Page 3 of Ride the Lightning
“How’d the three of you meet?” Marla asked, pulling Jonah’s attention back to her.
“Through mutual friends with the Savannah Police Department.” Jonah wasn’t at liberty to discuss the investigation involving a serial rapist and killer that had brought them together since the case was still pending trial. “I don’t suspect you’ve been waiting in the dark for me to come home just to discuss the podcast or my friends.”
“No,” Marla said softly.
“Then why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you.”
“I’m dying, Jonah.”
The tempest in his soul rumbled louder.
Her words sucker-punched Jonah in the gut, and he was grateful he was already sitting down. He had to have misheard Marla. She was the kind of person who was larger than love and bolder than hate. A world without her was unfathomable. Jonah tried to speak but couldn’t with his heart wedged in his throat.
The moonlight was strong enough for Marla to see Jonah’s struggle. She reached over and gripped his hand. If he’d been more prepared, he would’ve tried to shield her from his devastation. What did it say about him that she was the one comforting him and not the other way around?
“I found out this morning that I have stage four liver cancer,” Marla said calmly.
How could it be? He hadn’t even known she was sick. He’d seen her several times over the past week, and she’d been her typical luminescent self—defying age, gravity, and gender norms. Jonah wanted to know why she hadn’t told him sooner about her illness, but his tongue wouldn’t obey his brain’s command to speak.
“I’ve had all day to think about my situation, and I’ve decided not to seek treatment.”
That detonation rattled him even harder, but it enabled him to speak again. “Bullshit,” Jonah said fiercely. “The Marla I know doesn’t give up without a fight.”
“Baby, this isn’t the same thing as teaching those snot-nosed punks down the street how to treat a lady. I am talking about the difference between the quality of life and quantity.” She gestured to her ankle-length nightgown. “This queen won’t settle for anything less than the best.” Marla took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I promised the oncologist I would think about my options. He gave me an overwhelming number of pamphlets to take home, and I read every word, including the fine print and disclaimers. I’ve made my decision.”
“But there are treatments—”
Marla lifted her free hand, signaling she hadn’t finished speaking yet. “The cancer has metastasized, which means I’m not a candidate for a transplant. Those chemo and radiation treatments might extend my life, but they will not save it. I’d rather live my remaining days to the fullest, and for me, that doesn’t include having poisons pumped into my body or getting nuked like a baked potato in the microwave.”
Jonah was at a loss for words, so he went with the first thing that popped into his head. “You’re such a damn diva.”
Tilting her head back, Marla laughed hard and huskily. Normally, her bawdy sense of humor made Jonah smile, but tonight it just whipped his battered emotions into a frenzy. “Always and forever, baby, which is exactly how I want people to remember me. I’m so glad you get it,” Marla said.
Jonah understood where she was coming from, but he didn’t have to like it. He respected her right to choose her path, but he wasn’t ready to say goodbye. How selfish was he? Jonah nodded because it was what Marla needed from him. The remaining tension in her lean frame eased, and she relaxed against the rocking chair.
“Do you want to go inside and talk? It will be more comfortable,” Jonah said.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d prefer to chat outside and enjoy these mild temperatures. May is my favorite month, and I want to soak up every second.”
The heft of her unspoken words pressed heavily against Jonah’s chest. It would be her last.
“There are two promises I need from you, Jonah St. John, and I will not leave your porch until I have them.”
“You expect me to make promises without first learning what’s involved?” Jonah quipped.
“Yes, because you love me,” Marla said. And he did. “Tell you what, I’ll explain what I need from you, so you can pretend to think it over. I’ll still extract your promise, but in a way you can live with and not feel manipulated.”
“Too late,” Jonah said.
Marla’s full-bodied laughter echoed off the house before the wind carried it away. They sat quietly, listening to the crickets for a few minutes before Jonah said what they both knew he would.
“I promise.” He wouldn’t deny her anything, so why waste precious time pretending otherwise?
“It’s going to take Betty time to get used to you, so be patient with her,” Marla said.
Jonah should’ve known Marla’s top priority would be making arrangements for her French bulldog named after her favorite Golden Girl, Betty White. He’d always wanted a dog but never gave in to his desire because of his long work hours. He’d find a way to make sure Betty was happy, even if it meant using a doggy daycare.
“I will spoil her rotten,” Jonah said. “What’s the other thing I agreed to do?”