PROLOGUE 2
Twenty-one years later…
“Six months. Maybe more, maybe less,” the physician said, staring at her chart like it had the answers to everything when she knew it didn’t.
Tears burned the back of her eyes. Six months. How does one respond to that?
“If you’d consent to treatment, Mariah, your odds increase.”
“My odds?”
“More time, Mariah.”
“More time with this nausea and pain?” She sounded bitter, and she was bitter. It wasn’t fair.
“There are a lot of women in your spot. I know it doesn’t make it easier, but you should consider one of the support groups.”
Her lips twitched as she glanced at the window overlooking Chicago. High rises, cars, and people meandered through their normal day. The physician’s chair squeaked. People trudged up and down the sterile hallway outside the office, oblivious to the devastation being laid in her lap.
“Mariah, please reconsider. Where’s your family? Have you told them?”
“No. I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Coworkers? Boyfriend? Isn’t there anyone else to be with you during this difficult period?”
“No. No one,” she said, staring out the window.
“We can have a service provide your care throughout the last days.”
“No. I’m going to Nebraska. I’ll arrange for my care.”
“Nebraska?”
“Home,” Dr. Grant. “I’m going home.”
She bolted for the door with the physician calling her name, but she had to go home. She had to find Roman and make things right. This was her last chance.
After climbing into her vehicle, she paused with her foot on the brake and hit the number on her cellphone for her employer.
“Pamela Jenkins here. How may I help you?”
Mariah bit her quivering bottom lip, close to tears, before answering her friend and manager. “This is Mariah Stone. I’m sorry, but I won’t be back.”
“Mariah? I don’t understand. You can’t quit like this.”
“I can and I am.”
“Mariah? What’s gotten into you?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me. Let’s discuss this. Don’t throw away your career.”
Her head fell back against the headrest with a deep sigh. “I’m dying, Pamela. I have end stage breast cancer.”
The silence was deafening.
“I’m going home, Pamela. I need to go home. This is the last time you’ll hear from me. I don’t care about my things. Do what you want with them.”
“Mariah, let me help you.”
“There’s no help left for me, Pamela. Know that I care for you, but I don’t owe that company anything.”
Before Pamela could respond, she disconnected the call and drove as far as she could. It was fall, so the carnival would be back in town. At least, it should. Roman always came, and she always stayed away, but not this time.
“Roman,” she whispered, wiping the tears from her cheek. “Roman, I’m coming home.”
But there was no answer, and there hadn’t been since she left her small town and him for the city.