All That Glitters

by Geri Glenn

  She waves her hand dismissively and points to the magazine rack beside me. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. People magazine said that you were going to start chemo. I just assumed you’d be doing it in Nashville, not come all the way back here.”

  I stare at the rack and my heart stops. Every single tabloid magazine has a different picture of me on the cover, and every one of them has a headline story about my cancer. The cover of US magazine makes my knees weak. In bold letters across the page reads, “Is this the end for Kinsley?”

  With shaking hands, I reach for my grocery bags. “I gotta go,” I whisper, doing everything I can to fight back the tears as I run outside to the truck. I can’t believe Paula leaked my story without my permission. She knew I wasn’t ready to tell people yet, but she leaked it anyways, and now everyone knows about the cancer that I myself haven’t even accepted yet.

  Chapter Five

  HOT TEARS BURN my eyes as I wind the truck down the gravel road leading to the lake. I can’t remember a time where I was ever this angry. Why would Paula do this? I snort out a laugh through my anger. I know exactly why she did it—Publicity. She wants to capitalize on my disease to make money for the record label. She doesn’t care that I’m living through one of my worst nightmares. She just sees it as a way to sell more albums when they finally release it.

  Shaking my head, I use the back of my arm to wipe the tears from cheeks. I’m just lowering my arm as I turn a corner and right there, in the middle of the road is a dog, cowering on the gravel as my truck bears down on it.

  My blood runs cold as I slam on the brakes and crank the wheel, desperate to avoid hitting it. Though I’m not moving too fast, I lose control and the truck goes into a spin. Gravel pings wildly off the underside and dust clouds the air. My arms fly as I spin the wheel, doing what I can to get it back on course. Finally, the truck lurches to a halt, facing the opposite direction of where I was heading.

  My entire body trembles and I gasp for air, bringing my hands up to my chest to help calm my racing heart. Mentally, I do a quick check. Everything seems to be okay, but I’m afraid to look up. I have no idea if I hit that poor dog or not.

  Slowly, I lift my eyes, and there she is. A beautiful brown mixed breed dog lays panting in the centre of the lane, struggling to get to her feet. Oh God, I think I hit her. I fling open the door and jump out of the truck, moving towards the dog. Her cries and whimpers fill the air and my heart clenches. Damn it! I think I hurt her.

  Approaching her slowly, I squat down, holding my hand out for her to sniff. “Hey, baby. Are you okay?”

  The dog sniffs my hand and gives it a lick before crying out in pain once more. I give her a quick check, but see no signs of blood on her fur. Wherever her pain is coming from, it’s not something I can see. She looks healthy, if not a little overweight, but she is quite obviously in a great deal of pain. I pet her head and speak in a soothing tone until I’m sure she’s not going to bite me.

  Leaning forward, I slide my arms under her and slowly scoop her up and against my body. “Oh, geez girl. You’re a heavy one, aren’t ya?”

  My legs shaking from the added weight, I struggle to stand. Pain slices through my breast, right at the incision area from my lumpectomy. I know I shouldn’t be carrying this heavy dog, but what choice do I have? I can’t just leave her here. She’s in pain.

  I move as quickly as I can and make it to the truck. I can’t figure out a way to open the passenger door, but I am able to pull down the tailgate and settle her gently into the back. She whimpers softly and gives my hand a lick.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m going to find someone to help you.”

  Slamming the tailgate closed, I rush around to the driver side and hop in. Pulling the gearshift into drive, I step on the gas and speed along the road, heading back towards town. As I drive, I glance repeatedly back in the rear-view mirror to see how she’s doing, and each time, she’s curled up in a ball, right where I’d left her.

  The only veterinary clinic in town has been there for as long as I can remember, though since I’ve never owned a pet, I’ve never been inside. I pull into the driveway of the old stone house turned clinic and park around back in the designated parking area.

  Urgency overwhelms me when I see that the dog is barely conscious. “Hold on, sweet girl,” I say softly as I scoop her up and rush around to the front entrance. The walk is long, and up a slight hill. The pain in my breast gets worse with every step.

  Putting it out of my mind, I push open the door and step inside, my eyes frantically scanning the empty reception area. The dog’s head droops against my arm, and I can tell that she’s out cold. “Hello?” I call out, unable to keep the panic from my voice. “Can someone please help me?”

  Chapter Six

  “HELLO?” I CALL even louder and hear footsteps come running down the stairs to my left. I look over and watch as a man in a white lab coat hurries towards me. He gets to the bottom of the stairs and freezes, his eyes wide as he stares back at me.

  He seems vaguely familiar, but I don’t have time to figure out who he is. I need to put this dog down before I pass out too. The pain in my breast is getting to be unbearable, and I’m worried about the damage I’m doing to myself by holding her for so long.

  “Do you have somewhere I can set her down?” I rasp, my chest heaving with the effort of holding up the dog’s dead weight.

  He jumps a little and rushes forward, shaking his head as he moves. “Of course. I’m so sorry. Let me take her for you.”

  As gently as I can, I transfer the dog to the large man’s arms. As soon as he has her, he turns and hurries down the hall, motioning with his head for me to follow him. “What happened?”

  “I was driving, and I think I might have hit her with my truck,” I say as I struggle to keep up with him and ignore the pain I’m feeling.

  He walks into an examination room and sets the dog down on the table. She doesn’t wake up. “You think you hit her?” he asks, his hands moving along her fur, searching for any signs of injury.

  I bite my lip and move forward, stroking her head. “I’m not sure exactly. I came around a corner and she was just there, laying in the middle of the road. I almost wrecked my truck trying to avoid her.”

  His eyes fly up and meet mine, and suddenly I can’t breathe. “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I swallow and stare back into the depths of his soulful brown eyes, captivated. “I …” I swallow. “I’m fine.” Wrenching my gaze from his, I look back down to the dog, running my hand along her spine. “I didn’t wreck it, but I spun out. I don’t know if I hit her or not. She was barely moving and she was crying. She passed out when I carried her in here.”

  His brows knit into a frown as he looks back down at the dog. When his hands brush her stomach, he nods. “I don’t think you hit her. This dog is in labour.”

  I gasp and look up at him. “Then why is she unconscious?”

  He shakes his head and moves towards the door. “Because it’s not going so well,” he says over his shoulder. He sticks his head out the door and hollers for someone named Cindy before turning back to me. “Kinsley, I’m going to have to ask you to wait out in the waiting room. I’m going to do everything I can to save this dog and her puppies, but I’m going to have to act fast, okay?”

  I stare at him and nod my head, fear filling me at the serious tone he’s suddenly taken. This is bad. A short blonde woman in scrubs comes rushing in and instantly the pair are talking rapidly back and forth, bringing out equipment that I’ve never seen before.

  Wanting to stay out of their way so they can do their job, I quietly walk out of the room and start down the hall towards the reception area. I’m just sitting in the chair when I realize that guy knew my name. He’d called me Kinsley. Being a small town, and the fact that I’ve been getting a lot of publicity this past year, that’s not a surprise, but thinking back, I know I’ve seen him somewhere before. I just can’t remember where.

  Just then, a r
eceptionist enters the room and settles herself behind her desk. “Oh … hi,” she says with a smile. “Have you been helped?”

  I nod, my mind spinning, trying to place the attractive veterinarian. “Yeah. They’re working on a dog I brought in right now.”

  “Okay,” she says. “Shouldn’t be too long, I’m sure.”

  I sit quietly for another twenty-five minutes, waiting to hear some sort of news. “Can I get you a coffee or anything?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I shake my head. “No, I’m fine,” I reply. “Actually, I was wondering if you could tell me the name of the veterinarian?”

  “You mean Dr. Weston?” She points to a framed diploma hanging on the wall, and there it is. Beau Weston. Oh my God. I went to school with a Beau Weston, but this man does not look like the guy I used to know at all. It can’t be him.

  I’d never had many friends in high school, spending most of my time by myself. I was an artsy kid and people like Lana McSween made me hate even being there. I just wanted to be by the lake, writing music, or on a stage somewhere performing it. Back then, the Beau I knew had been a loner, much like I was, just trying to survive high school.

  Just then, Dr. Weston himself appears from the hallway. “Kinsley?”

  I look up and swallow. Damn, he’s gorgeous. He’s tall, at least six foot three, and has dark brown hair that is way past due for a cut, but it looks so damn good on him. I hope he never cuts it again. His frame is wide, and though he is wearing a lab coat, I can tell from the straining fabric that he has a chiselled frame that most women, myself included, admire.

  “She’s going to be okay,” he says with a smile and takes a seat beside me. “She was having a hard time delivering, so I had to do an emergency C-section to get them out. A few of the pups didn’t make it, but she will be a happy mother to four new puppies when she wakes up.”

  “Do you have any idea who she might belong to?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen her before. She doesn’t have a collar, but she does look well fed, and she’s healthy. Somebody’s missing her.”

  I breath out a heavy sigh. “I’m just glad she’s okay. I will make up some posters to see if we can locate her family. Thank you so much, Dr. Weston.”

  “Please, call me Beau.”

  My cheeks heat. “Thank you, Beau.” I let my gaze linger on him a moment, before a thought occurs to me. “I’m surprised you remembered my name.”

  Now it’s his turn to blush. I watch in fascination as his cheeks turn a ruddy shade of pink and he tears his gaze from mine. “We were in school together since kindergarten.” A slow, shy smile spreads across his face. “Besides, you still look exactly the same. It’s me that looks different. I used to be a little … huskier.”

  I stare back at him, right into his smiling eyes, and I finally see it. Beau had been overweight all throughout childhood, but he’d definitely outgrown that issue. I’d rarely spoken to him, not in all those years, but he’d always been there with a ready smile whenever my eyes had met his.

  “I didn’t even recognize you,” I breathe. “You look great!”

  He chuckles softly. “Nobody does anymore, and thank you.” He stands up and points down the hall. “So, do you want to come and see these puppies?”

  Chapter Seven

  I PULL THE stack of papers off the printer and admire my handiwork. The posters I’d made are simple, and the photo of the dog is one I’d taken with my phone just after she’d woken up from her surgery yesterday. I didn’t mention the puppies at all, in hopes that the actual owner would be able to ask about her pregnancy themselves. I was sure not to list my own name, and simply listed the veterinary clinic and its phone number for people to contact if the dog belongs to them. Beau had been optimistic that someone would turn up soon.

  I add the papers to the already tall stack and make my way out to the truck. It’s getting late in the morning and I need to get these posters over to the clinic. I also need to get some up before I get my bloodwork done this afternoon.

  The sun beats down on my face, and the cool breeze blows through the open windows of the truck as I make my way to the clinic. My belly flutters nervously when I think about seeing Beau again. He’d been so kind to me yesterday, even though I hadn’t known who he was. And those eyes … I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.

  I walk into the clinic, and there he is behind the desk, looking at something on the computer. He looks up when the door opens and my steps falter when he smiles. “Kinsley, hey.”

  “Hey. I was just stopping by to drop off some posters.”

  He eyes my stack of papers and grins. “Perfect. Come on back. She’ll be happy to see you.”

  I follow him back to the kennel area, and can’t contain my smile when I see the squirming puppies nuzzling hungrily at their exhausted mother. Beau opens up the door and we both step inside, squatting down to get a closer look. I reach my hand out and the mother gives it a lick, her soft brown eyes on mine.

  “Your babies are beautiful, girl,” I coo softly, gently stroking her head.

  “She reminds me of the dog I had growing up,” Beau says, reaching out to give her a pat.

  I look at him and smile. “I still can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

  He shrugs. “It’s not like we were friends, Kinsley.”

  “That’s no excuse,” I say, shaking my head in disapproval. “We spent more than twelve years going to the same school, and I barely spoke to you. It’s rude.”

  He stares at me, his brows lifted in surprise. “I never really spoke to you either.”

  “Well you’re rude too then,” I tease.

  He barks out a small laugh. “Nah, we weren’t rude. Just shy. I knew how shy you were back then. You never really spoke to anybody. I was shy too,” he chuckles. “Did you know that I had the biggest crush on you back then?”

  I feel my eyes widen as I stare up at him. “On me?”

  He nods. “On you. God, I used to get so nervous whenever you were near me. Ninth grade math class was unbearable. You sat right next to me.”

  I gape at him in surprise. I would never have guessed that. I can remember Beau being in most of my classes growing up, but he’d never acted like he was into me at all that I noticed.

  “I was surprised when I heard about your recording contract,” he continues. “I never thought you’d be able to sing in front of all those people.”

  I grin back at him. “Singing is different. I don’t feel like me when I’m singing. It’s almost like an out-of-body thing.”

  He stands from his crouch and opens the door to the kennel, waiting for me to step through before he closes the dogs back inside. “I’ve heard your first couple of songs. When do I get to hear the rest?”

  My cheeks flush. “The album actually releases next month, but I have a copy of it if you’d like to hear it before that.”

  His eyes light up and his cheeks dimple as he smiles at me, making my belly flutter. “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll bring it by then.”

  Chapter Eight

  CHEMOTHERAPY SUCKS. WE had to leave the house at six thirty in the morning to be here for my eight a.m. start time. My dad had driven, taking the day off work to be here for me, which I love him for. I had tried to talk him out of it, telling him I could arrange for a driver, but he’d insisted.

  Poor Dad. Today has been almost as hard on him as it has been on me. Being the only parent I’ve ever known, my father has always been full of love and support, but he’s never been one to be comfortable in an emotional situation, whether the emotions were mine or his. My mother had died during childbirth, leaving him a single dad to a strong-willed girl who was happiest when she was alone. Looking back, I don’t know if my love of solitude comes from actually loving it, or just being used to it.

  Dad was never neglectful, but I think that the pain of losing Mom so suddenly had left him deeply scarred, making it almost impossible for him to connect to e
ven his own daughter. He’d never dated, had few friends, and had no contact with his family. His entire life has consisted of me, his work, and his fishing. It might not seem like much to some people, but I like to think that my dad is completely satisfied with what he has, and I’m thankful to him for being there for me today.

  For the past six hours, I’ve been hot, then cold. I’ve been nauseous and sleepy, and I’ve done my best to hide how sick of this shit I am already. Dad had paced. Every time I squirmed or got sick, he would yell for the nurses, demanding that they do everything they could to help me. Those poor women are likely looking forward to me leaving more than I am.

  At long last, the nurse disconnects my IV and goes over a few last minute instructions with me. I will be back in just three days, so the list isn’t very long. Slowly, I lift myself out of the chair and start to collect my few belongings, deciding that next time I come, I will have to plan a little better, adding some of the things I wished I’d had with me today.

  With Dad’s help, I slip my shoes back on my feet and slide a light sweater on before heading out the door to the elevators. “How are you feeling, kiddo?” he asks as we step inside.

  “Okay. I’m tired, and I can’t wait to crawl into my bed, but I think it could be worse.”

  The elevator dings, indicating that we’d reached the main floor. We make our way down the hall and straight out the main doors of the hospital. Suddenly, voices are screaming and lights are flashing in my eyes. Everywhere I look, there is a sea of people, all of them with cameras, and all of them calling my name.

  I stare at them, frozen in shock as my father yells for them to step aside. He takes my hand and pulls me against him, wrapping his huge arms around my tiny frame and pushing us though the crowd. I can’t breathe. What are they doing here?

  I keep moving, one foot in front of the other, lost in a haze of shock. The only thing that keeps me moving forward is the pressure of my father’s arm guiding me away from the crowd, hollering for them to stop following us.