Chapter 6 - The War Atticus Couldn't Fight Alone
Four months passed.
Cordelia lost her hair.
Atticus shaved his head the same morning.
She stared at him in disbelief.
“You look ridiculous.”
“So do you.”
Her mouth fell open.
Then she threw a pillow at him.
Atticus caught it.
“That was violent.”
“You deserved it.”
“I've killed men for less.”
“You're retired.”
“Good point.”
They both laughed.
There were difficult days.
Days Cordelia couldn't eat.
Days she couldn't stand.
Days Atticus sat beside the bathroom floor while she was sick and said nothing because there was nothing useful to say.
But he stayed.
Every appointment.
Every scan.
Every infusion.
One afternoon, Dr. Mercer entered the examination room holding a tablet.
Atticus immediately studied her expression.
“What?”
Cordelia squeezed his hand.
“Let her talk.”
Dr. Mercer sat.
“I have your latest imaging.”
“And?” Cordelia asked.
The doctor smiled.
“The response has exceeded our expectations.”
Cordelia stopped breathing for a moment.
Atticus leaned forward.
“Meaning?”
“We cannot detect active disease on the scan.”
Silence.
Cordelia covered her mouth.
Atticus stared at the doctor.
“Say that again.”
“No detectable active disease.”
“She's cured?”
“I wouldn't use that word yet. We'll continue monitoring her closely.”
Atticus's eyes filled.
Cordelia had never seen him cry.
Not once.
Not at funerals.
Not after shootings.
Not after losing friends.
Now tears quietly rolled down his face.
Cordelia reached for him.
Atticus dropped to his knees beside her chair and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“We did it,” he whispered.
Cordelia touched his shaved head.
“No.”
She smiled through tears.
“I did it.”
He laughed.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Then she leaned down.
May you like
“But you finally learned how to stay.”
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