Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
February 2025
Nantucket Island
J osie wasn’t ready to tell Tara she was waffling on her decision to cease treatment. She couldn’t afford to get Tara’s hopes up only to smash them to bits; she couldn’t afford to be so cruel in what might prove to be her final months. This was the reason that Josie asked Cindy rather than Tara to drive her to the hospital. Her mother owed her, after all. And she could keep a secret. She’d kept many from Tara and Josie for twenty-four years.
Cindy was nevertheless nervous. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
“No. I need to do this on my own,” Josie told her, squeezing her mother’s hand.
Josie crept into the doctor’s office, sat on the white table, and waited for three minutes before the pretty Dr. Addison Franklin came in, bringing a wave of soul-affirming perfume.
What would it be like never to smell anything wonderful like that again? Josie thought, then smiled. Ever since Winnie’s return, she’d felt passionate about everything from the sunrise to baked goods to snowfall to rain. It was clear her brain was looking for reasons to keep her alive.
Was that proof she’d already made up her mind?
“Good morning, Ms. Steiner,” Dr. Franklin said. “It’s good to see you again.”
Josie was surprised that Dr. Franklin didn’t shame her for the weeks between visits. After all, she’d suggested that every month that passed decreased the efficacy of the treatment plan by ten percent.
But Josie had needed that time to think. She’d needed that time to heal—emotionally.
“I need you to tell me everything about the treatment plan. I need to know the risks. I need to know what it will do to me. And I don’t want you to mince words. My sister isn’t here today. I can take it.”
Dr. Franklin’s eyes echoed respect, both for Josie and for her situation. She folded her hands. “Like I told you before, it’s an experimental treatment plan,” Dr. Franklin explained. “Patients have suggested it’s comparable to chemotherapy in that it brings similar levels of exhaustion, pain, and hair loss. But we’ve seen remarkable results that far outweigh chemotherapy at large. I wish we could bring this treatment plan to every cancer patient in the world.”
Josie’s heart swelled. Slowly, she shifted her eyes to her hands and felt the beating of her heart, a heart that had been confident and strong for forty-five years.
Absentmindedly, she wondered where on earth her father, Philip, was. Could he sense her suffering? Did he ever wonder about her?
“I’m terrified of all that pain. I’m terrified of not being able to think clearly or get out of bed or do anything but wait for my body to heal,” Josie said. “But I want to be strong for my family. I want to keep fighting.”
Dr. Franklin set her jaw. “You’re very brave, Ms. Steiner. I appreciate you giving me and the treatment a chance.”
There was a light in Dr. Franklin’s eyes that gave Josie an extra smidgeon of hope.
Maybe it was foolish to put herself through this. But right now, she had so much to live for. She was worlds away from that apartment in Manhattan, worlds away from two ex-stepdaughters who never called. Joe was a part of her past; Donnie was gone; her father was dead. All Josie could do was focus on the present and the future tense. All she could do was open her heart to change.
“Let’s set up the first treatment as soon as possible,” Dr. Franklin urged, twisting in her chair to look at her desktop, where she pulled up a calendar to look at her schedule. “How about as early as Monday morning?”
Josie was terrified. But she couldn’t turn back from this decision. She couldn’t throw herself into the dark abyss that was death without another round.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
She hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
When Josie left the office, she found a jittery Cindy standing in the hallway with her eyes on the window. Josie had a strange suspicion that she was talking to Bob. Maybe she always was.
“How did it go?” Cindy asked, her voice overly chipper, as though Josie had just taken her SAT. (Of course, she hadn’t taken the SAT because she hadn’t been allowed to go to college or hadn’t been pushed to go to college. But all that was in the past, now. It had to be.)
Josie leaned against the wall and took a breath. She would have to practice telling all of them—Cindy, Winnie, and her mother. She would have to practice telling everyone, including herself, that she wanted to live.
But right now, she pitched another question, one that was heavy on her mind.
“Where is Philip?”
Cindy’s cheeks went slack. In her eyes, Josie searched for any remaining love Cindy had for her long-lost father. Maybe a glimmer was still there.
“I still can’t believe he didn’t reach out to you when he had the chance,” Cindy offered finally.
Apparently, Tara had told their mother that Philip never reached out that winter of 2001—the year he’d threatened to.
Cindy furrowed her brow and wiped her hands on her pants. “Are you sure you want to know what happened to him?”
Josie’s heart seized. Is this another person I have to say goodbye to?
Instead, Cindy said, “Based on what I gleaned on Facebook, Philip started his own sailing company and goes all the way around the world on expeditions. He’s been married four times, but he has no children. His base is the Canary Islands, which are over in Africa.” Cindy shook her head. “He was always such a beautiful mystery to me. A little like you, Josie.”
Josie searched her heart for some sense that she needed to reach out to her real father. But the truth was, he’d never been anything to her. He’d been a ghost in her mother’s past.
She had to celebrate what she had right here in Nantucket.
So she said, “I don’t need him anyway.”
Cindy let out a small sob. “We need each other, though, don’t we?” She searched Josie’s face, and Josie knew she was looking for signs that she wanted to fight.
Josie bowed her head. A tear drifted down her cheek. “We need each other. We really do.”
That was that.
Six Months Later
It was August and a glorious sun-dappled day that forced all four Steiner women to forget dreary afternoons in rainy Seattle or snow-capped winters in Nantucket. Draped beneath an enormous umbrella on the beach, Josie sat in her bikini and watched the baby sleep in the shade, feeling protective and proud. Winnie, Tara, and Cindy swam out in the water, hollering, splashing, and whipping their hair around. Josie touched her head nervously, grateful she’d grown nearly an inch of fluff since she ceased treatment. Soon, if she stayed in remission, her locks would grow back, curly and luscious. She’d begun looking at Pinterest haircut ideas, praying she made it far enough to try a new hairstyle.
Dr. Franklin had made it clear at her last appointment, though. “You took to the treatment remarkably. You’re cancer-free. We’ll check back yearly, but all signs point to permanent remission.”
After everything she’d been through, this was often difficult for Josie to believe.
Tara burst from the water first and hurried over to the umbrella, squeezing water from her hair. Recently, she’d taken up yoga, and her arms and legs were sleek and muscular and shining in the sun.
“How are you two doing?” she asked quietly, sitting gingerly on the other side of the baby and gazing down at her.
“We’re doing just fine,” Josie breathed.
“She’s a dream, isn’t she?” Tara cooed. “Our darling Hazel.”
Josie’s heart swelled as Hazel kicked her little feet and moved her fists around. For over an hour, she’d been asleep, but all four of the Steiner women knew she was fitful and that she wouldn’t nap for long. Josie had begun to think of herself as a grandmother, just as much of a grandmother as Tara, and Winnie and Tara took to that in stride, calling Josie “Grandma Josie” and Tara “Grandma Tara.” Cindy was called “Great-grandma,” of course, and just the sound of it often made Cindy cry. She’d explained this to Josie just once. “When your father died, I thought I’d be alone forever. But I’ve been given a tremendous gift.”
They all had.
But it hadn’t been easy. In the wake of beginning treatment again, Josie had signed up for grief therapy sessions with Stephanie to wade through the events of her life and make peace with herself. It was remarkable to learn that although Josie was quite good at forgiving her mother, her fake father, her real father, Tara, Winnie, and Joe, she’d struggled to forgive herself. Stephanie said this was typical of people who suffered from abandonment. “You tried to make sense of what happened; you tried to make sense of why your father was cruel. And you invented a reason that wasn’t rooted in reality.”
Josie told Tara that often, Stephanie is too smart for her own good. And Tara agreed. But remarkably, in early July, Tara decided to stop going to Stephanie altogether. “I’ve been going to grief therapy for many years,” Tara admitted. “I’ve worked through every problem. Now, it’s up to me to figure out how to handle myself day-to-day. In a way, that’s what Stephanie has been trying to prepare me for all along.”
Obviously, the baby helped stitch their lives back together.
When Hazel was born in May, Josie was at the tail-end of her treatment and praying she would live to see Hazel grow up. Due to her recovery and her susceptibility to disease, it was too dangerous for her to go to the labor and delivery ward, so Tara, Cindy, and Winnie sent her photos and videos and called her with updates throughout. But Josie spent the entire time weeping—both from joy and fear.
Josie often thought her urgent desire to live was the greatest reason she survived. It didn’t happen for everyone. People fought cancer and died all the time.
She’d tried. And she’d lived for now.
She planned to live really well after this.
Now, Tara rifled through the cooler to pull out two cans of La Croix, one for Josie and one for herself. Josie popped it open and raised it to the bright blue sky. Out in the water, Winnie and Cindy were circling each other and chatting about something.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Josie asked.
“Beats me,” Tara said.
“They’ve really built a wonderful relationship,” Josie said softly.
“It’s funny, isn’t it? I never told Winnie anything about Mom. But obviously, she was always curious about her,” Tara said. “And vice versa.”
Josie watched a flock of seagulls sweep overhead and breathed deeply. Tara was talking about later tonight when Johan planned to take her out for a barbecue, and she’d probably sleep over at his house.
“You look happy,” Josie said to Tara.
“It isn’t just Johan,” Tara admitted. “But it’s true that Johan is the greatest man I’ve ever met. I can’t believe it took me forty-four years to fall in love with him.”
Josie smiled and thought back to the week after Hazel was born when Donnie had driven up with his wife and son to see Winnie and meet the baby. Although they’d said hello and shaken hands, Josie and Tara had kept a healthy distance between themselves and Donnie. Everyone needed it to be that way.
There was only so much they could forgive Donnie of. But they were grateful for his love for Winnie.
Now, Tara touched Josie’s hand over the beach blanket. Josie turned to look at her.
“I don’t know how to thank you for going through the treatment,” Tara offered then, her voice breaking. “I know it wasn’t easy. I know it took so much out of you. But you’re here. And it wouldn’t be the same without you. I’d be less of a human. I’d have less of my heart.”
Josie blinked back tears and shifted over to put her head on Tara’s shoulder. Beside them, baby Hazel slept on without knowing the chaos in the Steiner women’s past.
All Hazel would know was love and friendship and the bright hope that came after forgiveness.
All she would know was Nantucket.
She was the beautiful result of their previous mistakes.
She was perfect despite their imperfections.
And Josie would spend the rest of her life showing her just how beautiful it was to live.