Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
What a reveal.
Lace had somehow known Vincent was handsome underneath all the makeup, and she’d figured he might be hiding a well-built body beneath his robes, but now that all was uncovered, she realized the man was so much more than her imagination had suggested.
More of everything.
And way out of her league, despite telling her he was interested.
There might have been a time, back in college, where she would have dared make a move on someone like him.
She would have swept her long blonde hair back from her face and given him a come-hither look with her large brown eyes, hoping she might catch his attention before any of the overtly pretty girls snagged him.
It would have been a crap-shoot even then, but now? What did she have to offer?
Her hair was gone. Her eyes looked like two bruised smudges, and she’d lost enough weight so that the black-diamond curves which had once defined her body, were now more like kiddy-slopes.
Add to that, the imminent loss of one boob, or both, and…
What could he possibly see in her that was worth him sticking around?
“Hey. I thought I had you back from la-la land,” he teased. “Are you still lost in your head?”
“Yeah. That’s the way I roll. Always tapping out.” Lace didn’t give any apologies. “I can be here one minute, and gone the next.”
So far, he hadn’t seemed to mind.
“Have you been doing this all your life?” he asked, showing true interest that amazed her, since it wouldn’t have been easy to fake.
“Yup,” she admitted. “As a child, all the time. But as an adult,” she added wryly, “I’d thought I’d pretty much learned to control it, until I couldn’t. Until chemo. Since I started my infusions,” she shrugged, “I seem to have reverted to old habits.”
Maybe spacing out was her version of “chemo brain”.
Her daydreams had certainly become a lot more prevalent in the past month. It could just be Lace’s personal coping mechanism; disappearing into pleasant thoughts to mitigate her cancer fears, but whatever it was, it was back, big time.
“It’s not a bad thing,” Vince assured her, then wrinkled his nose. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your concentration while you’re doing your job.”
He looked worried, as if he thought her flights of fancy might send her soaring overboard on invisible wings, and into the sea.
“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’m extra careful while I work. I promise. There’s a lot to concentrate on, what with the constant activity and the paperwork that accompanies it, so I don’t have much time to brain-wander.”
“That’s good,” he gruffed, then gave a chin lift as if signaling the end of that subject. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to get ice cream?”
“Just try to stop me,” she told him with a grin.
Lace could almost taste the cold confection washing away the hospital tang that often lingered in her mouth after her infusions.
Lace opened her door and got out before Vince could make his way around the truck to help her.
As much as she liked his solicitousness, she didn’t want to appear infirm.
He seemed amused that she’d taken the initiative.
If he hung around, he’d have to get used to that. Lace definitely had a mind of her own.
They walked companionably toward the family stand.
The lines at the windows weren’t too long, and for that, Lace was thankful. Her mouth was already watering.
“You first,” Vincent said, placing a hand at the small of her back and urging her forward when it was their turn.
His touch sent shivers up and down her spine.
In a good way.
A very good way.
“Uh, small chocolate lover’s chocolate with chocolate jimmies,” she managed to tell the young girl who was scooping, trying to ignore the heat of Vincent’s fingers.
“Cup or cone?” the girl asked indifferently, typing onto her order tablet.
“Cone, please.”
It might be messier than a cup, but Lace wasn’t going for optics here. She was already at a looks-deficit, so why start worrying now about a few potential dribbles.
“Cake, sugar, or waffle cone?” the girl questioned in the same bored tone.
“Sugar, please.”
That was a no-brainer for Lace.
The girl finally looked up from her tablet, and when she caught a glimpse of Vincent, her eyes widened.
“And you, sir?” she continued.
Presto-Chango. Her posture improved, thrusting her chest forward.
“What can I get for you?”
With honey dripping from the attendant’s tone, the girl batted her lashes in what she clearly hoped was a provocative way.
To Lace it simply looked like the chit had a bug in her eye.
“Same, please,” Vince said, appearing not to notice the girl’s regard as he turned his attention fully back to Lace.
Right. He must be used to over-the-top ogling from an adoring audience, both young and old.
“You want to eat in the truck, or find a spot at a picnic table?” Vince questioned Lace as the employee sighed and got to work.
“Picnic table.” Lace didn’t hesitate. The more outdoor time she could get, the better.
Vince nodded, then retrieving first Lace’s confection then his own from the girl, he tipped her jar, generously.
Before he turned to walk away, Vince winked at the now pouting…teen?
Right. He had noticed.
Lace heard the scooper’s indrawn gasp of delight, and as they walked away, Lace took her cone from him, then elbowed Vince in the ribs.
“I think you almost gave her a heart attack,” she snorted. “You’re too lethal for your own good.”
All Lace got in return was a grin, which… Okay. It was hot.
Once again Vince touched her back, this time steering her toward a vacant table that was under the trees where it was shady.
Huh. Lethal and smart, Lace smirked.
It seems that someone might have been reading up on chemo patients having to avoid direct sunlight.
More points to Vince.
As if Lace’s mental-tally board wasn’t already overflowing.
They settled in across the worn wooden planks from each other. Lace let the chocolate restore her while at the same time she ran her fingers over the many initials that had been carved in the surface over the years.
She felt…at ease.
Lace was amazed that her cancer-induced anxiety levels had plummeted, and that her stomach wasn’t rebelling. But just in case the latter reared its ugly head, she already had a route into the trees picked out that wouldn’t have her barfing in front of all the unsuspecting patrons.
Vince sat easily, watching her, and she returned the regard from under her lashes, enjoying their cones in companionable silence.
Once they were both down to the ends of their treats, Vincent leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table.
“So, what did you find out about Inez?” he asked.
Lace had wondered how long he’d be able to go without asking.
She put some starch in her backbone to reply.
Lace knew Vince wasn’t going to be happy with what she’d discovered, but he wasn’t alone in his concerns. Lace was also feeling fully vested now.
She didn’t waste breath. “Inez has ALL. Which is Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.”
When Vince still looked somewhat lost, Lace explained.
“It’s a fast-growing cancer that starts in the bone marrow, producing too many immature lymphocytes; white blood cells that don’t develop properly,” she further clarified.
He nodded. “How…? What…?”
Lace knew exactly what he trying to ask.
“Her prognosis is good. Or as good as any child’s can be at this stage,” she soothed him. “Survival rates hover around ninety percent…”
“That sounds good,” he nodded. “What’s the bad news?”
He’d picked up on her “but” tone, rapidly enough.
“It’s not bad news, per se,” she frowned. “Just a slightly bitter note.”
Vince looked like he was steeling himself as Lace continued.
“Because of the…lack of attention paid to Inez in her foster situation and by her social worker, her symptoms went unnoticed for quite a while until she was finally diagnosed and began treatment. Which means she went through a lot of early pain that she shouldn’t have had to suffer.
” Lace tried to shake that off and reassert the positive.
“Luckily, though, a school nurse refused to overlook her symptoms, and made sure she saw a doctor. Now, a couple months later, the attending at the hospital says she’s responding well to her treatments.
She’s tracking as being successful in having all her rogue cells eradicated, which will eventually bring Inez to a point of remission. ”
Vincent immediately looked relieved, but when he noticed Lace playing with her napkin, he must have figured she had more to say.
“Another, but?” he probed astutely.
“Uh, huh,” she affirmed. “Because of the aggressiveness of this cancer, even with those who begin treatment immediately, ALL patients have to undergo something that with breast cancer, isn’t on my bingo card.”
Lace didn’t add “thankfully”, but she thought it in her head.
When she’d been hit with this next bit of information, Lace had requested that she be allowed to sit with Inez during those adjunct treatment sessions, so the girl wouldn’t have to be alone.
“What would that be?” Vincent asked, tension filling him again.
“It’s called CNS Sanctuary Therapy.”
Vince grunted. “English?”
“CNS stands for central nervous system,” Lace sighed. “Leukemia of this type likes to hide in the spinal cord and the brain, which means intrathecal chemo has to be injected into Inez’s cerebrospinal fluid via a lumbar puncture.”
Vincent sat back, a look of horror on his face. “That’s like a spinal tap, right?”
“That’s exactly what it is,” Lace confirmed. “And Inez has to have that treatment once every week or two, in addition to her normal infusions. That means she’s not only in on the Fridays we’re aware of, she’s also here on most Tuesdays for her intensified therapy.”
Lace had already received approval to switch her own chemo sessions to Tuesdays.
Once the powers that be had heard the “why” of her request, they’d put the order in almost immediately.