by Corman, Ana
The elderly lady slipped the books back on the shelf and took Catherine’s hand. “Hello, Catherine. I’m Emma. I’m so glad to hear your mother’s well.”
“She’s right over there. Why don’t I introduce you?” Catherine signaled Dana to come over.
“Emma, this is my mother, Dana O’Grady.”
“Hello, Dana. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Catherine was telling me about your breast cancer. I’m so glad to hear you’re well. I fought this disease fifteen years ago, and I’m afraid I’ve been diagnosed again.”
Catherine swallowed hard as she saw the fear and disbelief in the woman’s moist eyes.
Dana reached out and took her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
The phone rang at the customer-service desk. Catherine quickly looked from Emma to her mother. “Excuse me while I answer that.”
Emma followed Catherine’s path. “I’ve made her uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be. My breast cancer was really hard on Catherine. Your story brings back all her fears and heartache.”
“I often wondered what it would be like to have a daughter with me at a time like this. I have four sons and this sort of thing is very hard for the boys to deal with.”
“I can only imagine. But tell me about your diagnosis.”
Dana listened compassionately as Emma recounted her story. She’d had a mastectomy fifteen years before. Her husband had been wonderfully supportive, but he’d recently passed away. Now she’d been diagnosed with a tumor in her remaining breast.
“The worst part is that my pathetic young doctor thinks I’m too old to operate on. I may be seventy years old, but I’m not dead. I have no other medical problems besides my achy old bones. I take care of myself. I do all my own shopping and chores. I walk my dog, Millie, five miles a day. I told that brainless doctor he grossly underestimated me if he planned to limit my options because of my age and stormed out of his office.” She shook her head. “The problem is, I don’t know what to do next. I decided today to come here to do some reading, but I don’t know where to begin. What I do know is I beat this once, and I can beat it again.”
Dana squeezed her shoulder. “Good girl. I think the best place for you to start is to get yourself another doctor.”
“Unfortunately, the doctor I had fifteen years ago retired. I really liked him. This new one is still wet behind the ears and a very poor listener. I sense these young doctors are adverse to risk and failure.”
“The only failure is in not trying, not fighting, and not having the opportunity to win. You already have a winning attitude. We just need to find you the right doctor who’ll fight along with you. My surgical oncologist is wonderful. She works out of the Cancer Center at University Hospital. Why don’t we see if we can get you an appointment with her or her partner?”
“Do you think they would see me?”
“Yes, I do. They both have years of experience, they’re good listeners, and they’re fighters. Just like you. Let’s go into the office and make that call.”
Dana sat close by as Emma articulately explained her story to the receptionist, silently praying that Ruth or Olivia would be able to help this lovely woman. Emma answered a series of questions and jotted some information on a scratch pad.
She hung up and turned to Dana, blinking as the tears filled her eyes. “I have an appointment next week with Dr. Olivia Carrington. They had a cancellation, so the receptionist fit me in.”
Dana handed her a tissue from the desk. “That’s wonderful. Now you can begin to wage your winning battle.”
Emma reached for Dana’s hand. “I knew I needed to come here, but I didn’t know why. Now I know. I was guided.”
Dana found Catherine reorganizing the announcement board. “Now you must really be ready for lunch.”
“I’m starving.” Catherine looked over her mother’s shoulder and saw Emma sipping a cup of coffee and leafing through Dr. Susan Love’s book. She felt drawn to this woman in a way she hadn’t anticipated. “How’s Emma?”
“She’s such a sweetheart. She has an appointment with Olivia next week.”
Catherine blinked. “She does? That’s fantastic. I hope Olivia can help her.”
“I hope so, too. Emma promised she’d come back and let me know how she’s doing. Now, lets go get something to eat.”
“I didn’t mean to make such a hasty exit.”
“I know.”
“Emma probably thinks I’m weak.”
“Emma completely understands how you feel.”
“I wish I could help like you do, Mom, rather than trying to find the nearest escape route.”
“Your help is invaluable, baby. Emma bought the book you recommended. Combine that with her appointment with Olivia, and she’ll walk out of this bookstore a changed woman.”
Ten
THE POSTMAN WOVE HIS WAY among the crowded tables in the coffee shop at four o’clock, right on schedule. He waved at Catherine with a handful of mail and gave her his usual endearing smile. “Top of the afternoon to you, Ms. Catherine.”
“Top of the afternoon to you, Tom. When did a die-hard Texan become so Irish?”
He placed a stack of mail on the counter and dug into his huge shoulder bag. “All these lovely St. Patrick’s Day decorations bring out the best Irish in me.” He pulled three packages out and handed them to Catherine. “Where’s your lovely mother this bright and beautiful Thursday?”
“She headed out to run some errands.” Catherine glanced at the packages. Her heart jumped as she noticed that one of them was addressed to her, from Olivia Carrington.
“Lovely as a rose, your mother is. I’ve been trying for years to get her to have dinner with me but she won’t have any of it. But I’m not giving up. Someday she’ll see what a great catch a Texas cowboy can be.”
Catherine smiled. “Tom, you’ve been married and divorced four times. I think your track record has you hog-tied in my mother’s eyes.”
“Maybe it’s her I’ve been looking for my whole life.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but my mother has said my father was the only man for her.”
Tom heaved the bin of outgoing mail onto his big shoulder. “How am I supposed to compete with that?”
“You’re not. Just be her friend, and she’ll adore you for it.”
“All I can say is your father was one very lucky man for having both of you.”
“Actually, Tom, we were the lucky ones.”
“I believe that to be true. See you tomorrow, Ms. Catherine.”
Catherine slipped into her office and tore open the package from Olivia. She found a stack of articles inside, stapled together with a note on pale yellow paper. Secured to the top right-hand corner of the note was a silver-plated and enameled pink-ribbon tack pin. Scrolled across the ribbon was Find a Cure. Catherine set the pin against the small treasure chest on her desk and read the note, feeling her excitement over the package ebb.
Dear Catherine,
I thought you might find these articles interesting. They explain the current breakthroughs in cancer research, the focus of today’s research goals, and how money is spent on prevention, early detection, treatment, and research. The best article is the last one discussing the success of current breast cancer therapies. I wanted you to see how many people are working hard to prove the power and success of Western medicine. The enemy is working hard to win you over.
I was given a bunch of those breast cancer tack pins by one of our drug representatives. I thought you could put it in your office and every day it would remind you that so many people are truly working hard to find a cure.
Take care of yourself, Catherine. Please give me a call when you have a spare moment.
Warmly,
Olivia
Catherine took a deep breath. It distressed her how easily distracted she was by thoughts of Olivia. She felt challenged by her intelligence and insight, warmed by her sense of humor and charm. But their lives were so different, s
o contradictory. Contradictions that could never be overcome.
She flipped through the articles. She was deeply grateful this research was being done, and that women like Emma had a chance to fight their cancer because of it. She admired Olivia for immersing her life in the world of medicine. A world she needed to shield herself from to protect her sanity.
She was about to set the articles aside when she noticed a pink letter-size envelope at the bottom of the stack. Curious, she opened it, unfolding a copy of Olivia’s third-grade report card. She burst into laughter as she scanned down the straight A’s and read the teacher’s comments at the bottom of the page.
She sat for a moment, pulled in two directions, then reached for her cell phone and dialed Olivia’s cell number. A fluttering sensation tingled her skin.
“This is Dr. Carrington.”
“Did I catch you at a good time, Olivia?”
“Catherine! Your timing is perfect. I’m just heading back to my office.”
Catherine picked up the tack pin and held it gently in the palm of her hand. “Thank you for the breast-cancer pin.”
“It’s just something to remind you of the people you can’t see who are fighting hard against that evil cancer you also can’t see.”
“I have faith in the people and the process, Olivia. Some days my fear dims my faith.”
“I can understand that, with your family history. I just hope you’ll give me the opportunity to strengthen your faith and dim your fear.”
They were silent for a moment. Catherine reached for the report card. “I now have evidence that you actually attended the third grade.”
“See, and you doubted me.”
“I won’t make that mistake again. The best part is your teacher’s comments at the bottom of the page. ‘Olivia is a pleasure to have as a student. She works very hard at her studies and actively participates in class. She listens well and is eager to learn. She plays very well with the girls in the class but seems to have an intolerance for the boys.’” Catherine laughed. “Olivia, you were outed by your third-grade teacher.”
“And I adored that teacher. I can’t believe she did that to me at such a young impressionable age.”
“It’s amazing that you’re so well adjusted after a report card like that.”
They laughed together as Catherine placed the report card down on her desk. “How does the rest of your day look?”
“I just walked into my office. I have five patients here waiting to see me and then I have to do my rounds in the hospital before I can go home. I’m being reminded of my residency days when the hospital was the only home I knew.” “So much for trying to maintain your sanity with a life outside of work.”
“My life outside of work has been seriously lacking for a long time.”
“I should let you go, then.”
“Thank you so much for calling, Catherine. It was the highlight of my day.” Olivia’s voice was warm and sincere. Once again, Catherine’s heart lurched, as much as she wished it wouldn’t.
“I hope the rest of your day goes well, Olivia, and that you get home before eleven o’clock.”
“The chances of that happening are pretty slim. Goodbye, Catherine. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Goodbye, Olivia.” Catherine clicked off the phone, laid her head back against her chair, and closed her eyes. “What am I going to do with you, Dr. Olivia Carrington?”
Eleven
CATHERINE SET HER KETTLE to boil and looked around her small kitchen. She loved its homey feeling. She’d bought this old 1950s house because of its charm and worked hard to restore it, preserving the original style and woodwork. She’d never been a fan of new and ostentatious homes. She remembered Olivia speaking of her “monstrosity of a house,” and couldn’t imagine her appreciating this modest one.
The kettle’s whistle startled her from her thoughts. She filled her bone-china teacup and headed for her favorite overstuffed chair, carefully sipping the hot tea as she curled her legs beneath her. She stared into the crackling fire and watched the flames lick at the maple logs as her favorite Celtic Sisters CD played low in the background.
Catherine was bothered by the excitement she’d felt when she spoke to Olivia. She would have to call upon her sense of self-preservation; there was simply no way the two of them could be involved, and she was starting to agree with Laura that Olivia hoped for involvement. Sipping her tea, she resolved to stand firm, to stop herself from being drawn in any further by Dr. Olivia Carrington.
The musical tune of her cell phone startled her from her thoughts. She looked over at the mantel clock and could think of only one person who would be calling her at ten-thirty at night. A glance at the display on her cell phone confirmed the thought.
“Hello, Dr. Carrington. Please tell me you’re home.”
Olivia laughed. “I’m about two minutes from home. I know it’s late, Catherine. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Not at all. I’m curled up in my favorite chair enjoying a fire and a cup of green tea.”
“That sounds lovely. I wanted to thank you and your mother for referring Emma to me yesterday. The office staff told me about her call today before I left. I hope we can help her.”
“I hope so too, Olivia. She’s a fighter. I can’t believe that a physician would look at a woman’s age and make a plan of care without taking the person into consideration.”
“Age is only one factor, and certainly never a deciding factor. I’ll see what we can do for Emma when she comes in next week. I promise you that I’ll give her my best.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment, Olivia.” Catherine heard a car door slam. “How was the rest of your evening?”
“The office appointments went smoothly. Then I spent some time with a patient I did a mastectomy on yesterday, who I admitted into the ICU.”
Catherine hesitated. “How’s she doing?”
“Not as well as I’d hoped. I’m afraid she’ll develop pneumonia if we don’t control her pain better so she can deep breathe. And I’m worried about her daughter.”
“Why?”
“She’s having a real hard time dealing with her mother’s diagnosis and surgery. She’s only twenty-five. Her mother’s only forty-eight. When I first met her in my office she seemed distant, timid, and skittish. She didn’t have many questions. Now I think it’s just that she’s terrified of what’s going on.”
“I can understand how she feels.”
“I know you can. I’d like to talk with your mom about her. I’m hoping she can help me with this family.”
Catherine hugged a pillow tight to her chest. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help. Are you home now, Olivia?”
“I just got here. I’m grabbing a glass of orange juice, and then I plan to sit on our back deck to enjoy the full moon and you. What time did you finally leave the bookstore?”
“I didn’t get out of there till seven o’clock. We have an all-male reading group that meets at the bookstore every Thursday. The average age of these guys is seventy, and you wouldn’t know it by their behavior. They were supposed to be discussing Wuthering Heights when they got into a heated discussion about the war in Afghanistan. My mom went over and told them they were behaving worse than the group of third graders we had in yesterday. She was the perfect distraction for them. They totally lost their train of thought and started flirting with her. I believe she came away with two marriage proposals and a promise to be more civil.”
“I’m not surprised. Your mother’s an incredible woman. I’m sure anyone of those men would jump at the opportunity to win her affection.”
Catherine was aware of how much she enjoyed talking to Olivia, as long as the subject wasn’t a difficult one. “She’s too young for them, and she isn’t interested in dating. She was so devoted to my father that I don’t think she even sees the way those men look at her.”
“That’s a shame, because I sense your mother has so much to offer in a relationship.”
�
��I agree with you, but it would take an incredible person to break through her walls.”
“Did your parents meet in Ireland or were they already in the U.S.?”
“Both sets of my grandparents immigrated to the U.S. shortly after they were married. So my parents are second-generation immigrants. They met when my mother hired my father to do the accounts for her real-estate agency. As the story goes, it was love at first sight.” Catherine leaned her head back against her chair. “I’d like to see her share a relationship with someone special again, but it would be really strange to see her with anyone other than my father.”
“I understand that.”
“I guess you do. You would never have imagined your father falling in love with another man.”
“No, that wasn’t exactly what I’d envisioned for him. Hey, who knows, your mom might be holding out for the right woman.”
Catherine laughed. “Now, that I’d love to see.”
“I love to hear you laugh, Catherine. I really enjoy you.” The silence stretched for a few long seconds. “Did I lose you?”
“No.”
“What just happened?”
“Just before you called I was wondering how I’m going to keep you at a safe distance.”
“Obviously you have reasons for wanting to keep me at a safe distance.”
“Several.”
“Care to share them with me?”
“Nope.”
“How fair is that?”
Catherine stared into the crackling fire. “Life isn’t always fair, Olivia. I see our lives as being very different. There are things about you that make me feel uncomfortable. But I can’t seem to get you off my mind or stop myself from wondering when we’ll talk again. I know that sounds crazy.”
“It is crazy. You’re just getting to know me, Catherine. Don’t pass judgment till you’ve seen the whole picture. You’ve barely scratched the surface. I know my career makes you feel very uncomfortable. Let me help you overcome your fear.”
“That’s not possible, Olivia.”
