A Man's Heart (6 page)

A
dan!” Cruz stalked through the house tracking dirt. The kitchen was empty. Dirty dishes filled the sink; a large yellow cat lounged on the sofa littered with newspapers.

Eventually his brother's voice came from upstairs. “Yo!”

“Come down here!”

Adan descended the stairs, frowning. “What's up?”

“Have you talked to Sophie?”

“Nope.”

“She's got cancer.”

His brother's face drained. “She's got what?”

“Cancer.” Cruz strode to the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door. How did you tell a man that his sister has cancer? There was no way to soften the blow.

Stuffing his shirt into his pants, Adan entered the room behind him. “When?”

“She just called. Her biopsy came back bad. She's got stage three uterine cancer.”

Leaning against the table, Adan swore.

“You better be on your knees praying.”

“Sorry. Can they do anything?”

“They darn well better be able to do something.” Cruz slammed the door. He'd forgotten what he was after anyway. Sophie didn't deserve this; she was a good mother, and she was the glue in the Delgado family. She couldn't die. Cruz swallowed back a sense of helplessness.

Adan spoke softly. “Is she going to die?”

“No.”

“Then it's not serious—”

“It's serious, but she's not going to die.” Maybe if he said it enough the conviction would come true.

Come on, God. You wouldn't take Sophie too. If you're God, make this a mistake.

One big, ugly mistake.

Taking his hat off, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve then replaced the Stetson. “Come on. She's on her way to Pasco now. The doctor wants her in the hospital tonight.”

Adam reached for his hat. “Who's driving her?”

Who indeed.

From the moment Sophie called thirty minutes ago, he had a hunch that his luck was about to take a turn for the worse.

And sure enough, it had.

H
ours passed in a blur. Jules's mad rush to Sophie's house, packing, consoling the children when Sophie told them that she was going to be gone for awhile but that Uncle Cruz and Adan would bring them to see her in a few days. Jules suggested that when Sophie was better they break the news that she was in the hospital. For now, they should remain calm.

Yet Jules would never forget the stricken look on the children's faces when she drove off with their mother in the Tracker.

Cruz had said little to her when Adan put Sophie's overnight bag in the truck. Jules avoided his eyes and he avoided hers, a device she knew she couldn't keep up once Crystal was settled. However major their differences — and they were large — Sophie's needs came first.

By late afternoon, Sophie was settled in a private room in Lourdes Medical Center in Pasco. Jules was haunted by her friend's now composed acceptance of the situation. Her hands shook when Jules helped her remove her clothing and climb into the long narrow mattress with the blue disposable pad on
it. All sorts of scary looking equipment encircled the bed. IV pumps attached with clamps to rolling poles. A blood pressure cuff. Some sort of canister attached to the wall. A huge water jug sat on the bedside table. Jules purposely avoided staring at the visible proof of the fight yet to come. She adjusted a light blanket and put the call button attached to the sheet closer.

“I'll be back the moment I rent a U-Haul and close the apartment.”

“I wish I could be at your graduation. I was going to drive your father —”

“Shhh. I know. Life has a way of throwing curve balls.” Jules fluffed a pillow and made her comfortable. “Better?”

“Just like a Marriott.”

Jules grinned, relieved to see that she'd regained her sense of humor. “You're going to make it. There's no way on earth you're going to leave me alone to fight my battles.”

“Your battles?” Sophie snorted. “What about mine?”

“There's no way I'm going to leave you alone to fight yours.”

Sophie sighed. “Crystal's changed. She isn't the way I remember her. The last time I saw her she was a little pest that tagged after us everywhere we went.”

“Yeah, she was a real fungus. Always asking questions and threatening to rat us out.” Jules straightened and the words tumbled out, words she'd wanted to say from the moment she'd left the lawyer's office. “Pop left her out of his will.”

Sophie cocked her head. “He what?”

“Left the farm and everything to me. What was he thinking?”

“You're not going to take it, are you?”

“I don't have a choice. I own it now.” Events had happened so swiftly that Jules hadn't had time to consider what
she would do. What would she do? Give half to Crystal anyway? Ignore Pop's last wishes?

Wearing a wan smile, Sophie closed her eyes. “You'll figure it out. I'm very tired.”

Jules's hand closed over her friend's. “I'll stop by in the morning before I leave for campus. I should be back no later than Sunday. You know I'd be here for the surgery if I could.”

“I know you would, but I'll need you more later.”

“I'll be right here.”

Once Jules got back, she'd make the thirty-minute drive to the hospital twice a day if necessary. She blinked back threatening tears. “You'd better be.” Sophie was her rock, her emotional support. She couldn't make it here, with Cruz so close-by but so distant, without her. Sophie's children needed her, but even more important, she needed them. She hadn't realized until now those children felt like hers.

As Jules left the hospital, she uttered a prayer that God didn't need Sophie worse.

She walked out of the hospital and encountered Cruz coming in the entrance. For a moment their gazes locked. The last time they faced off was the night before the second planned wedding.

Her throat seemed to close and air left the foyer.

Brown eyes dueled with hazel ones and won out. Jules dropped her gaze. “She's settled and resting.”

He nodded and was about to walk on when she reached out and caught his sleeve. “Can I have a word with you?”

Surprise dominated his nut-brown features. He stepped back when she motioned to the quiet foyer. The hush settled over her like a shroud.

“What do you want?”

She was so nervous in his presence that she struggled to find her voice. He still had the same unsettling effect on her he'd always had. “We have to put aside our differences and concentrate on Sophie.” She swallowed. “She's in for the fight of her life, Cruz.”

Pain reflected in his eyes. “Has she got a chance?”

“Of course, God can do all things, but knowledge tells me she's fighting an uphill battle.”

“Sophie's a tough opponent.”

“She'll need to be even tougher now.”

They stood in the whispered stillness. He removed his hat and her heart caught at the sight of black curly hair, slightly damp from the headband. Once those curls were as familiar as her hair, and the thought made her heart thump so loud she imagined that he heard the beat.

“So.”

A skeptical dark brow lifted. “So?”

“Do we agree to set aside our differences and look after Sophie's children without all this hostile animosity between us?”

A dark gaze skimmed her. “I don't know what hostility you're referring to, but yes I agree that Sophie's needs come first.”

He didn't know what hostility she was talking about.
When they were near each other you couldn't cut the air with a chain saw. She pushed a wispy bang out of her eye. She was weeks overdue for a haircut. “I'm leaving first thing in the morning for Pullman. I have to close my apartment.”

“Oh right. Pullman. Big college town. You're graduating.”

His patronizing tone irked her. “Yes, but that's secondary. I have to close the apartment and get back here. Crystal's agreed to stay and help for awhile.”

“I bet you're nuts about that idea.”

She refused to meet his mocking eyes. “We'll get along.”

“Rumor mill says Pop left her out of his will.”

The rumor mill.
She gritted her teeth. Was nothing in this community sacred? “I should be back by late Sunday afternoon.”

“You won't be here for the surgery?” His frown deepened. “Sophie leans on you for emotional support.”

“We've discussed it, and she agrees that I should attend graduation services. She knows I'd rather be here but it's not possible.”

“Whatever.”

“The surgeon that she wants is going out of town for a week, and Sophie pleaded with him to perform the surgery before he left. He agreed partly because Sophie begged him and mostly because he's a decent man and didn't want her to sweat this for another week. Of course the surgery is serious but he thinks she'll do fine—with the surgery part.”

“And the ‘other' part?”

She shook her head. “He doesn't know, but he gave me no reason to lose hope.”

His gaze skimmed her and his features softened. “Sorry about your dad. He was a good man.”

She'd heard the sentiment repeated at least a hundred times the past twenty-four hours, but coming from him the certainty of Pop gone overwhelmed her. Her breath caught and she bit back hot tears. “He left his watch to you. I'll deliver it later.”

Cruz settled his Stetson on his head, then nodded and stepped away. She stood for a moment gaining composure before she left the hospital. Nothing about death was easy, and yet facing Cruz after all these years could run a tight second.

But Sophie came first, and he'd best plant that in his stubborn mind.

T
he stench of a closed room filled with dirt tubs hit Jules the moment she opened the apartment door. Dust filtered the air, evident from the crack in the blinds. Wrestling three empty toilet tissue cardboard boxes, she wedged her way through the doorway and closed the door with her foot. Similar boxes sat in the back of the Tracker.

Exhausted, she dropped down on the futon and took a nap.

Thirty minutes later she stirred, checking her watch. Sophie would be out of surgery by now. She reached for her cell phone and called Adan. He answered in a hushed tone.

“Is she out of surgery?”

“The doctor was just here to speak to us.”

“And?” She held her breath, praying.

“It was more extensive than he thought.” Adan sounded very tired. “He says he wants her to start treatments as soon as she can get over the surgery, hopefully next week.”

Jules closed her eyes. At least she was past the immediate danger. They could work all kinds of miracles these days. With time and treatments, Sophie could beat this.

Once she clicked off, her gaze roamed the cramped room, the habitat where she'd spent the last four years. Nothing but books, dirt tubs, random pieces of clothing draped over furniture met her eye. Good ole “Wazzle.” Everything was orderly, just neglected. She was almost obsessively self-controlled about neatness, yet for lack of time she'd let things slide.

Time was never on her side.

Sliding off the futon, she began to pack. Books, knickknacks she'd gathered over the past four years. A picture of her and Pop, Pop with his arm around her in front of the Christmas tree. A photo of Old Jack, a retriever they'd had until last year. She picked up the near-complete thesis:
The Perfect Potato and How to Grow It.
Her gaze shifted to the dirt tubs, pausing to rest on one. Stepping closer, she eyed the plant shooting out of the dirt.

On closer examination, she noted the shoot was blooming earlier than usual. This was the tuber she'd planted the night she got the call about Pop's accident. Reaching for her scissors, she snipped a leaf sample to chemically analyze for the amounts of essential nutrients. Once the tub of tubers used up the originally applied fertilizer, she would apply more to the plants. Plants needed lots of water, but could survive periods of dry soil. She hoped these particular tubers followed their predecessors because they'd been severely neglected the past few days. Yet they appeared to be thriving. Strange.