Page 74 of Dagger’s Shield

“I’ll add you to the distribution lists for annual reports.”

“I’d like to see them quarterly.”

He pushed away from the table but didn’t get up. “What’s this about, Maëlle?”

I folded my arms. “Were you aware of my mother’s diagnosis?”

“What are you talking about?”

“In September, she found out she has diffuse large B-cell lymphoma. It is the most common type of non-Hodgkin lymphoma.”

Rémy’s face lost all color, and he gasped. “No!”

It didn’t quell my rising anger. “Yes. And my father, her husband and your mentor, told her it would pass.”

He stood, came to sit in the chair beside me, and leaned forward. “I swear I didn’t know.”

“Neither did I. And if I hadn’t come home this year, I might not have⁠—”

“Maëlle, if I’d known, I promise I would’ve told you. I’d never keep something like that from you.”

I raised my chin. “No?”

His expression changed, and I thought he might cry. “It’s what my mother had.”

This time, I gasped. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

“As am I. What can I do?”

My anger went away as quickly as it had come. “I’ll be staying on here. Maman’s treatment begins in January.”

“I understand, and whatever I can do, I will. I hope you know that.”

“Perhaps you could try to make my bâtard of a father understand.”

“Understand what, Maëlle?” a voice said from behind me.

Rémy was on his feet before I turned around. My father stood in the doorway, still holding the newspaper he’d carried in.

I stood too. If he wanted an answer, he would have it.

“That Maman has cancer. Cancer, Papa. It will not pass because you refuse to say the word. Her treatment begins in January. It will be difficult. There will be weeks when she cannot leave her bed. I will take her to every appointment. I will sit with her. I will care for her. What will you do?”

“Your mother is tired. Doctors make careers out of frightening tired women. In spring, you will see I was right.”

“Say the word, Papa. Say cancer.”

“You have been home two weeks, and you lecture me about my own wife.” He tucked the paper under his arm. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

At the door, he stopped for a moment, then kept going.

Rémy squeezed my shoulder on his way past. “Let me talk to him.”

“No! He needs to hear this. He needs to accept it.” I was almost out the door when Dagger stepped in front of me, blocking my way. Behind him stood my mother.

“Don’t do this, Maëlle. Not now,” she said.

“If not now, when?” My eyes filled with tears, and this time, when I tried to get by him, Dagger let me.