“MAYBE WE SHOULD trade in the Hyundai and get an ambulance,” Mike said and forced a grin.

Lizzie glanced over at him. Always with the jokes. Mike was wrapped in a thick thermal blanket, his head propped up on a pillow she had grabbed from their bed. The pillow—pale blue with a border of yellow roses—looked silly, as did Mike with a thick blue woolen cap pulled over his head.

“Don’t talk. Be still.”

“Okay,” he said. “I read somewhere that cancer often disappears if you just sit very still.”

Lizzie smiled, and again, just for a moment, she took her eyes away from the dark, icy road and looked at him. Mike didn’t look frail at the moment. The blanket gave him a bulky appearance, and his face was puffy from the cortisone they’d been pumping into him.

Then she turned to the backseat and gave Tallulah a smile. “Hang in there, honey,” she said.

Her phone rang, and she handed it to Mike.

“Can you answer this?” she asked. “It’ll probably be Gaby.”

He wiggled his hand out from under the blanket and answered, “Rodgers Cancer Taxi Service. Brain tumors our specialty.”

A pause, then, “Gaby, how are you doing?” Another pause. “Oh, we’re just out for an early-morning ride in our Hyundai. Catching the fresh air. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Okay. Looking forward to it. See you there. ’Bye.”

He handed the phone back to Lizzie.

“Your mom and Tom Hayden are already at the hospital. They’ll meet us outside ER.”

“Tom’s with Gaby,” Lizzie said, and was about to comment on how interesting it was that the two of them were together, but she didn’t get the chance. A scream came from the passenger seat. The garbling, gurgling, horrid sounds of another seizure began to explode.

Maybe it was Lizzie’s imagination, but this time it seemed louder and wilder and longer. Maybe Mike’s being confined by the seatbelt and shoulder belt made his flailing seem more intense than back at home.

From a distance she could see the long, low red brick building that was Stockbridge Hospital. She thought she might have to pull to the side of the road, but she decided that the emergency room was the safest place for Mike right now.

In the nearly empty parking lot she saw Gaby and Tom Hayden. Lizzie screeched to a halt, skidding in a complete circle, like the second hand of a clock, then stopping.

As Tom yanked open the passenger door, Lizzie shouted, “He’s having another seizure.”

The moment she said the words, the seizure seemed to stop. Mike’s eyes closed, then opened. His face was smeared with sweat again. He rubbed his wrist, sore from where he’d banged it so many times on the armrest.

Tom and Gaby managed to lift Mike out of the car. He stood by himself.

“I’ll get a wheelchair,” said Lizzie. Tallulah clung to her hand.

“No,” said Gaby. “Mike can make it. Right, Mike?” It was as if she were returning a tiny bit of dignity to him. And it worked.

Walking slowly, Mike turned to his wife.

“Lizzie, just look at me. I’m a mess. You’ve got to do something about your driving.”