When He Found Me (Road to Refuge Book 1)

by Victoria Bylin

  “Yes.”

  “So are you and Cody.”

  “We are.” She hesitated, her brown eyes misty. “But I’d still like to find someone special and fall in love.”

  Thinking of Rick, Olivia dug for what little courage she had left. “I hope that happens.”

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  Pleased with her daughter’s shy smile, Olivia dared to take the next step. “Cody would love a little brother.” She imagined Star Wars toys and bicycles under the Christmas tree. “Or maybe a little girl. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  Melissa paled, then took a ragged breath. “I have to tell you something else.”

  Olivia’s stomach plummeted yet again. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve had an abnormal pap. I have HPV. Five years ago, the pap came back positive for the earliest form of cervical cancer.”

  Olivia’s hand flew to her heart. She couldn’t breathe, let alone form words. “Oh, no.”

  “I’m okay. The cancer’s gone.”

  She sucked in a single breath of air. Take control. Ask questions. But she couldn’t move her mouth.

  Melissa sighed. “Unfortunately, the virus keeps coming back. We’re at the point where I might need a hysterectomy. That’s the real reason I’m going to Los Angeles. I want to see Dr. Hong because she knows my history.”

  Olivia’s whole body turned to stone. What did it say about a mother when her daughter chose to face cancer alone rather than confide in her? Was Olivia that demanding? Tears pressed behind her eyes, but they stopped short of the surface. Later she’d cry. Now she needed answers. “Tell me everything.”

  Melissa described the tests and treatments she’d undergone, including the most recent result. “That’s why I have to see Dr. Hong. If she says a hysterectomy is necessary, I can believe her.”

  Olivia wasn’t so confident. “Where did she go to medical school? What’s her training? There’s so much at stake—”

  “Mom, I know.”

  “We need a second opinion.”

  “She sent the last biopsy to a special research lab, and she consulted with other doctors in the practice.”

  Olivia heard the logic but couldn’t process it. “There has to be more we can do.”

  “There isn’t.” Melissa paused, letting the words sink in. “Dr. Hong specializes in HPV. I trust her. Other doctors send their patients to her.”

  “Even so, you should see someone else.”

  “Mom, please don’t start.”

  “Start what?”

  “Second-guessing! Telling me what to do!” Melissa’s hands flew into the air, her fingers as stiff as twigs. “I’ve lived with this a long time. Different pathologists have looked at the biopsies, and I’ve had the tests more than once. The sad truth is that I have a strain of HPV that causes cancer and is hard to remove. There’s not a doctor in the world who can change that fact.”

  Olivia sputtered. “There could be new treatments. Another physician might have a completely different opinion.”

  “I’m seeing Dr. Hong. I trust her.” Melissa’s eyes blazed with defiance.

  With her daughter’s happiness, even her life, on the line, how could Olivia hold back? “At least consult with Dr. Edwards.”

  “No.”

  “Melissa—”

  “It’s my body, my decision.”

  “Of course, it is! But you’re my daughter. I’m right about this.”

  Melissa leaned forward, eyes blazing as she whispered, “Like you were right about giving up Cody?”

  Olivia gasped.

  “You pushed for adoption. Hard. What if I’d given him up? I can’t imagine life without him. And if I need a hysterectomy—” Pressing her spine hard against the booth, she sealed her lips, a sign she was about to cry.

  Olivia felt terrible. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

  Blinking furiously, Melissa forced words past her tight lips. “Cody might be my only child.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  “I know, I know.” She shook her head, grimacing. “Adoption made sense at the time. It did. I know that, but something told me to keep him. To trust for the best. And I’m so glad I did.”

  “Oh yes, Melissa. Yes.”

  “I’m just as certain about seeing Dr. Hong.”

  Olivia studied her daughter’s face. Instead of a stubborn girl or a rebellious teenager, she saw a younger version of herself—a woman facing the future with courage in spite of her fears. Olivia couldn’t make Melissa’s problems disappear the way she had when her daughter was three and afraid of caterpillars, but she could help in one small way.

  She rummaged in her purse, then slid a Visa card across the table. “Take it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to Los Angeles.” Olivia couldn’t verbalize her feelings. She’d only stammer again.

  Melissa’s eyes shone with pleasure. “Thank you, Mom. It’s good to have in case of an emergency.”

  “And for fun. Buy something for Cody.”

  “I will.”

  “And for yourself.” She yearned to do more, but what? “Buy some fun clothes while you’re there.” A safe topic. “The shopping’s much better in L.A. than here in Refuge.”

  “That’s really nice. Thanks, Mom.” Melissa slipped the card in her wallet. “I’m down to two pairs of jeans.”

  Normalcy returned in talk of clothes, shoes, and Olivia’s hard-to-fit narrow feet. When they finished the meal, Melissa set a bulging manila envelope on the table. “I have something for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “I found some letters from the 1890s. They’re from a father to a daughter he called Little Miss. I’m wondering if she’s in our family tree, maybe your great-grandmother. Have you heard of her?”

  “The name’s not familiar.” Olivia resisted a comment about insipid nicknames. “I’ll see what I can figure out.”

  “That would be nice. If I’m related to her, I’d like to know.”

  Olivia had taught social studies for ten years, but Melissa didn’t usually share her interest in history. “Any particular reason?”

  “Read the letters. You’ll see.”

  “I’ll be glad to.” Olivia glanced at her watch. “I have to go.” If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late to a staff meeting.

  Melissa piled their trash on the tray and dumped it. Olivia gathered her things, including the letters, and led the way to the sidewalk. A cold wind blew between them and mussed Melissa’s hair but not Olivia’s. Every strand stayed in place just the way she wanted, but today the style Melissa once called a “brown football helmet” felt heavy and old.

  Maybe it was time for a change. Time to call Richard Connor, or do something shocking like travel to China.

  Or maybe not. Olivia didn’t like change, and Melissa’s news threatened the worst changes a mother could imagine. With her eyes on Melissa and her windblown hair, Olivia decided her football helmet fit just fine. After exchanging another awkward hug, the women went their separate ways.

  Chapter 19

  The day of the flight to L.A. dawned clear and bright. There wasn’t a cloud in the November sky, only a cold, steady wind that chilled Shane to the bone as he carried his suitcase down the apartment stairs. Shivering, both from nerves and the cold, he put the luggage in the Tahoe next to his equipment bag.

  MJ stepped onto the porch with a tote bag on her shoulder and her rolling suitcase in hand. “Good morning!” she called as she locked the door.

  With her hair up and her eyelashes sporting mascara, she didn’t look at all like Cody’s mom. Instead of blue jeans, she wore black ones tucked into leather boots and a little zip-up jacket. His thoughts wandered to the pink bra he’d seen in her bathroom, but he forced the picture out of his mind. The tryout came first, then dinner to celebrate. He also planned to meet briefly with Troy and to talk to MJ’s friend Lyn about Daisy.

  He met MJ between the car and the porch, lifted the tote f
rom her shoulder, and gripped the long handle of the suitcase.

  “Are you nervous?” she asked.

  “About flying? No.”

  “I meant the tryout.” She tipped her face up to his. “I hope it’s not bad luck to ask?”

  “It’s not.” Luck and God had nothing to do with tomorrow. “I worked hard for this. I’m going to knock it out of the park.” Confidence was half the battle for an athlete. His knee felt good this morning. Mostly.

  On the way to the airport, they bantered about the trip. A valet parked his SUV and a skycap took their luggage. The pilot himself welcomed them on board, and they climbed into a cabin that resembled a living room. The eight overstuffed seats were arranged in two groups of four, with the front seats facing the tail and the rear seats facing the cockpit.

  Shane and MJ took the seats closest to the tail. Minutes later they soared into the Wyoming sky. During the short hop to Denver, they sipped sparkling water, nibbled brunch-style hors d’oeuvres, and enjoyed a smooth flight.

  In Denver the pilot taxied to a private terminal. He explained they’d be leaving immediately because of an incoming storm, so Shane and MJ stayed in the two back seats while the new passengers boarded.

  Second baseman Dwight Allen climbed in first, saw Shane, and came over to shake his hand. Shane introduced MJ, and Dwight returned to the front. Next came Todd Rankoff, a relief pitcher with straight brown hair and beard scruff. A womanizer and a fan of Jack Daniels, he ignored Shane until he spotted MJ. A half-cocked smile pulled his mouth into a leer, and he ambled toward her.

  Instinctively, Shane stood in the aisle. “Hello, Todd.”

  The pitcher swallowed a belch. “Whadaya know. It’s Preacher Man.”

  Shane ignored the taunt. He’d have to get used to the digs, because they were sure to start up again during spring training.

  But right now Todd was ogling MJ. “Hey there, beautiful.”

  Jerk. Shane would have enjoyed stuffing the words back down Todd’s throat. Instead he rested a hand on MJ’s shoulder. “Todd, this is MJ Townsend.”

  “Hello, Todd.” She offered a mild nod. No handshake.

  Todd waggled his brows at her. “What are you doing with a kid like Riley?”

  The jerk’s breath reeked of alcohol. If Todd thought Preacher Man would turn the other cheek, he was dead wrong. Shane’s hand slid from MJ’s shoulder and he stepped fully into the aisle, his eyes never leaving Todd’s face. “Do you need help finding your seat? I believe it’s up front.”

  The pitcher chortled, lurched to the front end of the cabin, and sat across from Dwight.

  MJ leaned into Shane and whispered, “He’s obnoxious.”

  Shane smiled at her until a deep voice boomed through the cabin. “Shane Riley!”

  Manny Jackson, all-star center fielder, strode toward him, a megawatt smile on his dark face. Manny’s wife, Rebecca, and their seven-year-old daughter, Kaylee, boarded behind him. Kaylee had cystic fibrosis and was the reason Manny, Dwight, and Todd had attended the CF fundraiser. Finding a cure for the disease was Manny’s passion. For Dwight and Todd, the trip was an off-season junket.

  A giant of a man, Manny hauled Shane into a back-slapping hug. “God bless you, brother. I’m praying for you.”

  “Thanks.” He knew Manny was sincere, but Shane didn’t want anyone’s blessing, much less their prayers.

  The Jackson family settled into the middle section. Rebecca and Kaylee took the seats directly in front of MJ and Shane. Manny sat across from his daughter in a seat facing the tail, which allowed for eye contact with Shane but no conversation.

  Shane appreciated the distance. He wanted to concentrate on MJ and the tryout, not Manny and his prayers.

  The first hour of the flight was as glorious as the leg from Refuge to Denver. They soared over the Rockies and skated over the Utah desert. Everything was perfect until the pilot’s Texas drawl came over the PA.

  “Sorry, folks. We expected to beat the storm to Burbank, but it picked up speed. We’re in for some turbulence. Stay in your seats and buckle up.”

  MJ turned to Shane. “I hope it’s not too bad.”

  “Scared?”

  “Not really. Just . . .” She laughed. “Let’s just say I’m well aware that we’re 30,000 feet in the air.”

  “We’re only at 24,000.”

  She waved her hand. “Well then, never mind. If it’s only 24,000—” The plane hit an air pocket, a big one. They dropped like a runaway elevator.

  Manny called out, “Whoa, there.”

  Whimpering, Kaylee reached across the aisle for her mother. Rebecca Jackson gripped her daughter’s hand and held it.

  When the plane swayed from side to side, Shane turned to MJ with an apologetic smile. “Make that 22,000 feet.”

  “Or twenty,” she said drily.

  The Learjet dipped and banked to avoid the thunderheads billowing all around it. Rain pelted the windows, and lightning flashed between the gray clouds, filling the sky with jagged prongs of light. Both beautiful and terrifying, the storm tossed the plane as if it were a toy.

  Todd cursed at every bump. Kaylee’s frightened shrieks rose above the drone of the engines, and Rebecca and Todd used their airsickness bags. Between their gagging and the stench of vomit, Shane felt a tad bit ill himself—more than a tad.

  MJ moaned. “I’m not feeling so good.”

  “Me either.” Nausea humbled a man. Shane resented it, both the sickness and the humbling. Refusing to give in, he sat ramrod straight.

  MJ took her airsickness bag out of the seat pocket and laid it in her lap. “Just in case.”

  The plane shuddered and plummeted yet again. Everyone screamed—man, woman, and child. Cold sweat slicked Shane’s skin. He glanced at MJ and saw her pasted against the seat with her eyes closed and her mouth moving in what he assumed was a prayer.

  A flash of light strobed through the cabin, followed by a deafening boom and long rolls of thunder. The interior lights flickered but stayed on.

  The captain’s brusque voice droned over the loud speaker. “Lightning strike, folks. We’re fine.”

  The plane dipped yet again.

  “Daddy!” Kaylee pleaded. “Make it stop.”

  “I can’t, baby.” Manny’s voice cracked. “God knows I would if I could.”

  Todd dropped an f-bomb, then broke out in drunken laughter. “Hey, Preacher Man? Why aren’t you praying for my soul?”

  Manny glared over his shoulder at Todd. “Shut up, Rankoff! I got my kid with me.”

  Todd cursed again.

  Shane knew exactly how the pitcher felt. He wanted to curse at the turbulence, the fear, the stench of vomit. Mostly he wanted to cry out at the suffering of seven human beings, infant-like in their need, each afraid of death and puking, and helpless to change their fate. What kind of Father did this to his children? What is the point?

  MJ gripped the airsickness bag, her face pale and her mouth rigid. Kaylee’s sobs bounced off the rounded walls of the fuselage. Over and over, she begged her daddy to make the plane land right now.

  “Riley!” Manny’s voice boomed. “Pray with me.”

  The outfielder didn’t know about Shane’s loss of faith. MJ did, but she looked at him with a plea in her eyes, her face ashen and tight. Shane didn’t want to be a hypocrite—not again. But Kaylee’s terror crawled into his chest, and he chose hypocrisy over the cruelty of denying comfort to a child. He signaled Manny with a nod, then bowed his head.

  The outfielder prayed first. In a big, booming voice that rose above the noise, Manny confessed his weakness, begged God for mercy, then claimed victory and grace with a statement of faith. “You control the wind, Lord. You control the stars and seas. Lord Jesus, we trust you with our bodies, our souls, and our loved ones.” Manny ended the prayer with a loud “In Jesus’ name,” a sign for Shane to begin.

  He forced familiar words through his clenched teeth. “Father God, in a storm like this one, you calmed the waves for your disciple
s.” So why didn’t you stop that deer in Malibu Canyon? “You kept them safe.” But you didn’t keep me safe—or Daisy, either. “We ask you to calm the storm now, especially for Kaylee.” A child . . . a sick, helpless child. How could you do this to her?

  Shane’s jaw throbbed, but he managed the final words. “Lord, we ask for peace of mind, mercy, and a safe landing. Amen.”

  MJ, Manny, Rebecca, and Kaylee echoed him. Shane tasted bile and snatched the airsickness bag from the seat pocket in front of him. He managed to control the nausea but not the rage. Eyes forward, he didn’t see MJ reach across the aisle to cover his hand with hers, but he felt the warmth of her touch. He didn’t want her to comfort him. He wanted to be the strong one, so he turned his hand to cradle her fingers, claiming control he didn’t have.

  The dips eased. So did the nauseating horizontal sway. Rain continued to spatter the windows, but gradually the flight leveled out.

  The pilot came on the P.A. “The worst is over, folks. We’ll be on the ground in twenty minutes.”

  No one spoke as they banked toward Bob Hope Airport in Burbank. Eventually the jet dropped out of the clouds, wobbling occasionally until it touched down with the grace of a ballerina, then taxied through the rain to the terminal. The Jackson family exited with Manny carrying Kaylee and Rebecca clutching his muscular arm.

  Todd followed the Jacksons without giving Shane a glance, but Dwight stopped to clap him on the shoulder. “Good luck tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dwight picked his way down the steps, leaving Shane alone with MJ. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not so hot.”

  “Nauseated?”

  “Yes, but mostly I’m just—” She shook her head. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She walked to the door, then down the steps where a steward waited with a big black umbrella. Shane took her hand and together they hurried into the terminal.

  Manny was hugging his wife and daughter in a far corner of the waiting area. Todd had disappeared, and Dwight was on his phone bragging to someone that he had just cheated death.

  MJ indicated the ladies’ room. “I’ll be right back.”

  Shane squeezed her hand and let go. As she passed the Jacksons, Manny set Kaylee down and walked over to Shane.