Chapter 41
It was a cottage at the end of a small village. Like other French cottages, the house was small, charming, and inviting. But Ciaran’s attention was sharply focused on Lyla, who was lying on the bed, looking as pale as a ghost. As he knelt next to her bed, she opened her eyes and looked at him.
“I am glad you could come. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the woods today.” She reached her hand out, and he held it.
His medical knowledge at this stage wasn’t enough for him to do anything to help. But his gut instinct was telling him she was leaving him—forever.
“Lyla, tell me what you need.”
She smiled. It was radiant on her tired face. “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do about this. I have terminal cancer, Ciaran. God will take me very soon.”
“What kind of cancer? I’ll take you
