Page 39 of True Blue

“Indie, Mom.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just such a peculiar name!”

My eyes look for my name, and then I see it—misspelled, of course, but at least she got the general name right.

Indy.

The thing is, she put me all the way at the far end of the table, wedged between two of Teddy’s younger cousins.

Teddy’s on the far side of the table, right next to her. The longer we’ve been in this relationship, the more brazen she's become in letting me know my place.

Literally.

Ellie walks into the dining room, and my eyes immediately go to her, my brow furrowing the closer she gets.

She’s had a stubborn bug that’s been lingering for the last two weeks, a persistent cough that she’s been dismissing as just under the weather. Her immune system is significantly weakened after the chemotherapy, which I remind her every time I see her, but Ellie—or Dawn—just waves me off.

She coughs, and the sound is a little wet. Her skin looks a little ashen. But when she sees me, her entire face lights up like a candle. Her sluggish movements quicken as she hurries over to me for a hug.

I rush over to her, hugging her and then guiding her into a seat to rest.

While she seems pale and exhausted, her smile is still bright, and her silver hair is curled and styled. She was so happy when it started growing again, and it’s now down past her shoulders. She says she wants to get it back down to her waist by next year.

“Thank you, Indie girl.”

“Are you feeling alright?” I ask, reaching down to her wrist and pressing two fingers to her pulse. She pulls her arm from my grasp and kisses my hand, gently patting it.

“I’m peachy,” she coughs lightly. “If this damn cough would let go, I’d be perfect.”

“I still think you should go see a doctor⁠—”

“The only doctor I want to see is you.” Ellie says, her voice kind, but firm. My brow furrows even more, my mouth twisting. She sighs, “If it continues to Christmas, I’ll go see the doctor. Promise.”

I look at her for a long moment, stomach twisting as I nod. Ellie’s been poked and prodded so much in the last two years, battling her cancer. I understand that patients see us so often and spend so much time in the hospital that they sometimes want to avoid it at all costs.

But her immune system is weak, and she’s in her seventies, and Teddy needs her.

I need her.

Ellie’s eyes scan the table, and she frowns, not looking happy at all.

“Why the hell is Indie all the way down there?”

Dawn appears from the kitchen doorway, looking immaculate as always in a dark orange dress and festive turkey apron.

“Oh, goodness! I totally forgot she was coming, and I had already arranged the table. That was the only free place,” Dawn smiles at me. “Do you mind sitting there, dear?”

“I mind,” Ellie says, standing and grabbing the place card next to Teddy—his uncle—and tossing it over her shoulder.

Dawn squawks, “Mother!”

Ellie motions for me to grab my place card, so I do, handing it to her. She places it right next to Teddy.

“There,” she brushes her hands together. “Much better.”

“You don’t have to throw it,” Dawn mutters, grabbing the thrown place card and then completely rearranging the rest of the table. She huffs before painting a smile on her face. “Now, I need to go check the turkey.”

“Baste it!” Ellie yells. “It was dry as hell last year!”