“Do you have plans for Saturday night?” Jordan’s thumb stroked the back of her hand.
“Not really.”
“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”
“Annie’s Café?” A meal there was as close to restaurant dining as she got.
“Not this time. How about a real three-course dinner at a fish and steak house?”
That sounded like a dress-and-panty-hose place. But the thought of turning him down didn’t so much as enter her mind. Maybe, just maybe, Jacqueline would be willing to give her a second chance at a fashion makeover.
It wouldn’t hurt to ask.
CHAPTER 37
“In knitting, as in everything else, you learn as much from your mistakes as you do from your successes.”
—Pam Allen, Editor, Interweave Press
LYDIA HOFFMAN
I suppose it sounds melodramatic to say I felt my life was over. Still, that’s exactly what I believed as I lay in the hospital bed with the sterile scents of rubbing alcohol and antiseptic wafting around me. I’ve always detested the smell of hospitals. For someone who’s spent as much time in them as I have, you might think I would’ve grown accustomed to it by now. I haven’t, though. The X-rays revealed what I’d feared most. Another tumor had formed. If there was anything to be grateful for, it was that this one was accessible through my sinus cavity, without the necessity of drilling into my skull.
The tumor was gone now and the biopsy had been completed. Unfortunately the results were inconclusive, and a tissue sample had been sent out for a second opinion. With my medical history no one was willing to take chances.
Margaret’s bouquet of carnations sat on the table at my bedside and cheered me. It was the first time my sister had ever sent me flowers. Our relationship was changing, but even her gesture of support wasn’t enough to get me through this.
In my heart I knew what was coming and I couldn’t bear it. Not again. Everything within me wanted to scream how unfair this was. Like a little girl, I wanted to jump up and down and throw a temper tantrum.
Dad’s not here to help me anymore, and the sense of abandonment I experienced was overwhelming. Irrational as it might seem, I was furious with my father for dying. I’m so angry. Angry with Dad. Angry with God. Angry at the world.
Having spent most of two days drugged for the surgery, I now found the escape of sleep unavailable. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Brad’s face. All I heard was his voice. What kept coming to mind was the last confrontation we had, that day on the phone, when I told him I didn’t want to see him again. I made it as plain as I could that I was not interested in continuing our relationship.
He didn’t understand, of course, that I was doing him a favor and seemed bent on arguing, trying to change my mind. I regret the things I said, but I couldn’t tell him the truth, so I’d led him to believe my interests lay elsewhere.
I knew Margaret strongly disapproved of my breaking up with Brad. However, I told her this is my life and I make my own decisions. That shut her up, but I could tell she was furious. I can deal with her displeasure, though. I have dealt with it nearly all of our lives.
I don’t think she’s blamed me for the return of the cancer. I’ve tried to be grateful for that one small bit of compassion on my sister’s part. When I told her the news, she grew very solemn and told me how sorry she was.
As if my thoughts had conjured her up, Margaret stood in the doorway to my room. “I see the flowers arrived,” she said, looking ill-at-ease. She glanced around warily, as if she half expected an orderly to grab her, throw her on a gurney and wheel her off for experimental surgery.
“The flowers are very nice,” I told her. “It was a thoughtful thing to do.”
“So,” she said, tentatively stepping closer to the bed. “How did the tests go?”
I shrugged because there wasn’t anything to say. “About the same as last time.”
Margaret’s eyebrows rose in sympathy. “That bad?”
I made a genuine effort to smile, but the best I could manage was a grimace.
“Mom wanted to come….”
I nodded. My mother didn’t know the reason I’d been admitted, and I wanted to keep it that way. On reflection, if there’s anything positive about my father’s death, it’s that he went quickly. Mom wouldn’t have been able to cope with a long illness.
I suspect Margaret’s a lot like our mother, and her willingness to visit me now revealed how much our relationship had evolved over the past few months.
Once she figured it was safe to relax, Margaret pulled the visitor’s chair to the side of my bed.
“I’m glad you came,” I told her, “because there are a few things I want to discuss.”
It was as if she hadn’t heard me. “I don’t think now is a good time….”
“Please.” The tone of my voice seemed to reach her, even if my words didn’t.
Resigned, Margaret sighed heavily. “All right, what is it?”
“I’ve been thinking about what will happen to A Good Yarn.”
Margaret’s expression was painful. “I’ve given that some thought myself. You know I don’t knit, but I’d be willing to step in and—”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” Asking my sister to take over my business hadn’t occurred to me.
“It’s a possibility. Mom and I could trade days.”
Her generosity touched me deeply, and for the first time since I’d entered the hospital, I felt tears clogging my throat and filling my eyes. “I can’t believe you’d be willing to do that.”
Margaret stared at me in surprise. “You’re my sister. I’d do anything I could to help you, including…” She hesitated, drew in a deep breath and looked over her shoulder. “We can talk about this later, all right? Nothing’s for sure, so why don’t we cross that bridge once we get to it.”
“But—”
“You have another visitor.”
I imagined one of my nieces had come with her and looked expectantly toward the door. I’d wanted to settle the future of my yarn shop immediately, but it made sense to wait until Dr. Wilson delivered his verdict. I hadn’t believed I’d survive the second bout of cancer, and I had no illusions about the third. The fight had gone out of me and I was willing to accept my fate.
The awful truth, what I could never say aloud to Margaret or my mother, is that I preferred death over treatment. I felt I couldn’t do this again, couldn’t endure the agony of chemotherapy. I was an adult and capable of making my own decision. Well, I’d made it. I’d decided to refuse treatment and let the cancer take its course. The only person I could discuss this with was Dr. Wilson, and I wouldn’t see him until he’d had a chance to analyze the test results.
“Give me a moment,” Margaret said. She rose from the chair and disappeared into the hallway outside my room.
I was in for a shock when she returned. The visitor she brought in with her wasn’t Julie or Hailey, but Brad. Everything inside me wanted to scream at him to leave and for Margaret to go with him. I couldn’t stand it. One look at the tender concern on Brad’s face, and I reacted like a juvenile, covering my face with both hands. Then, to my horror, I unceremoniously burst into tears.
I felt Brad’s arms come around my shoulders. “You could have told me, you know.”
I dropped my hands and refused to look at him or speak. My fury was focused on my meddling sister. “How could you?” I shouted at her. “How could you?”
“How could you?” she shouted right back. It was as though the room had developed an echo.
Brad interrupted our shouting match. He spoke in a strong, determined voice. “If you’d told me what was wrong we could have talked it out, Lydia.”
“Go away.” I turned to look him straight in the face, although my heart was breaking.
He shook his head. “Sorry, that isn’t going to happen.”
“You don’t have any choice.”
“I’m not letting you drive me away.”
“Don’t you get it?” I cried, and nearly choked on the words. “There’s no future with me.”
Eyes soft, he reached for my hand. “But there’s today and tomorrow and the next day.”
I tilted my chin toward the ceiling. I didn’t understand why everyone had to make this so difficult.
“Lydia,” Margaret said. “Would you stop feeling so damned sorry for yourself and get a grip?”
I didn’t expect anything different from my sister. She wasn’t the one who’d gone through this nightmare. She wasn’t the one who’d suffered weeks of chemotherapy and radiation treatments. My sister acted as though my cancer was a minor inconvenience. As though I should just get over it and deal with life.
“I can’t tell you what the future holds,” Brad said, his gaze earnest, “but I can tell you that whatever happens, I intend to be here, for you and with you.”
I’d heard that before, too. Same words, different year. But after two days of being poked and prodded, I was in no state of mind for an argument. “Please, just leave… I can’t deal with this now.”
Margaret and Brad exchanged glances. They didn’t seem to believe me. Nor did they care what I wanted or needed, because they utterly ignored my request. They gave me no option, so I slammed my hand on the bell to call the nurse.
“What do you need?” A tinny voice rang through the intercom.
“Peace,” I cried. “I need peace and quiet and these people refuse to leave.”
Margaret pinched her lips together and slowly shook her head. And from the grim frown on Brad’s face, it would take the Seventh Cavalry—or one annoyed nurse—to make him vacate my room. I slid down in the bed and rolled over, offering him my back.
“We haven’t finished our discussion,” he said.
I didn’t answer him. As far as I was concerned, I’d already told him everything I intended to. Nothing he said was going to change my mind.
I heard footsteps enter the room.
“We were just leaving,” Margaret told the nurse.
I forced myself not to roll over and watch my sister and Brad walk out.
Perhaps I had a bigger problem than cancer. I’d just thrown out the only two people in the world who’d come to offer me their love and support.
CHAPTER 38
CAROL GIRARD
Carol and Doug arrived at the fondue restaurant in the Seattle University district before Rick. They were already seated and had each ordered a glass of chardonnay while they waited for her brother and possibly Lisa.
It had taken Carol several days to reach him. Their conversation had been short. She’d invited Rick to dinner and asked him to bring Lisa, too, if she was available. After setting the date and time, he’d promised to see if Lisa could come.
“Do you think she’ll be with him?” Carol asked, clutching her husband’s arm. This night could be one of the most important in their married life.
Before Doug had an opportunity to answer, Carol saw the hostess leading her brother to the table. He was alone, but perhaps that was for the best. After talking the matter over, she and Doug had decided her brother could present their idea to Lisa. She might have found it awkward to discuss such a private matter with complete strangers.
Carol had intended to spend the evening socializing with Rick—or the couple if Lisa showed up—and then afterward invite them to the apartment, where they’d make their suggestion. Doug would do the talking, they’d agreed, and that would give Carol a chance to gauge Rick’s feelings.
“Here you are,” Rick said. He kissed Carol’s cheek before taking a seat across from them. His eyes avoided hers. “Mom told me about the miscarriage. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Their drinks came then, providing a distraction. Rick ordered a double whiskey. “I’m not flying until tomorrow night,” he explained.
“How’s everything in your life?” Doug asked as soon as the waitress had taken their dinner order.
“Hunky dory,” Rick said flippantly.
Carol reached for her husband’s hand beneath the table. “How’s Lisa?”
“Fine, I guess. I haven’t talked to her in a week or so.”
So he hadn’t bothered to extend the dinner invitation, after all. Well, she supposed it didn’t matter.
“You certainly seem to be in good spirits.” Rick directed the comment at Carol. “I expected you to be all depressed. Mom said you’d taken the miscarriage really hard.”
She grimaced. “I did, but life goes on.”
His drink arrived and Rick raised the ice-filled tumbler. “To life,” he said. Carol and Doug raised their glasses in response but didn’t echo his words.
“Actually, you and Lisa have a great deal to do with the improvement in my mood,” Carol ventured. Doug cast her a warning glance. She knew he was right. This wasn’t the time to bring up the reason for their dinner invitation.
“Me?” Her brother looked surprised.
Thankfully their server arrived with the first course of their meal, saving Carol from answering. The waitress lit the fondue burner and set a bowl filled with a hot cheese mixture on top. She added a variety of items to dip, including bread, sliced vegetables and fresh apples and pears.
Carol’s appetite had increased over the last week, but since the miscarriage she’d lost enough weight that many of her clothes no longer fit properly. For that evening out, she’d been forced to change her outfit three times. Everything in her closet hung on her like a tent.
“We’re thinking of adoption,” Carol announced. She simply couldn’t resist saying something, despite Doug’s caution.
Rick nodded as if he approved. “Good idea.”
“We thought so,” Carol murmured and rubbed her leg against Doug’s. Rick was so dense he hadn’t picked up on what should’ve been obvious.
“I talked to Ellie last week,” her brother said.
“How did it go?”
“She was cordial but I could tell that beneath all the politeness, she was pleased to hear from me. I asked her out to dinner next week.”
“Is she going?”
Rick shook his head. “I should’ve waited until I was back in Juneau. It’s much harder to turn me down in person.”
“What’s happening with Lisa?” Carol asked, hoping for information about the pregnant flight attendant.
“We decided to go our separate ways. We were never much of an item.”
Carol’s heart fell. “But you do intend to keep seeing her, don’t you?”
Her brother looked up, holding a piece of bread dripping with cheese over the fondue pot. “Oh, sure, that’s unavoidable with the two of us working the same flights. She’s a sweetheart and what happened is unfortunate. I have to say she’s handled it well.”
Carol sighed with relief. “You know, sometimes what seems like an accident isn’t one at all.”
“I guess.” Rick reached for another piece of bread. “Damn, this is good. Did either of you notice what kind of cheese this is?”
“Can’t say that I did,” Doug said.
Carol noticed a sharpness in her husband’s voice and glanced over to find him frowning. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but couldn’t. Now that the subject of Lisa had been introduced, Carol couldn’t bear to wait another moment.
“I’m sure you know how dreadful it was when I miscarried,” she said, studying her brother intently.
Rick sipped his drink, and then speared a slice of pear. “That was really bummer news.”
“One night last week, just before dawn, I was sitting in the dark thinking about all of this. I felt like a complete failure.”
“How so?”
“I’d failed myself. I’d failed Doug. You and I both know what a wonderful father he’d be. And I knew how disappointed Mom and Dad would be. They’re really looking forward to becoming grandparents. I felt as if my whole world had collapsed.”
Rick glanced at her. “Why would you feel like that?”
It would
take too long to explain. “A woman feels those kinds of emotions when she can’t carry a pregnancy to term.”
Rick’s gaze slid to Doug and he winked. “Women. Can’t live with ’em, can’t understand ‘em, but they sure as hell make life interesting, don’t they?”
Doug didn’t bother to respond.
“The reason I bring this up now—”
“Carol.” Doug placed his hand over hers. “Let’s enjoy our dinner.”
She nodded, but nearly had to bite her tongue to keep from prodding her brother with more questions about Lisa. Without the double whiskey—in fact, Rick was now on his second—he might have picked up on what she was trying to say.
The meal seemed to take forever. Any other night, Carol would have savored this time with her two favorite men in the world. Following the appetizer of cheese was the main course with shrimp and lobster cooked in a bubbling white wine sauce. When dessert finally arrived, strawberries and pound cake dipped in rich chocolate, Carol was so tense she couldn’t wait another minute.
“Would you like to come to our house for a nightcap?” Doug asked.
Rick glanced at his watch. “I’d better not.”
“But it’s important,” Carol blurted out. “Doug and I need to talk to you.”
Rick gave her a surprised look. “About what?”
Carol refused to let the evening end without broaching the subject of the adoption. “Doug and I want to ask about you and Lisa.”
Rick’s forehead creased in a frown. “I thought I told you we split up.”
“Yes, I know, but this doesn’t have anything to do with you as a couple. Doug and I—” she paused and looked at her husband briefly before returning her gaze to Rick “—we want to ask about the baby.”
“What baby?” Her brother seemed genuinely puzzled.
Carol leaned closer to him. “Lisa’s pregnant, right?”
The Shop on Blossom Street Page 24
