Ignoring the others, Ally asked, “So, Ginger, now that you’ve decided, what are you planning to do with the rest of your life?”
The room grew silent while Ginger’s eyes welled with tears. “You’re the first person to ask me that...” Dipping her chin, she nodded for a few seconds before swiping at a tear on her cheek. “I’ve thought about this a lot.”
“I’m sure you have. I know I would.”
“It even has a title, this last chapter of my life. It’s called Photographs and Memories, like the Jim Croce song. Do you know it? I’m plagiarizing, but I’ll be dead by the time anyone figures it out so let ’em sue me.”
Ally smiled. “Know it and love it. He’s one of my grandfather’s favorite singers.”
“I want a few more months of taking photos and making memories. One last glorious Alaskan summer...” Ginger swallowed and nodded as if to blink back more tears. “I want to spend time with my daughter and take photos to leave for her. I want us to do things and make memories and document them together. Memories that don’t include me sick and vomiting and so weak that I can’t even hold her or read to her or sing Jim Croce songs...”
Ally squeezed her hand while she gathered her thoughts, awed by her strength and bravery and the beautiful poetry of her words.
“What I don’t want...” She cleared her throat. “What I don’t want is to lie in bed wishing out the window, you know what I mean? Lying there dying and thinking about all the things I wish I was doing? I want to do them, live while I can. So, Ally, that’s what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”
“Ginger, that sounds just lovely.” Ally lifted a shoulder. “I can’t imagine anything better.”
“Me, either.”
“You realize that it will be painful? That, in the end, it could possibly be more painful than if you chose chemotherapy? Physically, I mean, because the cancer will be allowed to grow. Chemotherapy kills your good cells, but it also kills the cancer cells and can prolong your life.”
“I do. Dr. Fulton, my oncologist in Glacier City, was brutally honest about that. I asked him to be because I want to be prepared. But I’ll have quality time, that’s the point.”
“Okay, good. You get it. Your daughter is lucky to have you. How old is she?”
“She’s eight.” Ginger reached toward the bedside table, picked up a frame and handed it to her. A photo collage, Ally realized, and in each and every image there was a petite girl with a heart-shaped face, wide smile and lively eyes that were nearly identical to her mother’s, right down to the glowing inquisitiveness in their startlingly blue depths. Some images featured the little girl alone, others included her with a happy and healthy Ginger, her grandparents, Aunt Cara and presumably other loved ones. In some, there was a fluffy gray cat.
“These photos are gorgeous. Dr. Ramsey is right about your talent. And your daughter is beautiful.”
“She is! And smart and kind and artistic and imaginative. All the things I dreamed my child would be.”
Ally stared into her eyes, pouring every bit of support she could manage into the look and the touch of her hand on Ginger’s. “I dream of those things for my daughter, too, if I’m ever lucky enough to have one.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Ginger whispered.
“You bet. Have you applied for your medical marijuana card yet? I know some doctors who specialize in this area. They can work with you and suggest strains that are symptom specific. It’s—”
“Wait! What? Aren’t you going to try and talk her out of this? Jacob, do something,” Kate demanded.
“Yeah!” Jacob erupted. “Hold on here for one minute! This is your solution? I thought doctors took an oath to save lives.”
Cara was looking at Flynn. “Dr. Ramsey, is it possible she doesn’t know what she’s saying? I’ve read about how chemo can affect the decision-making process. It can make people confused and—”
“Cara!” Ginger cried.
Eyes bright with tears, Cara turned toward her sister. “I’m sorry, Ginger. I’m so sorry. I just... I love you so much. And Ella...” Her voice broke with a sob.
“It really wouldn’t be like that, Jacob,” Ally said calmly. “I know it’s easy for me to say because Ginger isn’t my daughter, or sister, but I can tell you that I’ve seen hundreds of people die in my lifetime, both working for my grandfather’s medical practice and from my time as a medic in the Army. The acceptance of an inevitability we all have to face at some point isn’t necessarily giving up. It can be a way of taking control. And, without exception, it’s one of the bravest acts I’ve ever witnessed.”
The room went quiet. Jacob peered at her as if he’d only just seen her for the first time. Kate looked thoughtful. Cara’s sobs quieted. Ginger was beginning to look tired, and Ally didn’t blame her.
“How about if the four of us, you and Kate and Cara and me, talk about this down the hall? There’s a private room right next to the lounge.”
“Thank you,” Ginger told her before fixing a pleading gaze on Cara.
Ally watched a light dawn in Cara’s red-rimmed eyes and felt a rush of relief when the woman began nodding. “Mom and Dad, let’s do that. Let’s go and let Ginger rest. I think it might be a good idea to hear what Ally has to say.” Tugging her bag up from the floor, she adjusted the strap over her shoulder and added, almost like an afterthought, “And we can say some things, too. Ask questions and...yeah. This will be good.”
Nicki, the nurse who’d briefed Ally, seemed to appear out of nowhere. Tucking an arm through Kate’s, she led her toward the exit. “Come with me. I’ll show you guys where to go.”
Ally’s back had been to the door, so she realized someone else had joined them only when a man stepped forward, presumably to allow the family to pass. That’s when she saw him clearly: Tag James—every handsome, frowning inch of him.
TAG STOOD BESIDE the helicopter and watched Ally push through the doors onto the rooftop landing pad. Perfect timing—the patient was being loaded. She’d secured her silky black hair into a messy bun and tendrils were slipping loose in the force of the late spring breeze. A messenger-style bag hung diagonally across her body to rest against one hip, and she’d traded her hospital blazer for a sporty fleece jacket. She looked relaxed and happy.
And why wouldn’t she be? She’d just worked a magical spell on Jacob Weil. Not that he could blame the guy. Tag had been rather spellbound himself. Emotion stirred in his chest as he thought about her compassion and empathy for Ginger.
Flynn followed a few seconds later, took Ally by the elbow and steered her off to one side where they conversed for a moment before Flynn patted Ally on the shoulder. She pivoted and headed in Tag’s direction, and an almost panicky feeling assailed him as he reluctantly allowed himself to acknowledge just how pretty she was. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, and his lack of self-control left him vaguely appalled. It dawned on him that she was likely younger than his baby sisters.
“Ready, pilot?” She blew by him, throwing a tentative grin his way, and continued to the passenger side of the chopper.
He felt his jaw drop at the teasing remark. Flashes of her comments about his being too slow to take off spurred him into action. Once on board, he found her already checking on the patient. She slid Tag a glance and the playful half smile on her face made him go soft.
He couldn’t resist a little teasing of his own. “You’re not back there smearing mud all over him, are you? Cuz I think he’s already set.”
Her