”

I grinned. “Between the two of us, we managed to lug you upstairs. Your eyes were open, but I’m pretty sure you were still asleep. Jack told Zach you weren’t coming in; I hope that’s all right. You obviously needed to sleep.” I was itching to ask why but knew enough to keep my mouth shut.

She slowly nodded, digesting this. “Coffee?”

“Coming right up. Take a seat.” I waved to the barstools along the island and started a fresh pot. I’d never been much of a coffee drinker, but I had quickly learned that tagging along with Jack when he was working required some kind of energy boost.

Zoe slipped onto a stool and rested her chin in her hand. I fought to keep quiet, not to fill the silence with chatter or inquire after her bizarre behavior yesterday. As I prepared her coffee, I prayed frantically for God to guide me in dealing with whatever was going on.

It wasn’t until her coffee was half gone and I’d become immersed again in my tasks that she came and sat across from me at the table. I stopped what I was doing and looked at her expectantly, wanting her to know she had my full attention. Her face was clouded with anxiety; it was etched in every feature, and I longed to tell her everything would be all right.

“Remember the appointment I had last week, that I left for before lunch?” I nodded, remembering how Jack and I had teased her about a clandestine affair she must have been having. “It was for a biopsy.” She squirmed in her seat. “I have cancer.”

I stared at her in disbelief. It just seemed so unlikely. She was so healthy! A vegetarian to the extreme, an exercise fanatic who went for jogs at 4:00 in the morning before work. I nearly laughed. “It’s got to be a mistake, Zoe,” I stammered.

She shook her head, slowly turning her mug on the tabletop.

“What kind?”

“Breast. My mom had it, my grandmother had it, my aunt had it—”

“And survived?”

“Mom died nine years ago, my aunt four years ago, my grandmother twenty.”

“Oh, Zoe.” I was stupefied. “How bad?”

“They think we’ve caught it pretty early; they have to do more tests to be sure.”

“When?”

“This weekend.”

I slid from my seat and moved to the chair beside her, wrapping her in my arms as she broke down. “I’ve done so much to make sure it wouldn’t happen to me,” she sobbed into my shoulder. “I thought I could escape it or something. I can’t believe it’s happening to me!” Anger and fear radiated from her; I could feel the panic she was barely holding at bay in her tiny frame.