Danielle Steel - Lightning

“I feel weird without it,” she admitted.

He had made scrambled eggs and toast and fried potatoes. The potatoes were too much for her, but she struggled with the toast and the scrambled eggs, and managed to eat a little. But she didn't want to push her luck and spend the rest of the night sick in the bathroom. Her stomach was a disaster but she suspected that for once Sam was right, and it was due to emotions.

They sat quietly together in the kitchen for a while, and then Alex told him that Annabelle had loved all her presents.

“It was fun buying them,” he said, “I like kids.” He smiled at her, relieved to see her eating.

“Then why aren't you married?” she asked, toying with her eggs.

“Bartlett and Paskin never gives me time,” he grinned, looking boyish and very handsome.

“We'll have to start lightening your caseload,” she teased him.

They talked for a while, about what the holidays had been like, and how difficult things had been with Sam, and then he cleared the dishes.

“You don't have to do that, Brock. I can do it later.”

“Sure, why not? Able to leap buildings in a single bound, right? So what about Vermont? I didn't come here for my health, you know. I came here for yours.” He looked her straight in the eye, and as always she was grateful to him.

“I don't think so.”

“I'm not giving up. Liz thinks it would be good for you too,” he said firmly.

“What is this? A committee?” She laughed, amused suddenly but touched too. “Doesn't anyone care what I think?”

“Frankly, no.” He discounted her veto completely.

“Don't you have anyone real to spend this week with?”

“You look pretty real to me,” he said, with a determined look, and she shook her head and pointed at her wig.

“Don't let this piece of fluff fool you. I'm too tired to ski, I'm too old to woo, I'm too sick to be fun, and besides, I'm married.”

“Not from the sound of it, or not for long anyway.” He was being very blunt with her and she was still laughing.

“That's a nice thing to say. Well, let's say, I'm used goods.” And then she looked at him in amusement. “Are you telling me you're asking me as your date?” It was obvious she didn't believe that, and he laughed too.

“No. But if it makes you feel better to think that, be my guest. I'm asking you as a buddy, a buddy who would like to see you get that pale face in some sunshine, and sit in front of a fire and keep warm and drink hot chocolate, and go to sleep at night, knowing she's with friends, and not alone in a lonely apartment in the city.”

“You make it sound pretty good, for a kid your age.”

“It is. And I have a lot of experience in the care and feeding of old bags like you. My sister was, is, ten years older than I am.”

“Give her my condolences,” she grinned. “You sure make it difficult to refuse.”

“That's why I came to see you,” he said, looking down at her with a gentle smile, and she was reminded again of how much she liked him.

“I thought you came for a free meal,” she said, still laughing at him.

“I did, but I came to talk to you too.”

“It must have been pretty boring in Connecticut.” She was relentless with him and he was loving it. They knew each other well, and had fun together.

“It was boring in Connecticut. So are you coming, or what?”

“You mean I have a choice? I was beginning to think you were going to throw me over your shoulder and take me.”

“I might, if you don't act right.”

“You're really crazy, you know. The last thing you need, is me puking on you all the way to Vermont, and then sick as a dog when we get there.”

“I'm used to it by now,” he smiled, “I wouldn't know what to do without it.”

“You're nuts.”

“You're cute, and this is what friends are for.”

“Is it?” she said, touched by him again. “I thought they were only to Christmas shop, and do all your cases for you, and peel you off the bathroom floor when you're sick.” It was what husbands were supposed to be for, but hers wasn't.

“Just shut up and pack your suitcase. You're embarrassing me.”

“That's impossible.”

“I'll pick you up at eight, or is that too early?” He looked suddenly worried about her.

“It's fine. Are you sure?” she asked him again. “What if you want to pick up girls?”

“It's a big house. I'll lock you in your room. I promise.” They were both smiling as she walked him to the door. She couldn't believe she had let him talk her into it, but she was looking forward to it suddenly. She knew she had four and a half months of sickness ahead of her, but something had happened to her. He had saved her spirit. She wanted to go with him, wanted to cling to life. But more than anything now, she wanted to make it. She knew she had to.

Chapter 16

The days in Vermont were the happiest Alex had had in ages, ever since before her sickness. She had called Sam and Annabelle to let them know she was there, and Sam sounded surprised to hear it.

“I didn't know you could still travel,” he said, sounding concerned. “Are you sure it's all right for you to be there? Who's with you?”

“A friend from work. I'm fine. I'll see you in New York on New Year's Day.” She gave him the number, but they never called her.

The house Brock had borrowed was simple, but very cozy. There were four bedrooms, and a kind of dormitory. He gave her the biggest room upstairs, and he took a small one downstairs so he wouldn't disturb her. And they sat around together like old friends, reading and doing crossword puzzles, and having snowball fights like two children.

She went for long walks in the snow with Brock, and she even tried skiing one day, but it was too much for her. After the chemo, she just didn't have the strength. But she felt healthier than she had in weeks. She only had one really bad day. But she stayed in bed, and by evening she was better.

He found an old sled in the garage the day after they arrived and he pulled her around, so she wouldn't get too tired.

He cooked dinner for her at night, and when she told him to go out with friends, he only laughed at her and told her he was too tired. He liked staying home with her. But one night they even went to Chez Henri for dinner, where they had a lovely time, and by the end of the week, Alex was feeling a lot better again. She was at the better end of her chemo, which meant it would be time for another treatment soon, but fortunately not yet. She had never had a nicer vacation, and they became fast friends and spent a lot of their time laughing.

Another day, they met for lunch at the lodge after he skied. She kept pointing out pretty girls to him, and then she discreetly showed him a handful of attractive young skiers, whom she felt he should be with instead of her.

“They're fourteen years old for chrissake. Are you trying to get me arrested?” They were both laughing again.

“They are not! They're twenty-five if they're a day,” she said, pretending to look outraged.

“Same thing.” But even the thirty-year-olds didn't appeal to him. He was happy with Alex. But he never put the make on her, or made her feel uncomfortable. And they talked about Sam a lot. She admitted to him how much it had hurt her when she saw him with the girl at Ralph Lauren.

“I think I'd probably have killed him. Or her,” Brock said, but Alex only shook her head.

“There's no point. It's over. It's not her fault. It just happened. And I guess when I look at myself in the mirror now, I understand it.”

“That's bullshit.” He got angry when she said things like that. “What if it had happened to him? If he'd lost an arm, or a leg, or a testicle? Would you have cashed him in?”