by Webb, Peggy
“What are you doing?” Jane plopped down beside her.
“I’m going to send him a text.”
“Do you think that will stop him?”
“It has to.”
o0o
Bolton was packing his bags when the text arrived.
“The answer is simple. I don’t love you. Don’t come. I don’t want to see you. It’s over.”
He read the words three times, his alarm mounting with each reading. Something was terribly wrong. His instincts had been screaming at him since the day Virginia left him on the mountain. He had to find out why.
Did she think a text would stop him?
Bolton called Glenda Williams who answered on the first ring.
“Glenda, this is Bolton.”
“Great. Are you packing your bags?”
“Yes, but not to fly to California. I can’t do the interview with Brad and Angelina.”
“What do you mean, you can’t do the interview with Brad Pitt? Bolton, you’re the only one who can do this right. You can’t let me down.”
“Sorry, Glenda, there’s something very important that I have to do.”
“This had better be a matter of life or death, or I’ll never forgive you.”
“It’s a matter of life, Glenda... my life.”
Chapter Sixteen
The room was filled with flowers. If Virginia hadn’t known better she might have thought she was merely stopping for the night in a small-town motel. She loved promoting her books in small towns. The people went all out, showering her with gifts and flowers and special attention. There were framed resolutions and keys to the city plastered all over her office walls back home.
Back home.
Virginia looked at the plastic band on her arm. Virginia Haven, room 335, North Mississippi Medical Center.
She wasn’t promoting a book; she was in the hospital. And no matter how many bouquets Jane and Candace dragged into the room, nothing was going to change. She felt the lump of fear rising in her chest. Automatically, she reached for her cup on the bedside table, but nothing was there.
“Patients scheduled for surgery can’t have water,” the nurse had told her.
She was a patient. She was going to be put to sleep then carried into a room where doctors would carve her like a Thanksgiving turkey.
“Hi,” Jane said. “We’re back.”
Jane and Candace came into the room, almost hidden behind the enormous bouquets they carried.
“That was your mysterious errand?” Virginia said. “More flowers?”
“There’s a bare spot over by the closet door that needs a homey touch,” Jane said.
She kept her back to the hospital bed, fussing with the flowers as if she were an expert in floral arrangement. Until the moment she had helped check Virginia into the hospital, Jane had been a brick. But the sight of her friend in the narrow white bed had been more than she could bear. She was constantly inventing errands—running to the cafeteria to get Virginia a candy bar to have when she got out of the recovery room, haunting the gift shop for crystal animals, buying every pink rose in town. The glass menagerie sat on the windowsill where it could catch the sun and make rainbows on the wall.
“What do you think, Candace?” Jane said.
“It looks fine,” Candace said.
She sat in the chair farthest from the bed, her expression forlorn. Virginia knew that Candace needed comfort and reassurance, but she had nothing left to give, not to her daughter, not to anybody.
“No, I think there’s still a bit of tacky white wall showing,” Jane said as she barreled toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Virginia said.
“Just down to the corner to see if they have any more pink roses,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Even her best friend couldn’t stand to be around her. Something inside Virginia snapped.
“I don’t want pink roses,” Virginia said, her voice rising on every word. “I’m not in my coffin yet!”
Jane crumpled to the chair beside the door. Tears the size of marbles stood in her eyes.
“I never thought that flowers would remind you of a funeral.”
“Well, they do.”
The two friends couldn’t bear to look at each other, not because of anger but because of love that overwhelmed them both. Friends since the day they shared the same table at kindergarten, they had shared everything—dating, marriage, birth, divorce, careers. But this one thing, they could not share—the specter of death. Jane had walked as far as she could with her friend, but Virginia had to make the rest of the journey alone.
“I’m sorry, Virginia. I just didn’t think.”
Anger boiled and tumbled through Virginia taking away everything in its path. She reveled in the blessed respite.
“It’s high time for you to start thinking, Jane. I may not always be here to do it for you.”
“Mother!” Candace bolted toward the door.
“Candace,” Virginia called.
Candace turned around. “I can’t stand this. It’s bad enough without the two of you yelling at each other.”
Three days ago Virginia would have handled a situation like this with ease. That was before she became a major player in the drama.
“That’s all right, Candace.” Jane put her arm around Virginia’s daughter. “You go on down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee. I’ll stay here.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Go on, now. I’ll let you know as soon as your mother is out of surgery.”
After Candace left, Jane leaned against the wall, fatigue etched in every line of her body. Virginia wadded the sheets in her fists, pressed them smooth, and wadded them again. A cart rattled down the hall, and from the room next door came a cheerful voice describing lunch.
“We have some delicious chicken broth for you today, Mrs. Mackey.” More rattling as the cover was lifted from the dish. “Here, let me help you with that bed.”
Jane quietly closed Virginia’s door, shutting out the sounds.
“Thanks,” Virginia said.
“Don’t mention it.”
Jane picked up a magazine and sank into her chair. Agonizing minutes crept by.
“What time is it?” Virginia asked.
Jane glanced at her watch. “Half past one.”
“What’s taking so long?”
“They never get to you on time. Dr. Mason said you might have to wait.”
“I’m sick of waiting. I want to get it over with and get out of here.” Virginia looked down at herself. The pink gown she had worn that morning was gone, and in its place was a blue cotton hospital gown, a stark reminder that she would soon be in surgery.
“I’m sick of it all,” she said.
They started crying at the same time. Jane bolted out of her chair and collapsed on the bed with her arms wrapped around Virginia.
“What would I ever do without you?” Virginia whispered.
“Don’t you dare try to find out. Do you hear me, Virginia Haven? Don’t you dare even think about leaving me.”
“I won’t. I promise, I won’t.”
The door opened and Dr. Mason came inside. With his wild white hair and his wire-framed glasses, he looked more like a mad scientist than the genial OB-GYN who had delivered more babies than anyone else in Tupelo.
He took one look at them, got the tissue box off the dressing table, and handed it to Jane. She ripped off a piece and handed it to Virginia.
“It will just be a little while, now, Virginia.”
“Good.” She wiped her face and blew her nose. “I’m tired of waiting. I just want to get it over with.”
“The surgeon will be in to talk with you, but I wanted to see you first. There will be a pathologist in surgery. If he thinks this thing is malignant, I want your permission to go ahead and do a radical.”
Wasn’t it enough that they wanted to cut chunks out of her? Now they were talking about cutting off her
breast... and they wanted her permission.
“Can he tell by looking?” she asked.
“Not with a hundred percent accuracy. It takes lab tests to do that.”
“How long will the tests take?”
“Three days. Three days that could be very important to you, Virginia.”
Three more days of waiting, three more days of the agony of not knowing. But waiting was preferable to the alternative, waking with her breast gone.
“No,” she said. “I won’t sign.”
“Virginia, it would be easier for you to do everything while you’re still under anesthesia. Dr. Wayne is a very good pathologist. He’ll know as soon as he sees this thing.”
“What if he’s wrong? What if he makes a mistake? Has he ever made a mistake?”
“We’re all human, Virginia.”
“I’m not going to sign. Three days won’t make that much difference, and if they do, that’s a risk I’ll just have to take.”
“All right, Virginia. We’ll do a frozen section. I know you too well to argue with you.” Dr. Mason smiled. “Nobody would be that foolhardy.”
Suddenly Virginia thought of the one man who was—Bolton Gray Wolf. Call him foolhardy, call him stubborn, call him courageous. He had stood up to her, argued with her, fought for the right to love her.
Where was he now? If he knew what was happening, would he still fight for her?
Foolish question. Foolish hope. Virginia forced thoughts of Bolton aside. She needed every ounce of her energy, both mental and physical, to deal with what lay ahead.
“No,” she said. “Nobody would be that foolhardy.”
Dr. Mason patted the sheet that covered her arm. “I’ll see you back here in a few hours.”
“Couldn’t we meet somewhere else, Doc? Paris? London?”
“Atta girl, Virginia. Chin up.”
No sooner had he left than they heard the gurney being wheeled toward her room. A strange calm settled over Virginia.
“This is it, kid,” she said to Jane.
“I know.” Jane squeezed her hand.
“I don’t want you worrying.”
“I won’t,” Jane said, her voice muffled by the tissue she held to her nose.
“You never could lie worth a flip.”
“Neither could you.”
The sounds were closer now, right outside the door. Any minute Virginia would begin her long journey... alone.
“Jane, do you believe in prayer?”
“I don’t not believe it.”
The door swung open and the bed that would bear her away came into view.
“Say a prayer for me,” she whispered.
Chapter Seventeen
Bolton had flown the distance from Arizona to Mississippi without incident, and now Virginia’s security guard wouldn’t let him through the gate.
“Sorry, sir. No visitors.”
“You remember me, don’t you, Jim?”
“I sure do. Hard to forget that face.”
“She’s not expecting me, but I’m sure if you call the house, she’ll tell you to let me in.”
Jim shook his head. “Sorry, sir.”
Bolton had expected resistance from Virginia, but never from Jim. He knew the kind of security system she had. It was formidable but not impregnable. The wall would present no challenge to a man who had scaled mountains.
Still, breaking and entering was not the ideal way to approach Virginia Haven.
“I could lie to you, Jim. I could tell you that I had come back to finish the interview with Virginia. But I won’t do that.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Instead I’m going to tell you why I want to see her and why I won’t leave until I do.”
He had Jim’s attention, but that was all. Bolton had been reading body language for many years, and if he read Jim correctly, the old man had no intention of being persuaded. Still, it was worth a try.
“I love Virginia, and I want her to be my wife. I believe she loves me, too, but it’s going to take a while to convince her that we can have a good future together.” Bolton made an eloquent gesture, hands out, palms up. “I have nothing to hide, Jim. I’m just a simple man in love with the most wonderful woman in the world.”
Jim fiddled with the ring of keys on his belt, then cleared his throat.
“I guess I shouldn’t tell you this.”
The cold fingers of premonition squeezed Bolton’s chest.
“Tell me what, Jim?”
“Miss Virginia’s not here.”
“I don’t mind waiting. When will she be back?”
“Lordy, Lordy, I wish I knew...” Jim coughed, then pulled out a red bandanna and blew his nose. “Miss Virginia’s in the hospital.”
o0o
Bolton broke all the speed limits. At the hospital he had no trouble finding out Virginia’s room number, but that was all he knew. It was the things he didn’t know that nearly drove him mad.
Too anxious to wait for the elevator, he raced up the stairs two at a time. The door to room 335 was slightly ajar. He paused to mentally gear himself for the sight of his beloved Virginia in a hospital bed, and then he strode through.
“Bolton!” Jane put her hand over her chest. “You nearly scared me to death.”
He glanced from Jane to the bed. It was empty, the sheets tightly tucked and smooth.
“Where’s Virginia?”
“Sit down, Bolton.”
Everything about Jane set off alarm bells, her haggard face, her slumped shoulders, her red-rimmed eyes. He pulled the chair away from the wall and sat facing her.
“Where’s Virginia?”
“In surgery.”
“Why?” Jane stared at him, her face bleak. “I want to know everything, Jane. Don’t leave out the smallest detail.”
“Do you love her, Bolton?”
“Yes, Jane. I love her. She’s my heart, my soul, my very life.”
“All right, then.” Jane drew a deep breath. “This is really Virginia’s place to tell you, but I don’t care, I’m doing what I think is best.... Don’t you think I ought to do what I think is best for the friend I love so much that if anything happens to her I won’t be worth a hill of beans, ever again?”
“Yes.”
As the story unfolded, Bolton understood why Virginia had fled from the mountain, understood why she had refused his calls, why she had sent the text. Loving her so much that their souls were connected, he knew her fear, felt her pain.
“That’s about it, Bolton,” Jane said, concluding her story. “The bottom line here is that my best friend may have cancer. If this makes a difference to you, leave now, before Virginia comes back.”
Cancer. The word weighed Bolton down so that he could hardly move. How could he fight an enemy so insidious?
“No,” he said, as if with one word he could deny that he might lose the woman he’d searched for all his life.
o0o
Virginia’s first awareness was of the chill.
“I’m cold,” she whispered, her eyes so heavy, she couldn’t hold them open.
She felt a warm blanket being spread over her legs and tucked gently under her chin.
“Is that better?”
The voice was deep and musical, a male voice. So like Bolton’s, she thought. So very much like Bolton’s.
“Hmmm,” she said, snuggling under the covers. “Much.”
“Do you need anything else?”
Bolton. I need Bolton. Did she actually say those words? Or did she just think them?
A large warm hand closed around hers. So comforting. So strong. Virginia held on.
When she woke up she’d have to thank Dr. Mason for being so kind... if she ever woke up.
She felt the hand on her forehead smoothing back her hair.
“I’m tired,” she whispered.
“Rest, my love, just rest.”
Why was Dr. Mason calling her his love? Or was she dreaming? He was caressing her cheeks now, and murmuring
to her in some strange and beautiful language. She felt as if she were on the mountaintop with Bolton, lying on his blanket, and listening to the sound of his voice. If she was dreaming, she didn’t want to wake up.
There was a sound of running water. Was it the mountain stream where Bolton had released her fish?
No, that wasn’t right. She had left the mountain. She would never see him again. The tears were hot on her face.
“Don’t cry, Virginia. I’m here.”
Dr. Mason gently wiped her cheeks. She’d have to reward his kindness by taking him and his wife out to dinner.
“Mother... Can you hear me?” Candace needed her, but she barely had enough energy for herself. “How do you feel, Mother? Does it hurt?”
Why was her daughter asking her that question? Why should she hurt? She drifted back to the mountain top, back to the stream where the sound of water gurgling over stones mingled with the sound of wind in the trees lulled her into a sense of peace unlike any she had ever known. The murmur of voices came to her from a long way off—Jane’s quiet reassuring tones and Candace’s husky questions.
Virginia held on to the big, warm hand, anchoring herself to that source of comfort and strength.
“Virginia, open your eyes and look at me.” A brisk masculine voice. Dr. Mason. Why was he being so curt? She preferred his gentle bedside manner to this intrusive noise that disturbed her rest.
“Come on, Virginia. Time to wake up. You can do it.”
Her eyelids were heavy and uncooperative, and she had to fight off the desire to sleep. Slowly she forced her eyes open.
There was a face near hers, a dear, familiar face, and for a moment she thought she’d conjured him up. Then he smiled...
“Hello, Virginia.”
Everybody started talking at once—Candace, Jane, Dr. Mason—but the only person she saw was Bolton Gray Wolf, the only person she heard was her beloved Apache warrior.
Bending down, he kissed her softly on the lips.
“Don’t talk, don’t even think, Virginia. Just know that I am here and that I love you.”
She hadn’t dreamed him. His was the hand she’d held, his the voice that had comforted her, his the lips that had soothed her.
