Chapter 13 - The Hardest Kind of Love
Bringing Catherine home was not giving up.
Isaac repeated that sentence to himself until he almost believed it.
Her doctors remained involved.
Medication continued.
Nurses came.
Tests were still performed when useful.
Nothing about choosing comfort meant nobody cared whether Catherine lived.
It simply meant her choices mattered as much as the numbers.
Isaac struggled with that distinction every day.
He wanted measurements.
Improvement.
Targets.
Timelines.
Instead, Catherine gave him mornings.
Some good.
Some difficult.
Some where she ate breakfast at the table.
Others where lifting a cup exhausted her.
Megan adapted without drama.
If Catherine could walk, they walked.
If she could only sit, they sat.
If she slept, Megan cleaned quietly and left flowers where Catherine would see them when she woke.
Isaac watched and learned.
Lily adapted differently.
Children sometimes accepted what adults fought.
She drew pictures beside Catherine.
Read beginner books aloud.
Asked impossible questions.
“Where do people go when they die?”
Catherine answered, “I don't know.”
“Does that scare you?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
“Then we're scared together.”
Isaac listened from the hall.
No false certainty.
No protection through lies.
Just truth with company.
One afternoon Lily asked, “Will you see Mommy?”
The house went still.
Isaac stood in the doorway.
Catherine looked at him first.
Permission.
He nodded.
“If there is somewhere people meet again,” Catherine said, “I hope so.”
“Tell her Daddy misses her.”
Isaac closed his eyes.
“I will.”
“And tell her he makes bad pancakes.”
“Lily.”
Catherine laughed.
“I will definitely tell her that.”
That night, Isaac opened the envelope Catherine had given him in the hospital.
WHEN YOU START TRYING TO CONTROL EVERYTHING AGAIN.
Inside was one card.
It read:
Sit down.
He laughed.
Then turned it over.
Ask what the person in front of you wants.
He sat on the edge of his bed.
For years, he had entered rooms already carrying answers.
Now his mother had reduced wisdom to one question.
What do you want?
The next day he asked Lily.
They were driving home from school.
“What do you want to do this weekend?”
She looked suspicious.
“Anything?”
“Within the law.”
“Build a fort.”
He waited for something larger.
Disney.
Shopping.
A trip.
“That's it?”
“And sleep in it.”
“Inside?”
“Obviously.”
He smiled.
“Done.”
Then she added, “You have to sleep in it too.”
He reconsidered the danger of open questions.
Saturday evening, they built a blanket fort across the living room.
Catherine supervised from her chair.
Helen contributed pillows.
Megan brought popcorn.
Ruth left laughing.
At nine, Catherine was tired.
Isaac carried her upstairs.
She rested her head against his shoulder.
“You're doing better.”
“At forts?”
“At being here.”
He swallowed.
“I'm trying.”
“I know.”
He laid her in bed.
“Isaac?”
“Yes?”
“Don't wait too long.”
He knew immediately.
“Megan.”
Catherine smiled.
“You always were bright.”
“She works for me.”
“Change that.”
“I can't just fire her so I can ask her out.”
Catherine laughed weakly.
“That would be one approach.”
“Terrible.”
“Then find another.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Everything worth doing is.”
He sat beside her.
“What if she doesn’t want me?”
“Then you survive embarrassment.”
“What if she does?”
Catherine’s eyes softened.
“Then maybe you survive happiness.”
He looked down.
“I don't know if I’m ready.”
“Neither did Thomas.”
“Is Dad really the standard we're using?”
“He did eventually get me.”
“Through stubbornness?”
“Charm.”
“I was told there was a dropped ring.”
“Defamation.”
Isaac smiled.
The next Monday, he made a decision.
Megan found him in the study.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.”
She entered cautiously.
He had paperwork on the desk.
Her expression changed.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“This looks formal.”
“It is.”
“Am I being fired?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Technically.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Isaac.”
“I’m terminating your position.”
She stared.
“That's firing me.”
“With six months severance.”
Her face went cold.
He raised a hand.
“Please let me finish before you kill me.”
“That depends on the rest.”
“I want to create a separate position for you if you want it.”
“What position?”
“Companion and household coordinator for Catherine.”
Megan blinked.
“That's a made-up title.”
“Most executive titles are.”
“Why?”
“Because you're already doing work far beyond housekeeping.”
“That doesn't explain why you're firing me first.”
He took a breath.
“Because if you accept the new position, you'll report to Ruth for Catherine-related care coordination and to the house manager for logistics.”
Megan stared.
“Not to you.”
“No.”
Understanding slowly appeared.
“You're removing yourself as my direct employer.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at her.
“You know why.”
Silence.
Megan's cheeks reddened.
“This is either extremely thoughtful or the most elaborate workplace romance maneuver in history.”
“I asked legal counsel to review it.”
She burst out laughing.
Isaac frowned.
“What?”
“You involved lawyers?”
“I involve lawyers in everything.”
“Of course you do.”
“Is that a no?”
Megan looked at the paperwork.
“What's the salary?”
“Higher.”
“How much?”
She read the number.
Her eyes widened.
“Isaac.”
“It reflects the work.”
“This is too much.”
“It is market-adjusted.”
“You researched the market for dying-mother chaos coordinators?”
“Extensively.”
She laughed again.
Then became serious.
“I don't want charity.”
“It isn't.”
“And my mother's debt stays mine.”
He nodded.
“I remember.”
“And if Catherine—”
Her voice caught.
“If the position ends, I get time to transition.”
“Written into the agreement.”
She looked at him.
“You really thought about this.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were right.”
“Dangerous phrase.”
“The imbalance between us was easy for me to ignore because it benefited me.”
Megan's expression softened.
“I don't want that.”
She sat.
For several seconds she read.
Then she signed.
Isaac exhaled.
“So?”
“So I report to Ruth.”
“Correct.”
“And the house manager.”
“Yes.”
“Not you.”
“No.”
Megan put down the pen.
“Then, Mr. Mercer, you are no longer my boss.”
“Correct.”
She stood.
Isaac stood too.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Megan's eyes held his.
“So what happens now?”
He smiled slightly.
“I was hoping you'd tell me.”
She stepped closer.
“Still learning to ask what people want?”
“Trying.”
“What do you want?”
He did not answer immediately.
Then:
“Dinner.”
Megan smiled.
“With me?”
“Yes.”
“Outside this house?”
“Yes.”
“No family emergency?”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Fair.”
She considered.
“Friday.”
Isaac's smile widened.
“Friday.”
From the hallway came Catherine’s triumphant voice.
“Finally!”
Isaac closed his eyes.
Megan burst out laughing.
“You were listening?” Isaac demanded.
Catherine called back, “This house has excellent acoustics!”
That Friday morning, however, Catherine woke weaker than ever.
By afternoon, she could barely speak.
Isaac canceled dinner before Megan even asked.
She touched his hand.
“Another time.”
He nodded.
That night, Catherine summoned all of them.
Helen.
Lily.
Megan.
Isaac.
She looked at the people around her bed.
“I need you to listen.”
Isaac's chest tightened.
Catherine smiled faintly.
“This is not goodbye.”
Everyone relaxed slightly.
“It's instructions.”
Helen groaned.
“Of course it is.”
Catherine ignored her.
“Because when I’m too tired to say this later, I don't want any of you claiming you didn't know.”
She turned first to Lily.
Then Helen.
Then Megan.
Finally Isaac.
May you like
And what she asked of each of them would change what remained of the Mercer family forever.
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