Danielle Steel - Lightning

There was no avoiding the fact that Christmas was different this year. No matter what efforts they made, even Annabelle seemed to feel it, and she cried after they put out the cookies for Santa, and the salt and carrots for his reindeer.

“What if he doesn't bring me what I asked for?” she cried, and both Sam and Alex tried to console her. But she was inconsolable and she finally admitted that she was afraid he'd be angry at her because this year she had asked him for something a little “harder.” “I asked him to make my Mommy better right away so she can stop taking her medicine, and bring her hair back.” Hearing her words made Alex cry so hard she had to turn away, and even Sam had a hard time with that one.

“What did he say to you?” Sam asked hoarsely. She had asked him that when Alex had taken her to see Santa at Macy's.

“He said that was up to God, not Santa.”

“He's right, Princess,” Sam explained while Alex blew her nose and adjusted her wig. She was wearing the long one. “But Mommy will get better anyway, and she'll get her hair back.” Sam was surprised to hear about her hair, he hadn't realized she'd lost it. Alex had never told him. It made him realize how out of touch he was. He had been so wrapped up in Daphne and their love affair for the last month, that he hadn't focused on anything else. He hadn't wanted to know what was going on at home, and he hadn't even paid serious attention to what was happening at the office.

Larry and Tom had heckled him a couple of times, and Simon seemed pleased for him. But Larry had said something to him about how sorry he and Frances were about Alex. He seemed to imply that he was sorry about “them” too. It was obvious, because of Daphne, that they had problems in their marriage. But Sam was anything but sorry. And he figured that his partners were just jealous of him. It never occurred to him that they thought it was rotten of him to leave Alex now, when she was battling chemotherapy and cancer.

Eventually, Annabelle calmed down again, and they put her to bed together. She seemed so happy to see them that way that it tore at Alex's heart. Later when they went out to the kitchen, Sam looked embarrassed.

“I didn't realize you'd lost your hair,” Sam said, as he helped himself to one of Santa's cookies. They had less of everything this year. Fewer cookies, fewer Christmas cakes, fewer presents, less cheer. Even their Christmas tree seemed smaller. With Alex sick, no one else had put in the same effort. And they hadn't sent Christmas cards either. She didn't have the energy, and she wouldn't have known how to sign them. From Alex …and maybe Sam …sort of.

“I didn't think you'd want me to announce it, about my hair,” Alex said, trying not to think of the woman she'd seen him with the day before. The hardest thing was that it was obvious that it wasn't a casual affair. When she'd seen them together, they looked married.

“It'll grow back,” he said, feeling helpless again. He always felt inadequate and uncomfortable around her.

“My hair will. Our marriage won't,” she said sadly. She knew they had agreed not to discuss it for another month, but it was difficult not to.

“Are you sure of that?” He looked her in the eye, and waited for her answer.

“Aren't you? I get the impression you've already made your mind up.” She had certainly gotten that impression watching him with the English girl outside Ralph Lauren.

“You can never be sure. It's hard not to remember the good times.”

“They don't seem that long ago to me,” she said honestly. “Maybe you were unhappy for longer than I was.”

“I don't think unhappy's the right word. Confused. I've been confused ever since you got sick. It changed you.” It wasn't even an accusation. It was a statement. And for him, it justified his behavior and was a ticket to freedom.

“I think it changed both of us. I don't suppose things like this ever leave you where they found you. It's a long, hard road to survival.”

“It must be terrible,” he said, sympathetic for the first time. He was gentler these days, she realized now. Falling in love had mellowed him. But she didn't find that as touching as she might have. “You've been through an awful lot.”

“With more to come,” she smiled. “Four and a half months exactly.”

“And then what?”

“Then I wait to see if I get a recurrence. Five years seems to be the magic number. Supposedly I had the right kind of tumor for the good odds, and the chemo is supposed to give me extra insurance. I guess you just go on with your life, and try not to think about it. The women I know who've survived for a long time claim that they don't think about it anymore except when they go in once a year for routine checkups. I'd like to be there now. This is still pretty scary.” It was the first real conversation they'd had in three months, and she was amazed he was willing to talk about it. Whoever the girl was, she had almost made him human. But Alex didn't feel grateful to her, only envious and sad, and angry.

“If you get a recurrence,” he tried to sound encouraging, “you just fight it again, I guess.”

“Not likely,” she said matter-of-factly, wishing she could take her wig off. It was very itchy. But she wouldn't have dared to let him see how she looked now. “Except for very rare cases, you don't survive recurrences. You die. That's why they're so aggressive the first time, about treatment.” He understood it better now, but he was shocked by what she had told him. He didn't think he'd heard it quite so bluntly before, or maybe he just hadn't listened. Seeing her now, after being with Daphne, tore at his heartstrings, but nothing else. For him, the rest was over. All he felt for her now was pity, and tenderness for the memories of better times.

“What are you doing while Annabelle's away?” he asked, trying to change the subject. It was getting a little heavy for him.

“Nothing. Sleep, rest, work. My social life is not exactly overactive these days. I only have so much energy. I use it on Annabelle and my cases.”

“Why don't you go away? It might do you good. Or can you do that?”

“I could. I get a two-week break from treatment every month, but I'd rather stay here.” She didn't want to go away with Brock, though he had invited her. In spite of their close working relationship, she hardly knew him. And she didn't want to go alone. There was no point. She was better off in her own apartment, her own bed, with her own things, close to her doctor, if she had a problem. She was very introverted these days, and very dependent on the familiar. There were too many frightening elements in her life now to make her open to new ones.

“I hate to think of you here alone,” he said guiltily. It was odd, now that Daphne was gone, he suddenly felt more responsible for Alex. It was like an illness, pulling him this way and that, and he didn't really like it. He was happy that he was taking Annabelle away the day after Christmas.

“I'll be fine. I really don't want to go anywhere. And I've got plenty at the office to keep me busy.”

“There's more to life than work,” he said with a smile, and she looked right at him in answer.

“Is there, Sam?”

He walked out of the kitchen then without giving her an answer. But he wondered if she had a sixth sense about Daphne, or if someone had told her. He doubted it. She was too involved with herself right now to even think there was someone else. She couldn't possibly suspect it.

All of Annabelle's presents were wrapped and hidden in a locked closet. They set them out under the tree shortly after nine, and then they retired to their own rooms, like strangers. She read for a little while, and she heard the phone ring at midnight. But she let him answer. She knew it wouldn't be for her. And she was right. It was Daphne, freshly arrived in London, and missing him already. It made him feel wonderful talking to her, and when he did, he realized again how much it depressed him to be around Alex. She wasn't exactly fun these days. She seemed to have given up on life, and everything about her seemed to be falling away and dying, her spirits, her hair, their marriage. He knew he should be more supportive, but he just couldn't.