A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love (Women's Fiction) (22 page)

“Well, no, but—”

“All right then. Let’s do it. Now. I’ve got the preacher here, and we can get the marriage license tomorrow.”

The preacher? “Reverend Marthaler?”

“Yep.” Charlie called, “Come on out, Rev.”

Reverend Marthaler emerged and approached Helen with a gentle smile on his face. He wasn’t wearing his robe, but he did have a Bible. “Hello, Helen.”

She stood and shook his hand. “Hello, Reverend.”

“Now we don’t want to force you into something you don’t want to do,” the minister said, and it seemed like he shot Charlie an evil eye. “But Charlie is very serious about wanting to marry you, and I believe his intentions are honorable.”

Helen felt like a huge wave had engulfed her, and her thoughts tumbled over and over like bingo balls. She glanced at Valerie and Russell, both of whom were smiling expectantly. Then she turned to Charlie, who had also stood, and a welcome calm settled over her. His olive-green eyes anchored her, and everything about his appearance—the bushy silver eyebrows, that silly mustache, even his paunch—comforted her. She put her arms around that belly and laid her head on his shoulder. Yes, she wanted to marry him. And why on earth not? If he didn’t care about her diagnosis, why should she? She raised her head to face him. “All right, Charlie Gorski. I’ll marry you. On one condition.” She held up an index finger.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You have to promise you’ll never make pot roast for me again.”

Charlie alone laughed, and someone from the audience called out, “What did she say?” Charlie turned his head to the group. “She said yes!”

Cheers and applause rang out as he removed the ring from its box and placed it on her left ring finger. She’d often wondered whether she’d done the right thing by removing her wedding ring when she started dating Charlie. Thank heavens she had.

Once the hubbub died down, Helen admitted she was awfully tired, so they decided to take a break before the ceremony. She and Charlie sat back down on the couch, and Valerie, Keith and Russell pulled up chairs to sit with them.

Helen directed her gaze at Valerie. “Thank you for putting this shindig together.”

Valerie pointed a thumb toward Keith. “Actually, it was Keith’s idea to have a party.”

Helen reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, my handsome hunk.”

She looked around at all of them, and her eyes grew moist. “I’ll be honest with you, lately I’ve felt like life just . . . what’s the word the young people use? Sucks. That’s it, sucks.” She could tell from their snickering that she had the right word. “But now I know that even when you’re at your absolute lowest, life can still be good.”

Valerie put her street clothes back on and sat to wait for Dr. Thaxton to return to the examining room. She rubbed her arms for warmth, even though the cashmere sweater she wore usually kept her cozy. Why did she still feel exposed? And to what? Her body turning against her, as Mom’s had?

Being unoccupied just exacerbated her anxiety, so she took her BlackBerry out of her purse to check her e-mail. A knock on the door startled her.

“Come in.”

Cottony-haired Dr. Thaxton entered wearing a plastic smile and sat on the swivel stool. “Well, Valerie, your exam didn’t tell me anything definitive, but I do think there’s something out of the ordinary going on. Now that’s no cause for alarm, because your symptoms could suggest any number of things, most of which are not serious. However, I do want to run some basic diagnostic tests, primarily blood and urine, and the results of those will tell us how to proceed. All right?”

That “something out of the ordinary” stuck in her craw, but what could she say? “All right. Do you have any particular suspicions?”

That generic, father-knows-best smile again. “Not at this point.” He stood. “One of the nurses will be back in a moment to draw some blood and so forth. And, Valerie—” He paused to make eye contact with her. “I want you to know you did the right thing by coming in, even if it turns out to be something minor. Once you have a family history of ovarian cancer, it’s always wise to play it safe.”

She nodded. “Thanks, doctor.”

“We’ll call you when we have the test results,” he said on his way out.

Great. Her urgent desire for answers clearly wouldn’t be met today.
No dark imaginings, Valerie. You just have to be patient
.

Valerie walked with a wide stance as she inched up the icy sidewalk to her mom’s back door. Carrying a heavy box filled with family photos didn’t help matters.
We really need to get some salt out here
.

Then she remembered it had been almost exactly one year since Mom’s fall on that very sidewalk. Had it been just a year? So much had happened since then, it seemed like it must have been longer. And yet, at the same time, the year had flown by.

She kicked her boots off in the little back porch and entered the kitchen. “Hey, Mom, it’s Valerie,” she called as she carried the box to the kitchen table and deposited it there. “Mom?”

No answer. She hurried into the bedroom. “Mom?”

Her mom lay propped up in bed, blinking her eyes and appearing startled. “What? What is it?” She was still in her nightgown, though she looked like she hadn’t slept at all.

Valerie approached the bed but didn’t sit on it, knowing that amplified Mom’s pain. “It’s all right, I just . . . you didn’t answer when I called your name.”

“Oh.” Mom adjusted her glasses. “I must have dozed off.”

“Where’s Charlie?”

“His daughter took him to the eye doctor.”

“Oh, yeah.” Valerie checked Mom’s water glass, which was full. “Is there anything I can get you? Did you have some breakfast?”

“I think I ate something. I don’t know. I’m not hungry.”

They’d moved a couple of dining-room chairs into the bedroom, so Valerie pulled one up to the bed and sat. “How are you feeling?”

“Very, very tired.” Her eyes seemed to be an abnormally bright blue. “I think I’m getting close to the end.”

A chill shot through Valerie’s chest, even though she’d known for weeks this was coming. “Is there anything you want to do, or . . . anything you want to take care of that we haven’t already?”

Mom managed a little smile. “Is it too late to sign up for ballroom lessons?”

Sense of humor still intact. Good. “We’ll get one of those hot guys from that TV show to come and give you private lessons. How does that sound?”

Mom tried to sit up straighter but grimaced.

“Here, let me help you.” Valerie rearranged the pillows and got her situated in a more upright position.

“Thank you.” Mom sounded a little breathless.

Valerie sat again. “Are you due for more pain meds?”

Mom glanced at the clock. “Not for another hour. The hospice nurse is supposed to bring something stronger today.”

“Good.” And not good, since it signaled the final stages of pain control. “When are they going to bring the hospital bed?”

“That’s supposed to be coming today, too. Say, why aren’t you at work?”

“I’m taking some time off, remember?”

Mom scowled. “I hope you’re not doing that just for me.”

“No, I’m doing it for me. I happen to like spending time with my mom.”

She wagged a finger at Valerie. “You should be resting yourself. You’ll have a lot to do once I’m gone.”

“Yes, I know. But there won’t be any hurry. And I’ll have Keith to help me.”

The mention of his name always brought a smile to Mom’s face. “I hope you two will make it permanent one of these days. I don’t like to think of you living alone the rest of your life.”

Valerie agreed on both counts. But she just shrugged. “We’ll see. I’m glad he doesn’t work for me anymore, though. That made things a bit awkward.”

Mom nodded.

Valerie crossed her arms and leaned back. “You know, when I look back on it, I’m rather amazed that I ever started Triple-H. I’ve always been so cautious about such things, and yet I jumped right into that. It was crazy.”

“Oh, I disagree. Think how you would have regretted it if you hadn’t at least tried. I think you should be applauded for your courage. And the new owner wouldn’t have bought it if she didn’t think she could make a go of it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m not sorry I sold it, though. My life is much richer and saner now.”

“And it was me getting cancer that prompted you to sell, right?”

“Well, it was one of the factors, yes.”

“So my dying may be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Oh, my God!
Valerie sat upright. “Oh, Mom, how can you say that?”

Mom shook her head and waved her hand, as if to wipe away a false impression. “What I mean is, we’re all going to die someday anyway, and if my dying has inspired you to really start living, that’s a good thing.”

“But I would much rather have you here.”

Mom raised her hand like a traffic guard. “Please, let me enjoy the one
positive
thing that’s come out of all this. All right?”

Valerie didn’t want to say it was all right, but she understood how the thought might give her mom some comfort. She settled back into her chair. “All right. But for what it’s worth, I wish I’d paid more attention to your warnings about my workaholic tendencies.”

“So your mother wasn’t such an imbecile after all.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

That got a smirk out of Mom. “One other good thing that could come out of this would be for you to warn all your women friends not to make the same mistake I did. If they have pain down there, get it checked out.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve been doing that.” Valerie thought of her own abdominal pain scare, but she didn’t want to get into that.
Keep the focus on Mom
. “Say, I finally remembered to bring that box of family photos back.”

“You did?” Mom perked up. “Oh, bring them in here. I’d like to look at them.”

“All right.” She got the box from the kitchen, returned to the bedroom and put it on the floor next to her chair. Mom had organized the photos neatly by year. “Which year do you want to start with?”

“Oh, heavens, I don’t care. Start at the beginning. We’ve got time.”

The first packet was marked 1930 to 1940. Valerie handed it to Mom and grabbed the next one for herself. She gingerly removed the photos from the big, brown envelope. “Who’s this?” She held up a photo of Mom and an attractive young man with thick, wavy hair. They were both dressed to the nines.

“Oh, that’s Donald Byrne.” Mom took the photo to inspect it more closely. “He took me to junior prom.”

“Did you do the nasty with him?”

Mom gave her a stern look as she handed the photo back. “Don’t be ridiculous. People didn’t have sex in those days.” She returned to her pile of photos. “Oh, here’s a good one.”

She held it up for Valerie to see. It was a photo of Mom and her four sisters, and they were each holding an orange.

“This was the Christmas Lillian told the story about at the party. We each got an orange in our stocking, which was a real treat in those days.” She turned the photo around to gaze at it herself. “That actually turned out to be the best Christmas ever.”

“Why’s that?”

“We sat around and talked about all the things we were grateful for. Each other, mostly.” She lowered the photo to her lap and gazed off at nothing in particular. “My dad told us that was the key to happiness. Be grateful for what you already have.”

Valerie nodded while mentally castigating herself for not being satisfied with just one business. But that wasn’t what Mom really meant. She meant be grateful for family, friends, Keith, good health—

“But.” Mom held her right index finger in the air, suggesting Valerie darn well better listen. “Don’t let anything, or any
one
, stop you from getting what your heart truly wants.”

“Okay,” Valerie said slowly. “Is there . . . something specific you have in mind?”

“Well, yes. I know how much you wanted children, and I’m sorry you couldn’t have your own. But you still could have adopted.”

Where was this coming from? Mom had never expressed any such opinions before. “You know Greg was dead set against adoption.”

“Yes, but he’s out of the picture now, isn’t he?”

Whoa
. “So you’re saying I should go ahead and adopt on my own? Now?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Valerie started to ask what prompted Mom to think about this, but then she realized it may not have been about Valerie at all. “Are you having some regrets about not going after what you wanted?”

Mom frowned. “No. I just . . . well, maybe I am. It’s not that I didn’t want to have you kids, it’s just that I realize now I could have had a family
and
some kind of career. And I don’t mean working in a store. That wasn’t a career. Even back then there were women who got their degrees and taught or nursed or whatever. We just didn’t call them superwomen.”

“Supermoms, you mean?”

“Whatever. They were just women who worked hard and did what they wanted. We thought some of them were nuts, but we still respected them and admired their, I don’t know, gumption, I guess. They didn’t let their husbands hold them back.”

Aha
. “Did Dad make you quit acting?”

“Yes, he did. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want me acting, he just didn’t want me around all those attractive men all the time. But I was so much in love, I didn’t fight for what I wanted. So that’s all I’m saying. Don’t be a namby-pamby wife, or partner, or whatever you call it. Fight for what you want.”