CHAPTER ONE

Liv dug the shovel into three inches of snow and pushed as hard as she could, then tossed it to the side of the driveway. Three more reps followed before the muscle down the back of her arm began to throb in response. It used to take much longer for her old body to react to physical labor in this way.

Time marches on, she thought. Whether we like it or not.

“Hey, neighbor!”

Liv looked across the white meadow between them and waved at her friend Hallie where she stood at the edge of her garage, next door.

Three kids filed past Hallie, all of them bundled up in coats and boots, hats, scarves and gloves. Jason was 13, and he was the oldest. He was all the way to the bottom of the driveway by the time Scotty, the 10-year-old, hurried past his mother. Katie, age 6, scampered behind her brothers, and then turned and waved at Hallie.

“Later, Mommy.”

“Later, sweetie.”

“Hey, wait up, you guys,” the little girl called.

“Boys, wait for your sister and walk with her all the way to the bus stop, please.”

Jason didn’t so much as slow down, but Scotty came to a full stop until Katie reached him, and then the two of them skated along the patches of ice on the sidewalk.

Liv’s heart pinched a little as she watched them. She’d had more than her share of obstacles over the years that had kept her and Robert from having children of their own. Hallie was blessed to have a houseful, and Liv envied her that.

“Coffee?” Hallie called out to Liv.

“Half an hour?”

“I’ll bring cake.”

The thought of cake cheered Liv right up, and she returned to the chore of shoveling a channel up the driveway so that Hallie could bring it safely to her.

A few minutes later, the snow started to fall again and Liv leaned on the shovel, breathless, and watched the path she’d just created disappear under a layer of white.

“Ah, crud.”

Looking around at the colorless landscape of her suburban Ohio neighborhood, Liv realized there was a time when she had considered her hometown to be one of her greatest loves. Nestled into rolling green hills and bellied up right next to the Ohio River, it was such a beautiful and thriving town. Summers in Cincinnati were blue skies and picnics, and winters were powdered sugar-covered treetops and ice skating on Winton Lake. But all that had changed.

Five years had passed since Robert had died, but passing months on the calendar had a curious way of fogging up the glass through which she peered to try and find the time when she still had him with her. It made her head ache to work so hard at looking back for him, struggling to break through the wall of cancer that stood between present day and her beloved past.

Stage 3 Ovarian Cancer. The English language didn’t hold four more terrifying words and, on the chilly morning of Olivia Wallace’s 48th birthday, those words were hurled at her like a dagger with four sharp blades. She remembered it like it was yesterday; this particular glass was as clean and clear to look into as a freshly-hung window pane.

Two surgeries, six weeks of chemotherapy, and exactly 27 radiation treatments … all of it translucent and visible as a neon sign on a spring morning. And now, on the other side of the monster, nothing looked the same any more. In fact, the first snow of winter had fallen overnight, and it seemed just as dreary and dull as everything else within Liv’s recent frame of reference.

As she pulled Robert’s old canvas fishing hat from her head and shook off the snow, Liv glanced at the mirror hanging over the cherry buffet in the dining room. It didn’t escape her notice that her tedious life and gloomy surroundings weren’t the only uninspiring things in the room. Her own reflection was rather bleak as well.

In the six months since making its original escape, her red hair had finally begun to grow back. Lackluster though it was, and despite those silver streaks all through it, at least she had hair again. Her cheeks were drawn, her once-green eyes seemed slightly sunken and hazeled, and her fair, freckled skin had gone somewhat ashen. Although her energy levels had finally begun to peak again, she still looked just as tired and drained as she had felt throughout her recent past.

Liv pressed the button to open the garage, and then quickly latched the door before the outside wind had a chance to make its way through. As she counted out scoops of ground coffee, the thump-thump-thump of Hallie’s boots on the garage floor signaled her friend’s arrival.

“Buenos dias,” Hallie called as she came through the door into the kitchen. Hallie was always learning something new. Spanish lessons on tape were the project of the moment.

“Morning,” Liv returned, setting two oversized cups and saucers on the kitchen table.

“I brought coffee cake.”

“What kind?” Liv hoped it didn’t have anything healthy attached to it, like fresh fruit. At the moment, she just wanted a pure confection of sugar and sweet.

“Cinnamon swirl.”

“Good girl.”

“Still warm.”

“Even better.”

Liv slid across the padded leather bench and settled into the corner of her kitchen booth as Hallie grabbed plates and flatware before she took the outside chair. Liv watched her as she tangled her fingers into her blonde hair and shook off the flakes of fresh snow and then poured two cups of coffee.

“The first snow of the season,” Hallie announced. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Liv tilted into half a shrug, and then she leaned onto both elbows and propped her face up with her hands.

“Or not,” Hallie decided, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

“Feeling a little blue?”

“Blue and blah.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Anything I can do?”

The funny thing was … Liv knew Hallie meant it. If she thought it would raise Liv’s spirits to get up and do a little barefoot jig across the linoleum floor of her kitchen, Halleluiah Parish-Dupont would certainly do it. She was a true-blue cheerleader that way. And at 47 years old, it seemed almost wrong that all her friend needed were the pom-poms to actually look the part.

Liv gave her a smile and shook her head.

“Well. There’s cake,” Hallie said with hope.

“There is that.”

Liv took a large bite and her eyes opened wide at Hallie, and then she smiled.

“This is sheeriously delishush,” she said through a full mouth.

“Did you make thish?”

“No. Bender’s Bakery on Compton.”

After swallowing a couple of times, Liv let her fork clank to the plate. “It’s kind of sad that this is the best thing that’s happened to me in days, don’t you think?”

“This isn’t like you,” Hallie observed.

“It’s not, I know.”

“Can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Liv cringed and then shook her head. Then suddenly, Hallie gasped and slid a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, I get it,” she said deliberately, nodding her head. “It’s the birthday thing, isn’t it? Next month is your birthday.”

“Afraid so.”

“Liv, you’ve got to give up that idea that your birthdays are cursed. You know that’s not how our God works.”

Our God. Sometimes Liv wondered if she still knew Him. But Hallie sure did, and that was a comfort somehow.

“I know it up here,” she said, tapping her temple with her index finger. “But it doesn’t quite make it down here,” and she smacked herself dead-center in the chest several times.

“So what’s the plan then? Just mope around and wait for a piano to drop on your head next month?”

Liv shrugged again, and then plopped forward into her folded arms. “Jimmy DiPlantis dumped me on my 16th.”

“You dated someone named Jimmy Durante?”

Liv raised her head and grimaced. “Not Jimmy Durante. Jimmy DiPlantis. He made out with Rachel Wagner at my Sweet 16 party.”

“Well, it’s good to know you’re not still holding a grudge.”

“And on my 21st birthday, I slipped on the ice and fell down a flight of stairs. I had a cast on my leg AND my arm for eight weeks.”

“That’s awful,” Hallie said. “Really. That’s terrible.”

“On my 30th birthday, I had pneumonia, and a fever so high that I lost several days and didn’t even realize I’d passed the 30-mark until my birthday the next year. When I finally discovered I was actually turning 31 instead of 30, I was devastated.”

“Oh!” Hallie exclaimed, and then covered her grin with both hands. “Honey. That’s … horrible.”

“I know. And then there was the big blizzard on my 38th --- ”

“Oh no.”

“ --- 39th and 40th.”

“All three years?”

“All three.”

“Oh my.”

“And you were there for my 48th.”

“Yes.”

“Ovarian Cancer. Stage 3. The worst day of my life.”

“But you’re healthy now.”

“Yep. I am. And here comes my 50th, Hallie. Like a locomotive chugging straight at me.”

Excerpted from THE BIG 5-OH! © Copyright 2011 by Sandra D. Bricker. Reprinted with permission by Abingdon Press. All rights reserved.