KENDRA COULDN’T STOP SHAKING IN THE CHEMO CHAIR.
Lance reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a blanket. “Ken, let’s put this around you.”
“Thanks, I’m okay.” She tried to smile reassurance. “I’ve already got on a hoodie, hat, and thick socks.”
He rubbed her IV-free arm. “But you’re shaking.”
The complications this morning had unnerved her. A new tech—new to Kendra, anyway—drew her blood and used a bruised vein from last time, which hurt. Then in the chemo ward, she did get her favorite nurse, but the nurse somehow missed her vein and blew another one, which really hurt. But her mind was mostly burdened by what happened in between.
“I’m a little depressed about my white cell count,” she said. “I almost couldn’t get chemo today because it was so low.”
“But from what the doctor said, that’ll be helped by the shot you’ll get later.”
“In the stomach. Yay.”
“I know, Ken.” Lance held her hand. “We’ll keep counting down. This is your fourth session; only two more to go.”
“Then surgery for the mastectomy, then weeks of radiation, then more chemo. It’s so much.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to whine. It doesn’t help.”
“It’s a lot, Ken. No doubt about that. Whenever you need to vent, let it out.”
She stared at the medicine going through the vein, into her blood. “I’m looking forward to my appointment with Dr. Contee end of next week,” she said. “She’ll be assessing the treatment regimen, how it’s impacting everything.” She thought about it. “Maybe that’s why I’m nervous. What if there’s no improvement?”
“We’re not going there, Ken. You can’t add speculation to the mix. You’ll go crazy.”
Kendra thought about it anyway. She’d thought about it for some time.
She turned to Lance. “So what do you think about Darla coming to Bible study?”
“From one speculation to the next, huh?” Lance asked. “You’re asking because of last night?”
“I just thought it was strange to see Darla and Ellen talking outside.”
Lance shrugged. “Why strange? They’re neighbors.”
“I don’t know . . . I was surprised Darla showed up to Bible study to begin with. I hope she’s not there to spy for Ellen.”
“Spy?” Lance said. “Kendra, come on.”
“I don’t mean a planned covert operation,” Kendra said. “I mean she may be checking us out, reporting back. I’m just not totally comfortable with her being there. Plus, she made a comment last night about how unforgiving people can be.”
“Could it be your own conscience that’s bothering you?”
“What do you mean?”
“With Brooklyn there all the time and Ellen dropping off and picking up, you can’t help but think about what happened between her and your dad. It’ll eat you up if you hang on to it, Ken. Maybe it’s time to forgive.”
“Then what? Ellen and I can be friends? It would feel like betrayal to my mom.”
“Nobody said you have to be friends,” Lance said. “Forgiveness is about your heart.”
Kendra was silent for a while. “Why is all this coming up right now? Brooklyn and Ellen in the picture, Dad coming to the States . . .”
“Answer’s pretty simple to me,” Lance said. “Your sickness.”
She looked at him, questioning.
“Trey was motivated to find Brooklyn partly because you made him think about life and how short it is for all of us.” Lance spoke softly, mindful of others in the room. “And I could almost guarantee your dad was motivated to come because of you.”
“How would he know about my sickness?”
“How wouldn’t he know, the way word travels?” He squeezed her hand. “Your dad loves you. Surely you don’t doubt that.”
Kendra allowed herself to ponder that.
“And remember,” Lance said, “you and Trey aren’t the only ones affected by all of this. Brooklyn might be the one most affected. She’s not growing up with her daddy.”