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  to cal you so late, but your mother's surgery has had some

  complications—"

  I had to blink twice to make sure I wasn't stil dreaming

  and even then I wasn't convinced. "I'm sorry, hold on a

  second. Her surgery?"

  "The breast-reconstruction surgery had some complica

  tions," he explained patiently, probably used to waking

  people up to give them bad news. "She's running a high

  fever and has been hemorrhaging."

  My mother had gone and got herself a boob job. I gritted

  my teeth. "You're her plastic surgeon?"

  "Yes. I've been working closely with her oncologist, Dr.

  Frank, since your mother was diagnosed."

  I was stil stupid. "Wait a minute. Her oncologist? I thought

  she was having her breasts done."

  "Your mother had a double mastectomy," the doctor said.

  "With a planned reconstruction. But as I said, there are

  complications."

  I sagged against the headboard. "What kind of

  complications?"

  complications?"

  "Can you come to the hospital?" he said. "I think you should."

  Chapter 33

  Leo probably hadn't even gone to bed yet when I caled

  him to come sit with Arty and get him on the bus in the

  morning. He was there in fifteen minutes. I should've been

  relieved to see him, but I was angry, too.

  "You knew?"

  He nodded. "She told me a couple months ago. When she

  told me to leave."

  "Months? She knew for months and…she didn't tel me?"

  Leo shrugged. "She didn't want to worry you, Paige. Hey,

  don't look at me like that. You know your mother. And

  she broke up with me because of it."

  He didn't have to tel me that was worse than being kept in

  the dark. "I'm sorry she did that. Why would she?"

  Another shrug. "She said she didn't want to be a burden."

  "Did you try to convince her otherwise?" The question was

  a little mean, but Leo took it in stride.

  "I love that woman, and I love that boy up there." He

  pointed. "Hel. I even took a shine to you. I was hoping

  she'd reconsider once she had the operation and she saw I

  didn't care about the size of her tits."

  There wasn't much point in belaboring the discussion, so I

  left him at the house. The drive to Hershey was shorter

  than the trek from Lebanon to Harrisburg, but it was along

  a two-lane, rural highway and I had the bad luck to be

  stuck behind someone adhering strictly to the speed limit.

  By the time I got to the med center, my stomach had

  twisted itself into knots and I'd sweated big rings under my

  arms. I parked in the lot and headed into the lobby, where

  I managed to decipher the signs to find my mom's floor. I

  took the elevator with a pair of chatty nurses and a worn-

  looking older man with a basebal cap puled low on his

  head.

  It was just past 11:00 p.m., not the darkest hour of the

  night or anything, but even so the floor was dim and quiet.

  The nurses talked softly at the desk. I'd never been to the

  ICU before. I wasn't happy to be here, now.

  "Alicia DeMarco?" I rested my hands flat on the counter to keep myself from biting my nails. "Her doctor caled and

  keep myself from biting my nails. "Her doctor caled and

  said she was being moved here?"

  The nurse consulted a chart. I thought there'd be trouble

  with visiting hours, but she just smiled and told me the

  room number and pointed the way helpfuly. My knotted

  stomach twisted tighter. If my mom was realy fine I

  thought they'd have made me wait until morning, which

  would've annoyed me since I'd made the trip, but would've

  meant she was going to be okay.

  I didn't have that reassurance now.

  She looked smal in the bed. Pale without her many layers

  of makeup. Her hair not teased or even combed, just

  puled back from her face in a high ponytail. She was

  sleeping. Machines beeped and something squeaked by in

  the hal outside as I just stared.

  Her breath rattled and I jumped at the sound. When I

  crossed to the bed, I couldn't be sure I'd wake her. I

  didn't know if she could be woken.

  Her eyes fluttered open when I sat in the chair next to the

  bed. "Paige."

  "Hi, Mom." I scooted closer. Under the covers her chest

  rose higher than looked right. I couldn't avoid looking.

  "Checking out my new rack?" My mom's voice cracked

  and she drew in a slow, pained breath.

  "Why didn't you tel me?"

  I waited for a long few minutes for her to answer. Her

  eyes closed. I thought she'd falen back to sleep, but then

  she licked her lips and coughed.

  "Hurts like a bastard," she said.

  I didn't ask her again. There'd be time for questions and

  accusations, and I had no doubt there'd be plenty of both.

  My mom opened her eyes. Then she closed them again,

  only to reopen them a second later. She smiled. "Paige."

  I moved to the chair next to her bed and took her hand.

  "Mom. What the hel's going on?"

  "Language," my mother cautioned, and looked at the

  plastic pitcher on the nightstand. "Can you pour me some

  water? I'm dying."

  Alarmed, I stopped halfway to grabbing the pitcher.

  "Mom!"

  "Shh," she said.

  "Mom. You're not dying."

  "I'm dying of thirst. Give me a drink, for God's sake." She frowned. "Am I going to have to ring for a nurse?"

  "No." I poured and held it up for her to sip, but she waved me away with an irritated sigh.

  "I can do it."

  I watched her sip delicately at the water, and I watched as

  she spiled it al down her chin to wet the neck of her

  hospital gown. When I took the cup away, I handed her a

  tissue from the holder next to the pitcher. She blotted her

  mouth and held the tissue to her nostrils, one then the

  other, before crumpling it in her fist.

  "I know you think I should have told you what was going

  on," she said.

  "No shit."

  "No shit."

  "Paige." My mom gave me one of her looks, but it left me

  unaffected. She sighed again. "I didn't want to worry you."

  "How long have you known? Mom, my God." I wasn't

  thirsty, but I poured myself a cup of water anyway to give

  my hands something to do. Then I remembered I was in a

  hospital, the air afloat with who knew what sorts of

  noxious germs, and I put the cup down.

  My mother watched me from dark-shadowed eyes.

  Without her makeup on she looked so much younger.

  Prettier, even, despite the circles and lines of fatigue

  etched at the corners of her eyes. She'd never have gone

  out in public like that, but I liked seeing her without so

  much paint covering her face.

  "For a few months. I found a lump one day and went to

  have it checked out. They did a biopsy. It was cancer,

  so…" She gestured with her fingertips at the room.

  "But why didn't you tel me?" I didn't mean to whisper, and the way I clutched at her hand surprised me. I bent

  forward to press my forehead to her hand in mine, and