Gerri Hill - The Cottage

the driveway empty.

Dodging water puddles as she ran along the path, she hurried into the sun porch and out of

the rain. Inside, it was dark and quiet, no sign that Carrie had been there yet today. She

pulled her cell phone out, debating whether to call her or not. She thought better of it, in

case Carrie was someplace where she couldn't talk.

She busied herself with lunch, foregoing their normal fare of sandwiches when she found

soup in the pantry. But as the clock ticked closer to one thirty, she began to worry. Again,

she picked up her phone, but again, she decided against calling.

And only moments later she heard Carrie's van, heard the door slam. She walked into the

sunroom, waiting. Carrie rounded the corner, their eyes meeting through the windows. Jill

knew immediately that something was wrong.

"Sorry I'm late," Carrie said. She moved into Jill's arms and Jill pulled her close.

"What's wrong?"

"I was at the doctor," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know, these damn headaches I've been having."

Jill took her arm and led her into the cottage, easing her down on a bar stool. "Have they

been worse?" she asked as she ran her fingers through her damp hair.

"Unbearable lately."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Carrie shook her head. "I didn't want you to worry. They did a ton of tests. I've been

there all morning. They did a CAT-scan too. But the symptoms are like a damn sinus

headache," she said as she rubbed her forehead.

"When will you know something?"

"Probably not until Monday." She wrapped her arm around Jill's waist and pulled her closer.

"But don't worry, okay. It's probably just my allergies in overdrive."

But Jill did worry. Try as she may, Carrie couldn't hide the pain in her eyes. And for the

first time, Jill realized how thin Carrie was getting. The last week or so, she hadn't had an

appetite at lunch, only picking at her food.

"Feel like soup?"

Carrie shook her head. "I've been poked on and stuck with needles," she said. "I think I'll

pass. But you go ahead and eat."

Jill leaned closer, her lips caressing Carrie's temple, then moving across her cheek before

finding her lips.

"I love you."

Carrie turned on the chair, her legs opening as she pulled Jill between them, holding her

close. "I love you too. So much," she murmured.

Jill smoothed her hair, her fingers gliding through the short locks, now more salt than

pepper. Another thing Jill had just noticed. She closed her eyes, pulling Carrie to her

breast, feeling Carrie burrow there.

"Is there anything I can do?" she whispered.

Carrie squeezed her tight. "No, no. I'm just so tired."

"Then come on," Jill said, pulling away and helping Carrie to her feet. "I'll help you into

bed."

"It's probably time for you to go already, isn't it?"

"Just about. But it's okay. You can rest. I'll leave the soup out. You need to eat something,

Carrie. It'll make you feel better."

"Sure. Okay. Leave the soup out," she said, her words slow, deliberate.

Jill stopped, her eyes searching Carrie's. "Maybe I should stay with you."

"No, it's okay. They gave me something for the headache. It's probably kicking in."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Sure."

Jill pulled back the covers on the bed, then slowly undressed Carrie as she sat mutely on

the edge. She paused, her hand cupping Carrie's cheek.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Carrie closed her eyes. "I'm fine, love."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Jill held up the sack when she walked into the cabin. "I picked up burgers. You feel like

eating out in the garden?"

Carrie shook her head, her eyes moving around the room quickly, then settling back on Jill.

"Please don't say you're not hungry," Jill said as she walked closer. "Getting you to eat

something lately has become a full-time job." She set the bag on the bar then wrapped her

arms around Carrie, smiling when she heard her sigh.

"I love you, Jill."

Her brief kiss became lingering, and Jill closed her eyes, falling into Carrie's embrace, but

Carrie stopped, pulling away.

"We need to talk, Jill," she said quietly.

Five simple words, yet Jill felt her world crumbling. Their eyes fixed on each other,

holding, searching. Jill's breath left her and she shook her head.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes." Carrie took her hand and led her into the sunroom. "Let's sit."

Jill shook her head. "No. I don't want to sit."

Carrie sighed wearily. "Please? I need you to do this for me."

"Oh, God," she whispered. "You're sick, aren't you?"

Carrie nodded. "Yes." She patted the seat beside her. "Come."

Jill took a deep breath then sat down, her eyes searching Carrie's. "How bad?"

Carrie took her hand and brought it to her lips. "Bad. It's bad, Jill."

"Oh, God. Your headaches?"

Carrie nodded. "They found... they found tumors, Jill."

Jill stared, unable to breathe, unable to look away. "No." She shook her head. "No."

"I've been thinking. You know, it's not too late. You can stay with Craig, you can try to

salvage your marriage."

"No! No, no, no," she said loudly. "I don't want him! I don't want my marriage! I just want

you."

Carrie looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, God, Carrie. I'm sorry," she said around her tears. "I'm sorry." She drew Carrie to

her, her lips moving without thought before burying her face against Carrie.

"I love you so much," Carrie whispered. "I'm sorry."

"No." Jill cleared her throat then pulled away. "We'll get through this." She took a deep

breath and wiped at her tears. "So... what do they say? The doctors... what do we do?"

Carrie shook her head. "You don't understand. There's nothing to do."

Jill's eyes widened. "What do you mean? No treatment?"

"No. They're inoperable, Jill."

Her words sunk in and Jill slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered. "No. I won't let you

give up."

Carrie took her hand again, holding it tight. "I'm not giving up. There's nothing to give up,

Jill. There is no chance."

"There are treatments. There are always treatments."

"No. No, I won't go through that. And for what? To prolong this for another month at the

most? No. I don't want my last days on this earth to be in a hospital, hooked to machines,

stuck with needles... sick as a dog. No! I won't do it."

Jill stood, moving away from her, her eyes wide. "I call that giving up."

Carrie closed her eyes, shaking her head. "No, darling. It's just accepting reality, that's

all." She stood, slowly walked across the room to Jill. She took her hands again. "There's

not much time left," she said softly. "I know it. I can feel it. Don't make me go through

chemo." She shook her head again, finally giving in to the tears Jill knew she had been

hiding. "Don't make me do that for you."

Jill broke down then, her sobs shaking her whole body, and she clung to Carrie, taking

comfort, trying to give comfort.

"No, baby, no. Don't cry," Carrie murmured. "This won't help anything. Don't cry," she said

again. "Your tears are too valuable to lose."

"Don't leave me."

"It's not up to me."

"But—"

"No. No," she whispered, her lips lightly brushing Jill's mouth. "Please stop crying. Please?

I can't bear to see you like this."

"I'm sorry," Jill said, her tears still falling.

"We don't have much time, Jill. Not much time at all."

"Oh, God." Jill wiped at her eyes, trying to get herself under control and failing. "I'm

sorry."

"No. I'm sorry." She tried to smile. "I don't suppose there's ever a good time or place to