by Chris Taylor
Samantha glanced back at Phillip. “You’re right. Absolutely no one. But just for the record, you’re not the only person in here who finds my jokes funny.”
He laughed and Sam laughed with him. It wasn’t her place to judge him or his beliefs. He was entitled to his opinion on organ donation and other issues too. His ideas didn’t have to mesh with hers for them to be friends. If her mother wasn’t in such desperate need of a transplant, Sam might not feel quite so strongly about it. She owed him an apology.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For giving you a hard time. Your opinion is just as valid as mine. You’re entitled to leave this world with everything you came in with.”
“Just as you’re entitled to leave without all your body parts.”
“Agreed,” Sam said and stuck out her hand.
From across the table, Phillip leaned over and shook it. “Agreed.”
Sam looked down at their gloved hands, both covered in blood and gore. It should have been distasteful, but it wasn’t. It was all just part of the job. A job she loved.
CHAPTER TWO
Dear Diary,
Day after day, week after week, I see healthy human organs and tissue going to waste. Why people set limits on their generosity, I’ll never understand. If they’re prepared to donate body parts, why stop at just one or two? There are so many organs and tissue in a body that can be put to good use. So many lives could be saved if they gave more! So many patients could be healed! So many people could be given back their quality of life!
It doesn’t seem right that the donors get to pick and choose: ‘You can take this one and that one, but not that one or that one. I’m taking those ones with me to the grave.’
It frustrates me to no end. It’s no wonder I’ve taken matters into my own hands…
* * *
Sam pressed the button on the city bus to alert the driver to stop. The bell dinged over the muted conversations and the noise coming from the heavy lunchtime traffic outside. She’d planned to drive into the city to meet her brother, but the time had gotten away from her. Finding a parking space would be a nightmare and she hated to be late, so she’d opted for the nearest public transport.
Tugging her coat tighter around her, she stepped off the bus and breathed in the brisk winter air. Though the heat from the crowds and passing cars took away the bite, there was still a distinct chill in the breeze that gently lifted her hair. She glanced at her watch and picked up her pace. She still had two blocks to go. Her brother had taken time off from his busy schedule to meet her for lunch and she didn’t want to keep him waiting.
With a sigh of relief, she spied her favorite restaurant half a block ahead. While it wasn’t one of the swanky ones on the waterfront, the food was great and the service was friendly—and they knew her well enough that generally, she could secure a table without a reservation. She climbed the few steps that led into the restaurant and saw Alistair sitting at the bar. He turned, caught sight of her and came forward.
“Hi,” she said and stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss.
“Hi, yourself,” he replied and gave her a brief hug. “Happy birthday, little sis.”
“Thank you. I’m always pleased to see another one come around.”
Alistair laughed. “You must be one of the very few women who do.”
“Well, in my line of work, you come to realize how finite life really is. The alternative to having birthdays is pretty grim.”
Alistair smiled in agreement. Flinging an arm around her shoulders, he steered her back toward the bar. She looked up at him and raised a brow.
“I spoke to May-Ling when I arrived,” he said, correctly interpreting her unspoken question. “She’s promised us the very next table. I told her it was your birthday and that we’re both on our lunch breaks. She was upset that she couldn’t seat us immediately, especially on your special day.”
“I guess we should have booked ahead.”
“I’m sure it won’t take long. You’re one of her favorite customers.”
Sam smiled. It was probably true. She spent many an evening collecting takeout from the Thai restaurant at the southern end of the city. Although it wasn’t directly on her route home, she often made the effort to detour that way and order some of May-Ling’s scrumptious fare. The spring rolls and money bags were like nothing she’d found elsewhere and the yellow curry chicken—it was beyond divine.
“What are you drinking?” Alistair asked, tugging out his wallet.
“Seeing as you’re paying, let’s order a bottle of my favorite champagne.”
Alistair’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you want a bottle of Moet? I take it you’re off for the rest of the day.”
“Perhaps I’m just feeling adventurous. It’s my birthday, after all. Are you going to join me?”
“Sorry, I’m rostered on until midnight. You won’t be getting drunk with me today.”
“Who said anything about getting drunk? Besides, I have to return to work, too.”
“Really? When you asked for a bottle of the expensive stuff, I assumed you were going to make the most of it.” He smiled and gave her a wink and she was reminded how lucky she was to have such a wonderful older brother.
“Just joking. A glass of Merlot will be fine.” He nodded approval and turned to give the bartender their order.
Samantha sat back on the stool and surveyed Alistair. The custom-made, charcoal-gray suit fitted him to perfection. His black hair, the same shade as hers, was thick and wavy. The small patches of gray at his temples only enhanced his physical appeal and gave him an air of experience and sophistication that was matched by his tasteful yellow-and-navy striped designer tie. Even at forty-four, he was a man people noticed. It was little wonder he’d been chosen by the Sydney Harbour Hospital to head their organ donation campaign
The glass of red wine and a Diet Coke appeared in the bartender’s hands. He set the drinks before them. Murmuring her thanks, Sam took a sip of the wine, savoring the rich, mellow taste. She turned back to her brother. Alistair took a sip from his Diet Coke and then sat the glass back on the bar. Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. “Watching your weight?”
“It doesn’t hurt to show some restraint, especially at my age.” He slapped his flat stomach. “Since I took on the role of head of the Organ Donation for Transplantation Unit, I don’t get time to work out like I used to.”
She shook her head, but refrained from commenting. Alistair had never been overweight. “How’s work?” she asked instead.
He shrugged. “Busy, you know how it is, especially at this time of year.”
“Yes, winter can be such a bitch and unfortunately, it hits the most vulnerable hardest: babies and the elderly. You’d see it even more than me. Bronchitis and chronic chest infections deteriorate into pneumonia… And then there are the accidental deaths. Elderly people who don’t turn up the thermostat and consequently freeze; or they leave a heater on and their house burns down. I’ve lost count of the number of autopsies I’ve done on fire victims over the years.”
“Yes, it’s tough and this winter’s been longer and colder than most. Frosts nearly every day this week. The deaths are tragic, but there is a silver lining. It means more potential organ donors.” He winked at her, but Sam’s thoughts were distracted. She was reminded of her earlier conversation with Phillip.
“I wonder if that accounts for the recent trend,” she said slowly.
“What trend?”
“The increase in donor deaths.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s been a noticeable rise in the number of bodies coming through the morgue with donated organs removed. Phillip and I were talking about it earlier today. Your comment made me think the increase might be due to nothing more than the unseasonably cold weather.”
“Phillip’s one of the pathologists you work with, right?”
“Yes. We’ve worked together for years. I knew him out at Westm
ead. He surprised me today by—”
May-Ling’s arrival cut short their conversation. After greeting Sam with exuberant birthday greetings and a warm hug, the owner of the restaurant escorted them to a table.
“Your usual, Miss Samantha?” the old woman asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“Yes, thank you, May-Ling, but seeing as my brother’s paying, let’s double it and I’ll take a serving home for dinner.”
May-Ling’s smile widened and she glanced at Alistair. He waved away her unspoken question. “Whatever my sister wants. After all, it’s her birthday.”
Samantha grinned. “I like the way you think. Have I told you lately you’re my favorite brother?”
“Gee, thanks,” Alistair replied, his voice dry. “Considering I’m your only brother, I feel beyond special.”
“Oh, don’t get yourself all worked up over that. It’s a tiny, insignificant detail. I’m sure if I did have any other brothers, you’d still be my favorite.” She lifted her wine glass to her lips. Giving him a wink over the rim, she swallowed a healthy mouthful.
Alistair picked up his drink. “Here’s to my favorite little sister,” he said and clinked his glass with hers.
Sam smiled in surprise. “Wow, considering you have two other little sisters, this is quite a coup! Wait until I tell Jessie and Ava,” Sam said, referring to their siblings. “They might never speak to you again.”
“Of course they will,” Alistair replied with a lazy smile. “They love and admire their older brother as much as you do and they’ll forgive me. It is your birthday, after all.”
Sam screwed up her napkin and tossed it at his head. He caught it before it connected and set it down on the table, the corners of his eyes crinkling with laughter. Her heart warmed. It had been awhile since she’d seen her brother so carefree. The financial stress of providing the best possible education and opportunities for his children, and starting his new job had left him with little time to laugh and joke with his family. She was even more grateful that he’d taken the time to be with her now.
“Thanks for taking me to lunch, Alistair. I really appreciate it. And…it means a lot.”
He averted his gaze, but she could tell he was pleased.
“No problem, Sammie. I’d do it for anyone.”
She looked around for the napkin to toss it back at his head, but he still had it in his hand. Reading her mind, he smiled at her and made a point of setting it out of her reach. She made a sound of mock frustration and took another sip of wine.
Alistair’s expression sobered. “Sorry I didn’t make it to Mom’s dialysis appointment last week. I got caught up in surgery. How did it go?”
Sam thought of their mother, fighting to stay alive, and her chest tightened. She drew in a deep breath and eased it out. “Not so good. You know how it is.”
Alistair nodded, shadows darkening his brown eyes. “Yeah, I called in to see her over the weekend. She’s going downhill fast.” He cursed aloud. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I work in the Organ Donation for Transplantation Unit at Sydney’s most prestigious hospital. I’m the head surgeon of the retrieval team. With a college education and all those fancy titles and yet, I can’t help my own mother. I can’t save her from her pain. If she doesn’t get a transplant soon, she’ll die.”
He slapped his hand on the table in frustration. Startled, Sam jumped, but remained silent. She didn’t blame him for losing control. She knew exactly how he felt.
“Why is it so hard for people to make the decision?” he asked, his cheeks becoming flushed. “Why do so many of them leave their wishes unstated? Do you know how hard it is to approach a grieving relative and ask them to donate their loved one’s body parts? Who wants to think of something like that at a moment when their world has been turned on its end and they’re saying their good-byes? Nobody. And that’s the problem.
“Demand for organs and tissue far outstrips supply. There are thousands of people like our mother all over the world, waiting, just waiting for someone to die. And not just to die, but to donate their organs and tissue to another. Why is it so hard for some people to contemplate donating their organs? What does it matter if they go to a stranger? A friend? An enemy? Surely the fact someone is going to benefit is what counts?”
He blew out a breath laced with frustration. Sam reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “It’s not your fault the rates of donors have historically been so low, Alistair. You’re doing the best you can. And it’s not your fault you weren’t a match for Mom,” she added quietly. “Just like it isn’t mine or Jessie’s or Ava’s.”
His expression showed he remained unconvinced and she tried again to reassure him. “There’s no denying it sucks, Alistair, but that’s the way it is. The only thing we can do is hope and pray a donor’s found in time. I just hope your campaign has more success with other Sydneysiders than it has with Phillip,” she muttered.
Alistair frowned. “What do you mean?”
She sighed. “After working together for years, I found out this morning that Phillip’s dead against organ donation. Despite everything, he’s unconvinced.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Religious beliefs, mainly. He wants to maintain his body’s integrity for its journey to the afterlife.”
Alistair shook his head in disbelief. “But the Church—”
“Yes, I know. It doesn’t seem to make a difference.”
Alistair swore under his breath and his expression turned bleak. “What the hell are we supposed to do when intelligent people hold such stupid, uninformed opinions?”
“Not necessarily uninformed or stupid,” Samantha countered gently. “I don’t agree with him, but everyone’s entitled to their opinion. The body parts are theirs, after all.”
Her brother took a deep breath and blew it out on a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But that’s also the problem, too.”
He fell silent. To Sam’s relief, after a moment, his shoulders relaxed. He picked up his glass and drank and then turned to look at her again.
“I’m sorry, Sammie. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s your birthday! We should be talking about happier things.”
“Like what?”
“Like…your love life. That’s always an interesting topic. How’s the online dating thing going?”
Sam pulled a face, wishing she’d never told him. “Do we have to talk about this?”
He grinned. “Of course we do! I love hearing about all the weirdoes and freaks you converse with online. It brightens my day.”
“They’re not all weirdoes and freaks!” she protested. “Most of them are just lonely men and women looking for the love of their lives. You ought to read their bios. Some of them are hilarious at the outset, but gradually, you can’t help feeling sorry for them and hope they find what they’re after.”
“Why did you join?”
She averted her gaze, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “I don’t know. I thought it would be fun and I’m tired of being single.”
“What happened to meeting men the old-fashioned way? I’m sure I could hook you up with one of my colleagues.”
“No offense, Alistair but the guys you hang out with are mostly your age—old.”
He pretended to look hurt. “Ouch! You’re being a little harsh, Samantha. They’re not all as old as me. Besides, someone’s better than no one, surely? You’re thirty-four, Sammie. Time’s slipping away.”
She grimaced. “You don’t need to remind me. It’s my birthday, remember? But it’s easy for you to say that. You met and married the love of your life in college. You didn’t have to look around and wonder if it would ever happen for you.” She paused and took a sip of Merlot. Determined to steer the conversation back to more comfortable ground, she smiled at her brother and asked, “How is my favorite sister-in-law?”
Alistair offered her a wry grin. “Nancy’s your only sister-in-law, Samantha.”
“Oh, so she is. She’s still my fa
vorite.”
He laughed aloud and shook his head. “You’re incorrigible, Samantha Wolfe. Has anyone told you that?”
With a finger up to her lip, Sam pretended to think about his question. “Um… Now that you mention it, I think the answer’s yes and I’m almost certain the last person to say it was you.”
“Yes, and I meant it then and I mean it now. But to answer your earlier question, Nancy’s as beautiful and sweet as ever. Busy with her charity projects and ferrying the kids around. You must come over one of these nights for dinner. Lexie and Brendan would love to see you.”
Sam smiled. “How are they? It feels like ages since I saw my gorgeous niece and nephew.”
“Brendan is busy with football and girls. He’ll be sixteen in a couple of months. Lexie is thirteen going on thirty and giving her mother plenty of grief. Puberty and teenage girls are another thing altogether. I don’t know how Mom survived with three of you.”
Sam laughed. “I’m sure we weren’t that bad. Jessie and Ava weren’t exactly difficult and I was, of course, the perfect angel. At least with us all so close in age, she got it over and done with quickly. Some people have it drag on for years. Phillip has four girls and each of them are five years apart. Imagine having four daughters going through puberty, one after the other—for the better part of twenty years!”
Alistair looked horrified. “Oh, my God! That poor guy! What’s his wife like?”
“Maree seems nice. I don’t know her well, but they’ve been together forever. They were high school sweethearts. Phillip even has a tattoo on his shoulder with the first letter of their names entwined in a cherub. It’s very sweet.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s them, and not me, raising four women. How old are the kids?”
“The oldest has left home already. She graduated with honors from the University of Technology. I think she studied fashion design, or something like that. She scored an apprenticeship with one of the top Sydney designers, so she must be good. The next one is studying veterinary science at Sydney University. I think she’s in her final year. Then there are the two youngest girls. They’re still at school—fifteen and ten, respectively. Phillip’s always bemoaning the cost of their school fees.”
