“You’ve got this,” Suzanna parroted from my side.
“Thanks for being here.” I touched my hand to her arm.
She laid hers on mine and smiled. “You ready?”
I laid both hands on my breasts, took a deep breath, released them and nodded. “I’m ready.”
46
“What on earth are we doing?” I asked, as Harry led me out to the driveway.
“It’s on the list.” He threw a cloth at me.
Harry had been obsessing over the list since I came home from the hospital, making sure he did everything he could to help me thrive in my recovery. That darn list had a lot to answer for.
“This was not really what I imagined when you told me you were taking me on a hot date.”
“What are you talking about, woman? The sun is shining, I’m bare-chested and eager. How much hotter could it get?”
I couldn’t help the smile that consumed my whole face. He wasn’t wrong. That man was a desirable specimen.
“Hey!” I yelled when cold water soaked into my clothes.
“You looked hot,” he smirked, taking in the view.
“There’s not much to see here, funny man,” I motioned at my chest.
“There is from where I’m standing.” His eyes flashed with desire, despite the truth that I had two essential appendages missing in action.
“You, Mr Hot Stuff, are the one who needs cooling off.” I looked down at the bucket of water at my feet and considered launching it at him.
“Don’t even think about it, babe, not yet. Here—”
I took the hose out of his hands and smiled. “You’d better run, pretty boy.”
Harry ran in exaggerated slow motion around the car flexing his muscles on each extension. I let rip until he was saturated and I was bent over laughing.
He walked around the car and claimed me with a passionate kiss. I wrapped myself in him, then leant back in his warm arms and raised my face to the sun. It was glorious.
Without warning, Harry swept me up in his arms and marched towards the house.
“Hey, Romeo, what do you think you’re doing?” I tucked my head in to avoid the doorframe.
“Living up to my name, Juliet.”
“Well, in that case, go right ahead.”
“Oh, I intend to,” he answered, and for the first time since the surgery, my body came alive with need.
Harry had been gentle and patient and had respected my boundaries. My chest was a no-go zone for every single one of his senses.
“You’re beautiful, Avery. Don’t hide from me,” he’d insisted, pleading with me to trust him.
“I’m not ready, baby, I’m sorry – I need more time.” My answer had not changed despite the weeks wearing on.
He’d accepted it, but on occasion, forgot himself and slid his hand up my torso until I stiffened under his touch. The thought of him touching where my breasts had been six weeks ago made me nauseous, as if he’d suddenly realise that he couldn’t handle the part of me that was missing – that he wouldn’t want to be with a woman who no longer felt like a woman.
When we reached the bedroom, he lowered my feet to the ground and raised my chin. “Do you trust me?”
“Harry,” I breathed, suddenly afraid of what he might ask of me. I wanted him so badly, and I wanted to feel whole, to feel like enough, but I …
“Stop letting fear rule your life, Avery.” He trailed his hands around the bottom edge of my wet T-shirt.
“I’m not. I’m just not ready—”
He slid his hands under the fabric and worked them up my back. I shivered under his touch.
“What are you waiting for? They’re not going to grow back.”
I looked up to see if he was joking; who would say such a thing? “Of course I know they’re not growing back.”
“So?”
My stomach clenched as his fingers inched around my sides. He paused.
“So what?” I placed my hands over his, halting his advance.
He leant in, until I could feel his whispered words against my lips. “What are you waiting for?”
“I’m waiting to feel.”
He pressed his lips to mine and cupped my backside to lift me off the ground. I wrapped my legs and arms around him, relaxing now that my chest was safe from his wandering hands and leant into the kiss. He pulled back, teasing my lower lip between his teeth.
“To feel what?”
Before I could answer, he turned and pressed my back against the wall, freeing one of his hands, which he employed on a stealth mission.
I raised my hands to the sides of his face and traced my fingertips over his temples. “Whole, Harry. I need to feel whole.”
“Baby, the only way you’ll feel whole is if you accept this. That this …” he raised his hand with caution and placed it over my flattened chest, “… is you. And you … are all I want and need.”
My pulse was racing. Was this what an anxiety attack felt like? “Harry, please—”
“Avery Bishop, you are everything I’ve ever desired in a woman. You’re fierce and beautiful. What happened to your fight?”
“It got chopped off?” I heard the words as they launched out of my mouth of their own volition. Did it? My head was spinning, vacillating between panic and hysterical laughter.
“I didn’t realise your courage was in your breasts?” Harry said, demanding my attention.
Laughter won out. It was more like the engine sounds of a car being rabbit hopped down the highway by a beginner driver. It came in spurts and starts, as did involuntary tears.
Harry raised his palm to the side of my face, and I turned my face towards it. “Baby, the mastectomy did not make you any less of a woman – not to me. I’ll tell you what it did make you though.” He touched his lips to my tears.
“What?”
“Alive. It made you mine, for longer.” He trailed kisses around the neckline of my shirt before coming up for air and placing another kiss on my mouth.
“I know.” I breathed the words as a whisper between us.
“I’ve waited my whole life for you, Avery. I want you – all of you – for the rest of my life and the rest of yours.”
“One might be shorter than the other.” I spoke before I could filter my thoughts. And I regretted it instantly as Harry lowered me to the ground, and I felt the absence of his touch. Damn it. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes darkened as he stepped backwards, the inhaling and exhaling of his breath becoming more defined.
Why wasn’t he saying anything? I stood with my back against the wall waiting for him to blow, for his godlike self-control to fail, for this gentle man to tell me to get over my damn self, to tell me that I was being selfish, or childish, or to suck it up and move on with my life.
But he didn’t.
He just stood there staring at me with piercing eyes, which were now filling with tears. Oh God.
“Avery, that’s why we can’t waste it.”
The words twisted inside me. That’s why we can’t waste it. That’s what I’d been doing.
“I’ve done it again.” Exactly what I’d promised him I’d never do. I’d shut him out. I’d wasted six weeks of our lives together, of his memories, without letting him touch me.
I watched the heavy tears trail down his face, and my heart broke for him. I took a step forwards, lowered my hands to the rim of my T-shirt, inhaled a courageous breath and slid the wet shirt up and over my head. I didn’t shy away, my eyes transfixed by the intense gaze of this man who loved even the broken parts of me.
I took another step towards him, reaching up to brush the tears from his cheeks. “I do trust you, Harry.”
He pressed his face into my hand, then returned his gaze to mine, his eyes still brimming.
I took both of his hands and placed them on my chest, where my beautiful full breasts had once been, and remembered how it felt to have his hands caressing me. “I do trust you.”
I felt her rise and claim her rightful place.
Harry’s eyes widened in awe as if he was witnessing my transformation. “There you are … I’ve missed you.”
47
“Mr Hutchkins, this is the doc I was talking about,” Abi said, introducing me to her principal. Harry and I had been invited to her school concert where she’d played a major role. I’d been overcome with pride, watching her engage with and thrive in her musical giftings.
“Nice to meet you. The kids did an incredible job tonight.”
“All their hard work and dedication paid off. They’ve made us very proud.” He touched a brief hand to Abi’s shoulder, and she didn’t pull away. I was constantly amazed at how far she’d come.
“I’ll see you after, Doc,” Abi said, and bounded off to see her friends. After what?
“Look, I was hoping to steal a few moments of your time.”
“Now?” I asked, glancing around for Harry who’d shot to the bathroom after the curtain call.
“If that works.”
“Sure.” I followed him through the reception area to his office, curious as to what he could possibly want with me. “Is everything okay with Abi?”
“Yes, Abigail is doing great. I hear we have you to thank for that.” He motioned towards the chair facing his desk.
“She’s an impressive young woman.”
“That she is,” he agreed, sitting down. “Dr Bish—”
I held my palm up to stop him. “Avery is fine.”
“Sure. Avery, I won’t beat around the bush. We’re desperate for help here.”
“How so?”
“We’ve had three suicides in our student body in the last six months, and we’re not sure how to manage the situation.”
After such an amazing night, the principal’s revelation was like a bucket of ice-cold water tipped over my head. My heart lurched in shared heartbreak for this community. Suicide was so preventable and the fact that so many young people felt like it was their only option tore me wide open.
“What do you need from me?”
“We’re scrambling for answers here. None of our staff are equipped to deal with this, on this scale, especially when they’re grieving themselves and still expected to manage other high-need situations.”
“I can only imagine.”
“On Wednesday, Abigail asked for a meeting. She told me a bit of her story and how much her sessions with you had helped her heal from her trauma. She was convinced you’d be willing to help.”
“It’s not as simple as being willing or not. I’ve never worked with kids on a large scale before; my sessions are normally one-on-one, and I’m currently out on extended medical leave.”
“I understand. Look – we’re not asking for miracles. I’m not sure what you’d be able to achieve, but we’re desperate. The counselling we’ve provided hasn’t been enough, and we can’t lose any more kids.” Compassion and fear were wrapped around every word. A plea from his heart to mine. “The community wouldn’t recover.”
“Can you give me a few days to think about it? I need to do some research on the best approach for this kind of thing and see whether it’s something I can commit to.”
“Of course.” Mr Hutchkins stood and reached out to shake my hand.
I left the office, weighed down by this new burden I carried for everyone who’d turned up tonight and those too heartbroken and too scared to leave the safe confines of their grief. How could I say no, now that I knew? How could I stand here in their presence and do nothing?
“What did you say? Can you do it?” Abi’s excited voice wrapped around me as she and Joanne approached full of expectation.
I leant in embracing them both.
“I told him I’d think about it. I need to do some research before I agree to something so important.”
“Why? You’re a pro.”
“Because I’ve never worked with kids on a large scale, Abi – it’s a very different scenario.”
“It’s not really. They’re kids just like me who need help to see that life isn’t as bad as it feels … that there’s someone who gets you, who’ll listen. Please say yes; they need you.”
“Abi, remember Dr Bishop has got other things going on at the moment; she may not be able to,” Joanne said, tucking Abi under her arm.
“I know, but—”
“Abigail,” Joanne interjected. “You promised you wouldn’t push.”
I raised my hand to Joanne’s arm, then turned towards Abi.
“I love that this is so important to you. I promise you if I can help them, I will. If I can’t, I’ll find someone who can.”
Abi took my hand in hers and squeezed. “Okay. How are you doing with the other thing?”
“Not out of the woods.” I refused to lie. “But my lioness is in good form.”
Abi smiled widely. “Mine too—ooh! Is this Dr Sexy?”
Harry’s palm touched the curve of my back, then leant in to place a lingering kiss on my cheek.
“Guilty as charged. You must be Abi.” He reached over to shake her hand. “You were brilliant. Well done.”
Her eyes shone as Dr Sexy’s compliment registered. Then she dropped her gaze to the floor in true teenage fashion, whispered thanks on her lips.
I squeezed Harry’s hand behind my back.
“Nice to meet you Dr—,” Joanne hesitated, with a puzzled expression.
Both Harry and I laughed and answered in unison. “Just Harry.”
“Okay then, Dr Just Harry, I’m Joanne.”
“Mum,” Abi complained, her cheeks blazing.
“Should we get out of here? Abi, you all done here, or do you need to help pack up?” I asked.
“I’m done; I just need to get my guitar and stuff.”
“I could demolish a chocolate fudge cake right now,” Harry announced. “Who’s in?”
Three hands rose. “Me,” we chorused. We watched contentedly as Abi bounded off to collect her gear.
“She looks good,” I said.
“She’s doing great,” Joanne replied. “Thank you, Avery.”
I linked my arm around hers. “It was my pleasure indeed.”
48
“Welcome back, Hollywood,” Thomas announced, leaning down to give me a quick peck on the cheek.
While I’d got my fight back, I didn’t much feel like that name fitted me anymore. I wouldn’t be strutting my stuff anytime soon. I reached up to touch the beautiful shawl turban Tracey had brought me when she’d come to visit last week. She’d even given me an impromptu tutorial on different ways to tie it. Having brain cancer and the scars to prove it had made her a pro.
“How are the girls?” I looked around at their chairs, which were now filled with strangers fighting for their lives.
Thomas cleaned around my portacath, a new accessory since my surgery, and prepared my lines. “Sammie popped in on Friday to say hi – with her head covered in fluff. She’s doing good. Back at uni studying art. She invited me to an exhibition. Actually, I’ve got an extra invite for you, right here.” He retrieved it from his pocket and handed it over.
“Thanks. What about the others?”
“Patricia’s having a wee break, then starting her next round – so you’ll see her back in here soon.”
I sensed an edge of hesitation in his voice and panic rose inside me. “And Annie?”
Thomas finished setting my line and stood back, avoiding my narrowed gaze.
“Thomas?”
I noted the tightening of his jaw and brow before he thought to turn away. I reached out to touch his arm. “Tell me, please.”
Annie had been in and out of treatment for two years for breast cancer, and she and Thomas had developed a strong bond. They were both hard not to love. Even though I knew every experience with cancer was different, she was the woman I looked to as an example of how mine might play out.
“Annie’s not good, Hollywood,” he said with teeth-gritting reluctance. “The bastard got his claws in her good.”
My heart cried out
. “How bad?”
He brushed his palm down my arm as if trying to erase the existence of my question.
“Thomas?”
“She’s in hospice now.” His head flicked from side to side with rapid jerks before he clenched his teeth and turned away from me.
“Oh God.” Not her.
We were both paralyzed in a cone of silence until I could breathe enough to allow his name to touch my lips.
He turned back to me, his eyes burdened with grief.
“We love you too, you know.”
He gave me a quick nod, then busied himself with my data, pushing buttons I was sure didn't need to be pressed. “In my line of work, feeling is a hazard.”
I glanced around the room at all of these new faces and considered how heartbreaking it was for him to connect with all of these people, time and time again – to build them up, to become invested in their survival, to grow to love them. How much of himself did he sacrifice to be a beacon of joy in our darkest hour?
“Thomas.”
His eyes shifted to mine.
“I’m going to graduate.”
He laid his hand on my arm and inhaled my promise. “I’d expect nothing less, Avery Bishop.”
I watched him leave, then closed my eyes and hiked towards my happy place, but I couldn’t find it. Annie’s prognosis was a filthy dark cloud that I couldn’t shake … one that poured down a barrage of ugly thoughts that not even my carefully selected soundtrack could silence.
I felt an unravelling in my spirit and knew I had to call for backup. I was going to fight with every last kilojoule of energy in my being, but without my girls, I knew this burden was too heavy for me to carry on my own.
I picked up my phone and tapped out an SOS.
Ten minutes later, Harry was by my side, and the cloud cleared enough to let him in.
“You okay, babe?” Harry asked later that evening when we were settled on the couch resting in the soulful tones of Etta James.
After chemo had finished, I’d asked Harry to drive me to the hospice. He wasn’t convinced it was a good idea but acquiesced when I pressed the issue. I couldn’t go home without seeing her.
Her face was pale and drawn, her body so frail that it was hard to believe she was the same Annie I’d seen in fits of laughter two months ago.
Then She Roars Page 22
