Season of Sisters (33 page)

It warmed her that he'd thought about her Life List. She'd shown it to him only a couple of weeks ago and as this question indicated, he'd quickly grasped its importance. Holly considered the inquiry. "Taking a real stretch, maybe number eight."

"What is number eight?"

"'I will save a life.'"

"That's no stretch at all, honey. Contributing to research may lead to saving thousands of lives. You could give number eight double checks."

The mention of her list led Holly's thoughts in another direction and her gaze trailed back to Justin's truck. Most men stocked their tool boxes with tools. Justin's ordinarily contained three toys to every tool. "Do you still keep kites in your tool box?"

"Sure. I know you enjoy flying kites."

Number fourteen required her to fly a kite in every month of the year. Up till now, she had about half the year accounted for. June, however, remained a "to do."

"The wind is perfect today and this is a great spot. No power lines to snare them. Do you have time?"

"I cleared my calendar except for evening rounds. What color do you want? I know I have red, blue, and pink bat kites. My big super-sailor cloth one tore last time I used it."

"Pink, please."

"I thought you hated pink."

"I did. That whole pink ribbon thing and breast cancer awareness turned me off. But I'm coming around. Charlene Roberts gave me a little pink ribbon pin to wear. Think I should start wearing it, don't you?"

"I love you, Holly Weeks."

She gave him a quick kiss. "Go get my kite, Dr. Delicious. I can't think about this anymore. I'm in the mood to play."

Play is exactly what they did. They had a height competition, a trick competition, and a fastest-in-the-air competition. They laughed and cheered, jeered and complained depending on the outcome. Eventually, Justin declared Holly the overall winner, and he rolled his blue kite in. Holly stood watching the pink plastic wings soar, humming beneath her breath, and smiling. Filled with peace.

Justin moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her. Supported the reel of string. Holly leaned against him and yearned to remain that way forever, sheltered in his loving, supportive arms. The possibility that it might not happen added a cloud to her blue sky. "How will you deal with it, Justin?"

"Hmm?"

"If I'm BRCA-positive. How will you feel?"

He pressed a kiss against her hair. "I'll be there for you. That won't change."

"How can you be certain?" She thought it was the most important question she would ever ask Justin. "If I'm positive, there's a fifty percent chance I'll pass my altered gene to our children."

She felt his muscles grow stiff. His grip on her arm tightened, then heedless of the kite, he whirled her around to face him. He gazed deeply, intensely into her eyes. Captured by the fierceness of his stare, Holly allowed the kite string to slip from her hand. The pink kite sailed free.

"What?" she asked.

His voice was raspy, rough. "Our children? Are you saying you'll marry me, Holly?"

Oh. Oh, dear. She hadn't meant... she hadn't realized. "Justin, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."

His arms dropped and he turned away. Walked a few endless steps away.

Holly felt horrible. She'd hurt him. One more time, she'd hurt him. Why did he put up with her? He stood facing the pond and the shooting fountain, his hands shoved into his back pants pockets. "Justin? Please. I'm trying. I truly am. These issues... these questions... are too important to ignore. After what I've learned today, I would be irresponsible even to think about marrying you unless you can accept the reality that your children might be at risk if I am their mother."

"Dammit, Holly."

"That's even if I could have children. If the ovarian specialist doesn't want to yank out my ovaries immediately."

"Now you're being foolish." He swung around and glared at her. "You have no history of ovarian cancer in your family."

"But if I'm BRCA-positive, my risk is higher. You heard her say that, didn't you? I know the risk is higher with BRCA1 than with BRCA2, but you can't ignore it. She said some women who test positive do choose to attempt to avoid the Big C by pre-need surgeries."

Holly repeated the clinical terms to help make her point. "Prophylactic oophorectomies and mastectomies. How would you deal with that, Justin? Having a wife with no breasts or ovaries?"

"You are determined to look at this in the worst possible light, aren't you?"

"See, we have a difference of opinion right from the first."

An ache grabbed at her heart. "To me, the worst possible light is dying. That you would rank my loss of feminine attributes at the top of the scale answers my question, doesn't it."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

She shrugged and folded her arms across the hollow in her stomach. He stomped toward her, planted his feet in front of her, and folded his arms, too. "Listen to me, Holly Elizabeth Weeks. I'm trying not to take this too personally, because I know you're vulnerable at a time like this. I don't mind repeating myself, but I need you to listen. Will you do that for me? Will you listen?"

She nodded.

"I love you. I love your sparkle and your wit and your determination. I love your compassion. I love your tenderness with young children. I love the way you inspire your students to try their best. I love the respect you show your father. I love the little snore you make when you're deeply asleep. I love your competitiveness. I love the way you stick to your guns. I love your intelligence. I love the thickness of your hair and the color of your eyes. I love your smile."

His voice deepened. "And yes, I love your breasts. I love to touch them and feel them and taste them. I love the way your toes curl when I draw your nipples into my mouth and suck them. Would I miss your breasts if they were gone? Yes. Would I grieve for the children we could not make were you to make the choice to have your ovaries removed? Deeply. Would I worry about how premature menopause would affect you both physically and emotionally? Of course. Would I still think you are beautiful if they take your breasts? Yes. Would I still love you if they take your breasts?" His voice broke like a teenager's. "Damn right I would and shame on you if you think I'm so shallow I wouldn't."

Holly swayed and he reached out and clutched her arm. "I love you, Holly. I love you with your breasts or without them. I love you with your ovaries or without them. I will love you if you are BRCA-positive or if we never learn your genetic disposition. I will love you whether you choose to deal with your risk with conservative screening management or chemo prevention or radical surgery. I want you to be my wife no matter how this situation plays out. I love
you,
Holly. I want a life with you for as long as God allows, be it a month or a year or fifty years like Grace and Ben. I won't give up on you. No matter what the future brings, I want to share mine with you."

The tears that slowly filled her eyes during his impassioned speech overflowed and spilled slowly down her face. He took her hands in his, held them tight, placed them deliberately against his heart. "Marry me, Holly. Be my wife. Be my life."

"Oh, Justin. I want to say yes. You don't know how badly I want to say yes."

"Then open your mouth and spit it out."

"I... I..." She fumbled in her pants pocket for a tissue.

He handed her his handkerchief. "Do you believe what I just said?"

"Yes. I do."

"Good answer. That's all you really need to know how to say. Now let's match that answer up with the right questions."

He waited, intent, silently urging her on.

She gazed up into his eyes, drawn into emotions so deep she thought she could drown. The words he wanted to hear and she wanted to say formed on her tongue and froze. Something, some inner intelligence or insecurity, she couldn't tell which, held them back.

"Holly?"

"You don't know how much I needed to hear that. It helps. Truly, it does. But for me to commit to a future with you or with anyone right now... it just wouldn't be right. I need, I think we both need, facts in hand before we make permanent decisions."

He sighed and grimaced as if he'd tasted something bad. "Your lack of faith in me hurts, Holly. What will it take to convince you I mean what I say?"

"I believe you mean it. Now."

His face seemed to age before her eyes. "But you can't trust me to mean it a month from now or a year from now."

Grief for them both wrung her insides. "Please, Justin. I've come a long way in the past few weeks. Grant me that. Now I'm asking for a little more time. For both of us."

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "I guess I'm afraid if you test positive, you'll tell me no."

"I'm afraid if I test positive, I'll tell you yes, but for the wrong reasons."

"As long as you love me, any reason is good enough for me."

"Oh, Justin." Holly touched his shoulder. "I don't mean to hurt you."

"I know. It's hard on a man's pride though, Holly."

"I know."

He sighed heavily. "All right. I'll give you your time, but I won't ask you again. Next time, you have to ask. One more rejection and I doubt my self-esteem could recover."

Holly didn’t believe that for a minute. The doctor's self-esteem was strong as garlic.

A mockingbird's song drifted on the gentle breeze and the flock of sparrows returned, circling the pond and its fountain before alighting on green grass. Holly hooked her arm through his. "If we were going to a high school reunion this summer, think we'd win the prize for most paranoid pair?"

His mouth twitched with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Undoubtedly."

"Think counseling could help? Couples counseling?" As he shot her a look of surprise, she continued, "It might be good for us to talk to someone with a different perspective—a neutral perspective—who can help us both sort out our feelings and our needs. It might help us to avoid problems down the road."

"I'll talk to anybody, anytime, if you think it'll help. Especially if you keep using phrases like 'down the road.' It gives me hope." He pressed her arm against his side. "You want to set something up or shall I?"

"I'll do it. I thought we could try the marriage prep program at church."

"This is sounding better and better to me all the time."

Justin wrapped her in his arms and pulled her tight against him. "In fact, I think that preparation needs to start right away," he said as he nuzzled her neck. "There's a hotel just up the street. How about it, honey? Wanna practice being married?"

* * *

Grace suspected something was up. Ben had acted downright peculiar this morning, fixing her breakfast, picking out a sweater for her to wear, then dithering on and on about which pair of shoes she should choose for today's shopping trip. As if she wouldn't know to don comfortable shoes to go hunting for the perfect anniversary dress.

Plus, he'd hovered. He repeatedly quizzed her about her energy level and shot her assessing looks at least a dozen times. It was driving her crazy, especially since he'd been better of late, almost casual in his care. In fact, ever since that day in the coffee shop when she spouted off to Maggie and Holly about Ben's patronizing ways, he'd hardly gotten on her nerves at all.

Grace acknowledged that much of the change might lie in how she perceived him rather than in how he acted, but still, this much attention was ridiculous. What was the matter with the man?

She got her first inkling when Maggie and Holly arrived to pick her up. In a bright white limousine.

"What in the world?" she marveled as a uniformed driver opened the car door and her friends unfolded from inside.

"Morning, friends," Maggie said. "Isn't it a simply gorgeous day? Grace, I had the silliest dream last night. I dreamed you wore a leisure suit to your anniversary party."

"What's a leisure suit?" Holly asked.

"Oh, my, sugar. Thanks for making me feel like Methuselah. Leisure suits were
the
men's fashion mistake of the seventies."

"Why would Grace wear a man's suit to her anniversary party?"

"I don't know. Neither do I know why she served her guests watermelon. Enough of dreams. Let's get on to fantasy. Grace, are you ready?"

Grace eyed the limo and tried to ignore the flutter of excitement inside her. She'd never ridden in one before. "Ready for what?"

Maggie gestured to the car with a flourish. "To go shopping."

"Is something wrong with your car? Holly or I could take our car."

"Not to this shop, we can't," Holly murmured.

Maggie grinned and walked up to Ben and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for helping with this, sugar. I promise we'll take good care of her."

Grace's gaze flew up to meet her husband's sheepish one. "Take care of me?"

"I want you to have your special dress, Gracie. We all want that. Maggie suggested a way to make it happen and it seemed like a good idea, so I went along with it. I hope you'll be gracious about it."

Gracious? Now why would he feel the need to provide that particular warning?
"What have you done, Ben Hardeman?"

"Oh, don't get snitty. All he did was pack a bag." Maggie glanced toward Ben. "You did remember to include the Spanx, I hope."

"It's in there."

"My underwear? The two of you are discussing my underwear now?"

"It'll be fine, Grace," Holly assured. "I promise. But you need to kiss your husband and get into the car or we'll be late."

"Late? Late for what? Where are we going?"

Her friends and her husband shared a look. Maggie said, "Holly and I are volunteering at the Pink Sisterhood wedding gown sale this weekend, and we thought it'd be worth the effort to see if that dress we admired at the Fort Worth sale is still on the racks."

A Pink Sisterhood sale? Back in town so soon? "I haven't heard any promotion about the sale."

"They haven't exactly come back to town," Ben said as he leaned down to plant an enthusiastic kiss on Grace's mouth. "Not our town anyway. Have fun, Gracie. I'll see you tomorrow."