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The doctor’s receptionist made no comment when Nathan followed Helen into the exam room. Not that it would have mattered if she had. He was coming in, hell or high water.
It struck him that maybe Helen was right, that the doctor was about to confirm she had cancer, and that was why the receptionist hadn’t raised a fuss. Icy needles raced up his chest to his cheeks and he closed his eyes to fight off the dizziness. When he opened them, Helen was seated on one of the cloth-covered, stainless steel visitor’s chairs next to the paper-covered table. He dropped into the other and took her hand. Her fingers were lifeless in his grip and he felt a chill of premonition.
Shuffling the chair a centimetre closer, he perched tensely with his thigh pressing Helen’s. He had the insatiable urge to jiggle his knee but forced it to remain still. He had to at least appear steadfast and confident for her sake.
She’d been scarily calm since waking in his arms this morning after falling asleep around four. He’d known the time because he hadn’t been sleeping either, barely dozing through the dark hours. He’d let her sleep as long as possible, but the appointment was for 7:45 am and he’d kissed her awake with regret.
He slid a glance at her face. She was pale and composed, her silver hair neatly combed, makeup discreet and flattering. No one looking at her would realize she was about to hear life-changing news.
After their cathartic conversation on Saturday night, he’d left the subject of cancer alone. It was pointless to argue further, and Helen needed his support, not his criticism.
But god, did he hope he’d be able to say I told you so in a few minutes. Not that he would. He just wanted to be able to.
“Thank you.” Helen’s voice was quiet yet firm. “Thank you for coming with me today.”
“Of course.” He’d emailed Melanie Devane to let her know he wouldn’t be in until Tuesday. If Helen were right, he couldn’t leave her alone. If she were wrong—well, there would be some celebrating to do. Besides, he was in no mood to take the lambasting he was sure was waiting for him about the rejected promotion. “Where else would I be?”
“Nowhere.” He was surprised to see a small grin lighten her face. “If I couldn’t talk you out of loving me, I don’t think I can talk you out of anything.”
He smiled back. We’re going to be all right, he thought with relief. No matter what happened next.
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HELEN DIDN’T KNOW WHAT she’d done to deserve Nathan’s love, but she hoped she’d never do anything to lose it. Despite her best efforts to push him away, he had refused. Either she hadn’t tried hard enough or he was too stubborn.
Probably a bit of both.
She drew in a breath to the depths of her belly, eased it out through pursed lips, and her heartbeat slowed. Nathan’s fingers were warm on hers and she twisted her hand to interlace them, his presence comforting, his touch a balm.
Shelagh would be in soon. They’d been told by the cheerful receptionist that Dr. Chesley was running a couple minutes late, but not to worry, and a few moments ago Helen had heard Shelagh’s familiar tones through the thin walls of the exam room.
Not to worry. Hah. All Helen had done for almost three weeks was worry. She’d just managed to hide it better some days than others. No matter what the result of the biopsy, it would be a relief. Then she could start making plans, get her life organized—whether it was for treatments or buying Golden Dragon—or both. The uncertainty was exhausting.
The door opened with startling abruptness and Nathan jerked, his shoulder bumping hers. Shelagh entered the exam room with brisk steps, heels tapping, and shut the door. She gave Nathan a narrow-eyed stare.
“And who have we here?” Her gaze dropped pointedly to their clasped hands.
“Nathan Spieth. I’m Helen’s...” He trailed off, sliding Helen a sideways glance.
“Boyfriend.” The word was ridiculous, with elementary school yard connotations that did no justice to the depths of her feelings, but it was the best she could come up with. Nathan’s eyes lit with warmth and humour and he squeezed her fingers, as if he were in on the joke.
“I see.” Shelagh’s focus flicked from Helen to Nathan and back again.
Worried she was going to suggest Nathan leave, Helen said, “I want him here. I can’t do this alone.” And I don’t have to, she thought with dizzy relief. How amazing it that?
Wrinkles creased Shelagh’s forehead. “It’s a routine examination of the surgical site. If you’re not suffering any pain or inflammation there’s no need for worry.”
For god’s sake get on with it. The voice in Helen’s head was shrill. She took a deep breath to make sure her next words were calm and rational. “No, I’m feeling fine. That’s not what’s important, anyway. I’ve waited long enough, Shelagh. It’s cancer, isn’t it?”
In all the years they’d known each other, Helen had never seen Shelagh gobsmacked. There was no better word to describe the look on her doctor’s face. “Didn’t Mindy tell you?”
Helen assumed Mindy was the irritatingly smiley receptionist. “She refused to tell me anything other than I needed to come see you.”
“The biopsy was clear. No cancer. We have a confirmed diagnosis of sclerosing adenosis, a benign tumour.”
“Oh.” Helen swayed and Nathan wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. “No, she didn’t tell me that.”
“I am so sorry.” Shelagh crouched at Helen’s knees and clasped her hands around Helen and Nathan’s. “I wanted to give you the good news myself on Friday, but got called into emergency surgery with another patient. I didn’t want you to wait any longer, so I told Mindy to let you know the results and that I would give you more details today. I certainly didn’t want to cause you more stress. My sincere apologies.”
Helen heard Shelagh as if she were speaking from the far end of a long tunnel. She knew she should be furious at the cheerful but apparently incompetent medical office assistant. But all she could take in right now were those sweet, sweet words.
No cancer.
Shelagh was still talking, something about further checkups and how sclerosing adenosis was often mistaken for cancer which was why a surgical biopsy was the favoured method of diagnosis. Helen hoped Nathan was paying attention because all she wanted to do was bask in how wrong she’d been.
How wonderful it was to be wrong.