Grateful to have an understanding boss, even if she was scolding Rowan, tears welled up again. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go home and pack and check flights.”
Rushing to grab her things out of her locker, she called Michael as she pushed out of the clinic with a wave to Rosie. It went to voice mail.
Damn it. “Michael, Mom’s in the hospital. She’s having a biopsy tomorrow. I know it’s not the best timing, but I need to go home. I need to be there. Please call me when you get this.”
She hit the red light leaving the shopping center and pulled up the internet app on her phone to search for flights. There was a five-thirty direct flight that would get her to Knoxville at ten-thirty with the time difference. Taking advantage of every red light, to the point of slowing down if she thought the light would turn, Rowan had her tickets booked by the time she reached her apartment. She had enough time to pack and call an Uber to take her to the airport.
Michael hadn’t returned her call by the time she boarded the flight and had to turn off her phone.
It was the longest three hours of her life, or so it seemed. She tried to read, watch an in-flight movie, and sleep, but all she could think about was the possibility that her mom might have cancer.
As soon as the plane landed, she turned her phone back on and was rewarded with several texts from her dad and sister with information on her mom’s surgery in the morning, and a voice mail from Michael.
“Hey, Row. Sorry to hear about your mom. I wish you’d had time to wait until I could call back, but I understand why you didn’t. Call me when you land.”
Slinging her satchel over her shoulder, she pulled her carry-on from the overhead bin. As soon as she reached the gate area, she called Michael.
“Hey,” he answered on the first ring.
“Hey. I couldn’t wait. I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t apologize—I understand. I’ll call Stephanie and the minister in the morning and let them know we’re postponing the wedding.”
She lurched to a stop in the middle of the concourse. “What? Why?”
“Your mom’s sick. I just assumed we’d postpone?”
“Shouldn’t we wait to see what the prognosis is before we cancel?” That hadn’t even occurred to her as an option.
“Not cancel. Postpone.”
“Whatever—it’s changing the date. Our wedding is less than two weeks away.” She started walking again. “Let me talk to my parents and the doctor before we make that decision. Even if it’s”—she inhaled deeply—“cancer, I know my mom won’t want us to change the date.”
“All right,” he said.
She stepped onto the escalator to take her down to the rental cars and worried at the cuticle of her thumb. “Do you…? Do you want to cancel the wedding?” she asked softly.
“No. No!” He said it more forcefully the second time. “Of course not. I was only trying to help make this situation less stressful. You’re absolutely right—we’ll wait until you talk to your parents and the doctor.”
