Penn's fingers, still intertwined with mine, flexed. "Just tell us," he begged.
"Let her say it in her own way," I whispered.
Alice's eyes brightened as she looked at me. Then, her attention returned to Xavier and their son. "I was hesitant to go to the doctors in the first place. I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up."
I fought off my own growing panic and concentrated on keeping my breath slow and steady. Penn was so rigid that I was afraid he would crack. Xavier was exactly the same, his clenched jaw expression the exact origin of his son's worried look.
"I guess it was good that I didn't trust them because then my hopes weren't tied to modern medicine. That left room for the real miracle," Alice said.
No one said a word. In the silence, I was sure that Penn had stopped breathing.
Alice reached out and took Xavier's hand. "The cancer cells are disappearing. The doctors think that full remission might be possible. Either way, I'm doing better now than I was before you all came and forced my hand."
"You're better?" Xavier asked with the blank look of shock.
"Yes," Alice grinned. "I'm much better."
"Oh my God. Oh thank God." Penn spun away and pulled me with him. On the edge of Alice's grove, he stopped under an oak tree and sank to the ground.
Still intertwined by the hand, I knelt down beside him. As soon as I settled onto the grass, Penn collapsed into my lap. There was no sound, but his shoulders heaved, and hot tears soaked my skirt. I held his hand tight and used my other to brush back his unruly hair.
"Shh," I crooned over him. "Now you can let it all go. Let it go and let yourself be happy."
"Happy?" Penn snuffled against my skirt and sat up. "Is this happy?"
I smiled and smoothed away his smudged tears. "This is shock. Relief. Probably a little anger that you had to go through all this in the first place. Once you get all of that out of your system, you'll feel happy."
"Out of my system," Penn murmured. "You know, I lied about that. I know I'll never get you out of my system."
"Shh, we don't have to talk about that now."
Penn let go of my hand and took both my shoulders. "I need to thank you. I need to stop lying to you."
"What you need to do is get up and go hug your mother," I said. "Your father, too, if you can manage it."
Penn pulled me to my feet, and I saw the flicker of a scowl pass over his lips. "One step at a time."
"You're right," I said, "and the first step is to go and celebrate with your family. I'll give you a minute."
In all honesty, it was me who needed a minute. Once Penn had rejoined his mother and father and I could hear their laughter, I stumbled past the oak tree and into the thicker undergrowth. Somewhere in the tangle of ferns and tall grass, I dropped to my knees. The sobs were silent and all the more painful for the lack of sound.
His mother, Penn's beautiful mother, was going to get well. He had countless more dinners and holidays and casual chats with her. I was glad, so glad for him, but all I could do was cry. I cried in relief that this time hope had worked, at the same time as I mourned the time that hope hadn't been enough for my own mother.
"Corsica?" Xavier asked. He brushed aside the ferns and held out a hand.
I waved him away. "I just need a minute."
He sat down in the dirt with me, despite his pristine suit. "No, don't wave me off. I don't know how I'm going to thank you for all this. You were a huge part of this."
I gave up and let Xavier pull me to my feet. "I'm just so glad it was good news."
He smiled. "The good news is that I'm going to kick my son's ass from here to next Wednesday if he doesn't find a way to thank you properly."
Xavier led me back to Alice's yurt and right up to Penn. Alice unwound her brightly clad arms from her son's waist and cupped my face. "Sweet girl, I thought you would be the first one to declare a celebration and the last one to shed tears."
"We're going to let them celebrate on their own," Xavier declared. "How about one of those luxury tents? The one with the chandelier?"
Penn rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Anything. I'm so happy, I'll do anything."