Blessing in Disguise

by Danielle Steel

  She wasn’t hungry when Jack brought her lunch. She felt completely out of whack and off-kilter, and she had to go to her eye doctor that afternoon. She called and postponed it until the next day. She couldn’t face it after the revelations of the past twenty-four hours. She needed time to absorb it, talking to her son, and finding out about Jack’s history. And it was odd that she learned about both on the same day.

  She had just finished the sandwich he’d made her when he buzzed from downstairs to tell her Xela was on the phone. She hadn’t spoken to her since she got home.

  “Thank God you’re back. I wasn’t sure. I need to see you.” She was speaking in staccato bursts as though she was breathless.

  “Is something wrong?” Isabelle had never heard her sound like that. “Did something happen with your investors?” Nothing but a major business disaster could have shaken Xela to that extent.

  “No, it’s something else. Can I come over tonight?”

  “Of course. Do you want to come now?” Isabelle was anxious to know what was going on.

  “I can’t. I have meetings all afternoon. I’ll come over when I finish.” She sounded like she’d been crying. “I’ll be there around seven. Thank you, Mom.” She was choked up and emotional, and then she got off the line, and Isabelle was worried about her for the rest of the afternoon. Jack looked calm when he picked up the tray, and she realized that she had only found out about his accident and ruined career the night before, so it was fresh for her. It was old news to him after twenty-one years. So while she looked badly shaken, he looked calm and had no idea that she knew now.

  “Was Xela okay?” he asked her, concerned. “She sounded strange.”

  “I don’t know. She’s coming over around seven. She sounded terrible to me too.”

  “Do you want me to get some things for you to eat when she’s here?”

  “That might be a good idea. Thanks, Jack.”

  It had been an unusual two days, with the discoveries she had made. And now Xela wanting to see her. She had a headache by midafternoon, and the suspense of waiting to see Xela was killing her. She went for a walk to clear her head at the end of the day, after Jack left. It was five-thirty by then, and she had another hour and a half to wait before she saw Xela and heard what she had to say. Isabelle had a feeling of dread as she waited, as though something terrible was about to happen. It was as though learning about Jack’s accident had set the tone for the day. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case. She was counting the minutes until Xela would arrive. And hopefully, whatever it was wouldn’t be as bad as she feared, and as Xela had sounded on the phone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Isabelle opened the door to Xela that night, her daughter looked like a different person. Her shining dark hair, always in a businesslike bun, was loose and disheveled. She looked like she’d been crying, and there were dark circles under her eyes. The transformation since Isabelle had seen her only weeks before was terrifying. Isabelle hugged her tightly, and then followed her upstairs, telling herself that whatever it was, they would face it together. She knew it wasn’t a problem with a man because there were none in Xela’s life, just work. And knowing her priorities and single-mindedness about her career, the problem could only be about work. Isabelle was guessing that something about her fledgling business that she’d worked so hard on had failed. She wondered if she’d been embezzled by an employee, since every penny mattered and she had none to spare.

  Xela took her coat off, threw it over a chair, sat down with a desperate look, and burst into tears. “I’m dying, Mom,” she managed to choke out between sobs, as Isabelle sat next to her, and put an arm around her shoulders.

  “Over what, sweetheart?” she said gently. “Your business?”

  “No, really dying. I had a mammogram three days ago and a needle biopsy. I have breast cancer.” What Xela said hit her mother like a bomb, and struck fear in her heart since her own mother had died of it.

  “Oh my God, are they sure?” Xela nodded and buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. “What stage?”

  “It’s very early,” she said, taking a breath. “It’s stage one, but I know what happened to your mother.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Isabelle tried to appear calmer than she was. She was shaking like a leaf inside. This couldn’t be happening, not to her child. It was devastating, for both of them. “Treatments are much better now. What did they say?”

  “That we caught it early. I could have a mastectomy, even a double one, as a preventive measure, because of our family history, but that’s so extreme. They suggested a lumpectomy, and a brief course of radiation, probably for a month. They won’t be sure till after the surgery. But not chemo for now.” Isabelle tried to gather her wits about her and not panic. Xela needed her to have a clear head and be strong.

  “That sounds reasonable and conservative and not too radical.”

  “But what if that doesn’t cure it?”

  “We’ll face that if it happens.” Both Xela and Theo had been having mammograms since they turned thirty, given their history, and Isabelle had been having them for years, with no problem. Now lightning had struck again, and had skipped a generation. Even Oona had been planning to start having mammograms, despite her youth, but she had been pregnant or nursing for the last five years. She had told her mother that she would have one after she stopped nursing the twins, which wouldn’t be for at least a year. The women in Gregorio’s family nursed for two years or even three, and he expected her to do the same.

  “When do they want you to start?” Isabelle asked her, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

  “They want to do the lumpectomy tomorrow morning at seven. I have to be at the hospital at six. They did the pre-op lab work today.” She cried harder as she said it. “They have to decide what kind of radiation to do after they get the results of the biopsies. But it could be very mild radiation for a short time. They said I’d be exhausted. Hopefully, I’ll be fine after that. But I’m so scared, Mom.” She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder as Isabelle stroked her hair.

  “We just have to know that it will work, and you have to be diligent about checkups after this.”

  “I am. I’ll have to have one every three months at first, and twice a year after that, if there’s no recurrence.”

  “There won’t be,” she said firmly. But it had killed her mother within a year. She tried not to think about it, but it filled her mind as Xela’s sobs slowly abated.

  “I’m terrified.” Isabelle wanted to say “Me too,” but didn’t. She had to support Xela now, without wavering.

  “I’ll go with you tomorrow,” Isabelle said firmly. Nothing could have stopped her.

  “I knew you would. They scheduled it today, right before I called you.” But she sounded less frightened than before, with her mother at her side to help her.

  “Do you want to stay here tonight?” Isabelle offered and Xela nodded. She didn’t want to be alone. Xela, the toughest and often the hardest of her daughters, had collapsed in terror like a small child and wanted her mother with her. She had no one but her mother now to support her. She had no close friends. She never had time to meet people because she worked constantly.

  They talked for a long time about the procedure. The lump was so small that she hadn’t detected it herself, and the surgery would be brief, under general anesthesia to minimize the trauma. She might be in the hospital for one night, and they said she would be sore for several days but could go back to work. They were going to biopsy the surrounding area, and wanted to take enough tissue to be safe, not just optimistic.

  She lent Xela a nightgown and tucked her daughter into her own bed like a little girl. Xela still had her old room in the house, but she wanted to be close to her mother for the night. She was sound asleep when Isabelle got into bed and set her alarm for five A.M. She sat looking at her dau
ghter for a long time, her ebony hair fanned out on the pillow. She looked peaceful and young. She looked angry so much of the time, that it touched Isabelle to see her so peaceful, like a child again. She had been so sweet at times when she was little, and then so furious at other times. She was always railing at the fates about something, but not now. And it was shocking to see her suddenly so dependent and terrified.

  Isabelle remembered Jack after she turned off the light, and got up to send him an email.

  “Something came up. I’ll be gone when you come in tomorrow. Will call you when I can. Leaving a stack of notes and files on my desk. Thanks, I.” She heard the response arrive on her computer as she got into bed, and got up again. He was still awake.

  “Is Xela okay? Are you?”

  “She will be. Me too. Thanks for asking.”

  “Let me know if I can do anything to help,” he shot back to her after she answered him, and she sent him a last “Thanks, Jack.” He was a good person, and she had even more appreciation of him now that she knew what he’d been through himself and what he’d lost. He had no idea that she knew, and she saw no reason to tell him and remind him of the painful past.

  She barely slept, and woke up at five, and gently awakened Xela a few minutes later. Xela wasn’t allowed to eat, and Isabelle drank a quick cup of coffee when she was dressed and then they went outside and she hailed a cab at a quarter to six. They were going to NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital, which wasn’t far and took ten minutes to get there. Xela walked into the hospital, looking like she was going to the guillotine, holding tightly to her mother’s hand. She needed her now.

  They went to the surgical floor, and were taken to a pre-op room where Xela changed into a surgical gown and her vital signs were checked, and a pleasant young anesthesiologist came to talk to her and explained the procedure to both of them. The surgeon had told her they were going to biopsy her lymph nodes too, to make sure it hadn’t spread. They wanted to be as meticulous as possible at this early stage, and he had said her chances were excellent that the disease could be stopped here, she was lucky they’d found it early. Xela didn’t look convinced. She was expecting the worst now. She had canceled her meetings for the next few days. Everything else seemed so unimportant and she was going to contact her sisters after the surgery. It was important information for them too.

  They gave her a shot to relax her, before they rolled her away on a gurney. Isabelle walked alongside her to the elevator, and she was already looking drowsy. And then Isabelle left to wait for her, and pace the hallway alone. She had no one to talk to or to tell, or to lean on and reassure her, and the tears of worry and fear rolled down her cheeks once Xela left. It was a bleak wintry day without sun. And at nine-thirty, her surgeon came to tell Isabelle that the procedure had gone well. Xela was in the recovery room, and would be back in her room by noon. Isabelle could leave for a short time if she wished, she couldn’t see Xela yet anyway. She wasn’t sure what to do, and then decided to go home for a couple of hours, which was less depressing than waiting at the hospital.

  She walked home to get some air, and Jack heard her come in. He hurried out of the kitchen and their eyes met as she gazed at him bleakly.

  “Everything okay?”

  “More or less. I’ve been better.” She wasn’t going to tell him, out of respect for Xela, but as she sat in the kitchen, feeling like she’d been beaten, she needed someone to talk to, and he was a sympathetic ear. She told him what had happened and he looked shocked, and reached out and held her hand. She was grateful to have him there.

  “I felt like that when they told Sandy she had MS.”

  “A lot of women survive breast cancer now,” she said more to reassure herself than him. “But why did Xela have to get it? My mother died of it.” He nodded and listened.

  “Catching it early, I’m sure she’ll be okay, but I’m sorry anyway.” He could see how hard it was on her. No matter how old her daughters were, how tough or independent, they would always be her children. His sister had said that many times about hers. He didn’t understand it viscerally, but it made sense to him, and he loved his sister as much as he would have his own child. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. “Why don’t you lie down for a while?” he suggested gently. She looked terrible, and stumbled on the first step. He wasn’t sure if it was fatigue, her eyes, or her balance.

  “I canceled my doctor’s appointment for today, by the way.” Xela was her priority now. She wanted to take care of her first. Jack still didn’t know what the appointments were for, and she didn’t intend to tell him, or the girls.

  “Do you want me to make another one for you?” he offered.

  “I’ll do it in a few days. I want to be around for Xela,” and her own treatments upset her and were painful. She needed to be in the best shape she could be for her daughter, not frightened and sick herself. One drama at a time was enough. He didn’t know if the reasons for her medical appointments were serious or not, but he had a suspicion that they were.

  “Will she come back here tonight?” he asked quietly. He had a calming influence and was a soothing, reassuring presence, even more than he appeared to be at first. He was a good man to have on hand in a crisis. He had been there himself, she knew now.

  “She opted to stay overnight till tomorrow, in case she was sick from the anesthetic. She’ll go back to her place then. We don’t know when they’ll start radiation, possibly immediately or in a few weeks, depending on the biopsies.” He nodded. He was learning things he had hoped never to have to know, just as he had about MS. But his sister’s illness had brought them closer than they’d ever been before, and he loved living with her. Sandy always said there was a blessing in everything, but he resisted seeing it that way. In his mind, multiple sclerosis was not a blessing, just as cancer wasn’t in Xela’s case or her mother’s. It was just bad luck.

  Isabelle came back downstairs at eleven, and had remembered that they were meeting with Bill Casey, the oilman, to show him images of some new paintings coming on the market she thought he should buy. The gallery where she used to work had given her an early heads-up that they were going to be sold, and they were willing to give her a good price for her client. She still dealt with them from time to time. They were one of the best in the business. Now she was too, in the private market, and she brought them good clients.

  “I think you can handle the meeting without me, Jack,” she said confidently. She didn’t want to leave Xela.

  “Are you sure?” He sounded doubtful. He loved watching her work, and how smooth and encouraging she was with her clients. She made each of them feel important, and increased their knowledge of the subject without ever patronizing them.

  “He likes you, and I can’t be here. I don’t want to cancel. Just show him the photos of the paintings and see what he thinks. You can tell him I had a family emergency, and I’ll call him in a few days.” Jack nodded, looking nervous.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have that much faith in me. What if I blow the sale?”

  “You won’t.”

  “I’m better with a hammer, a coffeepot, and a boarding pass than I am as an art dealer,” he said humbly and she smiled.

  “Don’t sell yourself short. He’ll be here at five o’clock. Have a drink with him, he’ll love that.”

  She took some things from her bedroom for Xela, a small pillow for her head, and a cashmere blanket from a chair, and headed back to the hospital a few minutes later. Jack walked her outside to hail a cab for her. He was just as worried about her as he was about her daughter. No one ever thought to help or take care of her. She was the one they leaned on, and never the reverse, he could always tell, and she took it all on herself. She had been the only parent to all three of them for all their lives.

  They brought Xela back to the room a few minutes after she got there. She was still groggy and a nurse was putting heated blankets o
ver her. She smiled at her mother.

  “They said it went well, and the initial pathology reports during the surgery looked good.” They had to wait for the more detailed ones which took longer, but the surgeon said he was pleased. And she still had two breasts, which was important to Xela.

  She slept for most of the day, and felt nauseous from the anesthetic. Isabelle sat quietly at her bedside all day, and didn’t go home until they’d given Xela a sleeping pill that night. She let herself into her house with a sigh, and noticed that Jack had forgotten to put the alarm on. She wondered how the meeting with Bill Casey had gone. She hung up her coat and gave a start when Jack came out of the kitchen.

  “You’re still here?” It was nine-thirty, and she was so exhausted from the tension of the day she could hardly put one foot in front of the other.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I figured you’d be beat when you got back. I picked up some food at the deli. Sometimes people forget to take care of the caretakers.” She smiled at what he said.

  “I’ve been doing this all their lives,” she said as they walked into the kitchen and she sat down. She’d never had a man to help her, none of their fathers had been around. But at least there had been no one to argue with her about her decisions. She took comfort in that. None of their fathers had been in her life long. And she still missed Putnam and Declan at times. And her father too. He had been a kind man, despite his insistence on her giving the baby up for adoption. He had thought it was the best thing to do. And who knew, maybe he’d been right. At fifteen, it would have altered her life dramatically, but it had anyway, inevitably. You didn’t give up a baby and just walk away unscathed. She had carried the guilt and the sorrow for forty-three years.

  “You haven’t been doing this with a daughter with cancer,” Jack reminded her and brought her out of her reverie and back to the present, as he put a bowl of soup down in front of her, and some chicken.