Halfway to Forever

  At ten o’clock the next morning, Dr. Layton appeared again. He was holding a file, and this time the gravity of the situation was etched in the lines on his forehead.

  “It’s cancer, Jade. I’m sorry.”

  Tanner stared at the doctor, his eyes unblinking. What had the man said?

  Cancer?

  The word screamed at him from every wall in the room. Jade couldn’t possibly have cancer. It was all a nightmare. He was going to wake up at home in their own bed, Jade beside him, smiling at him, assuring him everything was all right, and promising him that she and their baby were perfectly fine.

  No, God, not cancer. Not Jade …

  Tanner hung his head for a moment, his hands clenching into fists. Then just as quickly, he realized he hadn’t said a word to Jade. Ignoring his pounding heart and uneven breathing, he lifted his chin and reached for her hand. She had been watching him, her eyes filled with too many emotions to sort. Sadness, regret, disbelief. And fear, of course. But … Tanner frowned. He saw guilt, too. As though somehow she felt responsible for the doctor’s awful news.

  Her eyes welled up. “I’m sorry, Tanner.”

  “No.” He forced a partial smile and uttered a single desperate laugh. “It’s not true, Jade. Tests can be wrong.” His gaze shifted to Dr. Layton. “Isn’t that right? Can’t the tests be wrong?”

  The doctor’s mouth formed a straight line, and he looked from Tanner to Jade and back again. “Not this time.”

  Tanner stared at the man. He wanted to scream or punch a wall, shout at anyone who would listen, insist the diagnosis wasn’t true. His gaze shifted back to Jade and he saw quiet tears streaking down her cheeks. He tightened his grip on her hand. “We’ll fight it, Jade. People beat cancer all the time.”

  She nodded, smiling as her eyes filled again. “We’ll beat it.” She swallowed a single sob. “God’s … not finished with me yet.”

  Tanner nodded, his mouth dry with the blasting winds of hot, merciless fear. “We’ll fight it together.” He wove his fingers between Jade’s and leaned against her arm as the doctor explained their opponent in detail.

  “Jade has a glioblastoma, a fairly common type of brain cancer.”

  Tanner forced himself to concentrate. He still had hold of Jade’s hand. “It’s curable, right?”

  The doctor leveled his gaze and his voice fell a notch. “Yes. In about half the cases.” He hesitated. “It depends on how fast the tumor’s growing. Of course, there’s no way to tell how long it’s been there.” Dr. Layton let the file fall to his side. “Jade’s pregnancy seems to have compromised her immune system and sparked what looks like aggressive growth.”

  The words were like something from a nightmare. Tumor … cancer … aggressive growth. Tanner massaged his left temple with his free hand. The doctor might as well have been speaking Russian for as much sense as it all made.

  “I’m recommending two weeks of intense radiation therapy followed by removal of the tumor. At that point we can implant radioactive pellets and begin chemotherapy until—”

  “Stop.” Tanner held up his hand, and Jade and the doctor looked at him. “Radiation? Removal of the tumor? That’s surgery, right? Brain surgery?” He alternated his gaze from Jade to the doctor.

  Dr. Layton sighed. “Yes.”

  Jade opened her mouth to speak, but Tanner wasn’t finished. He let go of Jade’s hand, stood, and paced three quick steps toward the door and back. “What’s that mean for the baby?”

  “I know what it means.” Jade’s tears spilled onto her cheeks and she turned her attention to Dr. Layton. “I won’t terminate.”

  Terminate? What was she talking about? The baby? Their baby? Tanner tried to breathe but he couldn’t. The air around him had turned jagged and sharp, cutting at him as he struggled to drag it into his lungs.

  “I’m … I’m lost.” Tanner crossed his arms and managed to grab a quick breath. “If someone would clue me in here.” He sat back down and leaned over his knees, his eyes locked on Dr. Layton’s.

  The man uttered a tired sigh. “The treatment I’m recommending would require terminating the pregnancy, Tanner. There’s no way a fetus could survive the radiation and chemotherapy. Even the surgery holds considerable risks.”

  “And if she terminates the baby, you think the treatment will … that she’ll be okay?” Tanner’s heart skipped a beat. He was wandering toward a cliff he’d never come anywhere near, but what choice was there if it meant Jade’s life?

  “Yes. I think there’s a good chance. But I’d like to begin first thing in the morning. First we would—”

  Jade shook her head. “No!”

  “Jade …” Dr. Layton hesitated.

  “I said no.” Jade shot the man a fierce look, ignoring the tears that spilled onto her cheeks.

  The doctor gritted his teeth. “I’m recommending you terminate this afternoon. I’m sorry, Jade. I don’t see any other option. Right now the tumor—”

  “Excuse me.” Tanner held up his hand. “Could you give us a half hour, doctor?” His palms were suddenly damp, his heartbeat irregular. “Jade and I need to talk.”

  Dr. Layton nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  The moment they were alone, Jade sat up straighter and cried out in a tone that was both angry and hurt. “What are you thinking, Tanner?” She splayed her fingers across her chest. “We don’t need a half hour or five minutes. I wouldn’t consider terminating this pregnancy. Not for anything.”

  Tanner was on his feet again, and as he walked to the window, he felt suddenly twice his age. Frustration became anger and it boiled near the surface of his heart. When he turned back to her, his eyes were damp. “I want this baby more than my next breath.” He lowered his voice and took a step closer to her bed. “But if it means losing you …” His words were strangled in emotion. “Maybe it’s our only choice.”

  Jade’s eyes grew wider still. “Tanner, I can’t believe you mean that.”

  He blinked, and the fog of confusion cleared just enough for him to see through it. Had he really said that? Really alluded to the possibility that he’d agree to abort their baby? What was he saying?

  He fell to his knees and then back on his heels. There he let his head hang forward and allowed the tears to come. Jade was right, of course. He’d made a living defending the religious right, protecting people who protested in front of abortion clinics, people who thwarted the efforts of high school nurses to provide condoms and secret abortions for students.

  Wasn’t he the one whose closing arguments had once included Dr. Seuss’s famous story about Horton the Elephant finding an entire town on a dust speck? A person’s a person, no matter how small. He could hear the sincerity in his voice even now.

  He’d never stood on this side of the great debate over life. But he had to face the truth … without a doubt, if he had to decide this minute whether to save Jade or the baby, there would be no question what he would do. He’d sign the termination papers without hesitating.

  And that truth terrified him.

  What did it say about everything that defined him? His faith, his passion for the law, his integrity.? Was it all a sham? Just something to use in the courtroom?

  The only thing he didn’t doubt was his love for Jade. His desperate, lifelong love for a woman with eyes as green as Chesapeake Bay, a woman he’d loved since they were children, back when they skipped rocks and rode bikes and spent endless summers growing up in the same Virginia neighborhood.

  A woman who could no more terminate the life of the child she was carrying than she could will herself to stop breathing. Life … the love of life was part of who she was. Part of why he loved her.

  “Tanner …”

  Her voice pulled him up from the floor. His feet moved like they were stuck in mud as he walked to her bedside.

  There was no anger in her eyes now. Only a quiet certainty. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and shook her head. “I can’t …”

&nb
sp; A sob slipped from her throat, breaking free a dam of emotion. She reached out her hands, and Tanner laid his upper body across hers, working his hands and arms behind her and clinging to her.

  “I know.” He brought his mouth close to her ear, his own tears mingling with hers. “I’m sorry …”

  Tanner remembered a documentary once about two men and a little boy who got caught in severe rapids while boating on a river. When the vessel overturned, the two men were killed, but by some miracle the child made his way to the distant shore and scrambled up a muddy tree root. He clung to the underneath edge of that cliff until help came, knowing that to let go meant certain death.

  For three hours the boy hung there, his fingers bloodied and locked into place by the time rescuers showed up.

  Tanner closed his eyes and nestled his face against Jade’s. He was that child now, clinging to Jade with all that remained of his hope and courage and belief in forever.

  Because to let go, to lose her now, would certainly kill him.

  Even if it took a lifetime for his heart to stop beating.

  Seven

  Dr. Layton would never suggest terminating a pregnancy for anything but the most serious causes. Jade could remember the man arguing with other doctors about taking extreme measures to save not only pregnant patients, but their unborn children as well. He was not a man of faith, but he was one of the kindest doctors Jade had ever worked with.

  The fact that he disagreed with Jade and Tanner’s resolve to keep the baby could only mean one thing: He feared for Jade’s life.

  That afternoon, she and Tanner huddled against each other in the hospital room as Dr. Layton detailed his alternate treatment plan, one that would hopefully take Jade and the baby safely through the next several months.

  “We’ll deliver the baby at thirty-two weeks. Not a minute later.” Dr. Layton’s sigh rattled Jade’s nerves. Thirty-two weeks? That’s too early, God … the baby won’t be able to breathe on his own.

  The doctor continued. “In the meantime we’ll watch the tumor.”

  Tanner gripped her hand, his face pale. “What … what should we look for?”

  “Seizures are the biggest concern.” The doctor frowned. “Jade’s tumor is in the frontal lobe of her brain. That means even the smallest growth could trigger more seizures like the one she had yesterday.” He looked from Jade to Tanner. “The solution is an anti-seizure drug. It would be the least likely to have an ill effect on the baby.”

  Jade nodded. She was familiar with the medication, and terrified at the same time. She had been so busy worrying about Tanner and his reaction to the news, so concerned with having a good attitude toward her ability to fight the tumor and God’s ability to heal her, that she’d taken almost no time to consider the road ahead.

  Especially if it included five months of anti-seizure medication.

  She glanced at Tanner. Please, God … give him strength.

  The doctor drew up a chair and sat down across from Tanner. “Seizures could be nothing more than a painful inconvenience … or they could kill Jade and the baby. We have to prevent them. Let’s talk about the anti-seizure medication.” He leveled his gaze at Tanner, and Jade held her breath. She knew what was coming. “The drug has side effects. Personality changes, excessive grogginess, slow speech, slow motor skills. Depending on the dosage, it could temporarily appear that Jade has brain damage.”

  The remaining color drained from Tanner’s face. Jade wanted to rip out the IV line, grab Tanner’s hand, and run for her life. She’d seen patients on anti-seizure medication, kids with inoperable brain tumors who sometimes didn’t recognize their parents after three weeks on the drugs. This was why brain cancer was the most dreaded of all childhood types—the medication and the fact that the prognosis was usually so poor. Jade thought of Brandy Almond. How was the girl doing? Maybe her cancer was in remission by now.

  The doctor was telling them that the side effects were often reversible once the tumor was removed. “I’ll start you on a low dose, but as the tumor grows, we’ll almost certainly have to increase the medication. We’ll have to monitor it.”

  It was almost four o’clock when the doctor left them alone.

  Tanner crossed the room and anchored himself at the window, his back to her. “Did you hear that?” He looked over his shoulder at her. “The drug could change your personality.”

  Jade ached to climb out of bed and hug him, to promise him that no matter what medication found its way into her veins she would never see him differently, treat him differently. But she wouldn’t lie to him. She’d seen the effects of the drug too often.

  “Okay.” She summoned every bit of faith within her and spoke in a voice that barely carried across the room. “We’ll have to pray it doesn’t.”

  Tanner shrugged and came to her side once more. “I guess.”

  There was something numb in Tanner’s tone, and it frightened her. Was Tanner doubting the power of prayer? Was he questioning whether God could help them? The possibility scared Jade more than any cancer ever could. God, give him faith … help him.

  In response a Scripture came to mind. It was their verse. Their life verse: “For I know the plans I have for you … plans to give you a hope and a future and not to harm you …”

  She folded her arms against her chest and tried to believe it was still true. “You guess? Is that all, Tanner? After all God’s brought us through?”

  He gripped the side rails of her hospital bed and locked his elbows. “God allowed a brain tumor to grow in your head, okay? I’m still trying to deal with that. You and I—” his jaw tensed—“we love the Lord with all our hearts but because of my mother’s wretched lies we lose a decade together. Ten years, Jade.” His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the bed rails. “Now this?” He groaned. “I’ll pray. Of course, I’ll pray. But right now I don’t know if it’ll make a difference.”

  Tears filled her eyes again. She hadn’t cried this much since she walked out of Tanner’s mother’s house thirteen years ago believing he didn’t love her. “Tanner … please.”

  He was rigid, tense with anger and fear and confusion. But at the sound of his name on her lips, his hands and arms relaxed, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, Jade saw something that gave her hope again.

  Resolve.

  She exhaled in relief. This was the Tanner she knew and loved, the one who would fight to the death for what he believed. And certainly now, in the darkest moment of their lives, he would trust God to lead them through. What choice did they have?

  “I’m sorry, Jade. Forgive me, okay?”

  She nodded and reached toward him, slipping her hand in his.

  He brought her fingers to his cheek and searched her eyes, his voice hoarse. “I’m just scared. Scared to death.”

  “Me, too.”

  He looked at her for a long while. Then he closed his eyes again and broke the silence between them with the most intense, most heartfelt prayer Jade had ever heard him utter.

  When he finished, he opened his eyes and said the thing they must both have been thinking since getting the results that morning. “Let’s call Ty.”

  Jade held her breath while Tanner phoned Karl’s mother. He explained that Jade was in the hospital for tests. The woman was more than willing to bring Ty there, and an hour later, Tanner left to meet them in the hospital lobby.

  The few minutes alone in her room gave Jade time to soak in the reality of what was happening to her, of the dark path that lay ahead. She thought of Ty, the years they’d shared when she was married to Jim Rudolph, back when the boy received little or no attention from anyone but her. For years she had tried so hard to forget about Tanner, but it had been impossible. Ty was a perfect miniature of him. Through the boy’s pale, blue eyes, Tanner had shared breakfast with her each morning and hugged her each night.

  Never back then had she thought it possible that Ty and Tanner would meet, or that somehow she and Tanner would find their way back t
ogether again. And now.

  Will you take me home, God? Will you leave Tanner to raise our little boy? Is that the plan you have for me?

  The questions formed a lump in her throat, and when the two men she loved most in life—one a shorter replica of the other—entered her room, it was nearly a minute before she could speak.

  “Mom, what’s wrong? How come you’re here?” Ty wore a stained baseball shirt. His eyes were bright with panic. Jade held her arms out as he ran to her and hugged her for a long while. When he pulled back, he ran his finger over the IV line. “Dad says you’re sick.”

  “Yes.” She found her voice and set her hand on his shoulder. “I have cancer, Ty. Brain cancer.”

  They had decided to tell him the truth. After all, he would be affected by every stage of her treatment. Especially the difficult months when she’d be on the anti-seizure medication.

  “Cancer?” Ty’s face went white, and he took several steps away from her until he was snug against Tanner’s side. “Does that mean … you’re gonna die?”

  “No, honey.” Jade forced a smile, despite her breaking heart. “Cancer can be treated.” She closed her eyes for a moment. Help me say the right words, God. Ty had to feel her hope now, at this early stage. That way he’d be more likely to stay hopeful when things got worse. “I’ll be sick, though, so you and Dad need to stick together.”

  After a half hour of questions, Ty seemed content to sit in the chair beside Jade and watch baseball on the hospital television. Tanner took the time to call the Bronzans.

  “I’m at the hospital, Matt.” Jade watched her husband massage his temples and struggle to say the words. “We got some bad news today.”

  There was a pause, and she saw her husband’s eyes well up. “Jade has … Jade has brain cancer. The doctors told us a few hours ago.”

  Jade couldn’t hear their conversation, but she could tell from Tanner’s reaction that Matt must have been shocked. Tanner nodded a few times and then choked out a single request before hanging up. A request that frightened Jade because it was so out of character for her self-reliant, fun-loving husband.