Once home, I couldn’t contain myself. “Jeff, honey,” I trembled. “I know the bakery.
Why didn’t you tell me?”
His eyes grew. “What? Mari!
You saw?”
Yes, I visited the address. Why were you hiding it? Why is my name on the sign?”
Jeff softened and took my hands, approaching.
Maria was meant to be surprised. Mom and I would take you to the sales meeting and sign your ownership documents tomorrow. This is your bakery.
All of it. Yours.”
“What?” Oh, I gasped. “It was Mom’s idea, love,” he replied, emotional.
“She knows how hard this has been for you. She remembers your constant chatter about wanting a bakery like your grandparents’. It was funded by her savings, retirement funds, and Dad’s inheritance.
I helped out.”
I was crying. “Jeff… I believed you were leaving me. Perhaps you…”
He embraced me before I could finish.
“Maria, my dear, never think that. We adore you. You’re important to Jaden and me.
Mom and I wanted to gift you something exciting. A future to keep.”
On opening day a month later, a queue stretched down the block. Neighborhood residents knew about the bakery and my story.
They heard about Jeff and Elaine’s secret efforts to realize my ambition as I fought for my health. Jeff told a local reporter, who attracted dozens of curious and kind customers. It smelled like my grandparents’ recipes.
Apple pies, cinnamon rolls, and buttery croissants. Elaine worked the counter like she’d always done it, and Jeff quickly refilled coffee cups and delivered pastries. I smiled nonstop.
Bad news! We sold out of blueberry muffins, Mom!” Jaden yelled behind the counter. “That’s a good problem to have, buddy!” I laughed.
The affection that day was incredible. I stopped thinking about cancer and chemo for a while. I didn’t consider tiredness weakness.
I wasn’t thinking about my hair growing back thicker and lusher than ever. Then things improved further. I received my anticipated call.
Dr. Higgins wants Maria in for an urgent appointment. Regarding your recent test findings.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nancy,” I say.
I went to the doctor expecting for good things without overthinking it. Doctor: “You’ve beaten it.” “Maria, you’re cancer-free!”
“What? Seriously?” Oh, I gasped.
“Yes. Your numbers rose. Chemo worked.
Your immune system is working as intended. We can shortly wean you off your medication.”
I was unsure what to do. No idea whether to laugh or cry.
Scream. Though numb, I was excited. Everywhere was different.
More attractive and brighter. In search of my family, I drove to the bakery. I entered the bakery to the fragrance of fresh bread and cinnamon rolls.
Jaden was stacking napkins at the cashier with a focused look while Jeff wiped down the surfaces and Elaine arranged croissants. “I have something to tell you all,” I say. “Can we all sit down for a moment?”
Jeff’s worried face stopped Elaine from continuing.
“Darling? Is everything okay?”
I nodded fast. Indeed, everything is fine.
At my follow-up, the doctor phoned me…”
Jeff tensed beside me, clutching me. “Maria…”
“I’m cancer-free.”
The words hung in the air, almost too huge for the bakery. Elaine gasped, her other hand reaching her mouth, tears in her eyes.
“What?” Jeff muttered, leaning closer as if he didn’t hear me. Tears fell as I grinned. The chemo worked.
In remission. My cancer is gone!”
Elaine cried beside me, tightening her grip on my hand and whispering, “Thank you, God. Thank you!”
My kid inquired, “Does that mean you’re better now, Mom?” with those large, innocent eyes that had carried me through the toughest days.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I hugged him. It indicates I’m better. That implies I’ll be here.
With you. All of you.”
Jeff raised his head, red-eyed and gleaming. “You’re here,” he said, emotional.
“You’re here, Maria.”
I nodded, caressing his cheek. “I’m here.”
