"Freddie!"
Sam nearly collided with her husband as he reached the top of the stairs with Heather's medicine.
"Whoa, where are you running to in such a rush?" Freddie chuckled. "You order a pizza or something?"
"Did Heather hit her arm on anything yesterday?" Sam asked panicky. "Or do anything that might've left a bruise."
"Um, no," Freddie said, confused. "She slept almost all day. Why? Sam, are you okay? You look like you need to sit. Why don't you go lie down and I'll give Heather her medicine. You've been busy taking care of her all day and you deserve a break-"
"I want to take her to the hospital," Sam said, cutting him off.
"The hospital?" Freddie sputtered. "Sam, you don't take a kid to the hospital for the flu! She could wind up catching something worse in the waiting room!"
"I don't think she has the flu," Sam said.
"What do you mean?" Freddie frowned.
"I-Come here," Sam said, leading him back into Heather's room.
The two-year old was lying in bed, almost asleep.
"Heather?" Sam said as her and Freddie sat next to their daughter. "Daddy has your medicine."
"Yeah, here you go, sweetie," Freddie said, gently lifting Heather up into his lap and holding the small medicine cup up to her lips.
Heather slowly drank the contents of the cup, cringing as she finished.
"Taste bad," Heather commented.
"But you were such a big girl by drinking it all up," Sam said. "Now honey? Let's show daddy your arm so he can see your boo-boo, okay?"
She carefully pushed Heather's sleeve up again, revealing the awful looking mark on her joint.
"What is that?" Freddie asked, concerned. "Heather? Did you bump your arm?"
But Heather didn't answer. She had fallen fast asleep already in Freddie's arms.
"It looks swollen," Freddie commented. "What do you think it's from?"
"Not here," Sam whispered, not wanting to talk about this in front of Heather. She kissed her daughter's forehead, feeling the heat of the fever.
Once Freddie had tucked Heather in, he followed Sam into their bedroom.
"Okay," Freddie said, closing the door behind him. "What is it?"
Sam tried to steady her breathing, but she felt as if the walls were going to crash down on her at any minute now.
"Sam…" Freddie said, stepping towards his wife. "Are you okay? What's the matter?"
He helped her over to the bed and sat down with her.
"Sam?" Freddie said again, wrapping a warm, strong arm around her. "Baby…talk to me."
And with that the tears began pouring from Sam's eyes.
"It's not the flu," Sam cried, burying her head in the crook of Freddie's neck. "I-I thought I was being paranoid, but-but-"
"Sam, you-you're scaring me," Freddie said, trying to keep his voice calm. "If she doesn't have the flu, then what do you think-"
"Conner got those same marks all over his body," Sam said, her voice cracking. "He'd be feeling tired for entire days, he had fevers, he lost his appetite…"
"Sam, don't-"
"I know the signs of leukemia, Freddie!" Sam said, feeling sick from saying the words out loud. "Fatigue, fever, not eating, bruising around the joints…those are all early symptoms!"
"Heather…she-she can't have leukemia," Freddie said, feeling completely stunned. "Sam, she-she's only two."
"So was Conner when he was diagnosed," Sam said. She looked over on the dresser, where a photograph of her son sat. "Cancer doesn't have an age minimum."
Freddie felt like someone had punched him hard in the gut. His little girl couldn't have cancer, could she? His sweet, innocent child…
"It-It could be a coincidence," Freddie said weakly.
Sam glared at him. "So you think I'm just being paranoid then? You think I'm overreacting?"
"I didn't say-I just…cancer?" He couldn't even begin to grasp the idea. He loved Heather so much…to even think about her being that sick felt like it was tearing away at his heart.
He looked over at Sam, who was still crying. "I-Just don't know how to even…I don't even want to imagine…"
"Me neither," Sam said, knowing what he was trying to say. Freddie could feel her tears dropping onto his chest. She was shaking, and Freddie continued to hold her tight.
"I thought Conner just had the flu…" she said weakly. "So I just…dealt with it on my own. I gave him medicine, kept him in bed…It wasn't until almost two weeks later that I took him to the pediatrician…Those two weeks I waited…They could've saved his life."
Freddie didn't know what to say. One of his biggest regrets would always be that he hadn't been there for Sam during the hardest time of her life; when her son had been dying before her very eyes. Sam had come a long way in the ten years that had passed since Conner's death, but Freddie knew she'd never truly get over it.
And he knew that as much as it would destroy him if his baby girl was diagnosed with the sickness, as much as it would hurt and send his life crashing down in flames, it would be so much worse for Sam.
Sam had already lived this nightmare, and had it end it the worst way possible.
"If-If Heather is sick," Sam went on, her voice still so small. "And we catch it sooner…maybe-maybe things will be different-"
She broke down into tears again, and Freddie continued to hold her. He could feel his own eyes watering as well.
"We-We'll take her to the doctors tomorrow," he said softly. "We'll get her there first thing in the morning."
Sam nodded, not able to respond with words.
And so for the entire night, Sam lay in Freddie's arm.
Neither was able to get any sleep.
…..
When morning finally arrived, Sam and Freddie were both out of bed by six.
"I'm going to call and tell the doctors we're coming in," Sam mumbled, pulling her messy curls into a ponytail. "Can-Can you go and get Heather dressed? Oh, and-and get Lauren up too. We can drop her off at school before we take Heather in."
"Alright," Freddie nodded. He made for the bedroom door, but before he left, he turned and stepped back towards Sam, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.
He could taste the saltiness from her tears.
"Sam," he said, trying to sound strong enough for the both of them, because for the first time in all their time together, Sam had almost no strength. "Just know…we're going to get through this. No matter what, we'll be here for each other and-and for Heather."
Sam reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. "Thank you," she whispered.
Freddie went down the hall to Lauren's room and opened the door.
"Lauren," he said. "Lauren, let's go. Up."
"Alright, alright," Lauren mumbled as usual, turning over in her bed. "Ten more minutes…"
"No, Lauren, now," Freddie said firmly, turning on the light, causing the teen to squint as she slowly sat up in bed.
"Dad, it's so early!" Lauren moaned, looking at her clock. "Chill out, I still have a good hour to sleep."
"No, we need to take you to school early," Freddie said. "Sam and I have to take Heather to the doctors."
"This early?"
"It's…It's the only time we could get an appointment," Freddie lied, not wanting to worry his older daughter until they were absolutely certain about everything. "But I'm serious, Lauren, you need to be dressed and ready to go within the next thirty minutes."
Freddie waited until Lauren was physically out of bed before moving on to his next daughter's room.
Heather was fast asleep, and Freddie took a moment just to look at her.
She had seemed so healthy just a few days ago…was that all about to change.
"Heather?" Freddie said, gently shaking her small shoulder. "Heather, honey, wake up."
Heather stirred and slowly opened her brown eyes.
"I sleep," she fussed as Freddie turned on her lamp by her bed.
"Not right now," Freddie said, kissing the top of her head. "We need to get you dressed. You're going to go to the doctors."
He pulled out some clothes from her dresser, not even bothering to see if they matched, and an old training diaper.
Heather had been using the bathroom on her own for a few weeks now, and except for the occasional accident, she had been doing very well. Him and Sam still had her sleep in pull-ups, though, and Heather usually fought them on it, claiming she wasn't a baby anymore. Freddie suddenly realized that the past two days she hadn't said a word about them…maybe he should've picked up on that earlier and realized that something was wrong.
"We need to be there by seven-thirty," Sam said, joining Freddie in their daughter's room. "I had to fight for a spot so we can't be late. Lauren awake?"
"Yeah, she's getting dressed," Freddie nodded, pulling Heather's shirt on, taking extra care not to hurt the marked elbow.
"Mommy, up," Heather said, holding her arms up for her mother to pick her up.
"You got it, kid," Sam said, pulling a strained smile onto her face as she lifted her.
"I'm gonna go get breakfast started," Freddie said. "You want anything in particular?"
"No, I'm not hungry," Sam mumbled.
"Sam…you have to eat."
"I'll eat when I don't feel like I'm about to puke from nerves," Sam hissed. "Alright, Heather, let's find some toys to keep you busy while we're at the doctors."
Freddie knew there was no point in trying to argue the point any further. Sam was too worried about Heather to even think about herself.
Freddie headed out of the room just as Lauren was coming out of her own room.
"It's still dark out," Lauren mumbled.
"I know," Freddie said. "But tomorrow's Saturday so you can sleep in."
"Is Heather even that sick?" Lauren yawned. "I thought she just had the flu."
"It-We just want to have the doctor check her out," Freddie said.
"Well tell the doctor he should try afternoon appointments once in awhile," Lauren said.
Freddie couldn't help but chuckle.
As Lauren turned to go downstairs, Freddie opened his mouth.
"Lauren, wait," he said.
"What?" Lauren asked.
Freddie put his arms around her, hugging her tightly.
"What was that for?" Lauren asked, raising an eyebrow when Freddie released her.
"Just…because," Freddie said. "Now go set the table for breakfast. We don't have time for anything big, but we have cereal and that will have to do."
"Okay," Lauren nodded.
Freddie watched as she headed downstairs. He had always known his family meant the world to him; that he'd do anything to protect his daughters and Sam.
But it seemed now, now that that was being threatened, he was realizing just how lost he'd be without any one of them.