Jump 9
Alexis Castle was a smart woman. She was smart, and she knew something was up. Kate could see it in her eyes as she sat at the kitchen island, watching her dad put finishing touches on their salad.
Martha had been her usual, bubbly self since her granddaughter had walked in. She had asked about school, about her crazy roommates, about any prospective romantic interests. All very normal, but Kate could see the warning bells going off behind Alexis' eyes.
Kate and Rick were leaving it to Martha to decide when and how to do the telling. But thankfully, they didn't have to wait long.
She sat on a stool beside her granddaughter and took her hand, then gave her the whole story.
Watching the shock and the fear play over Alexis' features was difficult for Kate, so she could imagine how hard it was for the father and grandmother. The first words from the youngest Castle weren't a surprise. It would have been exactly what Kate would have asked.
"Why are you only telling me this now?"
She started out looking at Martha, but her eyes flicked around to her dad and Kate in rapid, self-conscious succession.
Thankfully, Martha took up the challenge.
"I am the one who didn't want to tell you last week. I wanted to know more, because I knew exactly what you would do, my brilliant girl. You would have spent your whole weekend researching every kind of breast cancer and figuring out every possible outcome, and you would have made yourself sick over all the worst ones."
Well, Kate thought, she'd done enough research and worrying for both of them.
Martha persisted.
"But now you can at least have the right diagnosis to focus on. And believe me; I want your help—very much. I need to decide what to do in the next day or two. I talked everything over with my doctors, but they have left it to me, to us, to decide."
Martha glanced at each of them with her last sentence.
Alexis still looked uncomfortable.
"Was Dad at least with you?"
"Your father and Kate were both with me."
Mentally, Kate winced. Knowing the young woman already felt left out, Kate's inclusion could only make that worse.
But Alexis zeroed in on her—held her eyes.
"I'm glad." Directing her question only to Kate, she asked, "What did they say about her treatment options?"
It was like an anvil lifted from her chest. Alexis not only wasn't upset that kate had been allowed in on this family matter, but she actually seemed relieved.
It was… a gift. And she had to blink, and press her tongue between her teeth to keep from letting it all show. She cleared her throat and saw Rick looking at her over his daughter's shoulder with the faintest little smile. Of course he knew.
"Hang on a sec. Let me get my notes."
Kate went for her jacket, but as she passed Alexis, she saw the knowing nod. They were more alike in some ways than Kate had ever realized.
# * # * # * #
After all the details had been hashed out, decisions made, and the surgery scheduled, Kate had gotten Martha's permission to let a few select people know.
The boys and Lanie had been first on her list, mostly because Kate would be taking another day off on that Friday for the surgery, and they were already suspicious about her one missed day and on-time departures from work.
Esposito and Ryan were appropriately concerned, but their reaction was tinged with something else—disappointment, maybe. It wasn't until she spoke with Lanie that she found out why.
"They thought you were pregnant, honey."
Kate's stomach dropped.
"What? Really? But I didn't… I wasn't throwing up or anything."
"You missed a day, and then you started going home early. There's been a pool ever since you and Castle started… getting horizontal on a regular basis. And when you showed us that bling, suddenly all the money doubled."
She had been through this once with Castle, way back at the beginning. Thankfully she had never had reason to panic since then, but she supposed it wasn't an unreasonable conclusion on her team's part. But what complete snoops! Though she already knew this, the lows they sank to somehow continued to astound her.
"God, is the whole precinct in on it?"
"Pretty much—so is the ME's office. Perlmutter has a pretty penny invested in a couple months this spring, I think."
She rolled her eyes at that. Enough speculation about her future fertility.
"Back on the topic of why I am actually taking time off, if Martha has questions, would you mind if she gave you a call?"
"Oh, of course I wouldn't mind. I'd be glad to. I am a pathologist, after all, even if I only use it for dead people at work these days. I have friends who do the cancer diagnosis thing, if you need a second read on her biopsy."
"I'll let her know you offered. She may not take you up on it, only because she really likes all the people at Sloan Kettering who she has met so far. I like her breast surgeon, too. She's so kind—has a great bedside manner."
Lanie raised a single eyebrow.
"There is a reason why pathologists get their MDs and then run screaming into a field with absolutely no patient contact."
"Oh, Lanie, I didn't mean you…"
"Don't worry. I didn't think you actually did, but forensic pathology is for two types of doctors—the weirdos—"
She looked pointedly in the direction of Perlmutter's office.
"—and the ones who would be more likely to sass their patients than counsel them. Instead, I get to sass the cops and the lawyers, and they tend to take it better."
She grinned cheekily at her best friend, to which Kate narrowed her eyes.
"But if Martha calls me, I promise to behave. And please tell her I'll be rooting for her on Friday."
# * # * # * #
Kate was sitting in their bedroom, convincing herself to call her father while no one else was around. He deserved to know; this was a family matter, and Martha had specifically told her to tell him.
On the third ring, an unexpected voice drawled over the line.
"Well, hello, Katie! To what do we owe the pleasure of your voice this fine evening?"
"Dora?"
It was a Wednesday night at nine o'clock—certainly not a time she would have expected a "friendly evening between friends" to still be going on…
"You are correct. I'm sorry; I should have started off with that. My momma always did yell at me for answering the telephone without a proper introduction. 'Impolite' was her word, which in our household warranted punishment just short of hanging. Your father and I were washing dishes, and my hands were dry."
She heard a bit of static, water running, maybe? Dora must have switched to speakerphone.
"She's got me elbow-deep in soap suds here, Kate. She cooked, and the food was fantastic, but this woman uses more pots and pans to make one meal than I could use in a week."
"Now hush, James Michael Beckett. The ends justify the means."
She pressed her lips tight together to keep the guffaw inside. This was priceless!
"Yeah, especially when I'm the one scrubbing those means."
It was all very cozy-sounding, really. And the gratuitous use of the middle name? Seriously. But she couldn't have the dark conversation she had called about on speakerphone, with all this laughter and lightness as a backdrop, even though Martha probably wouldn't mind if Dora knew.
"Why don't you give me a call back when you're done with dish duty, Dad?"
"Hey, if it's important, I can just stop now. I'd be glad to!"
Dora definitely had her Beckett no-nonsense tone of voice beat…
"Don't you think I'll take over if you quit now—we had a deal. Dinner for dishes! She who cooks does not scrub."
"OK, fine, I can see how it is. I'll call you back in a bit, Katie. Are you going to be up for a while?"
"Just because I'm engaged doesn't mean I've turned into an old married woman, Dad."
"Did I say anything about being old or married? You are neither, by the way."
"You were implying. Never mind. Call me back."
She grinned to herself. They were having fun.
"Love you."
"Love you too, Dad."
Twenty minutes later, she was curled up in bed, cheating on her author fiancé with Patterson's latest when her phone buzzed.
"So you two seem to be having fun. Is Dora still there?"
"She's taking some gooey, Texas, apple cobbler thing out of the oven that has been making my mouth water for an hour. Smells like one of those pies your mom used to make when she'd get on a backing kick. Do you remember that blackberry one with the oatmeal in the crust? I still have dreams about that pie."
She did remember. She hadn't thought of her mom's baking in a long time. And since when were she and her dad bringing up happy stories of her mom like it didn't wrench their guts just to think of her? Come to think of it, it hadn't actually wrenched anything just now. And her first reaction to the pie was…
"I made that pie with her. I've still got the recipe. I should make it for Thanksgiving."
Where the hell had that come from? Had she just decided not only to have family Thanksgiving, but also to invite her dad, and to bake her mother's pie? Maybe she was coming down with some sort of flu, one that made you irrationally happy before knocking you flat on your ass for a week.
"So is that why you called? Inviting us to Thanksgiving already?"
"No, actually, but I'll get back to you—I should probably see if Rick even wants to—"
"Oh, trust me, Katie, he wants to. That man has been trying to absorb you into his family for years."
He really hadn't made any effort to hide it, lately. Apparently, it was starting to slip under her radar.
"I guess he has. I don't even know if I'll be off that day."
And while things like being off on holidays had not only never mattered, but really had never occurred to her before, suddenly she felt a pang of loss at the thought she might have to work for this one.
"I'll bet you can find a way. It's important to him. He'd probably never admit just how much, but I can see it."
And the true surprise was it was important to her. Her dad kept going.
"I've seen him when he watches you, with his mom and his daughter and us all around. He gets this warm, sort of drifty look. Reminds me of the look I used to get when I would imagine making a family with your mom."
Rick walking past on his way to the bathroom startled her out of her daze. This was not what she had planned to talk about tonight. She wasn't prepared for all this reminiscing about her mother and hints about making families with Rick, and she didn't have an answer for any of it—
"Martha has to have surgery on Friday."
That was one way to do it.
"What? What's the matter?"
Now that she had so ungraciously gotten his attention, she might as well lay it all out.
"She has breast cancer, Dad. Just got diagnosed on Monday. But it's a very good kind to have, if that makes any sense—local and not spreading. So it will just be surgery and some radiation and one medicine—no chemotherapy. But she wanted you to know—and I'll probably go with them. To the hospital, I mean."
She didn't know why she felt a little funny about that, still.
"Of course. I don't know if she'll have to stay long, or if she would want me to, but I would certainly come see her."
His kindness didn't surprise her.
"It's scheduled as a day surgery—so she won't even stay the night unless there's a complication."
"Give her my best, and tell her I'll be thinking of her on Friday, then. And Kate, you know Dora's gone through this—her sister, years ago. Very different time, and probably a different kind, too, but you might think about getting Martha in touch with her."
Oh, no, wow. She didn't know.
"Thanks, Dad. I'll think about it. Martha wants to keep it quiet for right now, but she might really appreciate someone to talk to once this has all sunk in."
"I know you'll take good care of her."
Well, her father didn't seem fazed by how involved she was.
"Thanks Dad. I'll do my best. We're all in it together, I guess."
"Yeah, yeah we are."
She clicked off and glanced up to find Rick leaning on the doorjamb on his way out of the bathroom. He had this dreamy, drifty look in his eyes. Oh, her father was good.
# * # * # * #
There will be a Jump Journal M-rated chapter next, might be tomorrow. Hope you like where this plot wrinkle is taking us.
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