Page 61 of One More Time

An hour and a half later, after an emotional service, the drive from the church to the cemetery was a silent one. Behind the hearse carrying Rodger’s body, Grace’s teary gaze was fastened to her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. Charlie couldn’t blame her for not wanting to watch her love being driven to his final resting place.

Heading through the gates of Sapphire Bay Cemetery, past where his grandparents were buried, Charlie parked behind the row of cars lining the shady laneway. Helping Grace from the car, he kept both of his hands on her arms as she steadied herself. Hudson and Bryn were the first to meet them on the lush grass beneath a towering gum tree, soon followed by Hope, Kelvin, Ava, Jenny and Marty. Rodger’s well-to-do parents had flown in last night, and were standing with Grace’s parents, who had arrived three days ago from London. Rodger’s mother looked over at him, regarding him with the dislike she’d never felt the need to hide when anywhere near him.

‘Hudson, Bryn.’ Stepping out of Grace’s earshot, Charlie spoke softly to his two sons. ‘Do you think it’s the right thing for me to be a pallbearer?’

They both nodded. ‘You and Rodger might never have seen eye to eye, but he did regard you as part of the family, Dad.’ Hudson’s usually deep, resounding voice was instead incredibly quiet.

‘He’s right.’ Bryn nodded. ‘Besides, I think it will mean a lot to Mum.’

‘Okay then.’ Charlie was overcome with emotion he was far from revealing in this moment so, squaring his shoulders and drawing in a deep breath, he blinked faster and looked to the rise of the hill, to where, along with his sons, Marty and two of Rodger’s cousins, would be carrying Rodger.

Ten minutes later, with the mourners gathered at the graveside, Charlie heaved the mahogany coffin onto his shoulder. Then, step by step, they marched the man who’d been both family and foe to him up the hill. As gracefully as possible, they lowered the casket onto the cloth straps and, with his gaze respectfully cast downwards, Charlie came to Grace’s side.

Back at the wake, Charlie stood back, nursing a cup of extra-strong black coffee, and watched Grace float around the room. Forever the gracious hostess, even when she’d just lost her companion, she was making sure everyone else was okay when it was her who needed the most comfort. Although she was holding her own for now, Charlie knew her too well to believe it. He could see past her poker face – the quiver of her bottom lip, the extra crinkles at the corners of her beautiful eyes, the way she was taking shallow breaths, the covert dabs of her handkerchief when she thought nobody was watching. If he could, he’d take on all that heartbreak himself and save her from the engulfing pain of grief.

But he couldn’t, so he did the only thing he could, and made a solemn vow then and there that no matter what, he would be here for her, whenever she needed him, however she needed him. Because that was how true, unconditional, eternal love worked.

CHAPTER

18

Late 2005

Charlie knew from his extensive research that he had a one in eight hundred chance of hearing bad news in the next half an hour, which was reduced even further given that he was a man. Good odds, considering. Although he was nervous as all hell, he was focusing on the fact that it was a perfect spring day with a temperate breeze and crystal-clear blue sky. Surely nothing could go wrong when Mother Nature was putting on such a glowing performance, he thought as he pulled up out front of the oncologist and took a few moments to steady his racing heart.

Drawing in a breath, he thought about the last time he’d parked at this medical centre for his yearly physical. Generally fit and well, he hadn’t been concerned in the slightest. Just like every other routine appointment, he and his doctor had chatted about the weather, politics and the latest cricket scores like the old friends they’d become. That was, until the doctor found the disturbing lump, in his chest of all places, which had instantly pulled the proverbial rug out from beneath his feet. Next step had been the ultrasound, where the radiographer had refused to give him any indication as to what she’d seen. Then, for six excruciating days, he’d tried to get on with his daily life, as though there was nothing to be concerned about. He’d decided to keep his concerns from his friends, Grace, and especially the kids. They’d all had enough to deal with over the years; he just couldn’t put them through this too. Not until he knew the hard facts, the truth of his future, or lack of.

Subsequently, to his dismay, his newly assigned oncologist had confirmed the mass and a CT scan had re-confirmed it. A biopsy had been done on what the oncologist was afraid would be a malignant lump, and now here he was, almost a month later, ready to hear his future, or lack thereof.

Pulling what parts of himself he could gather together, he stepped out from behind the wheel, locked the car, shoved the keys into his pocket and took striding steps toward the sliding doors of the medical rooms while repeating his mantra to himself: I’ve been fretting over nothing. It’s all going to be fine.

He may have silently told himself this countless times already, but at this very moment, while fighting to maintain his mindfulness, he was also mentally preparing for the worst. How could he not? Were all his prayers said in the dead of night going to be answered? Or was this about to be his comeuppance for making so many wrong decisions, ones that had caused his loved ones immeasurable grief?

Twenty-eight minutes later, shocked to his very core, yet somehow oddly numb, Charlie blinked into the eyes of his oncologist. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’ he finally said, his mouth feeling as if it were filled with sand as he rolled the C-word around in his mind.

‘Yes, Charlie, I’m afraid so. And as I explained, it’s already stage three, so we’re going to have to move quickly with your treatment plan.’ The doctor went on to clarify this a little more, but Charlie only heard snippets of the clarification.

‘So … how many stages are there?’ he stammered.

‘Four. So three is considered quite aggressive.’

‘Jesus.’ Charlie dropped his head into his hands, roughly rubbing his face. ‘This is the worst news.’

‘Yes, it is.’ The oncologist heaved a sigh. ‘I’m so sorry to be the bearer of it.’ He removed his bottle-thick glasses. ‘But, on the other side of the coin, the lymph nodes showed no sign of cancer, which is great news, so this is no death sentence, Charlie. You have options, and the treatment for this kind of cancer can be very effective.’

A man of action, Charlie didn’t give himself much more time for the news to sink in. ‘Right. Well, tell me, what do we do about it, doc?’

‘Well, for the best chance of survival, a double mastectomy is a certain. And then we will need to start you with a course of chemotherapy as soon as possible after that.’

Charlie’s brows knitted together. ‘Okay, so when will the operation be?’

‘Possibly within the next two weeks.’ The doctor readjusted his glasses. ‘I will speak with my receptionist and get her to send you an email tomorrow morning with all the details.’

‘Okay. Thank you.’ Charlie rose on wobbly legs.

The oncologist walked him to the door. ‘I will be with you every step of the way, Charlie.’

‘Thanks, doc.’ Charlie fixed up his bill and collected brochures from the receptionist on cancer and how to deal with it, then stepped out into what was now a very imperfect spring day. Yes, the breeze was still temperate, and the sky was still strikingly blue, but it was so contradictory to his topsy-turvy world that it felt like a slap in the face.