when she moved away. And now…
“What can I do, Zach?” she asked in desperation.
He hadn’t answered. The shattering showed in his eyes, like a
million pieces of ice breaking on a blue blue pond.
“I wish I was magic,” she said. “I wish I could make this not
be happening.”
But no one had been able to stop it. That was the thing about a
disease once it took hold. Sometimes there was no stopping it.
Memories of that day haunted Sonnet now, morphing into a new
nightmare, one in which her mother was the victim. “Zach, what am I going to
do?”
“Nothing but the docs and meds can make it go away, or make it
stop hurting, or make you stop waking up at night scared out of your mind,” he
said, his words as blunt and harsh as a sudden hailstorm. “You can’t do anything. You can just be there for her.”
“I’m not sure I know how to do that. How will I just…be?”
“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You always do.”
“I’ve never had to figure out what to do when my pregnant mom
has cancer,” she said. Her own words killed her. “God,” she whispered. “Oh, my
God. If I lose her…Zach, I just don’t know if I can handle being that sad. I
don’t know if I can survive it.” She caught her breath, then burst into
tears.
“Hey.” Zach set aside the oars and stepped over the bench seat.
His long arms enveloped her, and she melted, swept up in a wave of hurt and
fear. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry as hell.” He murmured other things but she
didn’t hear him. She just knew that for this moment, his chest felt like a wall
of strength, and he smelled amazing, like the lake-freshened air, and his voice,
speaking words that held no comfort, sounded as sad as a tragic song on the
radio.
* * *
“Zach told you?” Nina dropped the wooden spoon she’d
been using to stir the red gravy. It wasn’t actually gravy, but a delicious,
rich tomato sauce that had been made by the Romanos since the beginning of time.
The deep aroma of slow-simmered tomatoes and herbs took Sonnet back to the days
of her childhood, when they went to Nonna’s for Sunday dinner, to a house filled
with aunts and uncles and cousins, noisy and chaotic with laughter and chatter.
She hadn’t thought of those days in years. She’d been so eager to leave Avalon,
to find her life in the world beyond this little town.
Now she stood in the kitchen with her mother, and wished she
had cherished those times more. She wished she’d listened to her grandfather’s
stories more attentively, or watched more closely when Nonna and Zia Antonia
made the red gravy. She wished she’d tucked the memories away in a special part
of her heart, rather than letting them flow past, unheeded.
“Yes,” she said, her throat tightening with fear and grief. “He
told me you have cancer.”
Nina gripped the edge of the counter. “He shouldn’t have said
anything. It’s not his story to tell.”
Sonnet had been dreading a chance meeting with Zach, but her
feelings about their oh-so-sweet mistake at Daisy’s wedding melted away in the
face of the horrible news. She was grateful to him now. “I’m sure he would agree
with you,” she said to Nina. “Why would you burden him with this?”
“I didn’t think it was a burden—”
“It should be my burden,” Sonnet
said. “He didn’t want to be the one to tell me, but he knew it was the right
thing to do. My God, Mom. How could you keep something like this from me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“Worry about you? Worry about you? You’re making me crazy. Did you think you were going to hide a cancer
diagnosis?”
“It’s not a question of hiding anything. I’m just…controlling
the flow of information.”
“What gives you the right to do that?” Sonnet felt like a
teenager again, yelling at her mom. “You’re my mother, and when something like
this is going on, I get to be informed.”
“All right, fine. You want the gory details? I’m a
“What can I do, Zach?” she asked in desperation.
He hadn’t answered. The shattering showed in his eyes, like a
million pieces of ice breaking on a blue blue pond.
“I wish I was magic,” she said. “I wish I could make this not
be happening.”
But no one had been able to stop it. That was the thing about a
disease once it took hold. Sometimes there was no stopping it.
Memories of that day haunted Sonnet now, morphing into a new
nightmare, one in which her mother was the victim. “Zach, what am I going to
do?”
“Nothing but the docs and meds can make it go away, or make it
stop hurting, or make you stop waking up at night scared out of your mind,” he
said, his words as blunt and harsh as a sudden hailstorm. “You can’t do anything. You can just be there for her.”
“I’m not sure I know how to do that. How will I just…be?”
“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You always do.”
“I’ve never had to figure out what to do when my pregnant mom
has cancer,” she said. Her own words killed her. “God,” she whispered. “Oh, my
God. If I lose her…Zach, I just don’t know if I can handle being that sad. I
don’t know if I can survive it.” She caught her breath, then burst into
tears.
“Hey.” Zach set aside the oars and stepped over the bench seat.
His long arms enveloped her, and she melted, swept up in a wave of hurt and
fear. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry as hell.” He murmured other things but she
didn’t hear him. She just knew that for this moment, his chest felt like a wall
of strength, and he smelled amazing, like the lake-freshened air, and his voice,
speaking words that held no comfort, sounded as sad as a tragic song on the
radio.
* * *
“Zach told you?” Nina dropped the wooden spoon she’d
been using to stir the red gravy. It wasn’t actually gravy, but a delicious,
rich tomato sauce that had been made by the Romanos since the beginning of time.
The deep aroma of slow-simmered tomatoes and herbs took Sonnet back to the days
of her childhood, when they went to Nonna’s for Sunday dinner, to a house filled
with aunts and uncles and cousins, noisy and chaotic with laughter and chatter.
She hadn’t thought of those days in years. She’d been so eager to leave Avalon,
to find her life in the world beyond this little town.
Now she stood in the kitchen with her mother, and wished she
had cherished those times more. She wished she’d listened to her grandfather’s
stories more attentively, or watched more closely when Nonna and Zia Antonia
made the red gravy. She wished she’d tucked the memories away in a special part
of her heart, rather than letting them flow past, unheeded.
“Yes,” she said, her throat tightening with fear and grief. “He
told me you have cancer.”
Nina gripped the edge of the counter. “He shouldn’t have said
anything. It’s not his story to tell.”
Sonnet had been dreading a chance meeting with Zach, but her
feelings about their oh-so-sweet mistake at Daisy’s wedding melted away in the
face of the horrible news. She was grateful to him now. “I’m sure he would agree
with you,” she said to Nina. “Why would you burden him with this?”
“I didn’t think it was a burden—”
“It should be my burden,” Sonnet
said. “He didn’t want to be the one to tell me, but he knew it was the right
thing to do. My God, Mom. How could you keep something like this from me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“Worry about you? Worry about you? You’re making me crazy. Did you think you were going to hide a cancer
diagnosis?”
“It’s not a question of hiding anything. I’m just…controlling
the flow of information.”
“What gives you the right to do that?” Sonnet felt like a
teenager again, yelling at her mom. “You’re my mother, and when something like
this is going on, I get to be informed.”
“All right, fine. You want the gory details? I’m a
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