15. Valerie

About two weeks had passed from the day Val had met the nice-looking neurologist who was dating Raina's sister to today. She'd nearly forgotten how much she hated the sensation of…hope.

But here she was, dressing for yet another doctor's appointment even after she'd sworn she'd never go to one again, harboring hope even though she'd decided to let go of it.

True, there was something to love about waking and imagining that these weren't her last days on Earth. But they were.

Dragging herself to Dr. Verona's office to meet with some bigwig from the Mayo Clinic did give her a shot of optimism as heady as her second cup of coffee. However, she knew what waited for her on the other side of hope.

Disappointment.

Deep, dark, crushing, terrifying, and certain disappointment.

She ran a comb through her mostly gray hair—she'd stopped coloring it, since she didn't have to look good on her deathbed—and stared at herself in the mirror. Since the diagnosis, her lines had grown deeper, especially those two that dragged the sides of her so frequently downturned mouth.

She gave a fake smile, because that made the creases go away, but as soon as she straightened her lips, they were back. Her wrinkles were as hopeless as her brain tumor, and this meeting was probably a waste of time, but Raina had insisted.

Even more persuasive, that doctor they not-so-secretly called Hottypants had begged Val to have the meeting and hear what her options were.

She wasn't doing chemo or radiation. That was her line in the sand, and she clung to the determination not to give up her quality for quantity.

"You ready, Val?" Raina's voice floated in from the kitchen, making Val step away from the mirror. "Chase is in the car and the babies are loaded up."

Val closed her eyes, hating that this fool's errand was messing with so many people.

Well, they'd pushed for it, so she shouldn't feel responsible for their disruption. Still, she'd put them out, when her own son and daughter didn't even know this was happening.

"Do I need to bring anything?" Val asked as she walked out of her room, carrying only her handbag. With each step, she felt those lines around her downturned mouth deepen at the thought of yet another waiting room and white coat and bad news.

"Justin said he's been through all your files, shared everything with the specialist you're meeting, and…" Raina frowned, reading Val's expression. "Are you okay?"

And the fact that she cared made Val's heart heavy with guilt. "I'm fine, Raina. Simply dreading a process I've been through so many times."

She smiled and put a hand on Val's arm, as kind as a real daughter. "It'll be fine. Dr. Zakarian has come here from Minnesota!" she exclaimed, as if that made her special.

"She's friends with Justin," Val reminded her. "I'm sure this is just a nice get-together for them, and he's set up the meeting as a courtesy to you and Tori."

Raina gave her a look of disbelief. "I don't think so, Val. But the good news is we don't have to travel there or even to the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville. All we need to do is scoot to Justin's office right here on Amelia Island. Easy as pie!"

She kept up her perky optimism, reminding Val of Raina's twin sister, who was hopelessly happy all the time, chatting all the way out to the driveway and even taking the back seat between the two baby carriers.

"Couldn't you have left the kids with your mother today?" Val snapped when she climbed in, hating all this hassle just for her.

"Val." Raina put a hand on her shoulder from the back. "You're nervous, and I understand that. Listen to what this doctor has to say and then, if you like, we can take a drive over to Ocean Song, which isn't far away."

"You can have a nice waterfront lunch in our dining room," Chase added from behind the wheel. "And my assistant can watch the babies, which she's been begging to do."

They made it all sound like a lovely afternoon outing…not another dance with the devil of disappointment.

She merely nodded and looked out the window as they drove off, her gaze on the steel-colored clouds that made for a gray day. Wasn't it always sunny down here in Florida? Not for Valerie Wallace. She lived under a cloud.

Trying to not let the dread build up, she forced herself to listen to Raina and Chase talk. Their conversation took her back to the days when Raina was married to Jack and all they yakked about was real estate.

Evidently, Chase had infiltrated the Wingate business up here, doing some work for Raina. They yammered about it constantly the past few weeks, with even more laughter and intense conversations than they usually had, making her question the nature of their relationship for the millionth time.

She had no idea what Chase and Raina called themselves in official terms, but she knew this: they were…compatible. Their exchanges were so different from when Raina and Jack would talk shop. Jack was…always right.

Like his father, she thought bitterly, thinking of her late ex-husband, who'd done the whole world a favor by leaving her when Jack and Eileen were still in high school. Then he did a bigger one by dying a few years later.

Sadly, never was the phrase "like father, like son" more appropriate than with John and Jack Wallace.

It wasn't the first time she'd compared Jack and Raina's divorce to her own—although there hadn't been another woman. Johnny Wallace was just an ornery hothead who brought out the worst in Val, and apparently, there was a lot of "worst" when she was a younger woman.

Now that she'd learned the fine art of repentance—not that she'd enjoyed it—she'd had to accept that she'd contributed to the miserable mood of the Wallace home. She'd been a horrible wife, constantly scolding him and sniping at him.

No wonder a cancer had grown on the inside of her. She was ugly on the inside. No matter how much she wanted to change, based on the way she'd just talked to Raina, she hadn't.

What good was all this Bible reading and God loving if she was still a nasty woman who everyone in her family—husband and kids—couldn't stand?

"Here we are," Raina said as Chase parked the car.

Of course, one of the babies started wailing when the car stopped. It sounded like Charlie, to Val's well-trained ear, but their seats were turned around—

"Want me to walk you in, Val?" Raina asked, unfazed by the crying infant. "We can just leave the babies with Chase."

Val eyed the two-story stucco medical building with the name of the neurology group on the side, her heart squeezing.

How many brain specialists did it take to break one heart, she wondered.

"No, I can walk myself in to a doctor," she said, hating how cold she sounded, but too stressed to try and be nice. "I'll text you when I'm done, Raina."

Once more, her former daughter-in-law responded with a gentle touch that Val didn't deserve. "We won't be far. Good luck."

With a humorless smile, she climbed out and walked into an upscale waiting room decorated in the standard coastal colors, with what could be the same receptionist behind the desk with the usual smile and greeting.

How many—

"Oh, Mrs. Wallace." This woman stood and smiled at her. "The team is expecting you in the conference room. I'll take you back. Would you like some coffee or water?"

What? No demand for insurance cards, no long delay, no weigh-in with blood pressure and ten questions from a nurse? And she was going to a conference room with…the team?

It almost gave her…hope.

She smashed that down and followed the woman down a hall and into a business meeting room. When the door opened, she was surprised to see four doctor-types around a table with charts and scans hanging on the wall. It looked more like the kind of meeting that Chase and Raina were just talking about rather than a doctor's visit.

"Am I in the right place?" she asked.

"You certainly are." Justin—she supposed she should call him Dr. Verona here—came right to her, extending a familiar hand for a shake. "Welcome, Val. I hope you don't mind." He gestured toward a grayscale image she recognized as a brain scan—hers, no doubt—hanging against a lighted bar. "We've been talking about you."

"Oh?" She looked around at the two other men and the woman. "Do you all work here?"

"These folks are from various Mayo Clinic campuses around the country, all working on the same research project," Justin said. "But they have a proposal for you. Here, Val, have a seat."

He pulled out the chair at the head of the table, making her feel self-conscious and curious as she walked to it, glancing at the others, who were all standing to greet her like she was important.

"Mrs. Wallace." A dark-eyed woman with arresting good looks reached to shake her hand. "I'm Angelina Zakarian. Most people call me Dr. Z. I'm very pleased to meet you."

She smiled and took a little vacation in those gorgeous eyes, then turned to the other two men, both thirty- or forty-something, also seemingly delighted to meet her.

They said their names quickly; she was too embarrassed to ask for a repeat so she could write things down, but she recognized they were all doctors.

"Let me start us off," Justin said as they all sat down. "Dr. Z and I did our neurology residency together at the University of Pittsburgh, and we've stayed in touch over the years. After I went through your medical test results and scans and, with your permission, contacted your doctor in New Jersey, I brought your case to Dr. Z's attention." He nodded to the other doctor. "I'll let her tell you why."

Val turned to the woman, marveling that she looked younger than Justin, but had to be the same age of fifty or so. Her black hair showed not a single gray and she didn't look like she'd be fighting any wrinkles around her mouth for a long, long time.

"Mrs. Wallace," she began with a sly smile. "I've been looking for a high-quality tumor like yours."

Val recoiled. "Excuse me?"

"I'm heading up a neuro-oncology study to attempt to change the course of an inoperable brain tumor," she explained. "I understand you've opted out of chemo and radiation, which I am so glad you have. It's what makes you a perfect candidate for our study."

"It does?"

She nodded. "You know that your tumor, based on its location in the brain, cannot be removed surgically, so that leaves no real positive outcome for you."

That was one way of putting it.

"Until today."

Val swallowed, nearly choking on a sudden rush of…well, hope. "How so?" she asked with a croak in her voice.

"In my study," Dr. Z continued, "we're working on something called nanotechnology, which involves the use of tiny particles that can deliver drugs directly to cancer cells. This approach can, we believe, minimize damage to healthy tissues—something we can't do with chemotherapy—and increase the effectiveness of the treatment. I'm working with Dr. Vila"—she gestured toward one of the men—"a neuro-radiologist, and Dr. Jackson, who is a nanomedicine specialist."

Val smiled at them as if they were being introduced again, her blood pumping faster, even though she could barely comprehend the multisyllabic titles and medical jargon.

"Nanotechnology medical treatments are still very young, primarily in the research and development phase, and are not considered standard treatments," Dr. Z continued. "We'd like to offer you a chance to be Patient Number One in our first clinical trial."

She blinked, not sure she'd heard that right. "Like…your guinea pig?"

"We've done extensive phases of animal testing with a great deal of success," Dr. Z said. "Now, we're looking for the right patient who—"

"Who has nothing to lose," Val interjected.

"Who has the perfect brain tumor." The other woman smiled, making her even more attractive. "You, Mrs. Wallace, happen to have the ideal brain tumor in terms of size, age, location, and the formation of the cancer cells. And, as I noted, it's never been contaminated by radiation or chemotherapy. I hate to say this, because it just doesn't sound right, but we've been searching high and low for a tumor exactly like yours."

Val snorted, and everyone around the table gave a soft, appropriate laugh at the dark humor.

"Dr. Z asked me to be on the lookout for cases like yours," Justin added. "I hadn't seen one until we talked, and I sensed that you might be a candidate."

"Not a candidate," Dr. Z corrected. "The candidate."

After a moment, Val sighed. "I swore I wouldn't do any surgery or—"

"There's no surgery," Dr. Vila said quickly. "Nanoparticles are delivered by an injection that will be carried to your brain via your own bloodstream. All it has to do is penetrate the BBB, er, the blood-brain barrier."

"Oh, is that all?" Val said dryly.

"That's the exciting part." Dr. Jackson leaned closer, clearly not getting her sarcasm. "In fact, BBB is what we're studying. Our nanoparticles have been developed with specific physiochemical properties which increase the hydrophobicity that will enable them to cross through small gaps in the endothelial cells."

She stared at him and somehow kept a straight face.

"In layman's terms," Dr. Z said gently, "we have created a very special nanoparticle that selectively binds to tumor cells. If it works, it can—in a shockingly short time—reduce the size of the tumor to almost nothing."

Once again, all she could do was stare. "How shockingly short?" she asked. "Less than five months? Because that's all I have left."

"If it works, less than five weeks."

Val's jaw dropped. "And if it doesn't work?"

Dr. Z's smile disappeared. "If we fail, best case will be no change for you. Your diagnosis and outcome remain the same."

"Worst case?" Val asked, the defeatist in her rising to the top.

"There's always a risk," Justin said, putting a hand on her arm. "No other human has accepted these particular cells. Your body and brain could reject the nanoparticles or even the drug therapy. There's no way to test that without doing the injection."

"What could happen?"

"You could react," Justin told her. "You could have a seizure or go into anaphylactic shock. Or…"

They all looked a little too uncomfortable, so she angled her head and finished for him. "Or I could die."

"Or you could live," Justin countered. "Which isn't an option for you right now."

She felt her whole body sink deeper into the chair with the weight of…hope. "What are my odds of…living?"

Dr. Z shook her head. "I can't say your odds—or mine—of success or failure. I can tell you what results we've had in animal testing, which have been fantastic, but without human clinical trials, we can't take this medical treatment to market to help thousands, even millions, of people like you."

In other words, Val thought, she could offer herself up as a medical sacrifice so others, maybe years from now, could live.

That might be…biblical. Also, really stupid if she cut her time short.

"Can I wait until the end?" she asked softly. "Like when things start to go south and I'm packing up to be gone forever?"

"No, you can't," Dr. Z said. "Your tumor is just about at the maximum size for this treatment. Even a few weeks could make the difference."

"When would you do this?"

"Soon," the doctor said. "We don't have to do a lot of baseline assessments, because your neurosurgeon has been extremely thorough in that regard. I have a few questions for him, and once you agree, we'll do a day of neurological exams, some MRIs and a CT scan, a cognitive test."

"As long as you're healthy, I can handle all that right here," Justin told her.

"My lab is in Rochester, Minnesota," Dr. Z said. "But Dr. Jackson is an hour away in Jacksonville, where we'll do the initial injection. I'll fly in for it, I promise."

"Oh. Okay." Now she was starting to feel important.

"Other than the pre-tests," Justin said, "you might want to consult an attorney to review the consents, and perhaps a therapist to be emotionally prepared."

"And talk to your family, of course," Dr. Z added.

Her heart dropped. She didn't have a family. If she brought Eileen in on this, she'd start a war over something she didn't have a say in. And Jack would…who knew what Jack would do. What did it matter? They didn't even know she was dying. Would she bother to tell them she might live?

She might live.

The words reverberated in her brain, probably bouncing off that perfect tumor. She might live? Was that possible?

"Do you have questions, Val?" Justin asked. "I know it's very complex medicine, and we're talking about your life. Ask anything you like and take all the time you need."

"But not too much time," Val said dryly, touching her head. "That sucker is growing faster than my brand-new grandbabies."

Once again, the doctors gave a slightly uncomfortable laugh, and as they did, something caught Val's eyes out the window—a couple walking by with a stroller.

Not any couple, but the one who'd brought her here. And not any stroller, but the one carrying the two tiny creatures who'd become her world—her family.

She looked out at Raina—the most unexpected heroine in all this—and watched her lean over the stroller and say something to her babies. Chase put his hand on her back as they laughed with each other.

Then, Chase leaned in and lifted one of the babies—even from here, Val knew it was Lily—and Raina got the other one. Both infants were crying, but Raina and Chase seemed unbothered and just so happy.

Why wasn't she jealous, Val mused. Yes, that might have been the absolute most inappropriate thought at this pivotal moment in her life. But it was important. Why didn't she care that another man had such an obviously paternal role in raising her son's children?

Because something had changed inside her, after all. Maybe the repenting and prayers and slogging through scriptures she didn't always understand had worked.

Maybe this was her answer…her reward.

Or maybe she was a faith rookie, and it didn't work that way at all.

"Mrs. Wallace?" Dr. Z whispered the name softly, following Val's gaze out the window. "I'd like to help you see those grandbabies through many birthdays. If this works—and, yes, that's a big if—you could be alive and well at their high school graduation."

Suddenly, her eyes filled. Her heart filled. Her whole body filled with that old nemesis—hope. She wanted to seize it, swallow it, and share it with the world. And, dear God in heaven, she wanted to see those baby girls graduate from high school.

But what if she signed away quantity and quality? What if that nano-whatever got stuck in her brain barrier and killed her right there while getting the injection? They weren't saying those words out loud but, of course, that was possible.

No other human being had ever had this stuff in their body. Why would she?

Why wouldn't she?

"Yes," she whispered. "Of course I'll be your guinea pig."

There really was no other possible response.