“I’m really glad for you two.” I heard through Ella about the house fire and Connor being burned more than half of his body. His wife is an artist, and the arsonist had taken advantage of her linseed oil-soaked rags to ignite the fire.
“You and Tyler will get there,” Connor said. “There’s nothing like being a married couple. I look forward to going home every evening.”
“Yeah, well, we’re already living together, and as you can see, I’m walking the dog.” I hate how my voice sounds so bitter.
Connor doesn’t say anything as we approach the area where dogs can run free. I’ve really crossed the line this time. I wish I’d zipped my lips. Complaining is the wrong thing to do, but I can’t help but wonder why Tyler puts other people above his family.
But then, those other people have bigger problems than I have. They’re suicidal, or depressed, or have PTSD, or are orphans. All last year, he risked his life to help orphans in Afghanistan until the compound he was staying at blew up.
The dogs take a run around the meadow, and I stand next to Connor with my hands in my pockets, feeling like a scorned woman.
“That dog’s really something,” Connor says. “He’s so big and powerful. Look at him run.”
“I know. It’s not right to keep him cooped up.” I sway on my feet. “Sometimes, I wish he could live on a ranch and stretch those legs.”
“You should talk to Tyler about that,” Connor said.
“Nah, he’ll think I want to rehome Brownie. I’m not such a witch to do that.”
“I meant whether you’ll live here after the wedding or not.” Connor whistles to his dog. “Come on, Cinder. It’s bedtime.”
“Brownie,” I call out and the dog lopes toward me. I clip on his leash and wonder what it would be like to actually move out of the city. It’s a nice dream, but my job is here, and so is Tyler’s. My mom is here, and so is Ella—for now. Bree loves her school and classmates—one a little too much.
The truth is, I can’t leave San Francisco. I’ve invested too much into my job and providing Bree with a well-rounded, multicultural education. Besides, who ever heard of moving to the country for the sake of a dog?
I rub Brownie’s fur and hug him. I can never let him go, even though keeping such an active dog in a small row house is not right. “Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”
~ Kelly ~
“We have an important message from the donor.” The clinic calls while I’m on my way to the office the next morning.
“What is it?” My heartrate shoots to the stratosphere as I wait for the verdict. I hit the elevator button multiple times, hoping to get to my office so I can sit down.
“Are you sitting down?”
“No, waiting for the elevator.”
“Would you like me to call you back?” The woman’s voice buzzes in my ear.
“No, I can take it. Tell me straight.”
“Your daughter is a possible bone marrow match for a child dying of leukemia. I have the contact for the child’s pediatrician. Would it be possible for you to bring your daughter in today for testing?”
“Today?” I step into the elevator along with a pack of coworkers. “I just arrived at work, and I have a busy day.”
I push the button for my floor and rest against the back of the elevator. Closing my eyes, I breathe a prayer to thank God there’s nothing wrong with Bree.
“Time is of the essence. The child is fading fast. They don’t know if she’ll last much longer. Anyway, it’s your decision. I’m just passing on the message.”
“Sure, I appreciate it. You caught me at a bad time. Is this another child of the same donor?”
“Yes, the child is a half-sister of your daughter. Let me text you the pediatric cancer specialist, and you can get in touch with her,” the woman from the clinic says.
“Great. Thanks for letting me know.” I end the call and wait for the text message.
Of course I’m going to get Bree tested. I can’t imagine how the mother of the child feels, and if Bree can help, then I’m all for it.
But before I agree, I have to read up on the risks of a bone marrow transplant. And I have to be ready to discuss it with Bree. It’s her body, and even though I’ll guide her, it should be her decision.
As soon as I get to my cubicle, I boot up my laptop and check my email. All the while, I’m itching to see what the procedure is about.
I quickly solve the issues mentioned in the email, then stare at the text message introducing Dr. Debdatta, pediatric cancer specialist. I can’t call her just yet. Instead, I browse to the websites and as I read, my blood pressure goes higher.
The procedure itself is not without risks. About one percent of the donors experience serious complications, either with the anesthesia, infection or mechanical injury caused by the large needle inserted into the hip bone.
Even if they do the stem cell blood donation by blood transfusion, there are risks with the injection of drugs to artificially increase the number of stem cells as well as complications with the double needles or catheters used to recirculate the blood through a machine which would collect the stem cells.
My head feels light when I finish reading about the risks and complications. There’s a child out there who will die if Bree doesn’t help. But at the same time, could I risk losing my own daughter if things went wrong?
My boss knocks on my cubicle wall, and I quickly close the window to the bone marrow donation sites.
“Staff meeting in ten minutes,” she says. “You’re presenting.”
Hours later, I finally get my lunch break. I take my lunch to the balcony outside of my office. It’s where people go to get privacy for their phone calls, and fortunately, I’m alone since the weather is cool and cloudy.
I open my text messages and stare at the doctor’s phone number. I’ve already wasted half the day in meetings. The child could be dying or dead already. I need to call Dr. Debdatta, but I haven’t discussed this with Tyler yet.
He’s going to be Bree’s father. He should have a say, shouldn’t he? Except he never came home last night, or this morning, and all I got was a text message saying he was on his way to the VA hospital with Zulu.
I call him, but his phone rolls over to voicemail, so I leave a message. “Hey, are you going to be home later? We need to talk. I got some news—”
My boss steps out onto the balcony with a sandwich and soda. “Mind if I join you?”
“No problem.” I hang up and put the phone down.
“Go ahead and finish your call.” She pops open the soda can and takes a drink.
“I’m done.” I shove my phone into my purse. No need to let her know what I’m dealing with. She’s one of those dog-eat-dog type of bosses and brags about being a finalist in The Apprentice, a business reality show which is ultra competitive and political.
She unwraps her sandwich. “You seemed distracted this morning. Some of the stats you cited weren’t backed up by data. I’m concerned we don’t have convincing evidence. Do you need more time? Or should I assign the Lystra Systems case to someone else?”
“I can recrunch the numbers.” I stir the salad dressing into my salad, but I’ve lost my appetite. “We have the anomalies, and we can use those patterns to correlate with the new data we gathered.”
“Will you have it done before Christmas? I know you have the wedding, and you’re going on vacation. Is Colin up to speed to cover for you while you’re gone?”
“He will be. I’ll spend extra time with him and have him help me with the latest analysis.” Sweat prickles my face, and I feel the weight of all my unfinished tasks pressing on my shoulders.
“Good,” she says. “You’ve been leaving early, and I’ve already let you have a day off to tend to personal business.”
“Right, I might have to take half a day tomorrow.” I swallow and wait for her cross examination.
“More wedding problems?”
“No, it’s a medical issue concerning my daughter.”
/>
She let out an aggrieved sigh. “Perhaps you should transfer what you have to Colin this afternoon. I understand you have children and they have emergencies, but if we don’t nail the stock manipulators before year end …”
She doesn’t finish, because we all know the consequences. Market manipulation, price rigging, year end tax loss harvesting.
“I don’t think it’s going to be serious. I didn’t want to tell you earlier, but she’s being tested to be a bone marrow donor. Someone suspects she could help another child.”
“Oh, you mean another child of the same sperm donor?”
Everyone knows my background, since I’ve been duly investigated before they offered me the job. Being an ex-con means I have to prove myself more than others.
“The clinic contacted me on behalf of the other child. I don’t know who she is, but I have the name of her doctor. Apparently, the child is very ill, and they need this to happen fairly quickly.”
“What you’re telling me is that you’ll be taking more time off before Christmas.” My boss glares at me as if this is a personal affront to her. She never gives me credit for putting in overtime, but instead, focuses on the times I need a little flexibility—like now.
“The procedure itself takes only a few hours, but there’s recovery time. In any case, the kids are out of school next week, and my mom will watch them.”
“As long as Colin can back you up.” She takes a bite of sandwich, signifying the conversation is over.
“I’ll make sure of it.” I gather my uneaten lunch into a paper bag. “I have to go pull the data from the feed and rerun the analysis.”
“Sure, give me an update before you go home tonight.” She waves her hand dismissively.
My heart is pounding as I rush back to my cubicle. I call Dr. Debdatta and tell her I’ll take Bree to her office to get tested tomorrow morning. She’s gracious and thanks me, but I can sense the anxiety in her voice.
Guilt swarms me like a cloud of agitated bees. I hope my delaying one day isn’t going to hurt that child. How awful it would be if Bree is a match, but we didn’t get the marrow to her in time.
20
~ Kelly ~
“What’s up?” Tyler meets me after work. “You look worried, but then, you’re always worried.”
He’d gotten my message and tried to talk to me earlier, but I was in meetings all afternoon and was unable to talk. My cryptic message must have gotten him worried, because as soon as I exited my building, he was standing there waiting for me.
I give him a peck on the lips. “I got a phone call from the sperm donor clinic this morning. They suspect Bree is a match for another child who the sperm donor fathered.”
“Match for what?” Tyler face is puzzled.
“Bone marrow donation. A child out there is dying from leukemia and needs a transplant. They want Bree to go in tomorrow to get a verification test and then schedule the transplant.”
“Will she be okay?” Tyler asks as we walk toward the parking garage. “I think she should do it only if it’s safe for her.”
“One percent have complications. You can read up about it at the marrow donor’s website. Should we ask her what she thinks?”
“Bree’s been wanting to save someone’s life,” Tyler says. “Last night when we talked, she was worried she hadn’t done her good deed.”
“There are good deeds, like collecting cans of food, and then there’s this. She may not understand the pain and risks involved.” I stop in the middle of the walkway and turn to face him.
“But, would we truly say ‘no’ for a one percent chance? It would mean the difference for that child.”
“If I were the parent of that child, I’d want us to do it, too.” I heave a sigh. “But, I’m afraid for Bree.”
“It’s only one percent, right?” Tyler gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s talk to her and get her to the clinic tomorrow. It’ll be okay. Will they let us know who the child is?”
“Probably not.” I resume walking to my car. “I wish I hadn’t given my contact information to the sperm donor. He and his family know who we are, but we don’t know who they are.”
“Maybe it’s for the better.” Tyler loops his arm around my shoulders. “After all, I’m Bree’s father, and we don’t want to open that can of worms again.”
“We don’t.” I glance up at him and catch his eye. “I hope Bree will be okay by the wedding day. She might have bone pain and weakness after the donation.”
“She’ll be fine. She’s a real trooper.” Tyler tucks a strand of my hair over my ear. “Like her mother.”
Somehow, his simple confidence in me lightens the anxiety and dread. And his simple gesture lets me know I’m not alone in this. We’re both making this decision, but at the same time, if anything goes wrong, I’d still blame myself.
Bree would want to help. I know it. Besides, the web sites have to give all the risks to cover themselves. She’ll probably be okay.
I nod and put my hand over Tyler’s, squeezing it. “Let’s explain it to her and go ahead with it.”
“It’s the right thing to do.” He tips my chin up and holds my gaze. “Bree’s going to be okay, and so are we.”
“Will we really?” I want to believe and trust him, but he hasn’t volunteered any information about Zulu. “You stayed out last night.”
“Do you doubt me?” He ropes me into an embrace. “Nothing happened.”
That’s what men always say. Nothing happened. It’s what my father said to assure my mother when she first caught him out on a “date” with Victoria. She was only a business associate. It was to talk shop. Nothing to worry about. Little did we know he was married to her. At the end, he chose to stay with her and their two boys.
“I’m not interested in what didn’t happen.” I shrink into the darkness of the parking structure. “I want to know why she was kissing you in our kitchen.”
“I was as shocked as you,” he says, eyes wide and palms up. “All I’d done was give her money for the night to take her off the street. The last guy she picked up beat her and took everything from her, including her coat. She literally had nowhere to go. She’d been crying, and I’m guessing she got overly emotional.”
I narrow my eyes and give him a long, hard stare. I’m not a fraud and insider trading investigator for nothing, and Tyler’s overexplaining. Usually, he’s short and to the point.
That’s when he has nothing to hide.
“What about you? Were you also overly emotional?”
He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I’m glad I can help her. She actually signed up for rehab today. I’m so proud of her. It’s the first step toward.”
“That’s good news.” I purse my lips and turn away from my fiancé. He’s not telling me the whole story. Every bit of his body language is excited and tense.
“So, I take it, she’s not going back to Sawyer’s place?”
“It’s an outpatient program, not residential.”
In other words, she’ll need someone to spend the night with her again.
“I hope she gets the help she needs.” I march toward my car. “Are you coming with me to pick up the kids?”
“I’ll be back at home later. I have to pick up Zulu from the VA and go grocery shopping with her.”
“Spending the night again? Or will I have to explain this bone marrow thing to Bree by myself?” I quirk an eyebrow at him.
“I’ll be home to talk to Bree and take Brownie for a walk.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to have to trust me on this.”
“I trust you, but I don’t like your priorities.” I fling his hand from me and get into my car.
“Kelly, you’re not upset, are you? Over twenty veterans commit suicide every day.”
“There’s a child who’s dying of leukemia, and another little girl who’ll have a lot of questions about the operation. Who’ll need her father as well as her mother. Ca
ll me selfish, but if you want to be Bree’s full time father, you’re going to have to put her first.”
“I’ll be home later.” His eyebrows knot, and he gets that stubborn look that tells me I’ve pushed him too far.
“I shouldn’t even have to beg.” I slam the door shut without giving him a chance to reply. Without making eye contact, I start the car and pull away from my wandering fiancé.
My heart is heavy, because I know what I must do.
I will not be like my mother who ignored all the signs.
It doesn’t matter that all the invitations have been sent, all the deposits placed, all the arrangements made.
I can’t marry a man who won’t put our family first—who won’t put me first.
21
~ Tyler ~
“You’re going to have to stay here by yourself tonight,” Tyler said to Zulu as he stocked Sawyer’s refrigerator with the groceries they’d purchased. “Remember to tell yourself you’re in a dream. Then snap yourself awake.”
“You can’t expect me to figure things out after only one session.” Zulu put one hand on her hip and and glared at him. “Last night, I was terrified to go back to sleep.”
“I know.” Tyler closed his eyes and wiped his hand over his forehead. “But you can’t depend on me. I’m committed to Kelly, and she has to be first priority for me.”
“Sure. Of course. I understand.” Her shoulders slumped, and she turned away from him. “Maybe I’m better off on the streets.”
“We went through this already.” Tyler grasped her arm and spun her around. “You need to get well.”
“What for? Hawa’s probably dead. I can’t help anyone. Can’t get my head straight.”
There she went again, back to self-pity and defeatism. He knew what it was like, the tug-of-war between hope and despair.
“You’d be surprised what you can do.” He rubbed her arm. “I was like you two years ago. Actually worse. I once thought I was being shelled in a subway station. Another time, I attacked a little boy in a Christmas play, thinking he was a suicide bomber. At least you only have panic attacks. I was so out of control, Sawyer had to stun-gun me to keep me from being shot by the police.”
A Wedding for Christmas (Sweet Holiday Romance) (A Veteran's Christmas Book 3) Page 12
