Better Not Love Me (7 page)

Chapter 12

Four years ago, Dallas
One day before Amelia and Nate first met

Nate sat in the private office of his physician, Dr. Clinton Munson. The receptionist had ushered him into the office and asked him to take a seat across from the doctor's desk. A light drizzle of rain licked at the window outside the office and despite his nerves or possibly because of them, he focused his attention on the droplets of rain streaking down the panes of glass. He was alone in the room. His leg bounced up and down without any thought put into it by Nate himself. He sat and waited, and watched the rain.

The doctor had made room on his schedule after giving Nate the ominous phone call the previous day while Nate was preparing to board a plane to Spokane. The doctor hadn't told him why he needed to see him so urgently, only that he needed to make an appointment as soon as possible. Nate was transferred to the receptionist who said he could come in at any time the next day. The doctor would clear time to see him whenever it was convenient, she said. This comment made Nate nervous. When does a doctor clear a schedule for you when it's good news? The answer is—they don't.

Clinton was only a few years older than Nate, yet he put off an aura of elderly sophistication. The flecks of gray at the man's temples aged him significantly, despite his trim physique. Clinton's office was just a block from the Riddell Industries building in downtown Dallas. A large fitness center was situated between the two buildings and both men had easy access to it. Often Nate would skip lunch and hit the gym or he would go into the gym during the pre-dawn hours before Chloe and her grandmother were awake to get a workout in before the day even began. It was at the fitness center that he met Dr. Munson.

One early morning, Clinton needed a spotter for the bench press and Nate was the only other person in the weight area to do it. They struck up a friendship almost immediately and began to work out together a few times a week. The friendship even extended to their families. Chloe and Clinton's daughter would have sleepovers and go to the movies together. Clinton's wife was a very nice woman and she and Clinton were obviously happy together. The couple knew Nate was a bachelor and even tried setting him up on a few blind dates, but each time he declined gracefully, saying he just wasn't interested in a relationship.

Nate looked over the pictures on Clinton's cluttered desk. There were photos of the Munson family at SeaWorld and golfing by the ocean. They were smiling and happy. It made him think of Chloe. What would she do if something happened to him? She'd already lost one parent. Would her grandmother raise her? Would that be any different than now? He wasn't around for her that much anyway. Always at the office or traveling for work. He didn't want to think about this, especially when he didn't know what his doctor was about to tell him.

The previous week Nate had come in for his annual physical. It was a requirement for his life insurance and just seemed like a good idea at his age as well. The visits were always completely routine. Blood draw. Reflexes. Bright lights in his eyes and up his nose. Turn and cough. Simple stuff. He'd been experiencing some lower back pain and lost a bit of weight, but he had chalked it up to getting older. That had to be it. He felt fine.

His thoughts were interrupted by the office door opening. Clinton walked in.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting here," Clinton said.

"It's only been a few minutes, it's OK," Nate said. He'd waited far longer for an appointment before.

"Well, I certainly don't like to keep my friends waiting."

"I appreciate it. So now that you've got me here, what's this all about?" Nate asked, trying to hide his concern.

"Let me start by saying you're in good hands, but you’re my friend and I can only be honest about your situation. I wish I could say that medicine is an exact science," Clinton said. "And in many ways it is, but we doctors can’t know everything all the time, at least not right away, especially when it comes to the human body. Because of this we do tests and hopefully learn more and determine what's causing someone trouble."

"I guess that makes sense," Nate said, wondering if Clinton was simply delaying the bomb he was about to drop.

"By nearly all accounts, you are a healthy man."

"Nearly?"

"Well, yes. You see, when you came in last week and complained about your back, particularly your left side I didn't think much of it. There could be a handful of different reasons for such a pain. And with regular activity, that's normal. But as part of your exam we check your blood levels. I ran a test called a CBC or complete blood count. It measures the levels of different cells in the blood, specifically—red, white and also the platelets. Your results showed you had too few red blood cells—or anemia."

"So I'm anemic?" Nate asked, not really sure what that meant, but knowing that it sounded like something that could be treated with medicine.

"Technically, yes, but I'm sorry to say we've got bigger problems to deal with."

"Great," Nate said flatly.
Here comes the bomb.

"This is a bit like putting a puzzle together to target the key ingredients of your problem. We also did a urinalysis, looking at your urine under a microscope. Unfortunately we found cancer cells."

Clinton paused and seemed to be waiting for Nate to react. He didn't.

"This could mean many things, but to put it bluntly, there is a cancer somewhere inside your urinary tract. Based on the location of your pain, I'd like to get a better look at your kidneys."

Nate didn't say a word. He just absorbed the news as Clinton continued to talk, but Nate didn't hear it. His mind drifted and he again looked to the rain droplets on the window. He was thinking about Chloe and wondering what she was doing today. He was supposed to be at a toy store today in Spokane. What kind of toys did Chloe like? Did she even play with toys anymore or was she too old for that? He didn't know and it made him upset. He looked up at Clinton, who was still talking.

"I've already consulted with Dr. Nagle, he's an oncologist who specializes in—"

Nate interrupted.

"I don't feel like I have cancer," he said. "I'm fine."

Nate didn't know it, but he was in shock and understandably so.

"My friend, with any luck we caught this at an early stage and whatever it is, we can treat it and you will be perfectly fine."

"But I don't feel sick."

"It's likely that you wouldn't until whatever this is grew into something bigger. We want to take action before that happens. I've already got the CT scan lined up today. I pulled some strings to get you in this afternoon."

"Thank you," Nate said.

"They're going to inject you with a solution that will help us better see your urinary tract," Clinton said.

"OK."

"It'll just be a quick injection in your arm."

Nate immediately rubbed his right arm, preparing himself for the needle prick. He kept his hand over his arm, protecting it from what, he didn't know. He nervously rubbed it. He hated needles ever since he was a kid. He had a nervous tick that made him touch the needle injection site over and over again regardless of the circumstances. He couldn’t even stand to get a flu shot when they provided them at his office for all the employees.

Clinton handed him a folder of papers for the scan and some generic material on cancers throughout the body. Before he knew it, he was taking the elevator down four floors to another office. It was inside the elevator that he felt it. Anger. Blunt, hard, blinding anger at the world. He hit the stop button on the elevator and placed his hand on the cold metal frame of the box to steady himself.

And he cried.

It wasn't the cry of a desperate man. Not even close. He cried because he was sorry. Sorry that he'd have to tell Chloe that her daddy was sick. Sorry that she'd have to worry about him. Sorry that he wasn't a better father. Sorry that he couldn’t predict the future. He let the emotion drain out of him and he caught his breath. It felt good to let it out, but he didn’t feel relieved. He wiped away the tears and readied himself to exit the elevator and go to battle with whatever cancer was inside him. 

Chapter 13

Present day

Amelia had watched Marcus and Nate work on the neighboring deck for the past few days. She'd been discreet about it, or at least she thought she was. She'd positioned herself in the sun and tried to read a book—that silly David James Duncan book set in the late 1960s. She tried to pay attention to the story, but it included a bit more baseball than she'd have liked, and she would usually just end up napping, which wasn't altogether terrible.

She was slightly camouflaged by the other women at her cabin, so her watchful eye over the work next door wasn't too obvious. Amy, Susanna and Priscilla were all working on various stages of tans and were in general just lying about the deck, reading, napping or talking. Chloe had even joined the group several times. She had not been invited to help with the deck project, and Amelia could tell that she was the type of girl who didn’t like being alone. Which wasn't a bad thing, just an observation. She was a welcome addition to the lazy days at the cabin. The two older girls struck up a friendship and were good enough to include Susanna.

Occasionally a competitive game of Jenga broke out on the deck. Yes, it was a wild scene, she thought. This must be what retirement looks like. No real responsibilities. No place to go. Truthfully, she was a bit bored. For years she'd worked multiple jobs to make ends meet and at Mr. Z's she was constantly on the move. Boredom wasn't an option. She reluctantly admitted that she liked the fast pace, even if she disliked the work or circumstances.

A loud crack echoed through the cove as Marcus and Nate dropped a stack of boards at the foot of the deck, giving Amelia an excuse to gaze purposely at Nate. He was shirtless, as he had been for much of the project. His chiseled body was a handsome bronze. There was something about a shirtless man working in faded blue jeans that made her stop and stare.

"Just admit it," Amy said.

"Admit what?" Amelia asked.

"That you're hot for the guy. I see how you've been looking at him."

"Oh, please. I have not," Amelia said, lying to herself and her sister. "I'm just making sure that Marcus is safe over there. He's no construction worker."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what you're doing," Amy said sarcastically. "Me too. I'm really worried about his safety over there. Maybe we should go over and inspect the site and give them some tips from all our construction experience."

"Maybe we should," Amelia replied.

"I was kidding, but hey, if you want to go over there, don't let me stop you."

"I don't want to go over there."

"OK, we'll just leave it at that."

Amy had a way of pushing her sister's buttons, she always had. In this case, she was right on the money. Amelia did want to go over there. She was embarrassed about the whole tire situation and was actually pleased that Nate had asked Marcus to help with the deck. His own father didn't even do things like that. A boy needs to know how to build things, she thought. This was a good thing for him. And it kept him out of trouble in the park. Not having him come home with black eyes was a serious benefit too.

"So, what's the scar on his side?" Amy asked. "Oh, sorry, I mean you wouldn't have noticed it, because you weren't admitting you were watching that fine specimen of a man."

Amelia had actually noticed. Even from a distance, she could see that Nate had a 4 to 6 inch scar on his side. It was only noticeable because it was pink, while the rest of Nate was a deep tan.

"How should I know what it is?" Amelia replied.

"You worked with the guy for years, I just figured you might know."

"Beats me," Amelia said, shrugging her shoulders. "Could be anything. Appendix. Tiger bite. Knife fight."

"Yes. He was probably attacked by a knife-wielding tiger right at his appendix. That was my first guess too."

"Like I said. I don't know."

"Well, now you have something to talk to him about," Amy said.

"How is that going to come up in conversation?"

"When you go over and do your safety inspection . . ."

Amelia looked at the time. It was already past noon. Her stomach was empty, but she had no desire to put together anything for lunch.

"Let's get out of here and go grab lunch in town," Amelia said. "We can try that Hudson's Hamburger place that Marcus was talking about."

"That sounds perfect right now—somebody else doing the cooking," Amy said.

Amelia asked the girls if they wanted to tag along and they readily agreed. The change of scenery would probably do them some good, Amelia thought.

When Susanna and Priscilla went inside to change, Amelia walked next door with Chloe to see if the boys wanted anything. She chuckled to herself for thinking of them as
the boys
. Like their relationship had moved into some new dimension.

"Your dad's a pretty hard worker up there," Amelia said as she and Chloe traversed the worn pathway from the beach to the neighboring cabin.

"When he gets his mind set on something he sort of blocks everything else out," Chloe said. "But you probably know that already since you worked with him for so long."

"We never really worked together very much. He was in Texas and I was up here."

"Oh, I just thought that because of the way he talked about the toy stores that you guys did all that stuff together."

Amelia hadn't considered that Nate had discussed her or Mr. Z's with Chloe. She wasn't sure how to respond. What exactly did he say, she wanted to ask, but that seemed inappropriate.

"Your dad was a busy guy," Amelia said, then adding for good measure. "We did work together on many projects."

"You don't have to tell me he was busy," Chloe said. "I saw him more through video chat than I did in person—and we even lived in the same house."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that—"

"No, it's true and he knows it. He's great, but just like you said, he's busy."

Amelia could see there was a sadness on Chloe's face. Like she wanted to say nice things about her father. Like maybe she felt obligated to do so, but she didn't feel it. The parallels to her own relationship with Marcus and Susanna were obvious. Working parents who missed their kid's lives. Did Nate bring Chloe to the lake for the summer for the same reasons she brought Marcus and Susanna? That doesn't sound like the heartless, stone cold Nate she knew.

Chloe went inside to change and Amelia stood at the base of the deck looking up at the boys.
The boys.
She smiled. Nate saw her and turned toward the edge.

"Be careful down there, we've been known to drop a few boards and tools here and there," he said.

"So, I've heard," Amelia replied. She was making an effort to sound courteous. "We're going to run over to Hudson's to get some burgers. You want us to bring you guys back anything?"

"Wow, I haven't had a burger from there in years. That would be great," Nate said.

"Me too, thanks Mom," Marcus said.

Amelia now stood there awkwardly, having asked the one thing she'd come over to ask. Her mind was blank but she didn't turn to leave. She didn’t know why. It looked like Nate was waiting for her to say something else too.  

"OK, then, see you in a bit," she said, knowing that she missed a perfectly good opportunity to once again apologize to Nate for her rude behavior. And her chance to ask about that scar on his side. Or even to thank him for including Marcus in the project.

I guess I'll have to visit him again to cover all these topics, she thought.