The three made up their tacos, stacking their tortillas high with meat, cheeses, sour cream, and salsas. Edie loaded up even though her appetite had been completely ruined. She couldn’t squander a meal like this. They’d worked hard and it smelled so good.
When they finally had their food and drinks prepared, they sat at the little table in the nook, ready to dig in.
“Okay, spill the beans,” Edie instructed. She tipped the end of her taco toward Camille.
“It would be easier to spill those black beans I just warmed up than the ones I have to share.”
A silly joke, but Edie understood. Camille was floundering, unsure how to broach whatever this topic was.
“You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, Cami.” She covered her dear friend’s hand with her free one. “But I’m here if you need me to listen.”
“I want to tell you.” Camille’s voice hiccupped. Was she about to cry? Edie honestly wasn’t sure what she would do if Camille shed a tear. It happened so infrequently. “But it has more to do with Foster than it does with me.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Especially if he doesn’t want you to. I respect his privacy.”
“No.” She fiddled with the cloth napkin in her lap, folding it over and over again like a map that she couldn’t get right. “He said it’s okay for me to talk about it with the two of you. He doesn’t mind.”
“Even with me?” Tabitha leveled a glance at her sister over the rim of her water glass. The cubes clinked together when she set it back onto the table between them. “I would understand if he doesn’t want you to talk about it with me.”
“I honestly think he wants your opinion. Both of yours.”
“Our opinion about what?” Edie asked, cutting to the chase.
“About whether or not he should try to save the life of the man he once attempted to kill.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Jim is your patient?” Edie all out gasped.
“Hewasmy patient.” Tabitha busied herself with a piece of shredded lettuce that had fallen out of the taco currently in her hands. Her plate was a mess of discarded ingredients. At this point she could get another tortilla and make an entirely new taco.
“And you didn’t say anything to Foster about this when you found out?”
“Edie, you and I both know I couldn’t.”
Edie’s eyes shut as she nodded, like she was attempting to backtrack her words. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you should have said anything. I just can’t believe you were able to keep that bombshell to yourself. I wouldn’t have been able to.”
“In fairness, Tabitha didn’t have to keep it quiet for long. The hospital contacted Foster pretty quickly.”
“It sounds like it’s serious?” Edie asked. “The cancer has spread pretty far?”
“Actually, it hasn’t,” Camille answered. “It’s contained to his liver.”
“And do you think it’s related to his past way of life? All of that drinking and drugs?”
“I honestly don’t know. And truth be told, I don’t think I want to know. All we know is that he’s a good candidate to receive a living liver transplant,” Camille stated, “And that they want to see if Foster could be a match.”
Tabitha had been relatively silent when Camille dropped the news, even though she probably could have added to the conversation. It just wasn’t hers to have. But there was one question she felt comfortable asking. “How is Foster doing with all of this?”
“About as good as one would expect. He told me that in his head, Jim had been gone all of these years. Like gone, as in no longer alive. The way he lived so dangerously and treated his body so recklessly left no reason to think he would have a long and healthy life, you know? So I think Foster was not only surprised by the request, but surprised in general that Jim is even still around.”
Tabitha nodded. “I can understand that. And I’ll add that aside from the injuries he came in with, he looked good. Like maybe he really has cleaned up his act over the years.”
She even wondered if Jim’s refusal to take the pain medicine that he was offered had something to do with that recovery process. She’d had many patients over the years decline opioids and other stronger pain killers, and though the reasons were varied, sometimes it did have to do with addiction.
“I don’t know if that information helps or not,” Camille said candidly. “Because it’s a lot easier to deny someone forgiveness when they’ve made no attempt to right their wrongs. And I think that’s the impression Foster has always been under. That Jim was and is a deadbeat who only cares about his next fix.”
Tabitha didn’t get that sense from the man. Not even a little.
