Wish Upon a Star (10 page)

"Agreed," Miranda said. "I can barely trust Ryan with folding
the clothes, much less washing them." She handed me the
bottle.

I popped the cork and poured. Between her head bobbing
and her toe bouncing, Annie looked like she was going to burst. She
took her glass and raised it. "To my two favorite people in the
world."

We each took a drink and, following Annie's lead, placed our
glasses on the table.

"All right, the photo doesn't do the dress justice, and I'll have
to be fitted closer to the wedding, but here you go."

She handed her phone to me. The dress was a complete
stunner. White as newly fallen Christmas snow, with a high, lacy
neckline and long sleeves, it had a Victorian feel. While the dress was
full-length, it didn't appear to have a train. It was elegant and stylish
in a simple way.

It was Annie.

I closed my eyes and visualized her in the dress. She'd be
gorgeous beyond belief in it.

The phone was taken out of my hands. I opened my eyes.
Miranda was grinning at me. "Told you he'd love it."

Annie sat across from me. "Do you E.J.? It's not
too...old-fashioned?"

Old-fashioned wasn't the issue. Neither of us had any idea
what her chest would look like after mastectomy, reconstruction and
possibly even radiation. Before all of this, she'd talked of a
form-fitting, strapless number with the expressed purpose of driving me
insane. The high neckline of this gown was her surrender to the
inevitable.

That didn't matter to me. What mattered to me was saying "I
do" to her. She could be in shorts and a t-shirt on our wedding day
for all I cared. Whatever she chose to wear, she'd look fabulous.

"It's not old-fashioned. Not by a long shot. I think it looks
classy and you'll look amazing in it."

Her cheeks bloomed pink as her lips curled up.
"Thanks."

Mission accomplished
. She
would
look
amazing in the dress. "Did you look for a matron of honor
dress?"

"I decided on burgundy and I'd like Miranda's dress to be
full length. Beyond that, I'm leaving the details to her."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Don't worry, E.J. Annie's not giving up as much control as
you think. She gets final approval on the design."

"Well, alrighty then." I rubbed my hands together. "Now that
I have some colors, I can get to work on my tartan."

Miranda gave me a confused look and turned to Annie, who
shook her head.

"Yes, Randi. Tartan. He's got it in his head that since he's
Irish, he should wear a kilt. I made the mistake to agreeing to his
choice of wedding-wear before I knew what the little sneak was up
to."

I raised my glass. "'Tis the most formal of occasions. To
marry my sweet lassie in anything less would be an insult."

"Yeah, just as long as a gust of wind doesn't blow up your
skirt. That would be an insult to us all," Miranda said.

"Amen to that, sister." The girls clinked glasses amid a
three-part chorus of laughter.

Miranda took off after an impromptu dinner at Bazbeaux's.
Annie and I were getting ready for bed when I finally asked why she
was acting like she'd been on a caffeine binge.

Her shoulders sagged. "Busted. I've been meaning to ask you
something, but you have to promise not to get mad."

"Okay." I drew the word out. When she didn't go on, I
nodded. "I promise not to get mad at you."

"I know you love me, and I know you want to take care of
me. But I'm going to drive myself to my chemo appointment
tomorrow."

"You don't have to. I don't—"

"I know you don't mind. I can take care of myself, though.
And this way, you don't have to be waiting for me to text you.
Besides, you could use a break. Go visit the bike shop, or go bug
Gloria."

She gave me a hug. "I'll be fine. I promise."

I think she could tell I was disappointed, but I'd promised
her I wouldn't get mad. Instead, I returned the embrace and nuzzled
her neck. "If you insist. But I'm going next time, since that's your first
round on the different treatment. Deal?"

She gave me her heart-melting smile. "Deal."

Despite the fact that we'd basically lived together for almost
a year, I was still an early riser and Annie still held it against me if I
woke her before ten. Not surprisingly, she gave me the evil eye when
I nudged her at nine-thirty.

"Your appointment's in an hour and a half. I've got breakfast
for you."

She sat up and sniffed the steaming mug I handed her.
"Mmm, French Vanilla. Good work. Let me shower and I'll be there in
a few."

Fifteen minutes later Annie joined me for breakfast. When I
commented about her speed in the bathroom, she ran her hand over
her bare head.

"Probably the only good thing about this damn
chemotherapy. With no hair to mess with, it doesn't take any time to
shower. And I could learn to live with never having to shave my legs
again. Or a few other parts." She winked and took a bite of her
English muffin.

Once I was certain I wasn't going to spit my oatmeal all over
the table, a question that had been lurking in the shadows bulled to
the forefront. "So do you really want to have kids? I mean...with
me?"

Annie stared at me like I'd turned purple and had grown an
extra arm. After a minute though, she broke into an ear to ear grin.
"You're thinking of our conversation with Doctor Furman. Of course I
want to have kids with you, silly. I always thought if I hadn't met the
right guy by the time I turned forty, then I'd explore other options,
like adopting or artificial insemination. But that's not an issue now.
We'll just have to hope the biology returns to normal when this is all
over."

"Another reason to keep hope alive."

"Yes it is." She stood and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I need
to run. You'll be a good boy and won't throw water bottles at any
cars, yes?"

"No promises. Say hi to Staci for me."

Paul had been getting slammed with bikes needing tune-ups
now that spring had arrived, so I spent the day at Cycles Forever
trading good-natured barbs with Dave and making a dozen bikes
road-ready. I was in the middle of a great lie about how quickly I
could change a set of handlebars when my phone buzzed. Annie was
home and wanted to get some dinner.

She gave me a weak wave when I walked in the living
room.

"Four down." I handed a marker to her. "Care to mark
another one off?"

She tapped the marker on the coffee table and let out a long
breath. "I'm worried about Staci."

No update on her condition. No celebratory victory whoop.
No wine glasses to toast. I sat next to her and took her hand.

"Tell me."

"She was there, but she was in one of the beds again. And
she was wrapped up in easily a dozen blankets. Her skin was gray.
She told me she'd just been battling a flu bug, but I'm beginning to
have my doubts."

"Were you able to speak to her mom?"

Annie filled me in on their conversation. With Staci's
immune system compromised from the chemo treatments, whatever
virus she had was proving to be extremely troublesome. The concern
was that if her condition didn't improve, her next chemo treatment
would have to be delayed.

"She and her parents are struggling enough as it is. I just
wish there was something I could do for them." Her voice
cracked.

"You can't do anything for them if you're not well yourself.
Let me make you some stir fry, and we can brainstorm over dinner
about how you can help."

She wiped away a tear with the heel of her hand and got to
her feet. "You're right." She strode to the fridge and marked an X
over the box for treatment four. "Let's do this."

Over the course of the evening, we came up with a handful
of ideas Annie wanted to explore further. The options ranged from
practical, like restaurant gift cards, to way off the charts, like paying
for an in-home nurse to look after Staci.

"Staci's my friend, and her mother's a sweetheart. The cost
isn't a concern," Annie said when I asked if a private nurse wouldn't
be awfully expensive.

By the time we settled into bed, Annie had decided on two
things—a variety of restaurant gift cards so Staci's mom wouldn't
have to cook so much and a private tutor to keep Staci current on her
studies.

"She needs to know she has a future. A tutor will help with
that."

We'd spent the whole evening so focused on Staci that I
hadn't even asked Annie how her treatment had gone. "And what
about you? Now that round four's done, is there anything you
need?"

"Yes,
I
need to know she has a future, too."

With four chemo treatments behind her, Annie was halfway
through. When Julia called the next day, she suggested it was a good
time for Annie to meet with a plastic surgeon if she wanted to have
reconstruction done at the same time as her mastectomy.

I looked up from my notes of the conversation. Annie's eyes
were closed and she was rubbing her temple.

"Good Lord, Julia, it's hard enough thinking about one
surgery, but two? And at the same time? Do I really have to do
this?"

"No, absolutely not. Reconstructive surgery is a choice that
is completely up to you." Julia's confident, yet comforting tone took
the edge off the conversation. "Some women choose to have
reconstruction performed at the time of mastectomy. Others choose
to have reconstruction a year or two down the road, after they've
had a chance to recover a little. Some women choose not to have
reconstruction done at all. The choice is yours."

"Then why should I see someone now?"

"To be fully aware of all of your options. I can understand if
you're tired of making decisions right now. I am simply suggesting
that now would be a good time to know what all of your options are.
That way if... I repeat
if
you decide you want to have
reconstruction done at the same time as mastectomy, it can be
arranged."

Annie looked my way and raised her chin slightly. It was a
gesture I'd learned that meant she wanted my opinion.

"It's like you've told me. Information is power. Better to
have it now than down the road."

"You're right," Annie said with a decision-is-made nod.
"Julia, can you help me arrange to meet someone within the next
week? I'd like to get this taken care of before my next infusion."

With Julia's help, two days later we were in the office of
Doctor Marie Henderson, certified in plastic and reconstructive
surgery. With the patience of Job, Doctor Henderson led Annie and
me through an overview of reconstructive options. My head spun at
the names of the procedures and the incredible methods by which
doctors were able to rebuild women's breasts after they'd been
removed.

After she completed the overview, Doctor Henderson got
down to business.

"The choice of procedure, or of not doing reconstruction at
all, is yours, of course. I know Doctor Furman well. We've performed
surgery together a number of times, so if you do choose
reconstruction, then I'd recommend you have tissue expanders
inserted at the time of your mastectomy."

When Annie asked her why, the doctor continued. "First, if
the cancer hasn't spread to the lymph nodes, it's likely you won't
require a course of radiation. If that's the case, then once the
mastectomy and implant surgery is complete, the only procedures
you will have to undergo will be weekly visits here to expand the
implants until they reach the proper size. Then we can replace the
expanders with permanent implants."

Annie chuckled. "I like the sound of that."

"Now, you have to be prepared for the possibility that the
cancer has progressed to the lymph nodes. You won't know that until
you receive the results from the tests of the nodes that are removed
during mastectomy. If they come back positive, then radiation will be
recommended. If you need to undergo radiation, then you will also
need to wait until you're recovered from the radiation to expand the
implants."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"That's understandable. The issue you face is that the other
procedures typically involving moving tissue from another part of
your body to re-create the breasts. Common sources are the
shoulder blade area and the abdomen. Given your body mass, you
don't really have any tissue to spare."

"Wow," I said as I finished with a note. "I wouldn't have
imagined a downside to Annie's fitness level."

The doctor leaned forward. "The fact that you're a fit woman
is to your benefit. Studies have shown the long term benefits weight
management and a healthy diet provide in preventing a recurrence
of cancer. While your size may limit your options with
reconstruction somewhat, that's the only downside."

Annie tapped a fingertip to her lips. She let out a long sigh
and rubbed her hands down her thighs. "Thank you, Doctor. You've
been a great help. Let me do a little more research and I'll touch base
with you in a few days, yes?"

We were almost back to the car when Annie gave me a
shoulder bump. "What do you think?"

"Your shoulder is way too bony for my own safety." I rubbed
my arm. "That hurt."

She snorted. "Lord, you are such a dork. No, I mean about
Doctor Henderson."

I opened the driver's side door for her and made my way to
the passenger side. The fact that Annie had asked for my thoughts
meant the world to me. Betraying her trust with a poorly thought out
response would be unforgiveable. Her hands were on the steering
wheel and she had an expectant look as I buckled in.

"First off, I love you no matter what. I'll support you one
hundred and ten percent in whatever you decide to do. Having said
that, Doctor Henderson's recommendation makes a lot of sense to
me."

Annie started the car. The engine purred like a happy kitten.
"I'm inclined to agree with you. I've also read that the implants can
be replaced if I have problems with them."