Chapter 12: Rays of Hope

The next few days were bad. I ran a fever, and dragged myself to the bathroom every time I got settled down in my bed for some comfort. It seemed I had to expel something, either from one side or the other.

My parents were deeply concerned and wanted to take me to the doctor. I dissuaded them, insisting that it was some kind of a stomach bug that would pass. I drank water, took Tylenol, and endured. I felt bad about missing work again, but there was no way I could last a shift at the drug store.

Cathy had not called. Pamela did, saying Cathy went in for more tests. She had blood in her urine and signs of bruising. I guessed that some of her blood vessels broke during the Spell of Drawing, but I had too little medical knowledge to do more than speculate.

Pamela sounded bleak at this set of unexpected symptoms. I did not want to ask her about any of the old ones going away. Alas, I could not offer her the proper comfort due to my own condition.

"I'd love to come over and hold you, my girl, but I have some sort of a stomach bug. The last thing I'd want to do was to pass it to you. Just remember I love you, and pass my love to Cathy, too."

"Get well soon, Martin. I will pass it on. I am glad you spent time with Cathy. If this bleeding doesn't stop she may never be strong enough to visit you..."

I felt even worse for not being able to give Pamela any hope, but another wave of dizziness made me say quick goodbyes and lie down again. As I was falling into a sleep that felt more than a bit like unconsciousness, I tried to remember which god of Kazallu was responsible for healing. Perhaps prayer to Bau would help; but sorcerers were not taught to pray. We struggled with the evil spirits while the priests asked for help.

I fell asleep before improvising any prayers.

I finally made it to the drug store on Friday. Margaret noted how pale I was, but didn't ask any questions. I really appreciated my boss.

I also was well enough to visit the Gilmans. Cathy was weak and in bed most of the time, but at least she wasn't in a hospital with tubes and wires.

Cathy was in her own room with Mrs. Gilman sitting next to her.

"I don't feel very good, boyfriend. Glad to see you walking around, though – you were looking pretty sick last week." Mrs. Gilman was drawn and pale. She was preparing to lose her youngest daughter, and a vibrant humorous woman was now a very quiet shadow of herself. She murmured polite greetings, but did not react to the "boyfriend".

"The doctors are puzzled by some test results, but at least they don't insist I go to the hospital. My joint pain's subsided, and my lymph nodes are not swollen any more. I hope it's a good sign." She winked at me.

Mrs. Gilman didn't react, probably having abandoned hope. I wished I could say something to give her hope, but it was too risky. Besides, I still didn't know if Cathy was cured. I started some light exercises, just going into trance and back out. I didn't feel safe in even trying to scry, but I was determined to gain strength and endurance in case another treatment for Cathy was needed. I now knew that the Drawing was at least partially effective, and, unlike chemo, I didn't expect the cancer to become resistant to magic.

I spent a lot of time cuddling Pamela. With some prodding she returned to her studies, and we often sat together in her room, working on our respective subjects. The new term was fast approaching, and I wanted to make sure both of us were prepared for the long term, since I was becoming increasingly optimistic about Cathy's chances. Besides, it distracted Pamela from her grim thoughts, and occasionally even brought a smile to her face as she chuckled over some clever bit of writing.

In the beginning I had to push Pamela quite hard to resume normal life.

"What's the point in pretending I will have a normal fall? My sister is dying, and I need to focus on her. I don't even know if I want to go off to college any more. I may just stay with my parents, maybe take a course here – we have a pretty good college in the city. In the grand scheme of things, what difference does it make if I go to a big-name university? So I can make a few dollars more when I get a job? I don't even know what profession to choose! I so do not want to think about it now."

"Dear love. You spent so much time and enthusiasm on your favorites, like history and philosophy. And you kept the best GPA in class. I know it's not important to you compared to Cathy's health, but it's not like you have to sacrifice one for the other. If it ever comes to that, you can take time off school to spend more time with your sister, but right now you can do both. Don't throw away all your work, please. It's much better to have the options open.

"Besides, you can't spend all your time brooding about Cathy. You need to distract yourself with other things, if only to provide a more cheerful front for her."

She sighed. "You are right. Cathy is actually more hopeful than I am. She's always been a determined little optimist. For a while there, I think she resigned herself to dying, but she's back to fighting. She's talking about her birthday party next week, and scolds me and Mom when we get maudlin."

Cathy was indeed getting more optimistic. My palms were healing cleanly, but on Friday I tried a healing spell to check my strength. I felt a bit of strain, but was ready to try another one the following Monday.

Mrs. Gilman stepped out, and I was able to talk to Cathy privately. "Do you think your mother would freak if we locked the door? I want to try something."

"Oh, cool! I'll just tell her I want some private time with you. Mom is still pretty down, but I think all my talk about the birthday party finally convinced her not to schedule my funeral yet."

I decided to wait and observe that conversation. Cathy was still weak, and I helped her go to the bathroom, but despite that, she was very optimistic.

"Hey, the doctors are getting more and more puzzled. I don't think my parents got it yet – but I knew the docs pretty much gave up before and had no plans for more tests. So all the scans and blood they've been taking means something unusual is happening. I expect they don't want to raise any false hopes, but I am now almost convinced I will be okay. I am off all drugs, even the maintenance and over-the-counter painkillers. I am getting mighty frustrated with my weakness, though – I want to walk in the park again, but I get tired just walking from room to room."

When Mrs. Gilman returned, Cathy didn't hesitate. "Mom, do you mind if I have some private time with Martin? We'll stay right here, but I want to catch up on some affection."

I knew Mrs. Gilman was feeling better since she showed surprise for the first time in weeks. "Dear, are you sure you are strong enough? And, well, I don't want you doing too much and getting hurt..."

"Mom, I feel good. Not perfect, but good. And we are not going to do anything too strenuous. I will keep my pajamas on at all times." Mrs. Gilman actually blushed. "But I missed Martin over the last few weeks, and I am getting very antsy."

I was very impressed by Cathy's chutzpah, and was very pleased when her mother acceded. She did nudge me into the hallway for a quick conversation first, though.

I had some trepidation as I followed her, but Mrs. Gilmans' instructions were not what I expected.

"Martin, I don't know what's going on between Pamela, Cathy and you, but you all seem to be content. We've been facing a lot of pain and sorrow lately, but you've been able to cheer up both of my daughters. I am glad Cathy is feeling well enough to be 'antsy'." She made it obvious that she used it as a euphemism.

"I started to tell you to be careful since she is still fragile, but from what I've seen in the last few months, you'll probably be more protective of Cathy then she herself. Go and put a smile on my little girl's face!"