Lightning

by Danielle Steel

  “Lucky man. Maybe I'll just let him keep it.” She looked more relaxed than usual, she hadn't hit her stride yet, she was mostly savoring the moment.

  “Are you all right now, Alex?” he asked gently. “I know you've been sick. I hope it's not anything to worry about.” It certainly hadn't hurt her looks. And for a moment, she was about to tell him she was fine, and then she decided not to. She was going to need his help in the coming months, and there was no reason not to tell him. She had to start somewhere.

  “I'm fine now. And I will be eventually, I hope. But I've got some rough spots to go through.” She hesitated, staring into her coffee cup, searching for the right words. This was new to her, humbling herself, asking someone to help her. And then she looked up and their eyes met, and she was surprised by the kindness she saw there. He looked so gentle, so concerned, she knew she could trust him. “I'm going to start chemotherapy in two weeks,” she said with a sigh, and she thought she heard his breath catch. His eyes bore deep into hers with silent questions.

  “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  “So am I. I'm going to keep on working if I can, but I'm not quite sure what that means yet. They say that if it's done right, you can manage, except for extreme fatigue. I'll just have to see how far I get once they start it.” He nodded, understanding.

  “I'll do everything I can to help you.”

  “I know that, Brock,” she said, feeling her voice tremble as she said it. It was touching to know that she had friends, and even to know that people she scarcely knew, but only worked with, were there to help her. “I appreciate everything you've already done. I couldn't have managed without you. That trial was pretty rough, with surgery hanging over my head. At least that's behind me.” He looked at her, but didn't ask where they'd found the cancer. And she'd worn a heavy black and white tweed suit that showed nothing.

  “I'm so sorry you have to go through this. But you'll do fine,” he said confidently, as though trying to convince her.

  “I hope so. It's a whole new world out there.” She set down her coffee cup and looked at him pensively. He was nice to talk to. “It's so odd, I'm in control of things so much of the time. It's very strange to be in the throes of something I have so little control of. I can't do anything, except follow the dotted lines, and hope I wind up in the right place. But there are no guarantees on this one. The odds aren't even all that impressive. I think they found it early enough, at least I hope so. But who knows …” Her voice trailed off, and he reached across the desk and squeezed her hand. His touch brought her back, and their eyes met.

  “You have to want to make it. You have to decide, right now, that you're going to, no matter what. No matter how bad it gets, or how rotten you feel, or how much it hurts, or how scary. It's like a contest, like a trial. No matter what the other side throws at you, you've got to throw it right back. Don't drop that ball for one second!” He said it with a vehemence that startled her, and made her wonder if he'd been there. Maybe someone in his family had, or maybe there was more to Brock than his easygoing ways suggested. “Don't ever forget that.” He pulled his hand away from hers then, and nodded. “If I can do anything to help today, yell.” He stood up then, and looked down at her with a smile. “It's good to have you back. I'll check in with you later.”

  “Thanks, Brock. For everything.” She watched him go, and went back to the work on her desk, but his words, and the warmth behind them, had impressed her.

  Matt Billings took her to lunch, and told her about the new cases that had come in, particularly the movie star with the libel suit. He had passed it on to another partner, which was what Alex would have done. Although she liked doing libel occasionally, this one was too hot to handle. The woman claimed that one of the most respectable magazines in the country had libeled her. It was not going to be easy to prove, given the limited rights of celebrities in the press, and the magazine's powerful reputation. They were going to scream long and hard about First Amendment rights. Alex was just as happy not to have that hot potato to handle. And Matt had already admitted to her that the plaintiff in this case was no sweetheart.

  “Lucky Harvey.” She referred to their partner who had taken the case.

  “Yeah. I kind of thought you'd be glad you missed that one.”

  He also told her about a big industrial suit that had come in, and some other minor matters that involved the business dealings of the law firm. He brought her up-to-date on everything, and then he looked at her and asked her pointedly how her health was.

  “Better, I guess,” she said carefully, “not that I was ever sick. I had what they called a ‘gray area' a mass that turned up on a mammogram a month ago, just before I tried the Schultz case. I tried it anyway,” which he knew, “and then I took care of business. But business, in this case, is not quite taken care of.” He raised an eyebrow and listened. He had always been fond of her, and didn't like hearing that she was in trouble. When she'd left for the two weeks she'd told him she had some minor surgery that was “nothing.” This did not sound like “nothing” to Matthew.

  “What's happening now?” He looked suddenly worried.

  She took a breath. She knew she'd have to say the words one day, and maybe it was time to try it. He was an old friend, and a respected colleague. “I had a mastectomy.” The word was harder to say than she thought, but she did it, and he looked shocked instantly. “And I have to start chemotherapy in two weeks. I want to keep working, but I have no idea what kind of shape I'm going to be in. After that, they claim I'll be fine. They think they got it all, and the chemo is just for insurance. It'll take six months but I want to go on working.” The chemo was a kind of insurance she would have preferred to do without, but with her lymph nodes involved and a Stage II tumor, she knew she had no option.

  Listening to her had left Matt stunned. He couldn't believe it. She was so beautiful and so young, and she looked so well. He had never suspected the serious nature of her problem. He had hoped it was nothing. But a mastectomy? And chemotherapy? That was a lot to swallow.

  “Wouldn't you rather just take the six months off?” he asked kindly, while wondering at the same time how they would manage without her.

  “No, I wouldn't,” she said bluntly, a little frightened that he might force her to do that. She didn't want to stay home and feel sorry for herself. Sam was right about that much. She wanted to work, and distract herself, and do the best job she could at the moment. “I'd rather be working. I'll do the best I can. If I get too sick, I'll tell you. I have a couch in my office. If I really have to, I can lock the door and lie down for half an hour. I can rest at lunchtime if I need to. But I don't want to stay home, Matt. It would kill me.” He didn't like to hear her say that word, and he was impressed that she was determined to keep working.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am. If I feel differently about it once I start, I'll tell you. But for right now, I want to stay here. It's only six months. Some women get sick as dogs when they're pregnant. I was lucky, I didn't. But others do, and they keep right on working. No one expects them to stay home. I don't want to stay home either.”

  “This isn't the same thing, and you know it. What does your doctor say?”

  “He thinks I can do it.” Though he had told her to minimize the stress and exhaustion. He had said that he didn't think she should go to trial during that time, but she could probably handle everything else, and she said as much to Matt now. “I can just limit my trial work during that time. My associate is very good, and maybe some of the other partners can do the trial work. I'll do everything else, all the preparation, all the setup and research. I can sit in for the courtroom stuff, and make all the motions. I'd just need backup for the actual trial so all the responsibility didn't rest on me at the final moment. That wouldn't be fair to the client.”

  “This doesn't sound fair to you.” He was devastated to hear what she had told him. But he could also see that she was determined to work through it. “Are you sure?”
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  “Totally.” She was amazing. He respected her enormously, and as they left the restaurant, he put an arm around her shoulders.

  Everyone was being so kind to her that it brought tears to Alex's eyes frequently. Everyone wanted to help her, except Sam, who just couldn't. It was odd how life worked sometimes. The one person she needed most couldn't be there for her. But at least she had the others.

  “What can I do to make this easier for you?” he asked as they strolled back to the office. It was a cold day, and the wind chilled her to the bone even with a coat and a tweed suit on.

  “You're doing everything you can already. I'll let you know how I'm doing. And Matt,” she looked up at him pleadingly, “please don't tell more people than you have to. I don't want to be the object of curiosity, or pity. If someone needs to know because they're being asked to share my workload, or work on a case with me, fine, but let's not take out billboards.”

  “I understand.” And he thought he was discreet. But within a week it seemed as though everyone in the law firm knew something about her problem. Word spread like wildfire among secretaries, partners, associates, paralegals, even one of her clients. But much to her surprise, although it embarrassed her, everyone was supportive. They sent her notes, stopped in to say hi, offered to do things for her. At first, she found it irritating in the extreme, but eventually she came to understand that these people cared, they wanted to help her, they wanted to do everything they could to help her make it. Their regard for her professionally translated instantly into how much they cared about her as a person.

  By the following week, her office was filled with flowers, notes, letters, and homemade baked goods. She had cookies, brownies, baklava, and some fabulous apple strudel.

  “Oh for heaven's sake,” she groaned as Liz came in with a German chocolate cake, while she was working on a brief with Brock Stevens. “I'm going to weigh two hundred pounds when this is all over.” But people had been so sweet to her. She hadn't stopped writing thank-you notes since she'd come back to work. And she'd been secretly giving Liz and Brock her goodies to take home with them. She'd already taken as much as she felt she could home to Sam and Annabelle, and Carmen.

  “Would you like something to eat?” she asked Brock with a grin when they stopped for a cup of coffee. “It's like running a restaurant.”

  “It's good for you. It reminds you that everyone loves you.” He had heard the news again and again …had a breast removed…mastectomy …chemotherapy …Alex Parker …she could be dying … By now, he knew a lot more than she'd told him. But Matt Billings had been so upset he'd told his secretary and four other partners right after his lunch with Alex. And they had told their secretaries, who told associates, who had told other partners, who had told their paralegals, who had told … it was limitless. But so was their affection.

  “It sounds a little crazy to say right now, but I'm very lucky.”

  “Yes, you are. And you're going to stay that way,” he said firmly. He was always very definite with her now about the future, and it made her wonder if he was religious.

  At home, things were no different than they'd been. Sam had gone to Hong Kong for three days to meet a connection of Simon's, and he had made an extraordinary deal that had made the front page of the Wall Street Journal. Sam's professional life had always been faintly Hollywood anyway, filled with financial stars and enormous hits, but with the arrival of Simon it was suddenly even more so. It seemed as though none of their deals could miss, and he was busier than ever. But his three days away from her seemed to have put even more distance between them. And he had told her nothing about the deal until she'd read about it herself in the paper. And the night he got home, she couldn't help telling him how she felt about it.

  “Why didn't you say anything?” she asked, hurt that he hadn't told her himself about a deal that was that important.

  “I forgot. You've been busy too. I hardly saw you all week.” But she knew as well as he did that a deal like that hadn't happened in a few days. He had to have been working on it for a month, or longer. He had just closed up all the routes of communication between them. And for days after the Hong Kong trip, he had gone to bed right after dinner and insisted he was jet-lagged.

  “What are you afraid of, Sam?” she asked finally, as he went to get undressed right after dinner. His game now was to be sound asleep before she got to bed. She was staying up to work, catching up on cases that had come in while she was out for two weeks, and trying to get ahead of her work load before she started chemo. “I'm not going to jump you if you stay up past eight o'clock. You might like to stay up sometime to see more than Sesame Street and the six o'clock news on TV, not to mention a little adult conversation.”

  “I told you, it's been a rough week. I'm jet-lagged.”

  “Tell that to the judge,” she said ironically, and he snapped at her instantly.

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, for chrissake. I was kidding. I'm a lawyer, remember? For heaven's sake, what's happening to you?” He was completely humorless with her. They never talked, they never laughed, they never relaxed, they never cuddled. Overnight, they had become angry strangers. All because she'd had a mastectomy. He acted as though it were the ultimate betrayal.

  “I don't think that was amusing.” He actually managed to look insulted. “It was tasteless.”

  “Oh for chrissake. What do you think is amusing anymore? Surely not me. You haven't said more than five words to me since I went to the hospital, or maybe since I told you about the mammogram.” It had been six weeks since the nightmare had begun, and it was beginning to seem endless. “What's it going to be like, Sam, when I start chemo?”

  “How do I know?”

  “Well, let's see,” she pretended to be figuring it all out as they chatted, “if you got really annoyed at me about the mammogram, and the biopsy, and then seriously pissed off at me once I had surgery, and have hardly spoken to me since I came home from the hospital, what do you do when I get chemo? Maybe walk out on me? Or just ignore me completely? What exactly do I have to look forward to, and when is this going to end? When it's all over, or when I just give up, and concede that our marriage is over? Give me a clue here.”

  “Okay, okay.” He walked slowly back to where she stood, cleaning up their dinner in the kitchen. Annabelle had gone to bed an hour before and they knew she was asleep so she couldn't hear them. “So it's been a rough six weeks. That doesn't have to mean everything is finished. I still love you.” He looked sheepish and awkward and unhappy as he looked at her. He knew how bad things were, he just didn't know how to fix them. He loved her but the pressure of wanting Daphne made it all the harder. Moving toward Alex again would have meant giving up something with Daphne. But getting closer to her meant betraying his wife. And for the moment, he was just standing in the middle, panicking, getting closer to neither. But he also knew that while he agonized over it, he was destroying his relationship with Alex. He knew he had to say or do something to make things better with her, but he just couldn't. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her body. The only body he wanted now was Daphne's. It was a frightening situation.

  “I just need time, Al. I'm sorry.” He stood looking at her, wanting to make it up to her, and yet not wanting to make an effort. He wanted time out, and there was no way to get it without hurting her. He didn't want to do that, but he also didn't want to give up dreaming of Daphne and he still wasn't ready to support Alex through her illness.

  “I just think this is a rough time for you to go through change of life, Sam. I'm going to need your help while I'm going through the chemo. And to be honest,” which she always was, painfully so, “you haven't helped yet. That doesn't exactly give me much hope for the future.” She was becoming strangely calm about it, and a little less angry.

  “I'll do my best. I'm just not real great around sickness.”

  “So I noticed.” She smiled ruefully. “Anyway, I just thought I'd mention it. I'm
scared,” she said in a gentler tone. “I don't know what it's going to be like.”

  “I'm sure it's not as bad as it's cracked up to be. It's like the horror stories you hear about childbirth. Most of them are bullshit.”

  “I hope so,” she said, because she had heard some bad ones when she joined Liz a few times at the support group. She went to please Liz but it helped her too. And a few of them had done well with chemo. But most people admitted that chemotherapy was rough. It made you feel worse than anything you could imagine. “Anyway, I'm glad business is going so well for you these days. It looks like Simon really is an asset. I guess we were both wrong.”

  “We sure were. You wouldn't believe the people he put me in touch with in Hong Kong. They are fabulously wealthy. Rich Chinese, in the shipping industry. They make the Arabs look like paupers.”

  “How much are they investing with you?” she asked as she put the dishes in the dishwasher. She had always been very interested in his business, and that was still a safe subject between them.

  He smiled at her now, proud of himself, as well he should be. “Sixty million.” She was hurt though that he hadn't told her about it sooner, it was only now when she pressed him.

  “That's a nice chunk of change for a boy from New York,” she praised.

  “Cute, huh?” he grinned, looking like the man she'd fallen in love with.

  “Very. I'm proud of you.” It was a funny thing to say to a man who wouldn't come any closer to her than to stand across the room, a man who had hurt her as badly as he had. But she was willing to give him his due. A sixty-million-dollar deal in Hong Kong was a real coup. “It must feel pretty good.” It did. And he had had Daphne with him. But more to his own amazement, they had continued to abstain even in Hong Kong. It had driven them both crazy, but he still didn't want to cheat on Alex, no matter how great the temptation. But he also didn't want to sleep with Alex now, he couldn't. The only one he wanted physically was Daphne, and he refused to let himself have her.