“I know you are.” But it didn’t matter now—not with the biopsy hanging over her head. “And I’m sorry about the tryout.”
“Thanks. It was quite an experience.” He turned his attention to Lyn and offered his hand. “Shane Riley. You must be Lyn.”
“I am.” She accepted the handshake at an awkward angle.
Even more awkward for MJ, Lyn’s tone could have frozen water, a surprise because Lyn typically made everyone feel welcome.
Shane indicated the empty seat. “May I?”
“Of course,” Lyn replied.
Just as his hips hit the vinyl, MJ’s phone blasted circus music. She saw Dr. Hong’s ID, leaped to her feet, and hurried away from Lyn and Shane without bothering to explain. Heart pounding, she accepted the call.
Chapter 22
Dr. Hong wasted no time. “I’m sorry, MJ. The biopsy showed moderate dysplasia.”
“Oh, no.”
“It’s still precancerous. But as you know, I’m concerned. Are you with someone?”
“A friend.” She meant Lyn, not Shane. No way did she want him involved in whatever came next, though her heart broke as much for his loss on the field as it did for her own bad news. Shaking inside, she dropped down on a padded bench by the front door. “I’m all right.” A small lie. “What do you recommend?”
“We both wanted to avoid a hysterectomy, but—”
“Oh, no.” Please, God.
“We can save your ovaries. That will help with some of the hormonal issues.”
Her mind jumped onto a runaway merry-go-round, each thought more blurred than the last. Her breath came in shallow pants that left her dry-mouthed, and her foot tapped nervously. She barely heard Dr. Hong explain the benefits of a hysterectomy. No more risk of cervical cancer, only a slight risk of vaginal lesions. Routine paps instead of being a frequent flyer. She’d be normal again—but at the cost of her fertility.
Footsteps alerted her to Shane’s approach. She looked up and shook her head, scowling as hard as she could. He sat next to her anyway and laid his hand on her knee. Consoling her. Caring for her. Making her hurt even more.
If he weren’t in her life, would she say yes to the hysterectomy right now? She was weary of the fight, the worry, and especially the interminable waiting. Most important of all, she had Cody to consider, and the threat of cancer was real. Her thoughts buzzed like those killer bees when she first believed in God, but she ached to hope that maybe he would be kind to her.
Holding back an ocean of tears, she chose to hope just a little longer. “Dr. Hong?”
“Yes?”
“Could we try one more LEEP?”
The doctor said nothing, a sign she was weighing science against hope, the facts against the unknown. This was why MJ trusted Dr. Hong, and why she closed her eyes with the fervent prayer the physician would agree to one more try.
Dr. Hong finally spoke. “Cervical cancer is usually slow growing but not always. There’s some risk in waiting.”
“I know.”
“Why don’t you take a few days to think about it?”
“I have been thinking, and I’m sure about the LEEP. If you could do it while I’m here in L.A., that would be great.”
“Hold on. I’ll check the schedule.” Silence echoed until Dr. Hong came back on the line. “Tomorrow’s a short day. I can add you at the very end. How about two o’clock?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“We’ll hope for the best and move on from there.”
After they said quick good-byes, MJ slumped against the cool paneled wall. She dreaded the procedure, the discomfort, the bleeding. But she’d done it before and could do it again. But she was a breath away from dissolving into a puddle of tears.
Instead she took a deep breath and faced Shane. “Bad news. But I guess you heard.”
“I did.” He shifted his knee so that it pressed even tighter against hers. “Are you sure there’s no risk in waiting?”
“I’m not sure of anything.” Except that she didn’t want Shane to have a front-row seat to this highly personal part of her life. She gave him a stern look. “I meant what I said about flying back alone. You’re free to go.”
“No way. I’m staying with you.”
“Really, you don’t have to—”
“MJ.” He waited until she blinked—the start of her heart caving in—then he seared her with a gaze that sizzled as hot as the one in the car. “I’m here.” He ran a finger along her jaw. “And I’m not leaving.”
She longed to lean on him but couldn’t. For all Shane’s good intentions, the threat of infertility lurked in her future. He wanted to be a dad—needed and deserved to be a dad. Even if he could accept MJ as-is, she couldn’t accept herself as anything but a used car fighting to stay out of the junkyard.
Love and honor made her strong. “You’re a good man, Shane. I value your friendship, but I don’t want your help.”
“But you need it. Let me drive you tomorrow.”
“No.” She gave him a slightly patronizing look. “This isn’t like going to the dentist. I’m a lot more comfortable with Lyn. Let’s go back to the table.”
“All right.” He stood and offered his hand. “But I’m not leaving L.A. without you.”
“You should.”
“Well, I won’t.”
A familiar stubbornness burned in his eyes, the same look he used to get when he talked about rejoining the Cougars. MJ’s heart hitched on the bad news he’d delivered earlier. He had told her quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, but it had to hurt. “The tryout—what happened?”
“Later.” He tugged her gently to her feet. “Let’s get you taken care of first.”
Together they walked to the booth where Lyn waited with a fresh cup of coffee. Concern creased her brow. “So what did Dr. Hong say?”
“It wasn’t good.” MJ dropped down on the seat. Shane sat next to her, holding her hand under the table while she told Lyn about the call. “The procedure’s at two o’clock tomorrow. I hate to ask for another favor, but could you take me?”
Lyn made her “uh-oh” face. “I have to be in court. But I can find someone else.”
“That’s all right.” MJ didn’t want to inconvenience a stranger. As much as she dreaded accepting Shane’s offer, she saw no other choice. Trying not to grimace, she faced him. “I guess I need that ride after all.”
He gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “Riley Limousine Service, at your beck and call.”
MJ’s mouth twitched at his joke, and even Lyn seemed pleased. The three of them arranged for Shane to pick up MJ at Lyn’s house and to drive her to the appointment. The procedure would be quick, but Dr. Hong usually ran late. MJ dreaded the entire experience—the waiting, the chilly exam room, being naked from the waist down. Her feet would be placed in the stirrups, and she’d be aware of the instruments, the smells, every sound. Even if she experienced no pain at the time, later she’d feel somehow violated.
When the procedure was finished, she and Shane would go to his apartment. Lyn would call after her court obligation, and MJ could decide how to spend the rest of the evening.
With the logistics in place, she felt steady enough to face the next hurdle in her day. Her mother had texted twice in the past hour, both times with a long row of question marks. MJ sympathized with her worry, but those question marks—and her impatience—added to MJ’s own anxiety.
She nudged Shane to let her out of the booth. “I need to call my mom. You can ask Lyn about Daisy while I’m gone.”
A pained look flashed in his eyes. Standing, he let her out of the booth.
Lyn rose, gave her a hug, and whispered, “Stay brave.”
MJ eased by the waitress approaching with a coffeepot, stepped through the glass door, and recoiled at the traffic noise on the busy boulevard. Turning to her left, she walked down a side street lined with old apartment buildings and towering queen palms.
She expected the solitude to settle her nerves, but
her thoughts boomeranged back to Shane. The shoes on her feet were the ones he’d given to her. She felt as if she could fly in them, but HPV marked her body like initials carved in wet cement. It was only right she pay the price for a bad decision, but Shane deserved better.
The dried palm fronds rustled in the ocean breeze. A car honked. Another zoomed past her. She hadn’t planned to go this far down the street, but she couldn’t escape the noise—both the mental clutter and the city roar. Her steps lengthened until she was almost running and had a hitch in her side.
Short of breath, she ground to a halt. Tears pressed into her eyes—unwanted tears but they were unstoppable. A sob burst out of her throat. Hands on her knees, she hunched forward and gave in to the tears that she prayed would wash away her misery. In the midst of the storm, her phone played circus music.
No doubt, her mother was calling.
A police helicopter whipped through the night sky, hovered over Daisy’s head, and aimed the spotlight into the trees on the far side of the park. The AA meeting had ended ten minutes ago, and she was waiting for Lyn to pick her up at the rec center. With MJ in town, Lyn had skipped tonight’s meeting but promised to pick up Daisy afterward. Any second Lyn would arrive with news about Shane.
“I met him,” Lyn had said on the phone.
“You didn’t tell him about me, did you?”
“Of course not.” Lyn’s voice had been soft but scolding. “Shane doesn’t know that we’re friends, but he knows about Eric.”
“How?”
“The detective he hired.” There had been a pause, a long one. “Shane gave me a message for you—in case we ever met. I’ll bring it tonight.”
The helicopter zoomed overhead, turned, and aimed a spotlight at a row of eucalyptus trees. Two black-and-whites sped past the park, sirens blaring until they halted in front of a shop with bars on the windows. A third police car blocked the intersection where a crowd had gathered. An ambulance arrived next, followed by a lumbering fire engine that glided to a halt.
Someone had called 911.
Daisy’s vision tunneled into black and white. Dizzy and helpless, she tumbled into the abyss of the past—her mother parking the van because she had a headache. Shane walking with Daisy to the restrooms, then buying her a Snickers because she whined for it. As they headed back to the van, Shane noticed something and broke into a run. Daisy followed, but she couldn’t keep up. By the time she reached the van, he had pulled their mother out of the front seat and laid her flat on the asphalt.
Daisy remembered the shock, the tears. “Shane? What’s wrong?”
“Call 911.”
“But—”
“Call now!”
Somehow she found her mother’s cell phone and made that call. Shane didn’t stop CPR until the paramedics arrived twenty minutes later, then he went behind a bush and threw up. Daisy had stayed by the van, a twelve-year-old girl with a melted candy bar and her brother’s promise to protect her, always.
The beat of helicopter rotors yanked Daisy back into the present. Paramedics were sliding a gurney out of the ambulance, a reminder of the times Eric punched her, the night he threatened to choke her. The restraining order was in place, but twice he had cruised by Mary’s Closet, and once he’d stuck his hand out the window and made an obscene gesture.
Lyn’s Camry cruised into the rec center parking lot. Daisy hurried to the edge of the sidewalk, expecting to be picked up, but Lyn parked and climbed out of the car. “I had to beg a cop to let me through. Do you know what happened? I counted eight police cars in two blocks.”
“I don’t know. But the helicopter’s been going crazy.”
Lyn clasped her arm and steered her into the building. “Let’s wait inside.”
They stepped into the meeting room, where three men were talking. Daisy recognized one of them as a newcomer with the shakes so bad he had spilled his cup of coffee. Earlier she had welcomed him with a smile, mopped the floor with napkins, and given him a half-full cup.
She whispered to Lyn, “Let’s wait in the car.”
They retreated to the Camry and locked the doors. The fire truck rumbled to life and rolled down the street without lights or siren. Daisy noticed two more police cars and an unmarked sedan like the ones used by homicide detectives. Someone had wrapped the building in yellow crime scene tape.
Lyn dug into her coat pocket and removed something. Daisy glanced down and saw a wallet-sized photograph. “What’s that?”
“A picture of you. The same one the detective had. Shane wrote a note on the back.”
Holding it by a corner, Daisy angled the photograph toward the window. In the glow of the streetlight, she saw a frightened girl with acne, a fake smile, and lifeless eyes. “I hate this picture.” She flipped it over and read, Please forgive me. Shane had signed it with a big S like he used to sign her birthday cards. Below the initial, he’d written his phone number and Please call, both underlined three times.
Daisy slipped the picture into her pocket, then stared at the emergency lights across the street. Again they carried her back in time to Shane giving their mother CPR. He’d tried hard to save her life, but later they learned she had died instantly from a cerebral hemorrhage. For twenty minutes, her brother had given CPR to a dead woman. Maybe he wasn’t as awful as she thought. On the other hand, he’d thrown Daisy to the wolves.
“Are you going to see him?” Lyn asked.
“I don’t know.”
“The choice is yours, but I have to say—I like him.” She told Daisy everything about the conversation with Shane. It had lasted fifteen minutes, long enough for Lyn to hear his story and form an opinion. “I believe he’s sincere about wanting to apologize.”
“Shane’s always sincere.”
Daisy thought of the fight in the storage closet and the ugly names he’d called her. He’d meant every one. Eric had sincerely blackened her eye, and he would have sincerely raped her at the coffee shop if she hadn’t pulled free from his grasp.
She stared at the police cars across the street, the flashing light bars, and the yellow crime scene tape. Criminals were sincere, too. So was Lyn. The Harpers, the social worker, the awful boys in the garage—everyone was sincere. How did she know who to trust?
Daisy balled up her fist. “I hate Shane.”
Lyn said nothing.
“I mean it. I hate him. I hate Eric, too.”
Across the street the coroner arrived in a large white van. Someone, it seemed, had sincerely committed a murder.
Lyn heaved a weary sigh. “When I see things like this, or I hear about abused children, or terrorism, or sex trafficking, I wonder why.”
So did Daisy, but not about bombs or terrorism. She wondered why God had let her go into that garage with those boys, why he let Eric hit her. And Shane—her own brother had called her a whore. It all hurt, but she hated Shane most of all because his words had hurt more than Eric’s fists.
Daisy stared hard at the activity around the coroner’s van. Two police officers were talking to each other, one man dark skinned and the other pale. A petite woman in a different kind of uniform carried a toolbox into the building, and a news team arrived. A man set up lights, while a female reporter tried to buttonhole one of the detectives.
Lyn shook her head. “God sees all this evil—our cruelty and failings. Everything. Yet Jesus still died for us.”
Daisy frowned. Just who was this Jesus? Thanks to the empty chair, Daisy could believe that a higher power loved her, but he didn’t have a name other than God. He gave her the strength to stay sober, but what did she do about Shane? Was she supposed to forgive him with a snap of her fingers? And Eric—did she have to forgive him, too?
And what about the boys in the garage? The oldest boy, the brother of her best friend, had tricked her. “Hey, Daisy. Our cat had kittens. Want to see them?”
Pleased to be invited, she had followed him into a garage that reeked of paint and grease, then to a back room where a boy she didn’t know
was drinking beer. He made her nervous, but the kittens were adorable, especially the one that licked her face. One of the boys had shoved a beer in her hand. She sipped it and laughed with them, because that’s what the popular kids did. The oldest boy told her cool girls did other things, too. They let boys see their breasts. The coolest girls let boys touch them.
Memories assailed her—awful ones. Her hand flew to her mouth, but she couldn’t hold in the moan that vibrated against her fingers.
Lyn squeezed her shoulder. “Daisy, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head hard and fast. She couldn’t go back there, not even with Lyn at her side. But then the EMTs came out of the building, pushing a stretcher with a body draped in a white sheet.
Sobs erupted from Daisy’s mouth. “I let them! I let them. I should have run away, but I didn’t. I went back again because—because—I don’t know why.”
The story gushed out in fragments as sharp as broken glass. By the time she finished, she had told Lyn everything about high school, boys, drinking, and getting in trouble. The worst was the night she sneaked home at dawn and encountered Shane on the back porch, furious and full of dire warnings. “You can’t do this, Daisy. You’ll get in trouble, and they’ll send you away. You need to give your life to Christ.”
“What for?” If Shane’s perfect God knew the truth, he wouldn’t want her.
“I’m warning you, Daisy. I won’t go with you. I like it here.”
She had tried to straighten up but failed miserably to follow the rules. Not even Shane could help her.
Lyn handed Daisy a tissue. “Do you think Shane was scared for you?”
“I guess.” She stared out the passenger window.
“Daisy?” Lyn touched her arm.
“What?”
“Look at me, please.” Lyn waited for Daisy to turn back around. “If you were my sister, I’d have done anything to keep you safe, even things you didn’t like. Shane made mistakes—bad ones. But I believe he truly wants to make things right with you. For your sake—not just his—I hope you’ll try to forgive him.”
When He Found Me (Road to Refuge Book 1) Page 22
