Chapter 4
Jack
The third emergency call came during the Brennan contract meeting.
I was in the middle of explaining the timeline for their kitchen renovation when my phone buzzed insistently against the conference table. Madison's name flashed on the screen, and my stomach clenched with familiar dread.
"I'm sorry," I said to Tom Brennan and his wife. "This is urgent. Can you give me just a minute?"
I stepped into the hallway and answered. "Madison? What's wrong?"
"Jackie." Her voice was shaky, panicked. "Something's happening. The pain is so much worse, and I can't reach the oncologist. I think... I think something's wrong with the treatment."
My blood went cold. "Where are you?"
"At the hotel. I was supposed to have treatment today, but they cancelled it because my white count was too low, and now I'm feeling worse, and I don't know what to do. I'm scared, Jackie. What if the cancer is spreading?"
I was already grabbing my keys, my mind shifting into crisis mode. "I'm coming. Just stay calm. I'm leaving now. I'll be there soon."
Back in the conference room, I stuffed papers into my briefcase while the Brennans watched with growing irritation.
Their vacation schedule, their carefully arranged appointments, their new kitchen – it all felt trivial compared to Madison alone in that sterile hotel room, terrified that she might be dying.
"Family emergency," I explained, not meeting their eyes.
Pete caught me in the parking lot, his weathered face creased with concern. "Jack, where are you going? We've got the Miller job starting this afternoon, and you said you'd walk the site with me."
"Something came up. You can handle the Miller walkthrough."
"This is the third time this week you've had to leave suddenly. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine. Just... personal stuff I need to take care of."
Pete gave me a long look. "Personal stuff that takes you to the city every other day? Mrs. Patterson asked me yesterday if Henderson Construction was having problems because you missed her consultation."
Guilt twisted in my stomach, but I pushed it aside. "Tell Mrs. Patterson I'll call her personally. And my family has to come first."
"How's Harper? Everything okay with the pregnancy?"
The question hit harder than I expected. "She's fine. She's strong. She can handle things while I deal with this crisis."
Pete shook his head. "So this family emergency isn't Harper?"
I drove away with his words echoing in my head, but I forced myself to focus on Madison. She needed me right now. Harper was safe at home, surrounded by people who loved her. Madison was alone, fighting for her life.
The drive to the city had become muscle memory – which lanes moved fastest, where to merge, how to shave ten minutes off the trip. I'd made this journey six times in seven days, each one feeling more urgent than the last.
Harper's call came as I hit the highway. "Hey, Harps."
"Hi. Are you on your way to see the Millers?"
"No, I've had to head back to the city. Madison's having some complications with her treatment."
There was a brief pause. "Is she okay?"
"I don't know yet. She sounded pretty scared on the phone." I merged into the fast lane, pressing harder on the accelerator. "I'm sorry, I know we were supposed to go to that birthing class tonight."
"It's okay. The class runs every week. We can catch the next one."
"Are you sure? I know you were looking forward to it."
"Jack, she has cancer. A birthing class can wait."
The words should have made me feel better, but somehow they made the guilt worse. "I'll make it up to you. This won't last forever."
"I know. Just... be careful driving, okay? And tell Madison I'm thinking about her."
"I will. I love you."
"I love you, too."
After I hung up, I tried to push away the nagging feeling that I was disappointing Harper. She said she understood, and she did. But Pete's words kept coming back: How's Harper? Everything okay with the pregnancy? It hit me that I'd hardly been there for her recently.
But this was an emergency. When Madison had first called me from the hospital, she’d explained everything in a torrent of panicked words.
She’d been in town for a conference when she got the dizzy spells that led to the diagnosis.
The doctors had told her the treatment needed to start immediately, and that she'd need to be near the specialized cancer center here for the foreseeable future.
"Why not go home?" I'd asked her. "Back to your mom and her husband?"
"They’re on the other side of the country, Jackie," she’d said, her voice cracking.
"And they're older now, frail. I can't put this on them.
And besides," she’d added, a detail that had sealed my sympathy, "this hospital has one of the best oncology departments in the country.
The doctors said staying here gives me the best chance. "
So she was staying at a long-term-stay hotel near the hospital, a place outpatients used when they needed to be close for daily treatments or monitoring. It made perfect sense, but it also meant she was completely isolated, cut off from her family and any real support system. She had no one but me.
The hotel desk clerk recognized me now, offering the same awkward smile. I used the key card Madison had given me after the second emergency, finding her lying on the bed, curled into a ball with a pillow clutched to her chest. Her face was pale and drawn, more fragile than I'd ever seen her.
"What happened?" I sat on the edge of the bed, automatically reaching out to feel her forehead for a fever.
"They cancelled my treatment because my blood work was off, and then I started feeling worse. Nauseous, dizzy, this horrible pain in my chest." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "What if it means the cancer is spreading? What if the treatment isn't working?"
"Hey, slow down." I brushed the tears away gently. "Did you call your doctor?"
"I tried. The office said he was seeing patients and would call back, but it's been hours. I keep thinking about what happens if I die, Jackie. I don't have anyone nearby. No family, no friends. What happens to me?"
The fear in her voice broke something inside my chest. "You're not going to die. And you're not alone. I'm here."
"But for how long? You have your own life, your own family. I can't keep depending on you like this."
"Yes, you can. That's what friends do. They show up when it matters."
Madison looked at me with those green eyes that had always been able to see right through me. "Is that what we are? Friends?"
It was a loaded question, and we both knew it. I thought we would spend our whole lives together - get married, have kids, eventually grandkids.
"We're whatever you need us to be to get through this," I said carefully, steering the conversation back to safer ground.
Madison's phone rang. Finally, her doctor returning her call. I watched as some of the tension left her face.
"Okay," she said finally. "Yes, I'll come in tomorrow morning. Thank you."
She hung up and turned to me with visible relief. "He says the blood count thing is normal. A reaction to the medication. He wants to adjust the dosage and try a different approach."
"See? I told you everything would be okay."
"You always know just what to say." She reached for my hand, and I let her take it. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you for all this."
"You don't need to repay me."
"When I get better, I want to do something special for Harper. She must be incredible to understand what you're doing for me."
The guilt twisted in my stomach again. "She is incredible."
My phone buzzed with a text from Sam: Where the hell are you? Thought you were coming to poker night.
Shit. I'd completely forgotten about poker night. It was a monthly tradition, something Sam and I had been doing for years. Tonight I was supposed to go to birthing class with Harper and then over to Sam's for poker night as usual.
I texted back: Can't make it. Something came up.
His response was immediate: Let me guess: starts with an M and ends with the dumbest idea you've had in years?
I frowned at the phone. There was an edge to that text I didn't like. She's sick, Sam.
Pregnancy isn't exactly a picnic.
His words hit me like a slap. Harper wasn't sick. She was pregnant, which was completely different.
"Everything okay?" Madison asked.
"Fine. Just work stuff."
She studied my face. "You look tired. You're doing too much, trying to take care of everyone."
"I'm fine."
"You keep saying that, but I can see the stress in your face. I hate that I'm adding to it."
"You're not adding to anything. You're fighting for your life."
Madison squeezed my hand. "You're a good man, Jackie. Harper is lucky to have you."
My phone rang and I saw Sam's name on the display. I almost didn't answer, but something made me pick up.
"Jack, we need to talk."
I stepped out into the hallway, not wanting Madison to hear this conversation. "What's your problem, Sam?"
"You're neglecting your pregnant wife to play nursemaid to your ex-girlfriend."
"She's not my ex-girlfriend. She's a friend who has cancer."
"She's your ex-girlfriend who has cancer. And Harper is your wife who's carrying your child."
"You're being an asshole about someone who's fighting for her life."
"When was the last time you went to one of Harper's doctor appointments? When was the last time you had dinner with your wife, or even talked to her without rushing off to Madison?"
The questions hit too close to home, and I felt my temper flare. "Harper understands what I'm doing. She supports it."
"Harper is seven months pregnant and she's trying to be the perfect supportive wife. But, Jack, she shouldn't have to be."
"Madison needs me."
"Harper needs you, too. And unlike Madison, Harper actually has a right to need you."
The words stung because they were true, but I couldn't let myself believe them. "Madison is fighting cancer, Sam. Harper is pregnant. They're not comparable."
"You're right. They're not. Harper chose to have a baby with you, as your wife."
"She doesn't have anyone else."
"That's not your responsibility to fix. Not at this cost."
"I have to go," I said.
"Jack, wait."
"No, Sam. Madison needs me, and I'm not going to abandon her."
"What about Harper? Are you okay with abandoning her?"
I hung up without answering that question.
When I went back into the hotel room, Madison was sitting up in bed, looking more like herself.
"Everything okay?" she asked. "You look upset."
"Just some problems at work. Nothing I can't handle."
"I'm sorry I'm causing so many complications in your life."
"You're not causing anything."
She kissed my cheek as I left, a gesture that was meant to be innocent but felt dangerously familiar. It was a piece of my past trying to reclaim a place it no longer had, and I found myself pulling away, my thoughts already on the road home to Harper - my real life, my future.
The drive home took me past the community center where birthing classes were held. The building was dark now, the parking lot empty. Class had ended hours ago while I was sitting in Madison's hotel room, holding her hand through another crisis.
Harper should have been in there with me tonight, learning how to welcome our daughter together. Instead, she'd probably gone alone or skipped it entirely, making excuses for my absence to the other couples.
I thought about the ultrasound appointment. The first one I'd ever missed. Harper had shown me the photo on the fridge when I got home, excited to share how much our daughter had grown. But my mind was still on Madison's treatment schedule and her next appointment.
Pete's words echoed in my head: This family emergency isn't Harper?
But Madison was dying. Madison was alone. Madison needed me in ways that Harper, surrounded by love and support, simply didn't.
At least, that's what I told myself as I drove past the empty community center and headed home to my wife, who was probably asleep in our bed, dreaming about the daughter we were about to welcome together.
The daughter I was supposed to be preparing for, instead of sitting in hotel rooms, holding another woman's hand.
I pushed the guilt away and focused on the road ahead. Tomorrow would bring another treatment, another crisis, another emergency that only I could handle.
And I would be there for Madison, no matter what anyone else thought. Because that's what you did for people you cared about