Chapter 18
Grace: Guess what. Guess what.
Damon: You won the sweepstakes. You graduated from Honey to riding Trigger. You got fed up with learning to crochet and decided to quit.
Grace: None of those, although I am tempted to give up crocheting. I did it! I submitted my application to the University of South Dakota last week. And guess what I received already!
Damon: You got accepted?
Grace: Can you believe it? I didn't expect to hear anything for weeks. I wonder if your Uncle James and the other doctors at the hospital pulled some strings or something.
Damon: Who cares? You're in! Be grateful.
Grace: I am. And I can start immediately! It's a self-paced program. I need to complete certain courses by specific dates before the on-campus clinicals and residencies. If I don't, I have to wait until the next series of clinicals are taught.
Damon: Guess this gives you something to do while your mom sleeps.
Grace: Yeah, which is all the time now.
From: Marisol Rivera
To: Damon Knight
Date: November 3
Subject: Take care of my Gracie
Dear Damon (Mijo),
I know it has been a while since I last emailed you. I'm sorry about that. I'm simply too tired to do much at all, even write a short letter. My pain keeps getting worse, so they keep increasing my meds, which makes me sleepier.
Gabe and Grace are very worried about me. I keep telling them not to be. I'm ready to meet my maker. We all know I'm not going to get better. I've accepted it, but they are having a harder time.
It calms my soul to know that Gabe has Paige to comfort him when I'm gone, and even though you are far away, I know you'll do your best to comfort Grace.
I'm so glad God brought you into her life. I have worried about her ability to open her heart and let people in. But she has let you in and I couldn't be happier.
You are good for her. You treat her so well. Take care of her. Be patient with her when she is stubborn. Be constant and steady. Don't let her push you away.
There are so many things I want to say, but it's hard to organize my thoughts and make them coherent. It has taken me three days to find the energy to write this much. So I think it best that I just close it and send it on its way.
Te amo, Mijo.
Goodbye.
Marisol (your future mother-in-law in spirit)
Damon's throat constricted as pressure built behind his eyes. His heart felt like it was taking fire.
Goodbye?
He'd exchanged emails with Marisol almost weekly over the past two months, and she had never closed her emails like that.
She knows the end is near.
He bolted to his feet and stumbled toward the door.
"Hey, where are you going?" Chevy called.
"You need your boots, man?" King's deep voice penetrated Damon's turbulent mind.
Damon paused on the threshold and looked down at his bare feet. No one went barefoot in the desert. You never knew when a scorpion would pop out of the sand and sting you. They even put boots on to go to the latrine.
Keeping his head down, he dropped his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants and retrieved his boots and a sweatshirt from his locker. Then he walked out. He couldn't stick around to put them on, because he was about to lose control of his emotions.
It wasn't like his buddies had never seen him cry, but this pain was different than the pain they shared when they lost a comrade. This was a woman he'd come to care for and respect deeply; the mom of the woman he loved. It was going to wreck Grace when she died.
Grace.
He'd picked up his phone to call her when he noticed the email from Marisol. How did he call her now and pretend her mother hadn't just sent him what sounded like a final goodbye?
She knew her mother's condition had continued to worsen over the past two months, but was she ready to accept that her mom would be gone soon?
He sat on the stairs to put his boots on, struggling to rein in his emotions as he did so. It took him a full ten minutes to compose himself enough to call Grace.
She was usually at her desk and answered on the first or second ring, but today, his call went to voicemail.
He hesitated for a moment, unsure what to say, then in a sudden burst of speech, he said, "Sorry, I missed you. I love you and I can't stop thinking about you."
He ended the call, shoved his phone into his pocket, then shoved his hands into his hair that needed to be cut again. He propped his elbows on his knees.
How do I help Grace through this when I'm so far away?
He frequently encouraged his family to check in on her and visit Marisol, but that didn't feel like enough anymore.
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket. Relief and concern warred within him when he spotted Grace's name on the screen.
"Hey, beautiful." He struggled to keep his tone casual.
"Hey." Grace sniffled as her red-brimmed eyes flooded with fresh tears.
"What's wrong, Babe?"
"Your Uncle James just admitted my mom to the hospital." Her voice cracked. "She has pneumonia."
"I'm so sorry. They can treat pneumonia with antibiotics though, right?" That didn't sound nearly as serious as some things Damon had read about cancer patients who suffered organ failure.
"The tumor in her right lung has tripled in size since May, blocking more than half of that lung, and she has another one in the top left lung, affecting air flow."
"So what does this mean?" His voice was husky, because he already knew the answer.
"They've put her on oxygen, but we're still trying to decide on a course of action. Gabe and I want the doctors to treat the pneumonia but treating it would only be a short-term fix. With her ability to breathe so hampered, it would come right back." She sniffled again.
Seeing her anguish, made his chest squeeze so tight, he struggled to draw in a full breath of his own.
"Mom doesn't want treatment, but..." Grace's voice squeaked as she continued. "I'm not ready to let her go."
"I'm so sorry, Grace." Damon looked up at the starry sky as he swallowed the lump of emotion that clogged his throat. "I wish I was there to hold you and help you through this."
"Me too."
They were both quiet for several long moments, each dealing with their own grief.
"Gah." Damon burst to his feet. "My heart is breaking for you, Grace. I feel so da—" he cut off the curse word. "I feel so incredibly helpless."
Grace giggled, surprising him. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth.
"What's so funny?"
"You are. The way you stopped yourself from swearing. You're so thoughtful and compassionate." She continued to smile into her phone. "You're amazing, you know that?"
"What do you mean?"
"It was sweet the way you took time to visit with my mom so often while you were here. Then you continued to email her after you deployed." Her gaze turned tender. "You didn't have to do that, but I love that you did."
Damon wanted to hear her say that she loved him, but she was going through way too much right now for him to expect that. For now, he'd be content that she wanted a future with him.
She continued. "You're a strong Army Ranger, but you're really just a big softy with a heart of gold."
"Shhh...don't tell my buddies. I'd lose all kinds of respect if they knew."
She winked and grinned. "Your secret is safe with me."
"Seriously though, Grace, what can I do for you and your mom?"
She sobered. "Just pray."
She didn't believe that praying for her mom to get better was a good idea at this point, did she?
"I have been all along, but Grace, what exactly do you want me to pray for at this point?"
Her eyes teared up again. "For me and for Gabe. That we can...let go." After wiping her cheeks and blowing her nose, she went on. "And for my mom, that we can keep her out of pain."
He could pray for Grace and Gabe but praying for Marisol to go quickly and peacefully would be the hardest thing he'd ever done.