by Webb, Peggy
Suddenly, she was aware of the tight bandage around her breast, of the pain, of an overwhelming sense of loss. Her lips formed a protest, but he kissed it away.
“Later, Virginia,” he whispered. “We can talk later.”
Then he was gone, a magnificent man glowing with strength and vitality, a man now completely out of her league and out of her reach. She had many lonely days ahead to think about that, but right now she had to concentrate all her energy on fighting a battle against the hateful enemy that had invaded her body.
“You came through the surgery just fine, Virginia,” Dr. Mason said.
She felt the bandage around her chest. It was pulled tight, flattening her so that she felt as if she had no breast at all. Panic set in.
“They didn’t take my breast?” She grabbed his hand. “Dr. Mason, did they take my breast?”
“Relax, Virginia. Dr. Davidson did only the lumpectomy.”
“Was it...” Cancer. She couldn’t make herself say the word.
“The lab results on the frozen section will be back in about three days. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear. Meantime, you can go home where you’ll be more comfortable.”
“How soon?” Jane asked.
“If she has no problems, about four hours.”
“You’re sure it’s safe?” Candace said.
“Absolutely. After you get home, if you have any questions or if anything unusual develops, call me.” He patted Virginia’s hand. “You did great, Virginia. The nurse will be in to give you instructions before you leave.”
Dr. Mason left the three women staring at each other, speechless with the fear that still nagged at them all. Virginia fumbled at her bedside table for water, and Jane came over to pour it for her. Candace moved the glass menagerie from the windowsill to the shelf that held the television, then back again. Keeping busy, all of them.
“I can’t stand this not knowing,” Candace burst out. “I thought he said the pathologist could tell by looking. Why didn’t somebody ask him what the pathologist thought?”
If looks could kill, Jane’s would have felled Candace in her tracks.
“I’m just saying what’s on all our minds. Why didn’t we ask?”
Virginia placed her hand over the bandage. “Because I don’t want to know.”
She just wanted to float off in limbo and stay until all this was over.
“I just want it all to be over,” she whispered.
“It will,” Jane said. “Soon.”
Virginia believed Jane because she had to, because believing that it was not going to be over soon would drive her mad. She lay against the pillows, exhausted.
“Did Bolton leave?” she asked.
The door opened, and he came into the room, bringing with him hope and memories too wonderful... and too painful to bear.
“No,” he said. “I’m not leaving you, Virginia. Not now, not ever.”
Chapter Eighteen
Virginia knew she should send Bolton away, but she didn’t have the heart, nor the energy. Besides that, his quiet strength gave her a comfort she couldn’t get from Jane or from Candace. If she could hold on to him, then maybe everything would be all right.
“I’m glad you’re here, Bolton,” Jane said.
“Thank you, Jane.”
How easy he was with people, Virginia thought. It was a natural ease born partially of his experience as a photojournalist but primarily of his innate kindness and generosity of spirit.
Candace was not as comfortable with their visitor as Jane. The flush on her cheeks and the nervous movements of her hands gave her away. She cleared her throat.
“I... uh... I’m glad too,” she finally said.
“That means a lot to me, Candace.”
“The last time you were here I was pretty rotten to you, and I apologize.”
“Apology accepted.”
“All of a sudden, I’m starving.” Jane grabbed her purse. “Candace, let’s go down to the cafeteria and get a bite.”
“I already...” Jane gave her a look, and she blushed. “Okay. See you in a little while, Mother.”
Virginia was too exhausted to protest about Jane’s obvious scheme. After the door closed behind them, Bolton came to her bedside and smoothed back her hair.
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable alone in my presence, Virginia. You’ve been through a tough ordeal, and I have no intention of making it worse by saying things that might upset you.”
“Good.” She closed her eyes, and he sat in the chair beside her and took her hand. “Bolton... thanks for leaving me alone with Jane and Candace when Dr. Mason came.”
“That was a private conversation about something very personal and very painful. If there is anything you want me to know, you’ll tell me.”
“Don’t take this as any indication that I’ve changed my mind... but you are the most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”
He smiled. “I don’t expect an easy victory with you, Virginia. But make no mistake, I do expect victory.” He gently squeezed her hand. “Rest now. You need to build your strength.”
“I think I will close my eyes for just a little while.”
It felt so good to hold his hand, to know that he was there watching over her.
While she slept Bolton prayed. Silently he invoked the gentle Father Creator to spread his great wings of comfort and healing over the beautiful fragile woman who lay in the narrow hospital bed. In the language of the Apache he asked the Great Spirit of his people to imbue Virginia with the strength of the bear and to lift her on wings of eagles so that she might once again soar.
He asked guidance for himself, as well. The wisdom of his ancestor Cochise, Chiricahua Apache Chief, flowed through him, and he poured out his petition in Athabascan.
“Great Spirit, when I ask my beloved for her hand, grant that I may speak straight so that my words will go as sunlight into her heart.”
A kind of peace settled over him, and on the bed Virginia smiled in her sleep. Bolton kept watch, and after a while Jane and Candace tiptoed into the room to take up their silent vigil.
When the nurse came Virginia was still sleeping. She quietly instructed them about the patient’s care.
“I’ll bring a wheelchair now,” the nurse said, “and you can take her home.”
“She won’t need a wheelchair,” Bolton said.
He lifted Virginia so tenderly that she never woke up, not even when they got into Jane’s car. She didn’t open her eyes until he was on the staircase that led to her bedroom. She was vividly aware of Bolton’s arms around her and his fiercely possessive stare.
For a moment she thought they had just met, and he was taking her upstairs to make wild passionate love to her. A twinge of pain and the tight bandage around her breast reminded her that she had neither the body nor the energy to arouse passion in anyone, let alone a man as virile as Bolton Gray Wolf.
If she’d had the strength, she would have kicked something. Hard.
“Put me down,” she snapped. “I can walk.”
“You’re stronger, I see,” Bolton said, smiling as he continued his march to her bedroom.
“I said put me down. Where are Jane and Candace?”
“In the kitchen, preparing food.”
Just ahead her bedroom door yawned open. She couldn’t bear seeing Bolton in that intimate setting again.
“This is as far as you go,” she said.
His arms tightened around her and his stride never faltered. As he stepped over the threshold, memories burned through her.
“Here you are, Virginia,” he said as he lowered her to the cool sheets. “Our playground.”
“It’s no longer our playground.”
“It will be.” He pulled the covers over her, then spent an inordinate amount of time arranging them.
She was too selfish to tell him to stop. For a little while she let herself enjoy the feel of his hands on her body. He smoothed the sheets over her legs from ankle to thigh. Would
she ever again know the joy of pure desire?
“Until morning, Virginia.” He kissed her softly on the lips.
Tall and handsome, he walked toward her door. He took her breath away, and she didn’t find her tongue until he got to the door.
“Where will you stay?”
“I’ll check into a hotel.”
Let him go, her mind said, but she couldn’t bear that kind of rudeness.
“There’s no need for that,” she said. “Since you’ve come all this way, the least I can do is offer the guest cottage to you.”
“I accept.” His smile was there and gone, the same fleeting smile she had found so appealing when they had first met.
What did that smile mean? She had plenty of time to ponder it.
Bolton had barely left when Candace and Jane came into the room, bringing armloads of roses and the glass menagerie. They fussed over the arrangement of roses until Virginia told them both to sit down.
“I need to go down to my room to study, anyhow,” Candace said.
“I want you to go back tomorrow,” Virginia said. “There’s no need for you to miss classes hanging around here.”
“But, Mother, what about you?”
“I’ll take care of her,” Jane said. “Don’t you worry.”
“I don’t need taking care of,” Virginia snapped.
Candace shot Jane a helpless look, and Jane grinned.
“Just let her try to run me off,” she said.
Virginia was too tired to argue. Jane settled onto the chaise longue with Virginia’s latest novel, and she drifted into a restless sleep.
A couple of hours later, Virginia jolted awake and reached for her robe. Jane was on her feet immediately.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, snatching the robe from Virginia.
“To the bathroom.”
“Oh...” Looking chagrined, Jane helped her into the robe.
“Why don’t you go on home, Jane. You’re exhausted.”
“You need me, and I’m staying.”
A wave of pain hit Virginia, and her hand shook as she took a painkiller. In a little while the physical pain would be gone, but not the emotional agony, not the harsh mental anguish that made her want to scream and kick furniture.
“I don’t need you hovering over me. I’m not some sick old woman.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, Virginia regretted them. She reached for Jane, and they ended up in each other’s arms. “How can you put up with me?” she whispered.
“I need you, Virginia,” Jane said. “I need to be here because I love you too much to leave. If that makes me selfish, so be it.”
They leaned back and looked at each other, and Virginia smiled.
“Help me to the bathroom, Jane.”
“Lean on me.”
When Virginia was back in bed, Jane fluffed the pillows and smoothed the covers.
“Now, how about a nice hot bowl of chicken soup. Grandma’s remedy.”
Virginia glanced at the clock. “It’s almost ten.”
“You have to keep up your strength.”
“If soup will give me strength, bring a bowl. When did you have time to make Grandma’s soup?”
“I cheated. This is out of a can, but I’m going to add garlic.”
“To keep away vampires?”
“And insistent Apache lovers.”
“Nothing will keep Bolton away.”
“Do you want him to go away, Virginia?”
Through the window Virginia could see a light in the cottage. What was Bolton doing? The last time she’d seen him in that cottage he had been standing beside the fire naked.
A jolt of pure desire hit Virginia. For a moment Virginia reveled feelings she thought she might never have again, and then reality crashed down on her. What good would it do her to feel desire when she was no longer desirable?
“Jane. I’m hungry for that soup now.”
When Jane came back she was bearing two bowls of soup, two glasses of milk, and an assortment of candy bars.
“To get us through the night,” she said, plopping into a chair beside the bed. She opened a Hershey’s bar with almonds, broke it in two, and gave Virginia the largest piece. “Here, food for the soul. You never did answer my question. Do you want him to leave?”
“I don’t know the answer.” Virginia bit into the candy, allowing herself the luxury of high-calorie, high-fat chocolate because she needed self-indulgence. “Logically I know he should go back to Arizona and forget about me. Right?”
Jane merely smiled, then peeled the wrapper off another candy bar and began munching.
“All that chocolate is not good for you,” Virginia said. She picked up her soup spoon, but after two bites she couldn’t keep up the pretense of normality.
“How much of my breast do you think they took?”
“Not much.”
“You don’t know that, do you? Did Dr. Mason say that?”
“No. It’s just a gut feeling.”
Virginia shoved her food aside and climbed out of bed.
“I can’t stand this anymore. I have to know.”
“What are you doing?” Jane said, following her into the bathroom.
Virginia rummaged in a drawer until she found a pair of scissors.
“I’m going to find out.”
“You can’t do that,” Jane said.
Ignoring her, Virginia eased the scissors underneath the tape.
“Virginia... stop that. You’re going to cut yourself.”
“I’ve already been cut.”
“Oh, shootpootfart... give me the scissors.” Jane began the delicate procedure of cutting away Virginia’s bandage. “I haven’t cussed since New Year’s Day of 2000. You’re driving me crazy...” She gingerly peeled away the first layer of Virginia’s bandage. “It’s a good thing I took a serious first-aid course and know my fanny from a hole in the Grand Canyon, or we’d be up the proverbial stink creek without a paddle. You do have more bandages, don’t you, Virginia?”
“In the medicine cabinet.” Virginia winced as the last of the gauze was peeled away.
Steadying herself on the vanity, she looked in the mirror. Her left breast had a chunk the size of a silver dollar carved out of it. Virginia turned quickly away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight of her disfigurement.
“It’s hideous. Cover it back up.” She sank onto the toilet seat.
“It’s not hideous. It’s hardly even noticeable.”
“Only the blind wouldn’t notice. I’m lopsided. My clothes won’t fit. Even my bras won’t fit.”
“It will eventually fill back in. That’s what the doctor said, Virginia.”
Virginia didn’t hear her; she was too busy tasting the salt of her own tears.
“Make him go away, Jane.”
Jane didn’t have to ask who. Silently she rebound Virginia’s breast.
“I don’t want to see him again. I can’t see him again. Ever.”
Virginia leaned on Jane and allowed herself to be helped back into bed as if she were an invalid. Jane pulled the covers over her, then quietly removed the food.
“Sleep, Virginia. Everything will look different in the morning. You’ll see.”
“Do you think all this will go away overnight? Do you think I’m going to wake up and have a whole breast?”
Jane extinguished all the lights except a small lamp inside the bathroom door before she came back to the bed.
“The thing that matters most is that you have a whole mind and a whole personality and a whole spirit, Virginia.”
She could barely hear Jane moving across the room, barely see her as she got blankets from the closet shelf and spread them on the chaise longue. The room was so quiet, Virginia could hear the faint chimes of the grandfather clock downstairs. Outside the moon shone on Bolton’s cottage, the windows now dark. Downstairs Candace would be trying to get a good night’s sleep before her drive back to college.
Virginia forced hers
elf not to think about her body, about what had been done to it and what might be happening to it even as she slept. “Jane...”
“Hmmm?”
“I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You don’t have to find out. Go to sleep, Virginia.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
Chapter Nineteen
Bolton sat on a bar stool in Virginia’s kitchen, drinking coffee, while Jane added a glass of orange juice to the breakfast tray she was preparing.
“I’ll take that upstairs,” he said.
“I’m sorry. She won’t see you, Bolton.”
“Why? Yesterday everything seemed to be all right. What happened to change her mind?”
“She saw the scar on her breast.”
“That’s all? Does she think that matters to me?”
“Yes, she thinks that. More important, it matters to her. Bolton, do you have any idea the role a woman’s breasts play in her self-image? Not only are they symbols of nurturing, but they are vital to our feelings of sensuality and desirability. Right now, Virginia feels undesirable and disfigured. Besides that, she’s worried about having cancer, and she’s bound and determined to protect you from that.”
He tore a piece of paper off the notepad on the bar and began to write. Curious, Jane tried to read over his shoulder.
“All of you writers are just alike. Nobody can read your handwriting.”
Bolton folded the paper in half and handed it to Jane.
“Please give this to Virginia.”
“What is it?”
“A message.”
“Okay, I get the picture. It’s none of my business.” She stuffed it into her pocket, picked up the tray, and started toward the door. “I’ll try to resist the temptation to read it before I give it to her.”
“Thanks, Jane.”
“You bet.”
Virginia was standing beside the window when Jane went into her bedroom. In the distance her Arabians raced across the pasture, their manes and tails streaming like white flags.
“I wish I could ride,” she said. “There’s something wonderfully liberating about racing along with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face and nothing around me except earth and sky and trees.” She sat in the chair beside the window and gazed wistfully at Jane.