by Peggy Webb
“I need you, Virginia,” Jane said. “I need to be here because I love you too much to leave. If that makes me selfish, so be it.”
They leaned back and looked at each other, and Virginia smiled.
“Help me to the bathroom, Jane.”
“Lean on me.”
When Virginia was back in bed, Jane fluffed the pillows and smoothed the covers.
“Now, how about a nice hot bowl of chicken soup. Grandma’s remedy.”
Virginia glanced at the clock. “It’s almost ten.”
“You have to keep up your strength.”
“If soup will give me strength, bring a bowl. When did you have time to make Grandma’s soup?”
“I cheated. This is out of a can, but I’m going to add garlic.”
“To keep away vampires?”
“And insistent Apache lovers.”
“Nothing will keep Bolton away.”
“Do you want him to go away, Virginia?”
Through the window Virginia could see a light in the cottage. What was Bolton doing? The last time she’d seen him in that cottage he had been standing beside the fire naked.
A jolt of pure desire hit Virginia. For a moment Virginia reveled feelings she thought she might never have again, and then reality crashed down on her. What good would it do her to feel desire when she was no longer desirable?
“Jane. I’m hungry for that soup now.”
When Jane came back she was bearing two bowls of soup, two glasses of milk, and an assortment of candy bars.
“To get us through the night,” she said, plopping into a chair beside the bed. She opened a Hershey’s bar with almonds, broke it in two, and gave Virginia the largest piece. “Here, food for the soul. You never did answer my question. Do you want him to leave?”
“I don’t know the answer.” Virginia bit into the candy, allowing herself the luxury of high-calorie, high-fat chocolate because she needed self-indulgence. “Logically I know he should go back to Arizona and forget about me. Right?”
Jane merely smiled, then peeled the wrapper off another candy bar and began munching.
“All that chocolate is not good for you,” Virginia said. She picked up her soup spoon, but after two bites she couldn’t keep up the pretense of normality.
“How much of my breast do you think they took?”
“Not much.”
“You don’t know that, do you? Did Dr. Mason say that?”
“No. It’s just a gut feeling.”
Virginia shoved her food aside and climbed out of bed.
“I can’t stand this anymore. I have to know.”
“What are you doing?” Jane said, following her into the bathroom.
Virginia rummaged in a drawer until she found a pair of scissors.
“I’m going to find out.”
“You can’t do that,” Jane said.
Ignoring her, Virginia eased the scissors underneath the tape.
“Virginia... stop that. You’re going to cut yourself.”
“I’ve already been cut.”
“Oh, shootpootfart... give me the scissors.” Jane began the delicate procedure of cutting away Virginia’s bandage. “I haven’t cussed since New Year’s Day of 2000. You’re driving me crazy...” She gingerly peeled away the first layer of Virginia’s bandage. “It’s a good thing I took a serious first-aid course and know my fanny from a hole in the Grand Canyon, or we’d be up the proverbial stink creek without a paddle. You do have more bandages, don’t you, Virginia?”
“In the medicine cabinet.” Virginia winced as the last of the gauze was peeled away.
Steadying herself on the vanity, she looked in the mirror. Her left breast had a chunk the size of a silver dollar carved out of it. Virginia turned quickly away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight of her disfigurement.
“It’s hideous. Cover it back up.” She sank onto the toilet seat.
“It’s not hideous. It’s hardly even noticeable.”
“Only the blind wouldn’t notice. I’m lopsided. My clothes won’t fit. Even my bras won’t fit.”
“It will eventually fill back in. That’s what the doctor said, Virginia.”
Virginia didn’t hear her; she was too busy tasting the salt of her own tears.
“Make him go away, Jane.”
Jane didn’t have to ask who. Silently she rebound Virginia’s breast.
“I don’t want to see him again. I can’t see him again. Ever.”
Virginia leaned on Jane and allowed herself to be helped back into bed as if she were an invalid. Jane pulled the covers over her, then quietly removed the food.
“Sleep, Virginia. Everything will look different in the morning. You’ll see.”
“Do you think all this will go away overnight? Do you think I’m going to wake up and have a whole breast?”
Jane extinguished all the lights except a small lamp inside the bathroom door before she came back to the bed.
“The thing that matters most is that you have a whole mind and a whole personality and a whole spirit, Virginia.”
She could barely hear Jane moving across the room, barely see her as she got blankets from the closet shelf and spread them on the chaise longue. The room was so quiet, Virginia could hear the faint chimes of the grandfather clock downstairs. Outside the moon shone on Bolton’s cottage, the windows now dark. Downstairs Candace would be trying to get a good night’s sleep before her drive back to college.
Virginia forced herself not to think about her body, about what had been done to it and what might be happening to it even as she slept. “Jane...”
“Hmmm?”
“I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You don’t have to find out. Go to sleep, Virginia.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
NINETEEN
Bolton sat on a bar stool in Virginia’s kitchen, drinking coffee, while Jane added a glass of orange juice to the breakfast tray she was preparing.
“I’ll take that upstairs,” he said.
“I’m sorry. She won’t see you, Bolton.”
“Why? Yesterday everything seemed to be all right. What happened to change her mind?”
“She saw the scar on her breast.”
“That’s all? Does she think that matters to me?”
“Yes, she thinks that. More important, it matters to her. Bolton, do you have any idea the role a woman’s breasts play in her self-image? Not only are they symbols of nurturing, but they are vital to our feelings of sensuality and desirability. Right now, Virginia feels undesirable and disfigured. Besides that, she’s worried about having cancer, and she’s bound and determined to protect you from that.”
He tore a piece of paper off the notepad on the bar and began to write. Curious, Jane tried to read over his shoulder.
“All of you writers are just alike. Nobody can read your handwriting.”
Bolton folded the paper in half and handed it to Jane.
“Please give this to Virginia.”
“What is it?”
“A message.”
“Okay, I get the picture. It’s none of my business.” She stuffed it into her pocket, picked up the tray, and started toward the door. “I’ll try to resist the temptation to read it before I give it to her.”
“Thanks, Jane.”
“You bet.”
Virginia was standing beside the window when Jane went into her bedroom. In the distance her Arabians raced across the pasture, their manes and tails streaming like white flags.
“I wish I could ride,” she said. “There’s something wonderfully liberating about racing along with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face and nothing around me except earth and sky and trees.” She sat in the chair beside the window and gazed wistfully at Jane.
“I don’t feel in control of my life anymore. When I’m on my horse, nothing else seems to matter; everything falls into its proper place. Does that make any sense, Jane?”
“You always make se
nse, Virginia. You’re the most sensible person I know. Sometimes I wonder if you’re too sensible.”
“What do you mean? Too sensible?”
Jane reached into her pocket and pulled out the note. “Here, read this first.” She handed Virginia the note. “From Bolton.”
Virginia refolded the note and held it in her lap.
“What’s the use of reading it? A note won’t change a thing.”
“That’s what I mean.” Jane squatted beside her chair and covered Virginia’s hands with hers. “I know I said some things that made you believe that I think a match between you and Bolton would be about the worst disaster since Hurricane Katrina tore through the Gulf Coast, but I had no right to make that kind of judgment. Nor does anybody else. Forget everything and everybody. You’ve always been intrepid, Virginia. Look how far you’ve come! Be intrepid again and reach out for what you want.”
“What I want would not be fair to Bolton.”
“Why don’t you let him be the judge of that?”
Slowly Virginia unfolded the note. Bolton’s handwriting was exactly what she had expected, big and bold with straight, decisive lines.
“Virginia,” he had written. “You are my life, my love, and nothing else matters. NOTHING! Each moment we are not together is a waste. Together we are a miracle; apart we are two lonely people filled with regret. Marry me, Virginia. Let’s not waste our tomorrows.”
She read the note twice before she refolded it and put it in the top drawer of her bedside table.
“Well... What did he say?”
“Nothing that would convince me to change my mind.” Virginia hastily scribbled on a notepad, then tore the page off and handed it to Jane. “Will you take him this?”
“Shoot, I fancied myself as Cupid when all along I was nothing but the pony express.” At Virginia’s withering look, Jane threw up her hands; “All right, all right. I’ll take it.”
Bolton was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
“What did she say?”
“Here.” Jane handed him the note. “This is what she said.”
Virginia’s reply was brief: “Bolton, for me tomorrow may never come. I can’t and I won’t saddle you with my problems.”
Bolton was so still that Jane thought he had forgotten she was there.
“Will there be a reply?”
“No. No reply.” He started toward the door, then remembered his manners. “Thanks, Jane.”
“Wait. Where are you going? You’re not giving up, are you?”
“Never.” He smiled at her. “There’s an old Apache saying that wisdom comes to us in dreams.”
Virginia stood at her window and watched Bolton go down the path to the cottage, then enter. She could see movement behind the windows. What was he doing? Packing?
o0o
She heard Jane enter the room, but Virginia didn’t turn around; she couldn’t turn around, not as long as there was a chance to catch a glimpse of Bolton.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“Just that.”
“What?”
“The same thing you just said, except that he said, ‘What did she say?’ “
“Oh... Is there a note?”
“No. No note.”
Virginia wadded the curtain in her hand, her eyes riveted on the guest cottage. The curtains were open to let in the autumn sunlight, and through the French doors she could see him at the desk, using the telephone. Who was he calling?
”Did he say anything?”
“Some old Indian wisdom about Apaches coming with dreams.”
“What?”
“Or maybe it was dreams coming with Apaches.”
“Good grief. That doesn’t sound like Bolton.”
“That’s what I say. Good grief.” Jane puttered around the room, picking up every movable object. “Do you want to play checkers, Virginia?”
“No. I want you to go home and get some rest.”
“You haven’t heard from Dr. Mason.”
“I’m not likely to hear today, and I’m not planning to fall apart today, either.” She caught her friend’s hand. “Look, Jane. I feel better this morning, stronger. I thought I might even go downstairs and work at the computer awhile. Anything to keep my mind off myself while I wait to hear from the doctor.”
“If you think I’m leaving you till he calls, you’ve got another think coming.” Jane set up the checkerboard. “Do you want black or red?”
“Black. It fits my mood.”
Jane set up the board. “And don’t cheat. You always cheat.”
“I do not. You say that because I always win.”
Jane made her first move. “What do you reckon he meant about Apaches coming with dreams?”
Virginia shrugged her shoulders, then made her move. But her mind was not on the game; it was on an incredibly passionate Apache who had come to her bearing a dream, not once, not twice, but three times. Was she crazy to keep spitting in the eye of fate?
She never even noticed when Jane jumped her and swept her checker off the board.
TWENTY
At mid-afternoon Bolton left on some mysterious errand and didn’t return until long after dark. If Jane had been awake, Virginia would have discussed his whereabouts with her, but Jane was stretched out on the chaise longue snoring. Exhausted.
Virginia watched as Bolton rounded the curve in the pathway that led to the cottage. He paused at the door and gazed toward her window. The moon slanted across his face and his mouth moved. Though she couldn’t hear the words she knew exactly what he was saying. “I love you.”
For an instance his face was illuminated by one of his quicksilver smiles, and then he went inside, vanishing as silently as one of the big, graceful wildcats she had seen on his mountain.
Virginia dragged herself to the bathroom. When she caught sight of herself, she jerked a towel off the rack and draped it over the mirror. The tightening in her throat signaled a gathering of tears. She felt totally helpless, even more helpless than she had when Roger had left her.
Suddenly Virginia remembered those days, days of wondering how she could raise her child and pay her bills alone, days of wondering where her next bit of strength would come from, her next bit of hope.
Intrepid, Jane had called her. And by George, she had been. She was.
She marched to the mirror, tore the towel off, and stared at herself. There was nothing wrong with the outside of her that a good shampoo and a good bath wouldn’t fix. As for the inside... she would cross that bridge when she came to it. And if cancer was waiting for her on the other side, she would fight a battle the likes of which had never been fought.
“You’re not going to beat Virginia Haven,” she said. “Don’t even try.”
Her chin held high and her step firm, she made her way to bed and was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow. She didn’t stir until the phone woke her the next morning.
“Virginia, this is Dr. Mason...”
She gripped the receiver so hard, her knuckles turned white.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“I didn’t expect to call you so soon. The test results are in.”
Virginia drew a deep breath. There would be no tears and no trembling for her today, just a good firm resolve that she would face whatever lay ahead with grace and courage and a tenacious will to win.
“What is it... who is it...” Jane sat up, her eyes still heavy with sleep and her hair poufed like a giant Christmas bow that had been battered about.
“Shhh... it’s Dr. Mason....” Virginia held the receiver close to her ear, hardly daring to breathe. “What was that?... I see... You’re sure?... Yes, so am I... Thank you, Dr. Mason.”
Virginia’s legs wouldn’t hold her. She sank onto the edge of the bed.
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it,” she said.
“What?” Jane raced across the room, her sheet tangled in her pajama buttons and dragging along behi
nd her. “What can’t you believe?” Virginia merely stared at her. “I’m going to have a heart attack... Virginia, was it that bad?”
“It was amazing, a miracle. That’s what Dr. Mason called it, a miracle.”
“Then it’s not cancer?”
“It’s not cancer.”
The two friends stared at each other, then they began to laugh and cry at the same time. Jane did a victory dance around the room, whooping and hollering, then threw herself onto the bed.
“Tell all. What did he say?”
“Because of the X rays from the mammogram and the location, Dr. Mason was certain it was cancer. So was the pathologist. When he saw the mass during surgery, he was furious that I had refused to sign so that they could remove my breast.”
“That’s why Dr. Mason wouldn’t tell us what the pathologist had thought.”
“Exactly... Then the result of the frozen section came in.” Virginia beamed. “It’s a miracle, Jane.”
Jane went into the bathroom to blow her nose and came back trailing toilet paper. “Shoot, it looks like I’m on a crying jag and fixing to wallow in it all day.”
“Go ahead and wallow; you’ve earned the right.”
“What about you? What are you going to do?”
“Laugh, dance, sing, bathe, shampoo. Not necessarily in that order.” But there was one thing above all others that she had to do. “I want to see Bolton. I need to see Bolton.”
She picked up the receiver and dialed the cottage. The phone rang and rang.
“I must have dialed the wrong number.” She dialed again and waited, listening to the insistent rings in a cottage that obviously was not occupied. She tried his cell, but there was no answer.
“I guess he had second thoughts,” Virginia said. “Who can blame him?”
“Hey, chin up, pal. This is not the end, you know.”
“No, it’s not.” Smiling, Virginia slipped on her robe. “As a matter of fact, it’s just the beginning.”
“You’re darned right.”
“Jane, I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“The same right back at you.” Jane sniffled into a wad of toilet paper. “Let me get out of here before I start again.”
