“Are you sure?” She could see that he didn’t believe her and he was right.
“Positive. I promise, we’ll play next weekend. I’m sorry to be such a bore.” This would be the second weekend she’d be avoiding him. He didn’t look suspicious, he looked hurt.
“I could come out and read while you work,” he suggested with a hopeful look.
“I’d feel too guilty,” she said, feeling like a monster. She didn’t want him to see her hurting, or know that she had cancer, even if it was “only” stage one. It was her own dirty little secret. And she didn’t want him to see her weak. She wanted him to see her strong, the epitome of the independent woman she thought she was, until the biopsy. He left her office looking sad.
The days until the surgery seemed endless, the night before a nightmare. Peter called and she didn’t pick up her phone. She didn’t trust herself not to beg him to come over and go to the hospital with her for the surgery.
She was at the hospital at six A.M. as they had told her. They ran tests, put in an IV, and at seven-thirty she was being rolled into surgery, with a feeling of total panic. She had never been so terrified in her life. And minutes later she was unconscious.
She woke up in the recovery room, feeling sick to her stomach. She was woozy, and by the time they wheeled her to a room, the pain in her breast was excruciating. They gave her a shot for the pain and the surgeon came in and told her how well it had gone. It had been very small, well contained, and if her lymph nodes proved to be clear in the pathology report, there would be no need for further treatment. All she had to do was get checked every six months to make sure it hadn’t returned. Mammograms would be sufficient.
And then he told her she wouldn’t be able to use her left arm for the next two weeks while it was healing. He had forgotten to mention that before, but fortunately she was right-handed. She stayed in bed at the hospital all day, dizzy from the pain and the medication, and at six o’clock they discharged her. She had arranged for a car and driver to take her back to Bedford. The house was empty when she got home.
And Peter called almost the minute she got in. She had to sit down in a chair she was so dizzy, and she realized she was foolish to be alone in the house. She planned to go straight to bed without dinner. She wasn’t hungry. She felt sick from the pain meds, her breast was aching miserably, and she had a headache.
“Where were you all day?” he asked, sounding anxious. “I’ve been calling you and you didn’t return my calls. Margaret said you didn’t come in.”
“It’s that stupid stomach flu again, I’m feeling rotten.” She sounded it.
“Ohmigod, you sound awful. I’ll come over and take care of you.”
“No, don’t. You’ll catch it. It’s miserable.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’ve been avoiding me all week?” It had actually been almost two weeks since they found the shadow on her mammogram, and she had been avoiding him since then.
“Because you’re paranoid, and I love you.”
“I love you too. I want to see you.” He sounded worried and insistent, and she wasn’t up to reassuring him.
“I promise, I’ll be fine in a few days. And you’re coming to dinner with the children a week from Monday.”
“I’m not waiting to see you till then.” He sounded horrified at the thought, but the truth was she wanted to give the breast time to heal, and have the pathology report before she spent time with him. “I’ll stay over this week if you want,” he offered. She didn’t have the courage to tell him he couldn’t. Then he would know something was seriously wrong, but she would still have the bandages on, on Monday, and even the following week. She’d have to tell him something. And the doctor said her breast would be tender for several weeks after that, and there would be a small indentation where they had removed the lump. Sooner or later she’d have to explain it to Peter, even if she said it was benign. But not yet. Not when she felt so sick and hurt so much, and felt so small. This wasn’t the side of her she wanted him or anyone to see. The frail, human side. She was used to showing the world her strength, not her weakness. “Let me know if you want me to come by over the weekend,” he said hopefully when they hung up, and she practically crawled into bed, took another pain pill, and passed out.
It was a long, lonely weekend. She did a lot of soul searching as she lay there hurting. She had done everything she wanted to with her life. She had created a successful business to leave to her children. She had provided security for them. She had lived to see her grandchildren, and she would see Cass’s baby born in June. She had brought up her own children as best she could. She had loved two wonderful men. But suddenly as she examined all of it, it didn’t seem like enough. She hadn’t taken time to play, to relax and have fun. She had been so busy working that it had taken precedence over all else for most of her adult life, if not all of it. The only time she took off was two weeks every summer for her children. She realized that she wanted to slow down a little now, not a lot, but enough to enjoy herself, and spend time with Peter. He meant more to her than she had admitted to herself. And she didn’t have to marry him, but they could be with each other more. She didn’t want to die alone in an empty, silent house. She realized that over the weekend, as she listened to the silence. She had never felt lonelier in her life.
She called all of her children over the weekend, and finally Peter. She felt a little better, but not enough. It had been depressing, but a revelation of sorts too. She had realized she wasn’t going to live forever. She didn’t have another hundred years to play with. She would have whatever she got, and she wanted to make it good, better than she had been, more fun, and gentler, and bask in the love of the good man who loved her.
“I miss you,” she said to him when she called him. This time she was the first to say it.
“I miss you too. I’ve been lonely for you all weekend.” It was good to hear.
“So have I.”
“Are you feeling better?” He sounded concerned. He had been for days.
“A little,” she said honestly. Her breast didn’t hurt quite as much, but it had been a jolt to her system. And she realized she would have to tell him something at least, she hadn’t figured out what yet. The truth, or only some of it. She hadn’t decided. She wanted to tell him about the epiphany she’d had too, but not until she was feeling better. She had managed to get through this alone, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that again, or why she had to. She had realized that it was okay to share her burden with someone else, particularly if he loved her. She would have done it for him.
She thought of him that night, and wished he had been there for the weekend, near her, while she slept. She wished she had allowed it, or felt that she could. There was always a voice in her, telling her to be strong, and she had been. But suddenly she wondered if it was so important to always be strong, to never let her guard down, to run the empire with an iron hand. For the first time in her life, all she wanted was to be a woman. It was enough.
Chapter 26
The week she waited for the pathology report was agonizing, and she got the results on Friday. It was the best she could have hoped for. Clean margins, no involvement in her lymph nodes, and the earliest stage of cancer. She needed no further treatment. It was an enormous relief. All she had to worry about now was a recurrence, which hopefully wouldn’t happen.
And that week, Peter couldn’t spend the weekend with her. He was going to Boston for his daughter’s birthday. She was off the hook until he came to the early Christmas dinner for her children on Monday. She had been dodging him for days and he sounded discouraged. And she was lonely for him. He called her often during the weekend.
“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” she said, and meant it. She knew he was planning to stay over after dinner. Maybe she would tell him then. It was the first time he was going to be at a family event with her children, which was important to her and to Peter. It was a turning point in the relationship. She had told Phillip
after Thanksgiving that Peter was getting divorced, and he was pleased for her, even if she said she didn’t want to get married. It was still cleaner if he was free. And now they could spend holidays together. Christmas would be their first.
“Well, get better by tomorrow,” Peter told her, with a little romantic lilt in his voice, and she almost groaned. She still couldn’t pick her arm up, and then she laughed. Maybe he was right and they were too old for dating, particularly if her body was going to betray her and fall apart. The road repair this time had been a little rough. She envied her mother’s perfect health until ninety-five. She hadn’t been as lucky, after her first brush with cancer. She knew that she was luckier than most, but it had scared her nonetheless. It had been humbling.
And when Monday night came at last, the table was beautifully set, the house was filled with flowers, the Christmas tree was up, and Olivia was feeling better. She wore a red satin jacket, and black tuxedo pants with a white silk blouse. Everyone looked very festive. Taylor had come with Phillip, and Andrew with Liz, Peter was there and seated at her right at the table. Everyone had understood by then what his role in her life was. For years, they had never suspected, but now they knew. And Phillip had passed the word that Peter was getting divorced. It was entirely respectable.
Taylor looked like a young girl in a pretty white wool dress with her long coltish legs, and dark brown hair cascading down her back. Sarah had found some strange macramé creation in a vintage shop that she was very proud of, and Liz looked beautiful. Andrew had worn a dark suit and looked dashing and aristocratic. And Olivia gave out their gifts before dinner. They were all saving them until Christmas, but each one had a pile of several presents that she had carefully chosen herself. As she handed them to each person, she saw Peter watching her with a questioning glance. He looked at her even more intently as she accepted their gifts with one hand.
“Did you hurt your arm?” He had seen her operating awkwardly, using only her right arm. No one else had noticed.
“No, I’m fine,” she lied, but she did feel better. And everyone was in good spirits. Taylor was wildly excited to be going to St. Bart’s with Phillip, and the others were happy with the house they had rented in Stowe, and to be going skiing together. Liz had warned Andrew that she was a terrible skier, and he said he didn’t care, and preferred après ski activities to the icy slopes himself. Alex was planning to enter some ski races, and was a fabulous skier. And John was planning to paint while Sarah skied.
They had a delicious turkey dinner, with traditional plum pudding and hard sauce for dessert, which reminded Olivia of their Christmas dinners when they were young, with everyone around the table, and Maribelle cooking the turkey. In recent years, Olivia had a caterer do it, and it was exquisite.
She looked tired by the time her children and grandchildren left, laden with their presents. And she was saving their gifts to her to open on Christmas Day. She and Peter planned to exchange gifts then. He put an arm around her after everyone had left, and suggested they go to bed, and she knew the moment of truth was coming. She couldn’t fob him off in bed, and he would see the bandage.
She came back into the bedroom in her dressing gown, and stretched out on the bed with a sigh. It had been a stressful three weeks for her, and she was still feeling shaken by it. Peter was already in bed and she could see from the look in his eye that he was about to get amorous with her. She looked at him with a serious expression and reached for his hand.
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
“You’re pregnant? Fine, I’ll marry you. We’ll have a shotgun wedding,” he said with a smile and she laughed.
“Not exactly. No, actually I’ve had a hell of a few weeks.”
“I had a feeling that you did.” He didn’t look surprised. “You sounded awful.”
“When I had my annual mammogram, they found a small lump. It was malignant, stage one cancer. They think they got it all, so I’m fine. I didn’t want to worry you. I had the lumpectomy last Friday, and I was a mess all week, to be honest. It scared the hell out of me, and it kind of woke me up. I’m not ready to retire, and I probably never will be. At least I hope not. But I don’t want to push quite so hard. I want to take a little more time to smell the roses, as they say. With you, if that’s okay with you. And I thought of something else. I still don’t want to get married. And you don’t want to date. But I think I’d like to try living with you, if that appeals to you. You could move in here, if you’d like to.” She looked at him tenderly. He was stunned.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this, about the lumpectomy?” He looked angry, and she was shocked. “I knew something was wrong, dammit. You wouldn’t even take my calls. What do you think I am, some kind of fair-weather boyfriend? I love you. I want to be here for you, in good times and bad. I don’t want you going through something like that alone. You don’t have to be so brave, Olivia. You get to be human too. I’m here because I love you, not just for a good time. And I warn you, I am going to be very, very angry at you, if you ever do something like that again, and go through all that, and don’t call me. In fact, I want to be here, as part of the furniture, so you don’t have to call me.”
“I felt stupid that I didn’t. I was miserable. And scared. I was so shocked at first, I didn’t know what to do. And then I was in the middle of it, and I just kept going. I promise I won’t do anything like it again. And what do you think about my other idea, about living together?”
He leaned over and kissed her then. “I think I may have to, otherwise I’ll never know what you’re up to. I don’t trust you.” He still hadn’t gotten over what she’d told him, and he was upset about it. “I can’t believe you’d go through all that and not call me.”
“I know. It was stupid,” she admitted readily, and she regretted it.
“Yes, it was. And I would love to live with you, Olivia. And I suppose we don’t have to be married. I just thought it would be nicer. I’m old-fashioned, I guess. But if you prefer living like a couple of libertines, and that won’t upset your children, then I’m signing up. Where do I enlist?” He was smiling as he leaned down and kissed her. And then he remembered and looked concerned. “Does your arm hurt?”
“I can’t use it for a couple of weeks.” She opened her robe then and showed him the bandage. It was bigger than he’d expected.
“My poor baby,” he said, as he put an arm around her and held her close to him, and a few minutes later they slid into bed and turned off the lights.
“So when are you moving in?” she asked him in the dark with a giggle.
“Is tomorrow too soon? I thought you’d never ask me,” he said, and turned to kiss her in the dark. “Olivia, you are a terror, but I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said, snuggling up to him, and feeling safe again for the first time in weeks. They had come up with the perfect solution. And she loved the idea of their living together, and so did he.
They spent the following weekend moving some of his things in and arranging them around the house. They blended in nicely, and she had cleared two closets for him. Peter seemed to fit right in as though he’d always been there. It was just like their romantic weekends together, only better. He loved to cook, and sometimes he had dinner for her when she came home from work. They had gone to two Christmas parties together in New York. She had dinner with him and his children, who were warm and welcoming to her. She had called her own children once they made the decision and told them he was moving in, and no one objected. She hadn’t told her children about the lumpectomy and didn’t intend to, only about Peter moving in. And Liz had news of her own.
“Andrew is moving in with me after we get back from Stowe.” They had only been dating for four months, but it felt right to both of them, and he assured her that she needed a handyman in residence, which sounded good to her too.
“I’m happy for you, sweetheart,” her mother said.
“I think Peter is good for you, Mom,” Liz said thou
ghtfully. “Maybe he’ll make you slow down a little.”
“I’ve been thinking that myself. Just enough to have some fun and not work all the time.”
“You’ve earned it.” She had been working at jet speed and then some since she was eighteen.
“We’re going to Provence in March or April to check out a place for next summer. And I want to see Cassie before she has the baby. She says it’s already started to show.”
“I doubt it,” Liz said. “She’s such a string bean. She’s going to look funny pregnant.” Olivia was grateful that the baby had happened and she would get to see it born.
“I must say, we’ve turned into a very modern family,” Olivia commented. “We’re both living with men without being married, and Cass is having a baby without marrying its father. I never would have thought it. Do you think you and Andrew will get married?”
“Who knows?” Liz said honestly. “It’s too early to think about it. What about you and Peter?” She was surprised her mother didn’t want the respectability of marriage, but she had gotten too independent.
“We don’t need to. Maybe I’ll change my mind later. But this is fine for now.”
“That’s how I feel with Andrew.” They chatted for a few more minutes and hung up. Olivia talked to them all before they left for Stowe, and she checked in with Alex. He said things were going well, and he was planning to finish his college applications over Christmas. Stanford was still his first choice.
She talked to Cass in London too, and she said she was fine and getting bigger. Talking to her made Olivia miss Maribelle more than ever.
She had opened her gifts from the children on Christmas Eve, and they were lovely. They were all things she loved and would have picked for herself. Even Taylor had given her a gift, a pretty scented candle, and Alex had given her a locket with his picture in it. She put it on immediately, and called him afterward to thank him. He told her he had picked it out himself and bought it with his allowance.
The Sins of the Mother Page 30