10. Valerie

Quality or quantity?

The words had become a cliché to Valerie, repeated to herself so many times, they were as familiar as her name. The first time she heard them—at least relative to her medical condition—was in a doctor's office.

That man, with his bony features and thinning silver beard that probably made his wife itchy when he kissed her, had given Val a simple choice for the rest of her life, such as it was.

"Do you want quality or quantity?"

Quantity was simple: with doses of chemo and radiation that would burn her, wither her, and make her sad and sick, she would have more days. How many? They honestly had no idea—confirming her long-held belief that doctors were idiots who did nothing but guess.

Or, she could live a relatively normal life, the one they called "quality." She'd have some headaches, occasional confusion, and live with the possibility of a seizure that would be scary but not life-ending.

But over the next four to six months, the tumor would grow from the size of a pea to a blueberry to a walnut and press on some very important cortex-y thing. Then, she would get bone-deep fatigue, lose her appetite, and, finally, be bedridden for a bit, then off to meet her Maker. She hoped.

That, he claimed, would be quality.

Without a lot of deliberation and absolutely no counsel from anyone in her life, Val chose the latter, and she still liked that decision. She hadn't expected Eileen to turn into a shrew, or Jack to practically throw her out. But her kids had, not for the first time, deeply disappointed her.

So here she was, living out her "quality" life with Raina Wingate and precious Lily and Charlie. Try as she might, she'd fallen into using the cute nicknames, because they fit each little personality so perfectly.

The fact was, Val had chosen quality before she even knew those babies existed, and if that wasn't proof there was a God, she didn't know what was.

The only problem with quality over quantity was that she didn't trust herself to stay alone with two infants. Oh, she could stand over their cribs or change a diaper with Raina close by. She could rock them and love them and push them in a stroller…but not entirely alone.

She couldn't babysit, and that would clearly beg the question of why not. It did last night, and the fact that Raina didn't ask it outright made Valerie suspect she knew something was up.

But she wasn't ready to tell her truth yet. She wanted to live a while longer as normally as possible, with no one hovering or worrying or suggesting she try radiation.

And knowing Raina, she'd want to do something about it. She'd always been a bit of a meddler—some would say it takes one to know one—who wanted to find answers to everyone's problems.

Val didn't have a problem. Well, other than the fact that she was dying. She simply wanted to spend these final weeks and months with some measure of peace. No more doctors, no more burdens, no more decisions.

And Raina had given that to her. This sunny, expansive room with a private bathroom and a view of the ocean was a glorious place to finish life. So much so, that Val didn't even want to sleep in—something she'd done a lot of since she'd been diagnosed.

Today, she rose early, enjoyed a long shower in a private ensuite, and dressed in what Eileen referred to as "grandma clothes"—a loose floral top and comfy cotton slacks.

Taking her Bible for a little morning read, she walked into the kitchen, happy to find it quiet and empty. Coffee was brewing, though, so she helped herself to a cup, inhaling the lovely aroma and enjoying the morning sunlight that poured through the French doors.

Yes, this was quality, she thought as she shouldered open the door to step into clean, salty air, a rising sun, and—oh, not an empty deck.

Raina looked up from a comfy seat at a round table, one hand on a double stroller next to her. "Good morning, Val." She rolled the stroller back and forth, and beckoned Val closer with her other hand. "They're so happy. Come and see."

"I thought I'd be awake before you," Val said, trying to hide her disappointment that she couldn't just sit out here alone.

Raina laughed. "Fat chance. I've been up since five. They're fed, dressed, and just about…" She leaned over and peeked in. "Ready for a nap. Well, Lily is. Charlie has discovered she has fingers. Come and see, Grandma Val."

Val's heart tightened, squeezed by guilt and longing and confusion and admiration. Raina made her feel all those things, and when she crossed the deck and looked into the stroller, she could add indescribable love to that list of emotions.

"Have a seat." Raina gestured to the other chair at the round table. "How did you sleep in your new room, Val?"

"Quite well," she said, settling into the outdoor chair, which was surprisingly comfortable. Self-consciously, she laid the Bible on the table, noticing Raina take a good look at it.

"I have to say, Val, I have no recollection of you being a Bible reader," she mused, squinting through the morning sunshine. "Is this a new part of your life?"

Val shifted in the seat, which suddenly wasn't so comfortable.

"Relatively," she replied.

"Did, uh, something happen that made you turn to the Lord?"

Val looked straight ahead at the horizon, considering her response. "As a person gets older and the, uh, end looms, I think it's natural to think about what's next. This book gives me hope that this isn't all there is."

Raina didn't say anything, but Val could feel her gaze, intent and curious.

"Would you like to go to church with my family?" Raina finally asked. "We belong to one in town that's very welcoming to newcomers. My sister's new husband, Isaiah, leads the choir now and the services are beautiful. I haven't been since the babies were born, but you wouldn't be alone. There's always a Wingate around."

She lifted a shoulder, almost wishing Raina wasn't so darn nice. "I could go. Mostly, I just read the book and pray."

"For anything in particular?"

"You've answered enough of my prayers," she said, hoping her "new and kind Val" voice came through on the comment, because it was sincere. "You've given me new grandchildren and a place to stay that couldn't be better." She smiled and thought about reaching across the table to touch Raina's arm, but that was so out of character, it could only set off alarms. "Thank you," she finished.

"You're welcome." Raina leaned forward to peek into the stroller when one of the little ones made a noise that sounded like a balloon twisting. "Go sleepy-byes, Lil."

Val sipped her coffee, relaxing a little, hoping the inquisition about her faith had ended.

"Are you doing anything special today?" Raina asked after a beat.

"I might take a walk down that beach. I might take a nap. I'm happy to fold laundry for you, rock a baby or two, and enjoy the day. Oh, and I'll cook again, if you and Chase would like me to."

"You're not here to work, Val, but the laundry is endless, so folding is always a godsend. And you definitely should walk and nap. My sister, Tori, is coming over later and I'd love for you to chat with her. Oh, and her boyfriend, Justin."

There was something in Raina's voice that caught Val's attention. "Which sister is this? I get confused because there are so many."

Raina chuckled. "Understandable. Tori is two years older than Rose and me."

"So she's your real sister."

"They're all my real sisters, it's just that the three youngest had a different mother." Raina eyed her, looking like she had more to say. "Justin was my dad's doctor when he had a stroke. That's how Tori met him."

"Mmm." Val sipped her coffee. "So she swooped in and flirted with the doctor while your dad was on his deathbed? Pretty opportunistic, if you ask me." She winced, hearing how that sounded. "Not that you did ask me."

Raina didn't seem to be offended, smiling at the observation. "We tease her about it, trust me." After a second, she added, "He was—is, actually—my father's neurologist."

Val tried not to react. Might have failed, but she tried. "Uh-huh."

"He's very good," she added. "At neurology, I mean."

There was just enough intention in her tone to make Val bristle and sit a little straighter. "I'm sure he is."

"He's with a well-regarded group and…and…"

"And what, Raina?"

She swallowed. "And Tori really likes him."

"That's nice." She picked up the coffee cup, sensing that wasn't quite what Raina was trying to say.

"I'd like you to meet him—er, them."

That'swhat she was trying to say. Val's heart dropped with a thud.

Raina knew.

Fighting the urge to curse, she turned in her seat and took a breath, not sure she was ready for her secret to be out in the open. But one look at Raina's expectant face and Val had to acknowledge defeat.

"How?" she asked on a whisper.

"How will you meet him?" Raina asked, looking confused.

"How…" Val couldn't finish the sentence—in case she was wrong and inadvertently revealed her truth.

"How did I know?" Raina asked.

Val couldn't help it. She swore under her breath and felt her eyes shutter in frustration and disappointment and no small amount of fear. Because Raina, she knew instinctively, was not going to agree with quality over quantity.

"I heard you talking to one of the babies," Raina said. "And then I saw the caller ID and…" She leaned across the table, the sun highlighting the deep concern in her blue eyes. "Val. Please tell me what's going on."

"So you can drag a neurologist into it?" she volleyed back, knowing she was being snippy, but was so desperate to protect herself. "I don't need to see another one."

Raina regarded her, silent for a moment, clearly not knowing where to take the conversation—but did anything ever stop a dog like Raina Wingate when she had a bone? No. Her relentless nature had appealed to Jack, but Val always found it…irritating.

Never more than now.

"Yes, Raina," she said, making no effort to hide the annoyance in her voice. "I'm sick. I'm very, very sick. And I have a choice on how to handle this sickness, and I made that choice, and I'm not changing it."

"Val." She leaned even closer and reached her hand across the table. "What's wrong?"

Oh, Lord, give me the strength to do this right.

She swallowed the words she once heard called "a bullet prayer" and hoped this one hit the target. "I have an inoperable brain tumor, Rain—"

Her gasp was loud, cutting Val off.

"And, yes," she added after a second. "I'm dying. I have less than six months to live."

"Val!" She was up in an instant, around the table, and draped over Val with a full-body hug and squeeze that was really too much. Val hated hugging. She hated too much physical contact and sympathy and attention and…and…oh.

She closed her eyes and patted Raina's arm when she felt her shudder with a soft sob.

"It's fine," Val said, knowing it was a lie. It was certainly not fine. "I'm going to be okay." Another lie. "I'm at peace with the decision." Finally, the truth.

After a second, Raina backed away, crouching down next to Val's chair. "Does Jack know?" she asked.

For some reason, asking first about her son touched Val, especially after how poorly he'd treated Raina. "No. Neither does Eileen."

"Why not?"

"Because they don't care."

"Valerie! That is not true."

She gave a dubious look. "Maybe they would care, but frankly, the day I went to see Eileen to tell her, she was completely bent out of shape over how busy her life is, how swamped and stressed out and stretched to the limit she is. So I decided not to tell her, and thought I'd just move down here to be with Jack. I knew you two were divorced and that he'd been seeing someone…"

She took a breath and studied Raina's face, wet with tears, intense with focus as she listened.

"She's the devil, that Lisa," Val hissed.

Raina bit her lip. "Then she'll make his life hell. Is she the reason you didn't tell him? Because I believe he'd want to know."

"I don't want anyone to know!" Val exclaimed. "Is that so hard to believe? I know when you must have heard me. I remember telling sweet Lily that I didn't have a lot of time…" Unwelcome tears formed behind Val's eyelids. "I don't want anyone to know this, okay? Is that so hard to understand?"

Raina reached behind her and grabbed a light deck chair, bringing it so close to Val their arms were touching. Of course. This whole family, as she recalled, was touchy.

But she could see nothing but genuine caring in Raina's eyes, so direct that Val looked away, her gaze landing on the Bible. Speaking of mercy she didn't deserve.

"I do understand," Raina finally said, putting a hand on Val's arm. "Can you tell me a little about the diagnosis and what makes it inoperable? What kind of tumor it is? How did it start?"

Val dropped her head back. "Do I have to?"

"No," Raina said softly. "But would you do me a favor and tell my sister's boyfriend, the neurologist? How can it hurt to hear what he has to say?"

"It can hurt because I've been to enough doctors. I've had the diagnosis. I've done all the tests. I know there are only two options for this tumor, which, by the way, started with nothing more than an itchy foot, a constant headache, and then I…I had a seizure."

"Oh, Val! How do your kids not know this?"

"Because I didn't tell them. I did all the appointments and scans on my own, and I've been to the consultations and I've heard what the doctors say. They cannot take this tumor out."

"And radiation?" Raina asked.

Val gave a full-body shudder. "That's one option."

"And you're not—"

"Stop!" Val's voice was so sharp, Raina startled and jerked backwards. "Sorry," Val muttered. "I just…this isn't new, Raina. I found out a few months ago, and I've been through all the mazes of what-ifs and possibilities. The pros and cons. The ups and downs. Yes, I could try chemo and then radiation, both forms of hell that will make me very sick. But they'd extend my life."

"So why wouldn't you do it?"

"Because it won't be a very good life and it can't extend it in any truly meaningful way," Val said, pushing the coffee cup away because it was cold and ruined now. "My two options were quality or quantity. A decent, relatively healthy but extremely short life, or a crappy, miserable, hospital-heavy life that lasts a little bit longer. Months? Maybe. Years? Unlikely."

Raina's shoulders sank under the weight of Val's words.

"This is why I don't want to tell anyone," Val said, flicking her hand. "Because it's sad and depressing and you—oh, goodness, you of all people—will want to fix it."

Raina's blue eyes flickered like, yes, she did want to fix it. Starting with her neurologist friend.

"You have to tell Jack and Eileen. They deserve to know that you're going through this."

"I don't have to do anything but die and pay taxes. In fact, this year, I get to do both."

Raina almost smiled, but put her hand back on Val's arm. "Do you want me to tell him for you?"

"No. I'll tell him eventually. But you know he'll try to be a hero and drag me down to Miami, and I don't want to live there." Her voice cracked and she hated that, but this was so important. "I thought I wanted to live there, but then I found out you had the babies and, Raina, don't make me leave!"

"Never!" Raina hugged her, burying her face in Val's hair. "If I have to fight Jack for you, I will. You won't spend whatever you have left away from your two grandbabies."

"Oh." She moaned the word, touched beyond description. "I was far too unkind to you, Raina," she confessed on a whisper. "And I do not deserve this."

"Hush. You deserve everything," Raina said, and even if she didn't mean it, it sure sounded like she did. "Including one more opinion."

Val curled her lip. "Do I have to?"

"Justin Verona is an excellent neurologist, and he can—"

"He can't!" she interjected. "No one can. Does the word inoperable mean nothing to you, Raina?"

"He can shut me up, then," Raina said. "You talk to him, and he will assure me that you've been given good advice. Then, Val, I give you my word that I will do nothing but make you happy for the rest of your days. Whatever that might look like. You have my promise."

For a long time, Val just looked into Raina's eyes, seeing the love of a daughter, which was stunning, really. She could see the honest caring that she'd never seen in Eileen's eyes, or at least not very often.

"All right," Val agreed in a rough voice. "I'll talk to him. Once. And that's it."

One of the babies cried out, blessedly ending the conversation. Raina stood and walked over to the stroller, cooing as she reached in.

"Lovely Lily, did we wake you, darling?" She slowly lifted the tiny baby and pressed her to her chest, planting a kiss on her bald head. "And, whoa, you smell like it's diaper time."

Val looked across the table and admired Raina, who seemed like a natural at the job. All those sisters, she supposed.

"I'm going to take her in for a change, Val. And I'll text my sister and tell her that we talked, and that you've agreed to a brief and private conversation with Justin. And then, I promise, I will agree with your choice of…quality."

"Thank you, Raina," she said softly. "I'll stay out here with Charlie, but I promise I won't ever pick her up unless you're very close. Just in case…" She tapped her head. "I don't trust myself."

"Thank you." Raina gave one more kind smile. "I'll be right back."

When she went inside, Val sat very still, placing one hand on her Bible. Slowly, she slid the book closer and opened it to the page she'd marked with that satin ribbon.

She tried to read the Psalms, but the words blurred and danced from the unshed tears that filled her eyes.

That was fine. She didn't need to read about forgiveness and grace. She'd just witnessed it.