Afraid To Lose Her. Syndi Powell

trial, after which you’ll serve a short term in a minimum security prison where you can play tennis and work on your tan.”

      Giroux refused. “You’ve got to give me something better.”

      Dez put his hand on the back of the chair Giroux sat in and leaned his face close to him. “There is no better, but I guarantee you that I’ll give you a lot worse if you don’t cooperate. The fact is, you being hauled in here has already made your boss wonder what you’ve told us. You really think he’ll believe you didn’t spill the beans?” He stood and pulled out his cell phone and threw it at Sherri, who caught it neatly. “We’re not getting anywhere. Call Spinks in the DA’s office and tell him that—”

      “Wait,” Giroux protested. “I’ll tell you.”

      She started to punch the number into the phone just as Dez put his hand on Giroux’s shoulder. “The time for negotiation is over. You had your chance.”

      “No, listen!” Giroux spat and jumped up.

      She glanced at Dez, who gave a short nod. She abandoned the call and handed the phone back to Dez, who pocketed it and stared at Giroux. “Sit down. We’re listening.”

      Giroux slumped into his chair. “I’ll give you his name once you put in writing that you’ll protect me before and after the trial. You don’t cross a guy like this without consequences.”

      Giroux stayed mum until they could get the Attorney General to sign off on a lesser crime with promises of protection by the US Marshal’s office. Sherri took the fax with the details in with her to the interview room. She placed it on the table before Giroux and handed him a pen. “You sign, then you give us the name.”

      She glanced at her watch. Three o’clock approached, and she needed to get this wrapped up so she could go pick up her mom before the doctor’s appointment. Dez saw her point to her watch. “We’re all good here. You go ahead and leave.”

      “If this wasn’t important...”

      “I know.” Dez took the signed fax from Giroux and handed it to her. “Go give this to the cap on your way out. Giroux and I have a little business to discuss.”

      * * *

      SHERRI PULLED INTO a parking space at the hospital and paused before turning the engine off. She looked over at Mama, who had her eyes closed, her mouth moving silently in a prayer. Sherri put a hand on her arm. “We’re here.”

      Mama finished her prayer then opened her eyes. “I didn’t tell your padre yet. I thought we’d wait until we had more facts.”

      “Thanks.” Sherri got out of the car and waited for her mother. As they started walking toward the hospital, she looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful, sunny day, too nice to be getting bad news. They reached the lobby and headed to the right, where doors held signs advertising different doctors. She found Dr. VanGilder’s door and opened it.

      The office had a small waiting room, only four chairs and a table with magazines. A half-opened smoked glass window on one wall indicated the receptionist sat behind it. Sherri walked to the window and signed in on the clipboard then took a seat next to Mama. “You don’t have to go in with me. I just need you to wait for me here, okay?”

      Mama looked up at her, her brows furrowed. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

      Sherri shook her head. “I have to do this on my own. But thank you for offering.”

      Mama picked up a magazine and started flipping through it. “I told your padre we’d have dinner late tonight. You’re joining us.”

      It wasn’t a question or a request. More like a demand. “I don’t know if I’m going to want to eat after whatever the doctor tells me.”

      “You have to take care of yourself, especially now.” Mama’s fingers twitched. “I should have brought my knitting. Helps me think.”

      A nurse opened the door on the side. “Sherrita Lopez?”

      Sherri stood and put a hand on Mama’s shoulder then followed the nurse down a hall to an examination room. The nurse shut the door once inside then took Sherri’s vitals and noted them in a file before handing her a paper vest. “Remove all clothing from the waist up. Wear the vest with the opening in the front.”

      Sherri took the flimsy item from the nurse and waited until she’d left the room before undressing. Once covered, she sat on the exam table and let her feet dangle. After several long minutes, a white-haired but young-looking doctor entered the room along with the nurse from earlier. He held out a hand to her. “Ms. Lopez, I’m Dr. VanGilder.”

      Once they shook hands, the doctor took a seat on a rolling stool and opened the file. Her file.

      “I’d like to do a physical exam, then we can talk about what happens next.”

      He placed his hands on her body, and Sherri turned her head, focusing on the painting of a flower on the opposite wall. She couldn’t let herself think about what it was he was trying to find. The lump?

      Now that she knew what it was, she’d touched the spot herself several times, checking to see if the hardness was still there. It hadn’t changed. Hadn’t disappeared despite her desperate hope that it would vanish and this would all be for nothing.

      He checked her file, making some notes, then he looked up at her, his blue eyes full of concern from what he’d read. “I’m going to order an MRI so we can get a better picture of what’s going on, but I’m afraid the news isn’t good. The biopsy showed both pre-cancerous and cancer cells.”

      The doctor continued on about what was going to happen next, including the MRI and a lumpectomy, a less invasive and outpatient procedure. But she only heard one word out of every five. Cancer. She had cancer. She reached up and touched her breast. Inside her body, bad cells were attacking healthy ones, maybe spreading.

      She could die.

      She gasped, unable to get enough air into her lungs. Dr. VanGilder stopped talking and put a hand on hers. “I know this is a lot to take in, but the good news is that I think we found this early.”

      “How did I get it? No one in my family has had it.” She’d had an aunt who’d died from breast cancer, but she’d been related by marriage, not blood.

      He shrugged. “Only fifteen percent of breast cancer is found to be genetic. Everything else is environmental or lifestyle as a risk factor. The point isn’t how you got it, but what we’re going to do to eliminate it.” He handed her a small piece of paper with instructions and details that she couldn’t see, her eyes unable to focus on anything at the moment. “This is for the MRI. I have you scheduled for tomorrow morning at seven then I’ll see you next Monday at nine. We’ll schedule the lumpectomy for that time.”

      She snapped her head up. “So soon?”

      “The sooner, the better, Ms. Lopez. Gives us a better chance. Do you have any other questions?”

      She didn’t have any because she couldn’t think of anything beyond why me? She shook her head, feeling as if she should be more prepared. She should have done her research the night before. Found some answers before entering the office. She knew something was wrong. She could have at least looked up the disease and possible treatments on the internet.

      “I’ll let you get dressed, and we’ll see you Monday morning.” He stood and shook her hand. “I’ll take good care of you, Ms. Lopez. You’re not fighting this alone.”

      She released his hand, then sat in stunned silence. She eventually changed back into her clothes and left the exam room. The receptionist handed her a tiny card with Monday’s appointment details written on it. “Have a good evening,” the woman said.

      Really? After hearing that news, how was she supposed to have a good anything? She opened the door to the waiting room and found Mama flipping through a pamphlet. Mama rose to her feet when she saw Sherri. “How did it go?”