Shame swept through me. “I’m the one who should be asking you to forgive me,” I said, holding her hand. “I left you alone for years and believed the easy lies because pretending everything was fine at home was simpler for me.”

“Your mother said if I called you, you’d quit your job in Alberta, and losing the house would be my fault,” Della admitted.

“There’s no house on earth worth more than your life,” I told her.

Once she was strong enough, the surgeons removed the tumor and examined her lymph nodes.

The waiting in those hospital hallways was terrifying — but this time I wasn’t powerless or far away. I was there to care for her, to cover every cost, to speak with the specialists myself.

The pathology came back better than anyone had feared: the cancer hadn’t spread into the surrounding tissue.