“Truck,” Fiona said again. “I never thought of a truck. I guess the later model ones would be easier to drive than Old Faithful.”
Opal looked like Fiona had stabbed her. “Old Faithful is easy to drive. She’s just old.” She paused. “Like me.”
“You’re the youngest old person I know. Let me think about getting a truck. I have to get used to the idea.”
“After we go to the lawyer’s office we’ll stop and see what they have. You’ll like a nice big truck. They’re very versatile.”
As they pulled up to the doctor’s office and parked, Opal laid a hand on Fiona’s arm. “Fiona, nobody knows about my condition yet. Let’s you and me keep it that way for now, okay?”
“You secret is safe with me. But I wish it wasn’t that kind of secret, Opal. I’m so sorry for you.”
“Don’t you be sorry for me, or I’ll be sorry I told you. I appreciate your offer of help. Let’s see what the doctor has to say.”
Opal didn’t make it in the entrance door of the clinic before she met someone she knew coming out and stopped to talk. It was one of the neighbor ranchers, and they talked about hay and the dry weather until Opal checked her watch and said, “I have to run. Got an appointment I don’t want to miss. Good to see you folks.”
The nurse called Opal’s name soon after they registered. Fiona waited in the visitor area and helped herself to a free cup of coffee and looked for Time magazine. The closest she came was Modern Hunter. She sighed. No Time magazine. Maybe they had it in the nice little library in town. She could stop and pick up a couple of back issues to read at home. She hadn’t had any news since she had arrived, which was hard on a news junky. She thumbed through the hunting magazine and looked at the photos. Life in the rural west was so different than back east city life. So different.
She hadn’t been waiting long before the nurse came looking for her. “Miss Marlowe, would you come back to meet with Opal’s doctor?”
“Sure. Okay,” Fiona said, wondering if something had gone wrong. She picked up her purse and followed the nurse to the room where Opal sat with her doctor. She shook the doctor’s hand when he introduced himself.
“Have a seat, please,” Dr. Martinez said.
Fiona looked at Opal for some clue as to why she was called into their meeting. Opal smiled a small smile and said, “Thanks, Fiona. I wanted someone else to hear this to make sure I remembered everything right.”
“Of course,” said Fiona and sat down.
The doctor, who was young, dark haired and nice looking, handed a set of papers to Fiona. “These are the instructions for Mrs. Crawford while she is having chemotherapy. She will come in every day for a week to start. We will be able to do the first regimen of treatment here at the hospital. Depending on how she responds to treatment, she may have to go to a larger hospital in another city for different treatment.”
Fiona looked quickly through the papers.
Dr. Martinez said, “There are suggestions for eating, symptoms she’ll have and how to respond, what she can do and can’t do. I’ve explained everything to her. She can carry on normally, depending on how she feels. If she gets tired, she needs to rest. These papers are a reminder.”
Opal said, “Please tell her what my prognosis is.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes. This type of leukemia is incurable. If she responds to the chemotherapy, it may slow its development.”
Opal said, “And if I don’t respond.”
“You may have eighteen to twenty four months at the most.”
The stillness in the room was punctuated by the tick of an old-fashioned wall clock. Dr. Martinez studied his folded hands on the desk. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. In this instance, Mrs. Crawford may want to get a second opinion. I am not opposed to that.”
Fiona was in shock. “Isn’t there even a slim chance of recovery?”
Dr. Martinez said, “Recovery is not an option in this type of leukemia. The most we can hope is to arrest development. In some instances, we could try a bone marrow transplant but Mrs. Crawford’s age works against her. Quality of life is a factor here.”
Fiona looked over at Opal and said, “We’re going to beat this. You’ll live to be one hundred.”
“Oh, dear, I hope not. That sounds so old. But we’ll give it our best.”
The doctor rose. “The oncologist will be in on Wednesday this week. You’ll meet with her first and then start chemotherapy.”
Back in the Red Bomb Fiona didn’t start the car but turned to Opal. “We better look for my new truck if we’re coming into town every day.”
Opal nodded. “It’s all so sudden, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m still in shock. So much is happening to you at one time.”
Opal squinted into the glare of the sun. “I don’t know how I’ll tell everyone. I’d like to start the treatments and then cross that bridge, although it’s impossible to keep anything secret in this town for long.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to help you, Opal.”
“Then we better look for your rig.”
An hour later, Fiona was signing papers for a white Ford 150 late model truck that would be ready for pick up on Wednesday. She stood looking at her new purchase and felt slightly dazed. It had an extended cab, a six foot bed and four wheel drive like Opal recommended. It was automatic, and Rusty, the dealer, had given her an extensive tour of how everything worked.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Rusty, gazing at the Ford with her, “you got yourself a fine vehicle. Just came in yesterday from a rancher out your way who needed a bigger rig. He took good care of it, too. We have excellent mechanics on site so you can keep the warranty maintenance up. Yes, sir, this is a fine vehicle.” He walked around the truck, smiling like he was the proud father.
“It’s cute,” said Fiona. “I rather like it.”
Rusty stopped and looked at her. “Cute? That’s the first time I’ve heard that adjective applied to a 150, but cute she is, I guess. She’ll be even cuter Wednesday when we have her all cleaned up and checked over good. We’ll see you then.”
At the lawyer’s office, Wade Stewart handed Fiona the deed.
“There you are, Miss Marlowe. We registered the deed this morning. You now own your own little piece of heaven.”
Within the course of a few hours she had a new place, a new truck and a new role as caregiver.
Fiona took Opal’s arm as they walked to the car. “Thank you, Opal, for going to the trouble of giving me the deed. But you’re getting tired. How about I buy you dinner in town? We can call back to the ranch and tell the boys they are on their own this evening.”
Opal’s face brightened. “It would be nice not to have to cook. I don’t feel up to it.”
“You do too much. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
She laughed. “All the time. I can’t stop. I enjoy ranch life so much. I hope they have a ranch heaven where I can spend eternity.”
“I’m sure they will. I know they will. But you aren’t going there yet. Let’s have a little fun while we’re waiting.”
Lauren Brooks met them at the Old Towne Brew Pub so Fiona could get the names of the people she had mentioned as contractors.
“You got a truck?” said Lauren. “No way. I can see you now hauling a trailer with horses and following Jake around from rodeo to rodeo.”
Fiona laughed. “I don’t think I’m there yet. I can’t believe I bought a truck.”
“Rig,” said Opal. “They’re rigs.”
“Okay, a rig.”
The waitress came to take their drink order. She was young, wearing a top that looked like it had shrunk in the wash and jeans slung on her hips. Fiona wondered if she ever got cold with all that mid-body flesh exposed.