His jaw tightened.
“You think taking a terminally ill child across the country is responsible?”
“I think letting her final memories sound like hospital equipment is worse.”
Before he could respond, the study door opened.
Ava stood there wearing pale pajamas.
She had heard enough.
“Daddy,” she said softly.
Nathaniel rushed toward her.
“You should be resting.”
She smiled faintly.
“That’s everyone’s favorite sentence lately.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
“I wrote something,” she said.
Nathaniel opened it slowly.
At the top were the words:
Three Months of Real Life
At the bottom, written in careful handwriting, were seven words that shattered the last of his resistance.
Please come with me this time, Daddy.
Nathaniel’s knees nearly gave out.
He looked at his daughter and understood something devastating.
He had been trying to save her life.
But she only wanted him to live it with her.
An hour later Nathaniel canceled ninety days of meetings.
The jet was prepared.
But just before departure, Ava’s doctor called with unexpected test results that changed everything again.
Her immune system had weakened drastically.
Travel would be dangerous.
Infection could kill her faster.
Nathaniel stood in the kitchen holding the phone while Marisol packed medication kits and Ava quietly watched.
“What happens if she stays?” Nathaniel asked the doctor.
The answer was careful but honest.
“She may live slightly longer.”
Nathaniel looked at Ava.
“And if she goes?”
The doctor hesitated.
“She may live better.”
Three days later they flew to New Mexico.
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