AFTER A WEEK, it was obvious to Lacey that Jake was going to do his best to ignore the whole thing. He filled his prescriptions for pain management, and agreed to keep the appointments the oncologist set up for him three weeks hence, but refused to discuss the cancer with Lacey.
She begged him to talk to her. "Please Jake, I'm so scared.
I want to help you. What can I do? Should we call your minister?
Do you want me to show you how to meditate? How do you want to tell everyone?"
"Look, darling, if you want to help me then you won't pester me about this. I don't want to talk about it. What is, is.
Right now, it doesn't hurt so much. The pills are working."
So she kissed him gently and started to leave the room. He called out, "Pack up. We're going on a boat trip, all the way up the Rideau, maybe even back down the St. Lawrence."
Jake had bought a forty-six foot Cruisers Express yacht two summers earlier. They had vaguely discussed boat trips for their future, even talked about going through Lake Ontario and down the Erie Canal and the Intracoastal Waterway to Florida.
Lacey hurriedly called Danny to cancel bridge for a few weeks. "Sorry. Jake just got the idea and said we are leaving right away." She didn't mention the cancer. It loomed around her periphery like an ogre waiting to pounce. It was as if not talking about it might make it not be true. Maybe that is why Jake will not talk to me. On Saturday they pulled away from the dock and headed for the Trent Canal system. The boat was one of the best on the water. It had a roomy interior living area, with a kitchenette, plush sitting room, and a separate master bedroom containing a queen sized bed and second shower and toilet. The powerful engines allowed them to zip across the lake and enter the canal in less than an hour. Then they meandered through the canals, rivers and lakes that worm their way through Eastern Ontario to the Bay of Quinte. It was an idyllic time. As the pain-killers took hold and Jake slept better, he regained some vestige of his former self.