Heart of Ice (7 page)

Now she ordered herself to stop. She was wearing a blue exam gown patterned with snowflakes. It concealed her body about as well as a cape. Around her wrist was a bright-green plastic spiral bracelet holding the key to the locker where she had stashed her clothes and purse. Her Glock was locked in a gun safe in her car. And on the exam table next to her left thigh was a pen and a small notebook. She didn’t want to chance forgetting something important.

Nic couldn’t remember the last time she had been to the doctor for anything besides a physical. Even today, with everything going on, her blood pressure and pulse had been low when the assistant took them. It had taken her nearly a week to get this appointment, which was both too soon and not soon enough. What if the cells were dividing at an exponential rate? What if those few days turned out to be the difference between life and death? Whenever she thought about it, her breath seemed to only go as far as the hollow of her throat.

Nic wanted to be anywhere but here. Maybe if she got up from this table, threw on her clothes, and hurried out before the doctor could make any pronouncements, she would be safe.

And so would Makayla. That was the heart of her fear. Not for herself, but for her child. And at nine, Makayla was still a child.

The irony was that Nic sometimes entertained morbid fantasies about her daughter—Makayla coming down with leukemia or meningitis, Makayla hit by a car or bitten by a dog—just to insure her safety. Because if she worried about it, it would be too ironic for it to actually happen.

But Nic had never bothered to worry about herself.

She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—leave Makayla alone on this earth. Because who would raise her? Every redundant aspect of Nic’s life was organized, except this one. She had never made a will, because she couldn’t decide whom to name as her daughter’s guardian. Nic’s parents were good people, and they loved their granddaughter as much as Nic herself did, but they were growing frail. Her four brothers? They didn’t always see eye to eye. But how would Makayla become a healthy adult without someone Nic trusted to guide her?

Nic put her hand on her belly and tried to take a breath that went all the way down.

There was a knock on the door. Dr. Magel came in and shook Nic’s hand. She was slightly plump, with dark curls and light brown skin. Turning to wash her hands in the sink, she asked Nic questions over her shoulder.

“And you’re—how old again?”

“Thirty-three.”

“When did you first notice the lump?”

“About ten days ago.”

“Any family history of breast cancer?”

“No.” Nic then amended it to, “Not that I know of.” Who knew what her parents’ aunts and cousins and grandparents’ sisters had died from? And she wasn’t going to tip off her parents by inquiring. Not until she was sure there was something to worry about.

“Okay, lie back and I’ll do a breast exam.” Dr. Magel’s gloved hands were warm. She looked, not down at Nic’s breasts, but off into the distance. Nic tried to read her face, but it gave nothing away. Then her fingers stopped. “Is this it?”

“Yes.”

She gently kneaded it. “Well, there’s definitely something there, but your breasts are pretty fibrous, which at your age is more common than not. And nine out of ten lumps aren’t cancerous. We’re going to need an ultrasound and a mammogram to start. We can have those done down the hall, and then we’ll talk again.”

Nic had never had a mammogram before. It didn’t hurt as much as she had heard. After imaging both breasts, the technician switched to smaller plates and only did her left breast, zeroing in, Nic imagined, on the spot. The lump.

The mammogram tech pressed the button for the X-rays and then checked out the digital images to make sure they were clear. When she did, Nic tried to read her face, but it revealed nothing. For the ultrasound, a different tech had her lie down, smeared cold lubricant on her breasts, then slid a handheld sensor over each one, lingering on the lump again as she peered at her screen. Nic watched this woman’s face, too, but her intent expression gave away nothing.

Everything could go up in flames. Without any warning. Just when Nic was beginning to heal from what had happened a decade ago. After all this time, she was finally starting to feel safe around men. Well, around Leif anyway.

Was it a mistake to be here alone? In her head she had tried out telling people.

She couldn’t bring that kind of cold fear to her mother. Or see the pain in her father’s big sad eyes. No parent wanted to outlive a child.

And Leif ? Once the doctor gave Nic the bad news, Leif would keep up a good front, sacrifice himself, pretend to still find her attractive, even after he secretly felt only pity. The Nic Leif was attracted to was strong, confident, professional, beautiful. Cancer could take all that away. Leif would support her unconditionally. Nic knew that in her gut. But whatever it was between them might not be strong enough to survive a life-or-death challenge.

Then there were Cassidy and Allison, her best friends. She knew she could count on them to support her, at least in their own ways. But either of them, when faced with something that might be bearing down on her like a freight train—how rational and lucid would they be?

Cassidy would move heaven and earth to help her, but she would also probably try to redecorate Nic’s house according to feng shui, or beg her to go to some kind of alternative medicine provider who would prescribe coffee enemas and elderflower root.

Allison knew what it was like to have your body betray you, to be consumed by something you had no control over. She would understand, at least a little, how Nic was feeling. But she would probably want to pray over Nic, or at least for her. Like that would help. It was like islanders thinking the weather gods were angry after a tsunami. You grasped at straws when you were desperate. Looked for symbols and portents, willing to sacrifice anything to save yourself. Once Nic had even found herself praying when she thought she was on the verge of death—and then had been ashamed of her weakness.

For now, she was saying nothing to them. She needed her friends to not treat her any differently. It allowed her to pretend that this wasn’t happening.

She sat straight-backed in the waiting room, her notebook and pen on her lap, while she waited for her test results. Finally the nurse led her back to Dr. Magel’s office. The doctor was sitting behind a wooden desk, looking at her computer screen. Nic took one of two seats opposite her.

Dr. Magel looked up. “Our radiologist says the mammogram is inconclusive. The ultrasound, though, shows a dense spot. In other words, it’s not a fluid-filled cyst, but rather something else. It could be a fibroma, which are fairly common and benign. Or it could be cancer. I’m going to refer you to a surgeon to discuss next steps. But we need to get this looked at.”

Nic realized she hadn’t written a word in her notebook. “Do you think it’s cancer?”

“Nicole, it’s too early to say.”

But it seemed to Nic that Dr. Magel’s eyes told a different story. One where she knew that the news was bad.

Allison was always telling her there was a God. But what kind of a God would give Nic everything and then just snatch it away?

CHAPTER 12

Portland Fitness Center

T
hat’s Elizabeth,” Cassidy whispered to Allison as they entered the exercise room. She had badgered Allison and Nicole until they had agreed to give boot camp a try. It was hard to claim a conflict when the class started at six a.m.

Elizabeth was as tall as Allison, with rich auburn hair cut in a swinging bob that showed off her high cheekbones. Her intense blue gaze seemed to weigh and measure Allison in a half second. A wave of dizziness passed over her, and she had to put her hand on Nicole’s arm to steady herself.

“Are you all right?” Nicole’s brow creased with concern.

Allison straightened up. “Just a touch of vertigo, that’s all. The doctor says I’m a little anemic.” She hoped that was the reason there were still times she felt flattened and empty. And why this woman’s gaze had left her off balance.

The only three mats next to each other were in the last row. Cassidy looked disappointed, but Allison was relieved that they wouldn’t be right in front of the instructor.

When the three of them had been at Catlin Gabel together, Allison had been a straight-A student. Except for PE. No matter how hard she tried, she was rewarded with a string of Cs. Allison’s natural reaction when a ball of any type came in her direction was to duck. Even in sports without balls, her clumsiness was always on display. She twisted her knee on the pommel horse, knocked over rows of hurdles, and in archery bruised her arm from elbow to wrist with the bowstring. Even standing on top of a balance beam had seemed as daring as Icarus flying to the sun on wax wings. With each new sport, the only thing that changed was the location of Allison’s bruises.

Coordinated people had always intimidated her. She might be able to argue circles around them, but once she was on a dance floor they would best her, no problem.

Or in an exercise studio. By the time Allison got the hang of one move, Elizabeth was switching to the next. Longingly, Allison looked at the clock on the wall again, but the hands seemed not to have moved. She still had forty-five minutes to get through. Forty-five minutes of torture.

Next to her Cassidy gamely puffed along. If it had been Nicole who had been singing the praises of this class, Allison could have understood. But Cassidy? Cassidy and discipline did not belong in the same sentence. Unless it came to her job. Then Cassidy would willingly do the heavy lifting, if it meant she ended up with a great story.

Cassidy looked over with her brows pulled together, as if Allison’s panting and poor form personally reflected on her. “Suck it in,” she mouthed, patting her own hollowed-out stomach.

The problem was that Allison already
was
sucking it in. But no matter how hard she tried, a little shelf of flesh remained just below her navel. If she hadn’t miscarried, it would have made a comfortable cradle for the baby. Lately she had tried to fill that empty space with eating. Everything from Cool Ranch Doritos from the office vending machine to olive-oil poached halibut and the spring vegetable medley at Paley’s Place. At home, there were scalloped potatoes made with half-and-half and Tillamook cheddar cheese. Umpqua Dairy’s almond mocha fudge ice cream.

And now that her sister was living with them, Lindsay seemed to be trying to bake her way into their hearts. Every night Allison came home to the smell of fresh-baked cookies or brownies. Just thinking about food made her want to stand up, walk out of class, and buy a slice of coffee cake from the snack bar they had passed on the way in.

Allison hadn’t felt in touch with her physical self since she lost the baby. Her body had betrayed her. She had done everything right—or as right as one humanly could—and still it had turned on her.

After the miscarriage, she had thrown herself into her work, spending evenings at her desk, coming in early to try to catch people before they went out for the day on the East Coast. When she came home, she only had enough energy to eat and go to bed. Not to hit the treadmill.

Elizabeth barked out, “Second set of lunges.”

Second set? Allison had only managed the last few repetitions by telling herself it was nearly over.

Cassidy was watching Elizabeth with something like awe. This was a side to her that Allison hadn’t seen before. Cassidy seemed to long for this woman’s approval, automatically doing everything a little bigger and better any time Elizabeth’s gaze turned in her direction.

On the other hand, Cassidy had kind of an addictive personality, and exercise certainly beat her past problems with men, alcohol, and Somulex. If her friend was going to plunge headfirst into something new, Allison thought as she sneaked another glance at the clock, at least boot camp was a healthy choice.

CHAPTER 13

Portland Fitness Center

A
nd squat and press,” the instructor said, demonstrating. “Focus on the ceiling to help keep your spine aligned.” Nic obeyed, but instead of staring up at the ceiling, she found herself looking at the other women’s breasts in the mirror. Small, big, bouncing, sagging. But they all seemed to have them. What if she went through this thing and she lost one or both of hers? She would gladly give them up. In a heartbeat.

But what if she lost her life?

It was the thought she kept circling back to, like a tongue probing a sore tooth until it flares into agony.

There were so many things—like her breasts and her hair—that would have seemed so important a few days ago. Now she was ready to sacrifice them without a second thought.

The instructor, Elizabeth, had perfect breasts. Perfect everything. Her arms and legs were as taut and smooth as if they belonged to one of Makayla’s dolls. Nic wondered how much upkeep was required to look so flawless. If her hair was highlighted, then it must take her stylist hours to achieve those dozens of shades of cinnamon, paprika, and red chile. Or maybe Elizabeth was just one of those genetic freaks who woke up every morning looking beautiful.

Elizabeth flashed her a hard look, and Nicole realized she was staring. She pulled her gaze away as Elizabeth said, “Okay, let’s do some squats.”

While she demonstrated the correct form, Nic bent over and wiped her forehead with the hem of her T-shirt. This class was proving to be something of a surprise. It took a lot to get her to sweat.

But now her body, which still appeared strong, held a rottenness at its core. Oh, she knew Dr. Magel would say that it was far too soon to know. But Nic knew. From the moment her fingers touched it, she had known that her body had turned on her in secret.

Scattered moans rippled through the group as Elizabeth called out, “Nineteen and twenty!”

There was something about the instructor that turned Nic off. She didn’t like jealousy, especially in herself, but that’s clearly what it was. Five years ago, when Allison, Cassidy, and Nic had gotten reacquainted after their tenth reunion, Cassidy had been enthralled with the idea that Nic was an actual FBI agent, plied her with all kinds of questions. Now Cassidy was in the throes of a new enthusiasm. It wasn’t pretty, but Nic had to admit that she must be feeling a little green-eyed.