IF I WERE YOUR WOMAN (8 page)

“That was my maternal grandmother, Olivia O’Reilly. She’s one of the few people I’ve ever known who loved unconditionally. I wished everyone in the world could be that way.” 

“You never talk about your parents. How long where they married?” 

“Actually, my parents were never married.”

“I-I didn’t know that.”

“My parents met in high school, but didn’t start dating until they went off to college. My father died in a boating accident about a week before my mother found out she was pregnant with me.”

Ray let out a long whistle. “
Daaayuuum
. That had to be rough on your
mère
.”

“I’m sure it was. I couldn’t imagine trying to get through medical school as a single parent, but she did.”

“So I guess you spent a lot of time with Charles and Olivia.”

“They practically raised me along with Aunt Ida and Aunt Dorothy.” Laney chuckled. “And of course, I can’t leave out Uncle Eddie. All of them poured everything they had into me.”

“Red, would you ever consider heading up O’Reilly Enterprises?”

“O’Reilly Enterprises is what I inherited by chance. Being a researcher is something I do by choice. It’s what I was born to do. Could you see yourself doing anything that didn’t involve music?”

“Hell no!”

Laney stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and drew to her feet. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll head upstairs. Goodnight, Raphael.”

Ray glanced at his watch. It was midnight. Usually, this was the time his day began. “Why don’t you stay and hang out with me for a minute?”

“You have an early morning doctor’s appointment tomorrow, remember? I don’t want to risk being late because you overslept.”

Ray stood and moved toward Laney. Towering over her, he studied her pretty face, absorbed by her generosity and honesty. He stroked a fingertip along the slope of her cheek. What was it about this woman that made him do things he’d never done before or awaken feelings he never knew existed? He bent and lightly pressed his lips to her mouth. Suddenly, the reason he was here in the first place slammed into him like a run-away eighteen-wheeler.  His back grew rigid and he stepped back. “Goodnight, Red.”

~ ~ ~

As soon as Laney closed her bedroom door, the phone rang. She welcomed the intrusion because it kept her from further analyzing the moment she’d just shared with Raphael in the dining room. Although his touch started off gentle, it became controlled.
That
touch wasn’t what she’d experienced before. She didn’t want a measured caress, but one filled with need and passion.

She listened to the third ring and started not to answer. When she glanced down at the caller I.D. and noticed the number, she picked up the phone. If she didn’t answer, her first cousin, Nicki Johnson, would be banging on the door.   

“Good evening.”

“I hadn’t heard from you all day. Raphael got settled in and everything, right?”

Laney shook her head and silently chuckled. She’d bet every dime she had on the fact her Uncle Eddie and Aunt Ida Mae had told their defense attorney daughter about Raphael’s arrival. “Yes, Nicki, Raphael is settled.”

“So how is he doing?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say he’s somewhat overwhelmed, perhaps even scared about what he has to face.”

“Did Casanova’s baby brother ever tell you why he
really
decided to come to Olivia? 

Laney focused at the ceiling. Raphael was always direct and brutally honest, especially when it involved how he felt about something. She liked that. Plus, he never did anything he didn’t want to do. He had the resources to go anywhere in the world until the issue involving the possible breech of his medical records was resolved. She was certain of one thing: he was here because he wanted to be. “No.” 

“Oh, Jesus, help her. Laney, you’re supposed to ask these kinds of questions.”

“Why?”

“I need details.” Nicki paused. “Are you in love with Raphael?”

Yes, she loved him, but she also needed him. No, it wasn’t a need of dependence, but a powerful ache, a melting sensation, an emptiness that could only be filled by him.

Her love involved more than sexual attraction. Laney had discovered that many facets of Raphael’s character compared favorably with the men in her family. She simply refused to love a man who possessed anything less.

For starters, he had a strong work ethic. Music wasn’t something Raphael did haphazardly. It was rooted in his soul. He demanded perfection with every rehearsal, in every performance he gave.

He was educated, too. Not many classically trained pianists graduated at the top of their class from Julliard then went on to UCLA law school to earn a degree in entertainment law. He also possessed a fearless power. Occasionally, she’d heard the authoritative command in his voice, the one of confidence that if presented with a dilemma, he’d never hesitate to resolve it.

Most of all, he was strong-willed. That was evident from the morning they shared their first kiss. Despite the passion swirling around them like a dust storm, he’d been the one who’d pushed back. She loved him even more for respecting her and not taking advantage of the situation. As far as she was concerned, that was an impressive list by any standard.

“Laney,” Nicki scolded in a firm, but gentle tone when she didn’t get an immediate response. “Turn off that mega processing brain of yours for a second and talk to me.”

“Yes, I’m in love with Raphael and know I want to spend the rest of my life with him.” 

“Does he feel the same way you do?”

“Hmmm
…
that’s a question you’ll need to ask Raphael.”

Nicki released an exasperated sigh. “Usually, my dear, there’s a mutual consensus of feelings in a relationship.”

Whether Raphael wanted to admit it or not, Laney knew he’d just put his trump card on the table by agreeing to stay at Olivia. She wanted him, more than she’d ever thought it was possible to want a man, both physically and emotionally. This was the first time in her life she’d recall following her heart and not her head. “Who says there isn’t one in this case?”

“Okay, Einstein, I see you’re determined to win this man’s heart, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you so sure you’ll come out victorious?”

Laney pondered the question for only a second. If she were to have any chance at all, she had to find a way to break down Raphael’s iron-clad control. She wanted her relationship with him to involve not only his trust, but the very essence of his being, and would settle for nothing less.  “If faint heart ne’er won fair lady, fair lady ne’er won with a faint heart.”

~ ~ ~

The following day, Ray, along with Laney, sat in the office of Jason Reynolds. He’d accepted Laney’s recommendation to see the top-notch oncologist for two reasons. One, they’d attended medical school at Harvard together and two, Laney trusted Jason.

Ray glanced at the closed door for the umpteenth time. “What’s taking him so long?”

Laney reached over and calmly patted the top of Ray’s hand. “Relax, darling. It should only be a few more minutes.”

Ray nodded. At that moment he had four options: sit down, shut up, hold on, and pray.

“Mr. Baptiste?” A tall man walked inside toward Ray and extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Dr. Reynolds.”

Ray accepted the handshake. “Hey, doc. No need for formality. Call me Raphael.”

Jason Reynolds nodded, then glanced over at Laney. “Hi, kiddo. It’s good to see you.”

Laney smiled. “Thanks, Jason. Raphael and I really appreciate you squeezing us in on such short notice.”

“My pleasure.” Dr. Reynolds headed toward the leather swivel chair behind his desk and sat. He opened Ray’s medical chart and hooked his fingers in front of him. “Raphael, I’ve reviewed your surgery and pathology report. However, I’ve discovered another problem.” 

Confused, Ray frowned. “I’m not following you here, doc.”

“Raphael,” Dr. Reynolds continued, “your lymph nodes are at least seven and a half centimeters.”

Ray ran two weary hands down his face and released a hard breath.

“Jason,” Laney said slowly, “After chemo, would you recommend Raphael undergo a RPLND?”

“Absolutely.” Jason paused briefly. “Raphael a RPLND—”

“Is the acronym for Retroperitoneal Lymph Node Dissection,” Ray interrupted. “It’s a surgical procedure recommended for patients like me with nonsemionma, the testicular cancer that can easily travel through the bloodstream to other vital organs such as the lungs, liver, bones and brain.”

Since his diagnosis, Ray had read everything he could get his hands on relative to testicular cancer. It was a complicated disease to say the least. If he could reach his own behind, he’d have kicked it for waiting as long as he did to seek treatment. Maybe if he had done so earlier, the disease would’ve been detected at a much early stage.

Dr. Reynolds offered an appreciative nod. “Aaah, you’re an informed patient. Being knowledgeable of the disease you’re fighting is definitely a plus.”

“Listen, doc,” Ray said, scooting to the edge of his seat. “What’s your recommendation for chemo?”

“Well, there are two options for you to consider.” Dr. Reynolds lifted up one finger at a time as he named them. “One is to go with three cycles of BEP or four cycles without the Bleomycin. I’d like to get started as soon as possible.” He paused and flipped through Ray’s medical chart. “You don’t have any children, correct?”

“Correct.” Ray had never considered fatherhood. It was a responsibility that never came up on his radar screen, and he always used protection with the women he’d slept with. “Why do you ask?”

“Before you begin chemo, I’d like for you to make an appointment with the sperm bank.”

Ray clasped both hands between his legs. He’d psyched himself up for chemo, but hadn’t expected to undergo the RPLND, too. And he knew the appointment to the sperm bank was necessary. One of the side effects of chemo in men was infertility. However, what he had to do at the sperm bank wasn’t something he looked forward to. “Uh, listen, doc. How many visits will I need to make?”

“At least three,” Dr. Reynolds advised.

“
Daaayuuum
,” Ray muttered. A few moments passed, and he turned to face Laney, searching her eyes for confirmation. 

Laney nodded slightly, an indication that his telepathic request had been received. “Jason, will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Absolutely.” Dr. Reynolds pushed his chair away from the desk and stood. “Raphael is my only patient today, so take all the time you need.” 

Ray watched as Dr. Reynolds left and quietly closed the door. He settled back in his chair and stretched his long legs in front of him. “Red, I never thought I’d need to have a RPLND.”

“I know you didn’t, darling.”

“It’ll be another two, maybe three months after the chemo is over before I land back on my feet.”

“Let’s worry about that bridge when we cross it.”

Ray stood and began pacing. Before his diagnosis, he and the other members of Les Croisés had planned to iron out the details for the presentation to the sponsors they’d lined up for their music academy, which was scheduled for the first day of May. With the news he’d just received, he’d be flat on his back recuperating from the RPLND. “What about the presentation?”

“The only thing you need to concentrate on is getting well”

“If the roles were reversed, would you consider the RPLND?”

Laney stood and walked up to Ray. “Raphael, ultimately the decision is yours. However, if I were in your shoes, I’d consider the situation to be no different than playing a one-in-five game of Russian Roulette. In the worst-case scenario, there’s a twenty percent chance the cancer will return without the RPLND. The question boils down to whether you’re comfortable with those odds.”

That was the problem. He wasn’t. He wanted absolute certainty. Ray chuckled sadly because he knew there were no guarantees in the game called life. He plopped back in his chair, releasing a long, hard breath. Before his diagnosis, life was what he made it. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. Now cancer dictated every decision he made. With his fingers steepled to his lips, the words Mama Z told him raced through his head.

The will of God will never take ya where the Grace of God will not
 
protect ya.

At this point, he could only pray to God his grandmother was right. 

~ ~ ~

After Ray left his appointment with Jason Reynolds, he and Laney drove over to her office. Since she’d been adamant about taking a leave of absence from her job while he underwent chemo, the least he could do was help pack her belongings.

“Dr. Houston,” Ashton Bryant shouted as he flung the door open. “You rejected my proposal, again. Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“It’s not what I did, Dr. Bryant. It’s what you didn’t do that’s the problem. Now if you will excuse—”

“We need to discuss this right now.”

Laney placed a stack of file folders into a box, but didn’t look up. “That’s not possible, Dr. Bryant.”