Something Beautiful and Lacey's Retreat: Something Beautiful / Lacey's Retreat

Lucas couldn’t be angry for that. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Willa caught his hand in hers. “I want you to be—happy, that is.”

Casse pas mon coeur. He didn’t say the words out loud, but he wanted to. He wanted to tell her, Then don’t break my heart.

He gave an eloquent shrug, then pulled his hand from hers. “I’m happy. Completely happy.” For about three seconds, he stood there, a hand on his hip. Then he pivoted toward her. “That’s not the truth. I’m not happy. I used to think I was. But that was last week, before I saw you standing in my gardens.”

Willa held her head down. “See, I’ve already made you regret—”

He pulled her close then, needing answers, wondering how she could tell his aunt things she had yet to tell him. “I don’t regret meeting you. I only regret that you can’t trust me the way you seem to trust my dear aunt. I want you to share with me the things you just told her.”

“I didn’t tell her anything, Lucas.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. We talked…about God. About me.” She stopped, sucked in a breath. “Something happened here. Something I can’t explain.”

And then she burst into tears and fell into his arms.

Chapter Eight

Lucas held Willa tightly to him, the sound of her sobs echoing like a siren’s call throughout his heart. He’d lived with three women, so he knew the effect of tears on a man. They could bring down Goliath.

But right now, he felt more like David with the slingshot. Terrified, but determined.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t hear how his voice shook.

Willa pulled away, wiping tears from her face as she stared at him. “Your aunt is such a remarkable woman.”

“Obviously,” he said on a dry note. “Since she brought you to tears.”

“She did,” Willa admitted, smiling through her anguish. “But I’m not upset.”

“Oh, really. You’re crying like a child, but you’re not upset?” Lucas scratched his head in wonder. “You’re gonna have to explain this to me.”

Willa tilted her head, then clasped her hands in front of her. “Your aunt made me feel so much better about so many things. She wants me to know the Lord, Lucas.”

He had to smile at that. Aunt Hilda was a fierce prayer warrior, a crusader for all that was good and right. It didn’t surprise him one bit that she’d gently urged Willa to find her way home again. Aunt Hilda could pick a stray out of crowd a mile away. But she could also bring that stray into the fold with love and tenderness and open arms.

“Aunt Hilda is like an angel here on earth,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “She certainly took me under her wing.”

Willa reached out a hand to touch his cheek. “It must have been so awful. Coming here to this strange, new place. Knowing your parents were gone forever.”

He closed his eyes, leaned into her warm hand. “It was tough, for true. But she made things so…soft-focused and steady. She never dwelled on the loss of my parents, but she was always willing to listen to us when we had questions or when we were frightened.” He felt a shudder running down his spine. “Lorna had nightmares—has had them all of her life. And Lacey…she just built up this wall like a shield. She’s buried it all so deeply, I don’t know if she can ever really be healed.”

“And what about you?” Willa asked, her fingers stroking his jawline.

“Moi?” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Well, we needed a black sheep, and I guess I fit the bill. I’ve acted out every rage and frustration I’ve ever had. In some ways, I guess I’m still acting.”

Willa inched closer to him, her hand going from his face to his hair. “I’ve been acting, too, Lucas. But tonight…it’s as if all the shams and facades have broken away. Somehow, I know I’m going to find the strength to do what I have to do.”

He tugged her close, needing this intimacy, needing to understand all the turmoil she seemed to be holding so tightly inside. “And what is it that you have to do, chère?”

She took a deep breath. Then she held her head away so she could look into his eyes. Lucas saw the bright light shining in her face, but he also saw a tremendous fear. A trepidation.

“Tell me,” he urged, his hands on her back. “Tell me.”

She gave a slight nod, then started talking. “Last week, during a routine self-examination, I found a small lump on my right breast.” In a calm, steady voice, she told him, “Lucas, I…I might have breast cancer.”

He had to suck in a breath. The words rang inside his head like a death toll. Breast cancer. Breast cancer. Then the anger set in. The old, easy anger that he’d held on to for so long. The anger toward God, the creator, and God, the taker of life.

“No,” he said, simply and deeply. “No. That can’t be. I won’t let it be.”

Willa ran a hand through his hair, touched her fingers to his neck. “I have to go to the doctor,” she said, as if trying to comfort him. “I have to make sure.”

The urgency of her situation tore through him. “You didn’t do that already? Why haven’t you done that already?”

She looked down. “My doctor in New York did a physical exam, then scheduled a mammogram. The mammogram showed a small lump about the size of a pea.”

Lucas held up a hand to interrupt her. “Then what on earth are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital, getting some sort of treatments?”

She dropped her hands to her sides. “My doctor wanted to do a biopsy right away, but he told me I had several options. He gave me lots of pamphlets to read, suggested some books on the subject, even said I could take a few days to get a second opinion. So that’s why I’m here. I just needed some time…to think about what this might mean.”

Anger and dread made Lucas irrational. “I can tell you exactly what it might mean, if you don’t hurry.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she said, pulling out of his arms to turn away. “Believe me, it’s all I’ve been thinking about, night and day. But my doctor did tell me that if it is cancer, we have a few weeks to get everything in order…if I have to have surgery.” With her back to him, she continued. “You have to understand, I’m not one to rush into anything. I need time to think, to decide about my future. That’s why I came down here. So I could get away from all the distractions and just rest and think. Then when those two photographers showed up, I thought they’d found out. I was afraid I’d have to go back to New York, after all. And that would mean further delays.”