If he touched her, he was afraid he might bury his nose in her sweet-smelling hair, beg her to stay with him and Ariel. She stared for a long moment before placing the pad on the console beside her.
“Keep her home from school on Monday if you want.” Her sultry voice sounded breathy, as if she’d had to sprint to put the paper on the table.
“I’ll leave it up to her.”
Kyanna nodded and backed toward the front door. “I’ll pencil her in for an appointment with Ella Mae on Monday and Tuesday, just in case.”
“Thank you.”
“Take care, Mr. Stryker.”
He stepped around her to open the front door. He bent his head toward her. “Roth.”
Their gazes melded. A strange connection twined between them. Her lips pursed, and he ached to sample them, a thought foreign to him after years of self-imposed emotional exile.
“Roth.” When she said it, his name sounded like a prayer.
“Thanks, Kyanna.” He sampled her name, wishing it was her lips.
She brushed by him, leaving warmth in her wake. More than her pretty face kept his eyes focused on her retreat. The woman overflowed with compassion, and she cared about Ariel. And him.
After her SUV pulled away, he closed the door and muttered, “Hell’s bells and shotgun shells.”
His crush on the principal was heating up.
13
On Tuesday, Kyanna stared at a white wall as the room tilted like an out of balance washer around her. The oncologist had left her alone with a fistful of papers and brochures.
One in eight women would be diagnosed with invasive breast cancer in their lifetime.
The stats glared from the brochure on the top of her pile of undesired but assigned reading. It wasn’t like the odds of avoiding it were in her favor, although she’d convinced herself cancer had done enough damage to her life.
Wasn’t losing her grandparents enough? Did she have to suffer through cruel surgeries and treatments, too? And now that she was far from home, who would drive her to the appointments? Who would sit beside her as she had her grandmother?
You’re getting ahead of yourself. That was her mother’s voice. She hadn’t taught Kyanna much about tender mothering, but she’d shown her how to be a realist.
“The numbers in your blood count aren’t elevated.” The doctor had frowned. “Not even slightly.”
After the woman had shown Kyanna the ultrasound with a tentacled ball intertwining with her mammary glands, she hadn’t really heard much else.
Then the doctor wheeled her own little ultrasound machine into the examining room, followed by a nurse carrying a needle or three. After she’d been numbed, the physician took what she called a core needle biopsy. The results would be in by the end of the week.
Kyanna shook herself from her dazed state and fumbled with her purse. She glimpsed her cell phone and reached for it to call Adam. But he was her ex-husband, no longer available to offer emotional support. The vacancy in her heart wore a neon sign.
She wouldn’t worry Derek with any details until she knew more. The smiling faces of the women in her Bible study swam into her mind, but she didn’t want to burden anyone with the all-consuming panic swallowing her heart and mind.
As she fumbled her way out of the office, the receptionist stopped her.
“Mrs. Patchett, I scheduled that MRI for you.”
MRI? Had she really zoned out so much during the convoluted talk about the dreaded c-word?
The receptionist read her confusion. “Since your numbers are so low, the doctor thought getting a clearer image from an MRI would help her plan your treatment.”
Low numbers? Right. They could test something in the blood that indicated there was cancer.
Kyanna took the appointment card. It felt thick in her clumsy fingers.
“It’s Thursday at 4:00. We might even have the biopsy report by then. The doctor wants to schedule your consult for next week.”
Kyanna pulled out her phone and dutifully entered the appointment dates and times on the calendar. The young woman’s voice chirped on and on, a bird greeting spring. Eventually, Kyanna was released.
During the elevator ride down, her breast began to tingle. That must be the local anesthesia wearing off. Like her body flipped a switch, her mind began to whirl, plotting the long haul of tests, surgeries, and chemotherapy undoubtedly in her future.
Kyanna idly ran her fingers through her hair and tried not to picture her grandmother’s bald head after the weeks of chemotherapy. And the treatments had only prolonged her life by six months. Suffering all that after watching her husband die from melanoma never dimmed her positive outlook. Her grandmother’s faith never wavered.
Didn’t she teach me the same faith in God’s power?
During Kyanna’s internal melodrama, her feet had carried her into the parking garage. She unlocked the car door, slid her purse onto the passenger seat, and dropped her head onto the steering wheel.
Dear Lord, you’ve blessed me so much. You promise not to give us more than we can bear. But I can’t bear this.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She opened the glove compartment and retrieved a travel pack of tissues. After wadding one under her runny nose, she crossed her arms over the wheel and laid her forehead atop them.
And wept.
When the tears were spent, her eyes burned. She blew her nose and patted her face dry. Her windows were fogged up, so she started her car and flipped the defroster on high.
The ache in her chest screeched with every indrawn breath, but on autopilot, she drove away from the hospital. Pain pulsed behind her eyes. Every bump in the road jarred her teeth.
Back in Sweet Grove, she wheeled her SUV toward the church. Two blocks later, she pulled into the parking lot and drove to the end where a walkway curved through a handful of pecan trees to a white stucco house.
Her knees wobbled as she followed the path to the parsonage door. Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked.
Within moments, the door swung open and the pastor’s daughter stood there, her eyebrows crinkled in confusion.
“Most church members duck their head in and holler.”
When Jacklyn Olson backed away, Kyanna saw a large country kitchen behind her with a faded linoleum floor.
The young woman studied her face. “Dad is still up at the office. Or did you check there and he went on an errand?”
Kyanna shook her head. “I came to see Tabitha.”
“Can I offer you some sweet tea or lemonade?” She flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder.
Kyanna’s throat ached from all the crying, so she nodded.
Instead of turning toward the fridge, the young woman stuck her head out into a hallway. “Mom!”
Kyanna started. For the first time, she noticed the welcoming smell of roasting meat and yeast bread. Her stomach clenched.
“This way.” The pastor’s daughter turned on her heel, glass of sweet tea in hand, and marched down a darkened hallway into a small room.
Jacklyn instructed Kyanna to sit in a plush Queen Anne chair, and she did, tucking her purse behind her. After glancing at the homey sitting area, Kyanna sipped her tea. Cool relief soothed her tight throat. She hardly noticed the syrupy flavor.
Tabitha breezed into the room, her brunette hair ruffling. The long skirt she wore swished around her ankles. As she turned to pull the glass French door closed, her daughter handed her a tall glass of lemonade.
“Thank you, Jacklyn.”
Tabitha sipped her lemonade, then studied Kyanna, who did her best not to squirm.
“Do you need a hug first?”
Kyanna’s shoulders sagged. She shook her head. “I just need to tell someone.”
The pastor’s wife set her glass on a coaster and snagged a box of tissues from a shelf. After tugging a couple free, she handed the box to Kyanna.
“I like to be prepared.”
Kyanna stared. This woman was down-to-earth and tr
ansparent, nothing like the aloof, pious pastor’s wife at her former church.
While Tabitha sat with her hands folded in her lap, Kyanna relayed the ugly diagnosis and the battery of tests still ahead.
“Hmm. The only way to diagnose cancer for certain is with a biopsy.” Tabitha raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you assuming the worst?”
Kyanna sat back. Her heart skipped a little, but her brain fired off the facts the doctor relayed.
“The doctor seemed certain from the shape of the cyst that it was cancerous.”
“Doctors have been wrong before.” Tabitha pressed her lips together. “And that’s what we’ll pray.”
The woman slid closer and extended her hands. Kyanna fumbled with a coaster on the odd-shaped table beside her before setting her drink down. Tabitha’s hands were warm. Or maybe Kyanna’s were cold.
“Lord, we know you’re the Great Physician,” Tabitha began calmly, “and all the medical knowledge of this age is nothing compared to your omniscience.”
Belatedly, Kyanna ducked her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Cancer breeds fear in our hearts. Take that from my sister, Kyanna, and replace it with grace and assurance. Speed the test results back to her and show Your might by making them negative.”
After a pause, Tabitha’s voice lowered. “This is what we want, Dear Jesus, but help Kyanna—all of us—trust Your will. Your plan is greater than we could ever understand.” She squeezed Kyanna’s fingers.
In the silence, Kyanna heard a clock tick nearby. Did the pastor’s wife expect her to pray? She’d never been good at praying aloud in public. Her conversations with God were private and personal.
After another squeeze, Tabitha dropped her hands. Both women looked up at the same time. Peace and joy radiated from Tabitha’s pale eyes.
“Now, how do you feel about roast chicken?” Tabitha’s lips spread into a wide smile.
“It smells wonderful, but I don’t want to impose.”
“I wouldn’t invite you if it was an imposition.”
Kyanna shook her head. “I think I need some time alone.”
Tabitha nodded, stood, and extended her hand. “Did you park at the church?” After Kyanna confirmed that she had, Tabitha said, “Let me walk you up. I’ll see if I can rouse Bernie from his office.”
Arm-in-arm, they strode up the path. A strange calm crept into the abyss of Kyanna’s soul. What had been shattered with grief pieced itself together beneath the warmth of Tabitha’s touch.
Beside the Rav4, Tabitha wrapped Kyanna in fleshy arms and cuddled her against her bosom. Even though they were close in age, the hug hearkened back to those Kyanna’s grandmother doled out.
“I’m praying. Let us know what you hear.”
A clot in her throat stole Kyanna’s voice. She nodded. Tabitha clutched her hand for a moment longer, then strolled toward the church.
By the time Kyanna settled in her car with her seatbelt fastened, the woman was gone.
But the sense that Kyanna had been hugged by an angel remained.
14
After staying home with Ariel on Monday, doing work on his laptop and cringing each time his boss called, Roth encouraged his girl to go to school on Tuesday. She agreed that he could drop her off, and she would hang out in the office after school until he picked her up.
“I’m not afraid to stay home alone.” Her chin jutted out. “I just don’t want you chewing your fingers to the bone.”
He arched a brow at her. “I don’t chew my fingers.” He pointed to his receding hairline and stage-whispered, “I pull my hair out by the roots.”
Her giggle turned into full-bodied laughter, and even her eye rolling didn’t negate its effect on him. The sight of her smile warmed him. Maybe they would make it through this.
Although he’d talked to Kyanna on the phone every day, she had left the office before he arrived at 4:30 to pick up Ariel, who was sitting in a secretary’s desk stuffing envelopes when he arrived.
Norma Wells smiled at him. “I figured I’d put her to work.”
“You’ll have to tell me your secret so I can get her to clean her room.”
“Dad!” The way Ariel’s lips twitched told him she wasn’t angry.
On Wednesday, Roth stood at the back of the multi-purpose room at First Street Church, watching Ariel interact with several girls at the youth meeting. When the boy with the guitar strolled up to them, Roth stiffened.
The bruise on Ariel’s cheek had faded to green, and she’d concealed the yellow marks on her neck with makeup. Not that her efforts mattered for privacy’s sake. In Sweet Grove, secrets were impossible, so everyone knew about the attack.
After church, Roth noticed Kyanna standing beside the pastor and his wife. He draped his arm over Ariel’s shoulders and steered her toward them.
“I’ll wait by the car.” She ducked out from under his arm.
Roth’s steps stuttered. Would she be okay without him?
Good Lord, man. You’re in the church parking lot. If she isn’t safe here…
He shrugged away his doubts and strolled up to Kyanna. His fingers wrapped around the keys in his pocket. Heat spilled into his cheeks.
“Hello, Mr. Stryker. Nice to see you.” Bernie Olson extended his hand. After Tabitha greeted him, she nudged her husband, and they waved as they hurried away to greet other parishioners.
“Whose idea was youth group?” Kyanna’s lips twitched toward a smile, but a lost expression dimmed her eyes.
“Hers.” He swallowed. “I wanted to thank you for suggesting the counselor.”
Kyanna nodded. “It’s pretty standard after a trauma like that. Just…”
“Doing my job,” he said along with her.
Her face relaxed into a more authentic smile. “Boy, I’m getting predictable.”
“You went over and above your job with Ariel. And I was hoping…” He cleared his throat. “…We could cook you dinner.”
“You’ve thanked me enough.” Her cheeks pinked, and she glanced toward her feet.
“Come to dinner.” He swallowed. “We want to spend time with you.”
In the beat of silence after he put himself out there, car doors slammed and engines revved. Sweat dampened his armpits and prickled against his skull.
“We?” Kyanna shook her head. “I’m sure Ariel sees enough of me at school.”
“I don’t.” The urgency in his voice made his stomach drop.
Her lovely blue eyes widened. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Roth reached for her hands. Ice cubes gave off more heat, so he cradled them between his. Kyanna stared at their joined fingers before glancing around. Finally, her gaze returned to his.
“Well, after five years, I see I’m really bad at asking a woman out.” His laugh was hoarse.
He tried to draw his hands back, but she clasped them tighter.
“I’m not in a good place right now.” Her quiet voice was nearly lost in the hum of conversations and traffic.
“Are we ever?” His thumb caressed her silky wrist. “Look, this tragedy was a wakeup call for me.”
Her tongue moistened her lips. A drought struck in his mouth, and several swallows couldn’t vanquish it.
“I wish I was in a better place,” she said, “but I can’t offer more than friendship.”
Even as his heart deflated and plunged into his stomach, Roth clutched at the offer of friendship. “Come to dinner as a friend, then. Ariel will be our chaperone.”
“I didn’t think friends needed one.”
Roth looked quickly around. “Against the gossip mill.”
As if on cue, Iris Smith and Edna Vance, two older ladies known for spreading news around town, shuffled behind Kyanna.
Roth dropped her hands and waved to the ladies. After eying him and Kyanna with shrewd gazes, the women gave imperious nods.
“Friday?” Kyanna’s smirk made his heart twist.
“I was thinking tomorrow.”
; Her jaw hardened, and the eyes that had begun to sparkle turned to steel. The flare of intensity almost caused Roth to step backward.
“Tomorrow won’t work.”
Roth nodded. “Friday at 6:00 then.”
Kyanna agreed, and he walked beside her until they reached his car. She waved, and he watched her hips sway as she strode to her own vehicle.
In the car, Ariel stared out the window rather than at her phone. A miracle, or a sign of impending doom?
At the house, he trailed her into her bedroom.
“Friday night, Kyanna’s coming for dinner. What shall we make?”
Ariel whipped toward him. “I’m not sure about this, Dad.”
He blinked, and his stomach spun like a carousel.
“We talked about this. You like her, and I like her.”
“I know, but the kids at school will think it’s weird if my dad dates the principal.”
He sighed and swiveled her desk chair around. After he sat, he said, “We won’t really be dating.”
Ariel rolled her eyes. “If you do something with a girl, it’s a date.”
“Kyanna said she’s not at a good place right now and doesn’t want to date.”
“She turned you down?” Ariel bounced on her bed and embraced a pillow. “I thought you said she was coming to dinner.”
He nodded. “But she insisted it was only as a friend.”
Ariel scowled. “But you like her. And she checks you out.”
Roth’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. Kyanna checked him out? How had he missed that while his eyes followed her?
“Which is it? You’d be embarrassed if we dated? Or you’re upset because we’ll just be friends?”
Ariel huffed. “You got me, Dad. I like her, and I know she cares about me, not just dating you.”
Roth grimaced. While Kyanna’s concern for Ariel was one of her most endearing qualities, it impugned Roth’s masculinity. His ego demanded she like him for him rather than to further a relationship with his daughter.
Who needs her more? The whisper in his mind stilled him for a moment.
“Well, we’re just friends, so don’t say or do anything to embarrass me.”
Love's Late Arrival (Sweet Grove Romance Book 1; First Street Church #8) Page 7
