Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s already beginning to sleep a lot.”

Vivian nodded, lowering her gaze. “It’s just awful,” she said. “I know you think Marge and I didn’t get along that well, but I always liked her. And I know she doesn’t deserve this. I want you to know that. She’s always been a great sister.”

“She still is,” I said, but even as the words came out, I wondered how much longer I’d be able to say them.

After school on Wednesday, Emily and I planned to take the kids out to a Christmas tree farm, where you could choose and have your own tree cut down. Much of the place was decorated like Santa’s village, and kids could meet Santa before visiting his workshop, where hot chocolate and cookies were served. Even better, the farm would deliver and set up the tree in its stand, something I needed since I suspected that my Prius would otherwise be crushed beneath the weight of the tree.

When I mentioned the plan to Marge, she insisted that she and Liz meet us there.

It was nine days until Christmas.

In the gravel parking lot, Marge emerged from the car. When I hugged her, I could feel the sharp ridges of her ribcage, the cancer slowly eating away at her from within. She seemed to have more energy, however, than she had just after she returned from New York.

“And this, I take it, is Bodhi,” Marge said, shaking his hand with touching formality. “You’re so tall for your age,” she remarked, before proceeding to ask about his favorite activities and what he wanted for Christmas. When the kids became visibly antsy, we let them run off toward the farm, where they were quickly lost between evergreen triangles.

Emily and I trailed after them, strolling with Marge and Liz.

“How is your holiday season shaping up, Em?” Marge asked. “Are you going anywhere?”

“No,” she said. “We’ll just do the family thing like we usually do. See my sister and my parents. Ever since London learned to ride a bike, Bodhi’s been begging for one, so I guess I have to get him one-even if I’m not so confident about my ability to teach him to ride.”

“You’ll help her out, won’t you, Russ?” Marge said, elbowing me.

I grimaced. “Marge has always been good at volunteering me for things.”

“I seem to recall that,” she laughed. “Russ said you had a good time in New York?”

The two of them fell behind a bit, engrossed in their conversation. I looped my arm through Liz’s, and followed the path the kids had taken.

“How’s the schedule working out with Mom?” I asked.

“It’s working, I guess. I cut back to three days a week at work, so your mom is going to come on the other two weekdays.”

“Marge seems to be doing well today.”

“She was a little fatigued this morning, but she perked up on the ride over. I think doing things like this makes her feel like there’s nothing wrong with her, if only for a little while. She was the same way when we were in New York.”

“I’m glad she wanted to come. I just don’t want her to get run down.”

“I’ve said the same thing to her,” Liz said. “And do you know what her response was?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“She told me not to worry so much, because she ‘still has something important to do.’”

“What does that mean?’

Liz shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

As we stopped and waited for Emily and Marge to catch up, I pondered my sister’s cryptic words. She had always been one for surprises, and I wondered what last mysteries she had up her sleeve.

The next evening, Marge and Liz arrived at my house at seven on the dot. As soon as Liz walked through the door, London took her hand and led her up to the bedroom to show her the aquarium.

Marge was bundled in a scarf and hat, despite the relatively mild temperatures. She also wore gloves and the oversize down jacket I’d brought to the hospital.

It seemed impossible that less than three weeks had passed since she’d been rushed to the hospital.

“Are you ready?” she said impatiently, clearly ready to leave.

I grabbed my jacket and dug out a pair of gloves and a hat, even though I couldn’t imagine needing them. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” she said. “Come on. Before I chicken out.”

I was still mystified, but as we began to turn down roads I recognized, I suddenly understood what she had in mind.

“You’re not serious,” I said as she pulled up to the gates and shut off the engine.

“I am,” she said firmly. “And this is your Christmas gift to me.”

As I looked up, the water tower loomed-impossibly, immeasurably tall.

“It’s illegal to climb the water tower,” I said.

“It’s always been illegal. That never stopped us before.”

“We were kids,” I countered.

“And now we’re not,” she said. “You ready? Get your hat and gloves. It’ll probably be windy up top.”

“Marge…”

She stared at me. “I can make the climb,” she said in a voice that left no room for dissent. “After another round of chemo, maybe I won’t be able to. But right now, I still can, and I want you to come with me.”

She didn’t wait for me to answer. Getting out of the car, she strode toward the steel maintenance ladder, leaving me paralyzed with indecision. By the time I scrambled after her, she was already six feet in the air. Which meant, of course, that I had no choice but to start climbing. If she got tired, if she became weak or dizzy, I had to be there to catch her. In the end, it was fear for her that spurred me to follow.

Marge hadn’t been lying. Though she had to take a break every twenty feet or so, she would inevitably start up again, moving relentlessly higher. Below me, I could see rooftops, and I caught the scent of chimney smoke. I was grateful for my gloves, as the metal rungs were cold enough to make my hands stiffen up.

When we finally reached the top, Marge inched her way over to the spot where I’d found her on that terrible night back when she’d been in college. Just like then, she let her feet dangle over the narrow walkway, and I quickly moved to her side. I put my arm around her again, in case she got dizzy.

“You must be feeling the cold,” I said.

“Speak for yourself,” she retorted. “I put on long johns before I came.”

“Fine,” I said. “Then slide your butt closer to me so I can get warm, too.”

She did, and for a while we took in a bird’s-eye view of the neighborhood. It was too cold for the nighttime sound of crickets or frogs; instead, I caught the faintest murmuring of wind chimes and the sound of the breeze as it rustled the branches of trees. That, and the sound of Marge wheezing, low and wet. I wondered how much pain she was in. The cancer, after all, always brings pain.

“I remember when you found me up here, drunk as a skunk,” she said. “Well, not all of it-I actually don’t remember much at all about that night, other than that moment, when you suddenly appeared.”

“It was a rough night,” I said.

“I sometimes wonder what would have happened had you not shown up. I wonder if I really would have jumped, or maybe fallen. I was so heartbroken about Tracey at the time, but I look back now, and can’t help but think it was a good thing. Because in the end, I found Liz. And what Liz and I have is nothing like what I had with Tracey. Ever. She and I just work, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. You guys have something that everyone wants.”

“I’m worried about her,” Marge admitted. “She’s so good at helping other people get through their problems, but I think she gives so much at work, she doesn’t have much left for herself. And it scares me. Because I want her to be okay. I want her to be happy.” She stared out into the distance, almost as if trying to see into the future. “I want her to one day find somebody new, someone who loves her as much I do. Someone she can grow old with.”