Picking up the Pieces

Chapter Three

This story is dedicated to my friend, Pam, who recently lost her husband to cancer. She's a wonderful friend with a beautiful soul who didn't deserve losing her best friend to such a devastating and deadly disease. I love you, girl.

Not mine...Just sayin...

Chapter Three

EPOV

"Mom, deep breaths," I soothed, rubbing her back. She was huddled over the toilet, sobbing as she threw up. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and was battling it valiantly. Unfortunately, this was her second bout with the disease and the prognosis wasn't good. She was skin and bones. The double mastectomy she underwent did little to stop the disease as it already spread to her lymph nodes, attacking them aggressively. The chemo was preventing the cancer from spreading elsewhere, but it was only a matter of time. "Do you want some water?"

"Not yet," she said faintly. "Can you get me my meds?"

Sighing, I nodded. Walking into her bedroom, I picked up her joint. Washington State had legalized medical marijuana. It was the only thing that helped with the nausea and vomiting. It also relaxed her so she could be with us, not in a medically induced stupor. I sat down on the bathtub, lighting the joint and passing it to her. She took a few hits, her breathing evening out. "Better?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Do you want more?" I asked.

"No. I just need to sit here," she mumbled, leaning against the cabinet. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Dad called me. He said you were having a rough day. Charlie was understanding when I called in, but I have to work the overnight shift on Halloween so he can go trick or treating with his grandkids," I said, snuffing out the joint. "It's a fair trade."

"No, it's not. You should be in Washington D.C., working at the FBI," Esme said, adjusting her head scarf. "Not taking care of your sickly mother."

"Mom, I'm right where I want to be," I said, smiling as softly as I could. "You need me. Dad needs me. I'm not going to abandon my family."

"I'll guess we'll just agree to disagree," she quipped, arching her brow.

"It's what we do best, Mom," I snorted. She chuckled, trying to sit up. I helped her to her feet, guiding her to the bedroom. "Chair or bed?"

"Chair," she said, looking out the window. "It's a rare sunny day."

"Got it," I said, setting her up in the recliner that overlooked the backyard. I covered her legs with a blanket, handing her a book and placing a garbage can next to her feet. "I'm going to make something for you. Any requests?"

"Whatever you want, Edward," she smiled, patting my cheek. I captured my mom's hand, kissing her palm before darting downstairs to make some chicken soup.

If you had told me that I would be living in this tiny, rainy town ten years ago, I would have laughed in your face. This was not how I envisioned my life. I was thirty-six years old, working as a small-town cop when I should have been assistant to the deputy director of the FBI. I graduated from college with a degree in criminal justice, working in D.C. for the FBI when my mom was first diagnosed. I was twenty-three. She said that she was fine and I stayed in our nation's capital, making a name for myself. She overcame the cancer and I, along with our family, relaxed, grateful for mom's remission.

Selfishly, I had everything I could have ever wanted. A beautiful condo in Arlington, a sexy girlfriend, a lucrative job, a flashycar...but it all came crashing down. At the age of thirty, I was getting ready to go undercover to take down a huge drug ring when my dad called and said that the cancer had come back. The cancer was very aggressive. It was only a matter of time, he said. When he said that, I told my boss that I had to take an extended leave of absence. He gave me two weeks. I flew to Forks, Washington to see my mom and I knew that two weeks wouldn't cut it.