Three weeks with my brother - Nicholas Sparks [98]
“He didn’t want to talk to me?” I’d ask.
“It’s not you,” she’d whisper, taking me in her arms. “He’s just scared.”
With Dana, my dad kept up a brave front. He brought her to her appointments, and in April, when the radiation started, she moved back into the house. The radiation made her sick and caused her to lose a good deal of hair on the side of her head, but she sounded upbeat whenever I’d call. My sister, always an optimist at heart, knew she’d be okay.
“I’ve been praying, Nick,” she told me once. “And I think it’s working. It’s like I can feel the tumors dying. I like to imagine them screaming in agony as they’re dying.”
“I’m sure they are. You’re young and strong.”
“Will you pray for me, too?”
“You don’t have ask, Dana. I’ve been praying for you every day.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“How’s dad holding up?”
“He’s been great. You can’t believe how helpful he is. He cooks me soup and even bought me a television with a remote so I don’t have to get up to change the channel.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
“So how are you doing? Anything exciting going on?”
I hesitated. There was something more, but part of me didn’t want to answer. How could I tell her? At the same time, I knew my sister would find out eventually; others in the family, including Micah, already knew.
“Well, we just found out that Cat is pregnant again,” I finally said. “The baby’s due in September.”
For a long time, my sister was silent.
“That’s wonderful,” she finally said. Her voice was subdued. “I’m happy for you two.”
“Did you tell her?” Micah asked me a few minutes later. I’d called him immediately after hanging up with Dana.
“Yeah, I told her.”
“How’d she take it?”
“About like I expected.”
“It’s terrible, isn’t it? I mean, she’d be a great mother. She’s just like mom was.”
I said nothing; there was nothing really to say.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Micah finally added. “And the way things have been happening lately.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about the highs and lows. First, you get married and you’re on an incredible high. Six weeks later, mom dies, and it’s impossible to get any lower. Cat gets pregnant for the first time, then has a miscarriage. You and Cat make the decision to move and you’re excited about starting a new life; a month later, Dana has a seizure and we find out she has a brain tumor. Then, you learn that Cathy’s pregnant again; at the same time, we find out that Dana can’t have kids and she isn’t likely to live more than five years. It’s like you’ve been living on a roller coaster that’s racing up and down, without hitting a level area. For you, it’s been the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.”
“I could say the same thing about you,” I offered quietly. “And dad, too.”
“I know,” he said. “It kind of takes the joy out of those highs, doesn’t it?”
Dana’s radiation ended halfway through the summer and, remarkably, her CAT scan came back clear. The doctors were optimistic, my sister’s hair began growing back slowly, and for the first time since the seizure, our worries about her were relegated to the background.
With my sister’s improvement, my dad’s behavior toward me changed for the better as well. He began speaking to me on the phone again; it was tentative at first, a hesitant rapprochement. He still talked to Cat at great length, however, and we learned that he’d actually begun dating again.
He’d met a woman, he said, and he liked her a lot.
Dana, too, was getting along better with Bob; after the surgery, their relationship had been rocky.
And Micah, as usual, kept humming along, escaping for long weekends and avoiding all serious relationships.
In September 1993, Ryan was born, though I wasn’t at the hospital for his birth. Instead, I was out of town on business—a meeting I couldn’t miss—and Cat’s water broke just as the meeting was ending. I wouldn’t arrive to see my son until the following day.
In November, our