by Hope Navarre
* * *
THE SUN WAS SETTING by the time Cassie drove Peter to Mike and Joe’s service station. The shop was closed, but Mike had called to tell Peter where he’d put the keys to the truck. Peter had paid by credit card, but planned to drive by tomorrow to thank the guys for the work.
He was beat. Yet this quiet woman steering into the spot next to his truck made him feel like he could go another forty-eight hours. Now to get her to stay with him a while longer.
“You’ve been pretty quiet all afternoon since you saw Doc. Was he angry?”
She moved the collar from her scrubs. “He’s sending me for a biopsy in the morning. I’m taking the day off.”
He touched the place where he’d found the lump the other night. Inwardly, he cringed. He thought he spotted trouble. “So, the lymph node is a problem.”
“Yes.”
“Your blood work was off?”
She put the Jeep into Park and met his gaze. “Yes.”
The fear haunting her blue eyes tugged at his heart. He’d seen that look in his mother’s eyes before when she’d been in a bad emotional place. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I have the freaking cancer gene. She swallowed. “Nothing.”
“If there’s something in the node, you’ll need more tests.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He took her hand. “You look nervous.”
She sighed. “I told you my mother had cancer when I was a kid. I know what it’s like to deal with the disease. I don’t relish the idea that I might have to endure chemo or radiation.”
“If cancer becomes an issue, you’ll handle it like a champ.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I’ll come to the lab with you, Cassie.”
A line creased her brow when she frowned. “This is my problem, Peter.”
“What does that mean?”
“I can go to the lab myself.”
“Okay, then I’ll drive you home.”
She shook her head. “You have to work. My mother can get me.”
Why the heck was she shutting him out? “Cassie, let me help.”
She turned to face him. “Peter, if I have cancer, I won’t have time for a relationship.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DID SHE JUST say that? “Wait a minute. You’re blowing me off already because you might have cancer? Not on your life.”
Cassie turned in her seat to face him, her jaw set as if preparing to meet a challenge. At least he felt a foothold of satisfaction when fire lit her eyes. She had strong convictions. He liked that. So did he. One more trait that met his list of requirements in the girl for him. A little test of wills was healthy.
“I have a say in how I handle this situation, Peter. Don’t get pushy.”
He leaned into her personal space and cupped her head with his hand. “Of course you do, beautiful. You can tell me everything you need to have done and I’ll be here to do it for you.”
“We just started dating.”
He wanted to change that as fast as possible. “I’m an open book, Cassie. Don’t shut me out. Not now. Not over something that could very likely not be an issue.” He kissed her lightly. “I mean, I could see you dumping me if I was a dork or something.” He leaned back, surprise lighting his face. “Hey, do you think I’m a dork?”
She gave a short, reluctant laugh. “Hardly.”
Her smile was like releasing a pressure valve in his heart. Sure she was scared. Didn’t mean she had to go it alone. And it didn’t mean she had to turn him away. He’d be sticking by her through this even if he weren’t madly in crush with her. He didn’t know how to do anything else. Choosing to become a nurse wasn’t simply a job for him; it was a vocation. Helping people heal physically and emotionally from illness had become a driving force in his life since he was young. It’d probably started with Gil and his mother, but the need to help others was lodged deep in his bones. The fact that Cassie had become a love interest compounded that commitment to be a part of the process. God knew he was tempted to use the L word but he didn’t trust himself to go there. Yet.
“Have dinner with me?”
“No. I want to talk with my mother.”
“Want me to come with you?”
Despite her obvious annoyance, she grinned. “You’re like an overzealous puppy. Now stop it.”
“You don’t like pets?”
She laughed. “Keep it up and I’ll blacken that other eye for you.”
He framed her face with both hands. “I love a girl with spunk.” He kissed her soundly on the lips. “Call me later and let me know how you’re doing?”
Her face schooled in seriousness, she put the Jeep into gear. “Sure.”
It wasn’t until Cassie was driving down the street that he realized she wouldn’t call. His heart sank. She had probably just dumped him, and he was too nuts over her to catch on. No. She’d have to be clearer than that. Dumping was not part of the equation, at least as far as he was concerned.
* * *
CASSIE PULLED INTO her driveway. Rolling past her mother’s house, she saw Beth in the kitchen. She must have heard Cassie’s Jeep because she turned and waved.
She stopped, rolled the window down and tugged on her scrubs with a gesture that she’d change first then come over. Her mother gave her a thumbs-up.
Cassie’s cottage at the top of the driveway behind her parents’ house used to be her grandmother’s. Her grandparents had established a family compound on the three acres sprawling behind the houses, which was great for keeping the family together. Cassie moved into the cozy quarters after her grandmother passed several years ago, loving her privacy while still living a stone’s throw from her family.
She entered the cottage through the kitchen, put her purse on the table and wended her way through the small living room to her bedroom in the back. Stripping from her work clothes, she jumped into the shower for a quick rinse. As she dried off, she tried to figure how she’d tell Mom about the high white blood cell count. Cassie already knew what it meant. So would Beth, especially with the swollen lymph node. She was pretty sure it was her turn to face cancer. She kept telling herself that yes, she had the gene, but both her mother and her aunt had survived. If the biopsy proved positive, she would be another survivor. She had to be.
She was scared out of her wits.
Slipping into a favorite pair of distressed jeans and a navy tank top, she slid on flip-flops and headed back to her mother’s, the safest place in the world.
* * *
BETH MICHAELS WAS pulling a tray of baked clams from the oven when Cassie walked through the door. A pan of lasagna cooled on the stove.
“You’ve been cooking up a storm,” her daughter said. “Those clams smell great!”
Cassie’s cheerful voice filled the silence Beth had worked in for the past two hours. “Hi, honey. How was work?”
Cassie shrugged. “Busy. Lots going on.”
Beth cherished these moments with her daughter. Except for some emotional prepubescent years that every mother should expect, Cassie never took her, or her love, for granted. Watching Cassie was like watching herself twenty years ago. And in some respects, Beth wondered if Cassie was following in her footsteps too closely. Physically, they were practically mirror images of each other despite the difference in age. Beth’s blond curls, now mingled with silver strands, were almost as long as her daughter’s, though she twisted her hair into a braid over her shoulder. Beth and Cassie exercised hard to keep their similar figures in good shape. Beth often wondered if Cassie would develop the same soft pattern of stretch marks on her belly that Beth had acquired during her pregnancy...if of course, Cassie should ever choose to have a family. Beth called the marks her reward for a job well done delivering Cassie, and carried them proudly. It was a wonderful feeling
to have a daughter as wise, beautiful and compassionate as Cassie. Then, again, Mica and Judy were no slouches, either. The women in her family were strong.
She opened her arms for a hug. “Looks like you had rough day.”
Cassie hugged her back. “Nothing a few of your clams can’t handle. What a great idea.”
“Coming right up.”
She turned to toss a salad on the counter, and Cassie launched into their familiar routine. “Hear from Dad today?”
She nodded. “Radioed this afternoon. They had a good haul and are on their way home. Should take about three days.”
“I’ll be glad to see him.”
“Me, too.” She placed the salad bowl between them on the table already set for the evening meal. She sat.
“So, tell me what was so grueling today?”
A strange look crossed her daughter’s face. She was deeply disturbed about something. When she hesitated, Beth’s antennae went up.
“Cassie? Just say it. Were you fired or something?”
She shook her head. “No. Of course not.” She looked Beth straight in the eye. “Something came up that I have to discuss with you.”
She’d dig a little. “Your new nurse not working out?”
Cassie smiled. “Luckily, he’s working out just fine.”
“Okay, then what?”
She released a breath. “Had my physical last week. Looks like my white blood cell count is too high.”
Beth had been reaching for her fork, and her hand stopped in midair. She hoped the look she gave Cassie was one of concern and not alarm, since every alarm sounded in her head right now. “You’re kidding.”
Cassie pushed her hair away from her neck. “I have a lump. Tomorrow, Doc is taking a biopsy.”
“A lymph node?”
Cassie nodded.
“Oh, goodness. Those unexplained lost pounds. Have you been sleeping okay? You look tired.”
Cassie shrugged. “I wake up sweaty sometimes but I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
She frowned at her answer. Sweatiness was a symptom. She’d voice her daughter’s concern for her to get this out into the open. They both knew the possibility was real. “Because of the genetics, you’re concerned it’s cancer.”
At Cassie’s silence, Beth reached for her hand. “Honey?”
Cassie closed her eyes. Her laugh was hollow. “I want to be prepared, Mom. We were already warned that this could happen.”
“Do you mind if I call Doc?”
“Of course not.”
Beth stood. “I think my baby needs another hug.”
She walked around the table and Cassie slipped into her arms. The bond that had grown between them through the years since Beth’s illness had been an anchor for them both. Burying her face in her mother’s shoulder, Cassie whispered, “I’m scared, Mom.”
Beth smoothed her hair. “I know. Let’s not draw any conclusions for now. Okay?”
She held her daughter close, fighting back the flood of memories from her own illness. She wanted to be here for Cassie if the biopsy proved positive. She’d learned from her own mistakes how important it was to let those who cared stay close.
Above all, the helplessness of fighting a disease that not only invaded her body, but also every single facet of her life, worked as an agent to prove to her who understood her terror and supported her through the biggest crisis of her life, versus those who panicked and ran, leaving her to fight the battle for her life—alone.
It was a lesson she never wanted anyone to know. To Beth’s utter despair, the one person who’d run the farthest was the man she loved the most. Her husband.
Bobby had been sitting right next to her in Doc’s office when the diagnosis of uterine cancer had been delivered. She’d never forget the look of horror that had crossed Bobby’s face. A look that said Beth was going to die. A look that said, I can’t handle losing my wife.
While Bobby sat with his head in his hands, Doc sat with his arm around Beth, promising her she’d get through the ordeal.
God knows she understood Bobby’s fear. She couldn’t imagine dying and leaving him or her sweet little Cassie, who had been nine at the time. Beth had fought that demon and proven him wrong. She’d succeeded. Yet, during her terrible ordeal of fevers, lost hair, weakness, vomiting, sores and moments of depression, Bobby had run. Her family—Mica and Judy, Micky—and friends like Doc had stood by her. Held her head when she puked. Rocked her when she cried. Bobby had been unable to summon the confidence that she would survive the perilous journey. He had retreated. Ran the Lady Beth out as far as he could go on the water. Protected himself.
To this day, his fears left her with such a profound sense of abandon that her trust in him had died along with the cancer they’d destroyed. She had spent these past twenty years digging deep to find her love for him again, and she’d succeeded. Bobby was a good man. He had been the love of her life. She had simply learned that she should not trust him with her needs. She’d found solace in her family. Her friends. The intricate network of people on whom she could rely if any given situation arose.
She smoothed Cassie’s hair. “Honey, no matter what happens. We’ll get through this.”
“Please don’t say anything to Dad while he’s still on the Lady Beth. Let’s wait until he comes home.”
A knock at the kitchen door broke them apart. They hadn’t switched the glass storm window in the door for the summer screen, so the main door was ajar, giving full view.
Cassie’s nurse friend Peter Chapman stood in the newly fallen darkness, hair mussed and hands in his jeans pockets, smiling. He seemed a bit nervous, like he was unsure if he should be standing there.
Beth looked at Cassie questioningly.
Her daughter blushed, a sheepish look on her face.
Chuckling, Beth said, “Oh, my. I see now why you’ve been so busy at work.”
* * *
PETER WATCHED THROUGH the kitchen door as Beth Michaels hugged her daughter, her face reflecting love and concern. The two women looked like bookends. Same hair color. Same height. Just an age difference that looked good on the older woman.
Cassie must have told her about the biopsy. He felt awkward intruding on this private moment, especially since Cassie had refused dinner with him to spend time with her mother. He’d probably made a mistake coming here, but after she had left him, the urge to protect and win her over had become greater than common sense. He had been helpless watching her drive away preoccupied about the blood test. Her vulnerability had gone straight to his heart. He had a ton of strength to share with her and was going to make Cassie understand that. Even if she turned him away again and again, he wasn’t budging. A herd of charging bulls couldn’t stop him from making sure she was okay.
Granted, he was out of line. They were only newly dating. With the luxury of time, she’d be more apt to depend on him, he was sure. She said everyone in this town relied on each other. He was now part of this town, and he sure as hell knew he wanted to be a part of her life. He simply needed to speed up the process of gaining her trust. Showing up. Offering to help. Being present as often as possible. He held his breath. She’d either be glad to see him or annoyed.
When he knocked, both women looked at him. The mother seemed curious enough and smiled. Cassie’s reaction warmed him despite the fact the wide eyes and instant grin turned into a moue of annoyance.
As Cassie moved toward the door, his gaze devoured her. She padded toward him in flip-flops, wearing those faded denims with holes above the knees, and a tight, navy tank top that hugged her to perfection. He wanted to die watching her. The way her blond hair fell on her shoulders, her bedroom eyes, the set of her mouth as if she couldn’t decide if she wanted to laugh or not... The easy sway of those hips made his mouth water and his hands itch to rest on her sul
try curves. He plastered a smile on his face to mask his rising desire.
Cassie held the door open. “Are you lost?”
Peter pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “This didn’t ring so I wanted to make sure your phone still works.”
Laughter filled her eyes. Good.
“My phone works just fine.”
He shook the small device. “Hmmm. Maybe mine’s not.”
She stifled a laugh. “How did you know where I live?”
He stuffed his phone into his back pocket. “Rachel was still at the E.R. She was very helpful.”
Cassie opened the door wider. “I will have a word with Rachel for sharing personal information. Come in and say hello to my mother.”
Score. She was letting him in.
Her mother reached out a hand. “Nice to see you again, Peter. My name’s Beth, in case you forgot.”
The welcoming pressure of her handshake was as genuine as her smile. “I remember. Sorry to intrude without notice.”
Beth motioned to the table. “We’re just starting dinner. Would you like to join us?”
Timing was everything. Not only was he hungry, but staying for dinner would also give him more time with Cassie. One glace around the kitchen told him that this room reflected a lifetime of meals and shared moments. The urge to become part of those memories flooded him. He looked at Cassie. “Would you mind?”
Arms crossed, she stared at him. “No. Not at all.”
Not sure if he should believe her body language or her words, he smiled at Beth. “The food smells great. If I’m not intruding, I’d like that.”
While Beth got an extra plate from the cabinet, he reached for Cassie’s hand. “How are you holding up?”
Cassie took her hand away. “I’m okay. Mom’s been through this before so I have a good coach.”
Beth laid the plate on the table. “I’m a cancer survivor for twenty years, now. A rough go but the right attitude is everything. Help yourself to some clams. Lasagna and salad are next.”
He rubbed his hands together in appreciation. “Wow. A home-cooked meal. It’s been weeks.”