Family Be Mine

by Tracy Kelleher

  “Lucky me,” he said.

  “Lucky you.” She gave him a wink.

  She hit the button to swing open the double doors. As soon as they swished shut, she was on the phone to his oncologist.

  BY THE TIME SARAH LET herself into Hunt’s house it had been more than a full day. Instead of calling him for a lift, she had walked with her last patient who was going to the Chinese restaurant on Main Street. From there it was only two blocks.

  She savored the fresh air. Hunt was probably thinking she was still sulking when she hadn’t called at the end of the day. Well, she had texted. She couldn’t help it if he hadn’t bothered to reply.

  She pushed open the door and immediately heard the sound of Fred’s nails clipping down the stairway to the ground floor foyer. He did his customary waggles and nervous bounds, landing his front paws gently on her in a doggy hug.

  “Down, Fred,” she said but continued to rub his ears and neck. Finally, she pushed him off, gave him a treat, and forced herself to trudge up the stairs instead of using the elevator.

  “Hunt,” she called out when she reached the living room. She didn’t get any response. She went up the next flight of stairs, expecting to find him in the study or maybe lying down in his bedroom. But the place was empty.

  Empty and quiet. Except for Fred following her every step of the way. He sniffed at Hunt’s desk before trotting down the hallway and making a flying leap onto his unmade bed.

  She walked in the room and was surprised the blinds were still drawn.

  Fred stood alert in the middle of the bunched-up duvet and looked purposefully at Sarah. When she didn’t react immediately, he sprang around and grabbed the corner of one of the pillows. He shook it back and forth, then flicked it with his head. It landed across the room.

  Sarah walked over and picked it up, intending to put it back on the bed. But she found herself hugging it to her chest. The smell from the pillow slip wafted to her nose. It reminded her of him. Citrusy. Clean, but male.

  She sat on the side of the bed, the pillow still in her arms. Then she flopped back, sinking onto the covers. Fred came over and sniffed her face. When she didn’t react, he turned a few exploratory circles and collapsed next to her, Hunt’s pillow squished between them.

  “So where’s your lord and master, Fred?” She stroked his belly.

  Fred rolled over on his back, shamelessly exposing himself.

  “I suppose he left a note on the kitchen counter. We’ll have to go check, I suppose, but in a minute.” It felt absolutely heavenly to get off her feet and let her muscles relax and her vertebrae stretch out. She closed her eyes. “I could stay like this forever except I know that I’ll have to pee any minute.”

  She continued to scratch the dog’s stomach. There was something highly satisfying about scratching a dog, she realized. Then she shifted her head sideways to check the clock on the bedside table and noticed a pile of books. They had bar codes from the library, and they were about pregnancy and childbirth. She felt a sudden tightness in the back of her throat. Tears threatened.

  Her phone sounded and she wiped her eyes and fished it out of her warm-up jacket. It was Julie.

  “Hey, Julie, what’s up?”

  “So you haven’t heard? He hasn’t called you?”

  “What haven’t I heard, and who hasn’t called me?”

  “Hunt.”

  Sarah planted her elbow on the bed and levered herself up. “Hunt? What about Hunt?”

  “He’s in the hospital.”

  The baby kicked. Sarah tensed. She tossed aside the pillow and grabbed her abdomen. “What’s wrong? The lymphoma hasn’t come back, has it?”

  “No, it looks like a scratch or something on his ear got infected and he’s got a skin infection—cellulitis.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “Probably because of his weakened immune system. By the time he got to the E.R. this morning, it had already traveled from his ear to the side of his face and his parotid gland and lymph nodes. Luckily, he got treatment before it had time to reach his brain and cause meningitis. These infections are nasty. They come on fast and are very dangerous. I’ve been in touch with his oncologist in New York—”

  “Is he coming down?” Sarah sat rigid on the side of the bed. Fred had flipped over and wiggled on his belly. He pressed his nose in her hand.

  “No, he didn’t think he needs to. He’s been in contact with the E.R. doc, the ENT specialist, and an infectious disease person they brought in from New Brunswick. He also contacted one of the local oncologists who was a former student of his. They’ve all been faxing and emailing him the blood work and the CT scan results.”

  “What about taking him in an ambulance to New York?”

  “Hunt’s getting very good care, and it’s probably better not to move him. Listen, Sarah, this is a bad news/good news scenario. Yes, this was potentially life threatening, but the good news is that Hunt promptly got to the hospital. They’re pumping him full of megaweight antibiotics, which seems to be handling the infection. He’s still on morphine, but I think tonight or tomorrow they’ll probably switch him to something less powerful.”

  “Morphine! The pain is that bad!”

  “It’s under control. Just like you need to be. Listen, they’re going to have to keep him—”

  Sarah heard a beep on her phone. “Hold on, Julie, I’ve got another call coming in. Maybe it’s Hunt?” She switched to the other line.

  “Sarah, it’s Katarina. What’s going on with Hunt? First he called Ben. Then I find out from Babicka that Rufus called her to say that he’d walked the dog, that Hunt hadn’t wanted him to bother you.”

  “Hunt’s in the hospital. It looks like he’s going to be okay,” Sarah said, trying to stay calm despite her racing heart. “Listen, I’ve got Julie on the other line, and she’s the one who just told me. Hunt never called to let me know. Can you believe it?”

  “He probably didn’t want to worry you. Anyway, Babicka told me to tell you that she and Wanda are at some tennis tournament in Cherry Hill, but they’ll be back in an hour or so. Wanda offered to come over and take care of the dog as soon as they get in.”

  “Okay, that’s good to know. Right now I just want to get over to the hospital, even if it means driving myself.”

  “I wish I could help out, but we’re still up in New England. Can’t you wait until Babicka gets home?”

  “No, I want to go as soon as possible. He’s all by himself.”

  “And you’re the one who has to be with him now?”

  Sarah didn’t have time for explanations. “I’ll have to talk to you later,” she said, ending the conversation abruptly.

  She switched to the other line. “Sorry, Julie. That was Katarina. She’d heard from her grandmother that something was wrong, but she didn’t know what. Apparently, Hunt had called Rufus, too. Whatever. Where is Hunt now?”

  “Last I saw him, he was still in the E.R. while they were waiting for a bed to open up upstairs.”

  “Wherever he is then, I’ll find him.” Sarah stood up.

  “I can’t thank you enough for calling me.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured you’d want to know.”

  “You’re right, you’re right. Let’s leave it at that.” There was nothing like a crisis to clear one’s thinking.

  “Listen, as soon as I get some of Hunt’s stuff together, I’m going to head over to the hospital,” she went on. “I suppose I could always call a taxi.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I’ve got another idea,” Julie said. “But I’m not sure you’re going to like it….”

  SARAH PEEKED AROUND the curtain in the double room. “So, you decided you needed a little attention?” she said.

  Hunt turned his head toward the sound of her voice. “Hey, you. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t want to bother you, especially after yesterday.”

  Sarah put down the grocery bag she was carrying and sat on the edge of the bed. �
��That was yesterday.” She studied Hunt’s swollen face and couldn’t help wincing. “That looks like it smarts.”

  Hunt touched it gingerly. “Actually, it’s a lot better than it was a few hours ago. The antibiotics are truly a miracle.”

  “And the pain?”

  “Really, okay. The morphine was amazing, but I’m already onto something else. Pretty soon I’m sure I can switch to Advil. Right now they’re just giving me fluids, and I get the second course of antibiotics in about an hour.”

  She looked across the bed at the bag hanging from the metal stand. A portable computer screen flashed the rate of flow. Satisfied, she took his hand. “Julie called and told me you were pretty bad when she first saw you in the E.R.”

  “It was kind of interesting, but no matter what, I will never bad-mouth her again. She waltzed in, and all of a sudden, things started happening.”

  “When Julie told me you were in the hospital, I immediately thought…”

  “Yeah, me, too,” he admitted. “But it turns out to be nothing so dramatic. More like a scratch—thank you, Toulouse—and then some kind of staph infection. So I’ll just have to hold off on any dramatic deathbed scenes.” He put the back of his hand to his forehead, a true diva.

  Sarah shook her head. “Don’t even joke about things like that! I want to punch you, but it looks like that could finish you off.” She gazed out the window by his bed. It offered a view of the medical arts building across the parking lot, the tops of maple trees and an expanse of gray sky. The sun was already starting to set as the days got shorter. To think he might not have seen another one.

  She turned her head and reached for his hand. She interlocked her fingers in his. “You should have called me at work. I could have dropped whatever I was doing. When you weren’t home, I didn’t know what to think.”

  “So you missed me?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It’s true.”

  He pulled her hand to his chest, and she lay down next to him. She sniffed. “You know, I wasn’t planning on getting attached to you. You represented everything that I didn’t want right now. Male companionship. Help. A loss of independence. And…well…I guess that pretty much covers it. I was convinced I was in my ‘solo’ phase of life.”

  “And now?”

  “Now when I realize I could have lost you, that doesn’t sound so appealing.”

  He smiled. “I take this to mean I can still count on your homemade cookies for a while?”

  She smacked him gently on the shoulder.

  “Hey! I’m the injured party here!”

  “Not your shoulder.” She rubbed it anyway.

  “Well, Fred will be delighted to hear that you’re staying on. He has abandonment issues, you know.”

  “I have no doubt he’d track me down and sit on me until I came back.”

  All of a sudden the baby kicked.

  Hunt looked down. Lying next to her, he felt it, too. “The baby?”

  She chuckled. “Wants to be part of the act.”

  Hunt held his hand above her belly. “It’s okay?” He placed his fingers lightly on her shirt.

  “You can press harder,” she said. “There, did you feel that? That was some kick.”

  “Incredible,” he marveled, shaking his head.

  Sarah smiled. She loved feeling the baby move, and she had thought that it was the best sensation she had ever experienced. Until Hunt got to experience it along with her. She could feel the tears welling instantaneously.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Hunt said, worried. “I don’t want you getting upset. Not with the problems you’ve already got.”

  Sarah sniffed away the tears. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just the hormones. Besides, can’t a girl have tears of happiness?”

  “Well, as long as it’s happiness. We can’t take any more excitement in our little temporary family for now.”

  “I guess we are a kind of family in a weird way.”

  “I guess we’re both a little weird, although I’m not sure how Fred would take it.”

  She sniffed again, the contentment reaching its way down to her toes. “Enough. You can’t be all that bad if you can make jokes.” She stretched to get the bag she’d put on the end of the bed. “Look, I packed you some toiletries, another T-shirt and boxers, and a pair of jeans. Oh, and socks. There’s a bathrobe, too, but I couldn’t find any slippers. I also found a recent issue of the New Yorker. I’ll bring some books tomorrow morning if you think it will be a few days.”

  “Thanks. I’m not sure how long they’re going to keep me.”

  “So do I need to make some kind of arrangement to get your car out of the hospital garage?”

  Hunt lifted his hand from her stomach and rubbed her forearm. “Actually, I didn’t drive here. I got a lift.”

  “Rufus? Katarina said you had called him?”

  “I did call him, but he had his appointment with you, and I didn’t want to make him late.” He paused. “Don’t be mad.”

  “Why would I be mad, other than the fact that you were being noble and refused to bother me?”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m trying to explain that it seemed like everyone I knew wasn’t available. I was desperate. So I called the last person on my list.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows and waited.

  Hunt opened his mouth. “Zach.”

  She thought a moment, then stretched and kissed him gently on the forehead. “I’m glad he was there for you.” She squeezed his hand and snuggled more closely. “Now I’ve got a confession to make.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Is it dirty?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll blame that on the drugs. No, it’s not dirty. I needed a ride here tonight, too, and I was running out of options. So, I went to the bottom of the list.”

  “You called—”

  “Your mother,” she said.

  “I can’t believe it. She isn’t here, though, is she?” Hunt balanced himself up on his elbow.

  “She’s waiting outside the room, in the hallway.” Sarah pointed toward the door. She could feel his body stiffen. “Hunt, she was really worried. I can vouch for it—her hands were shaking on the wheel of the car.”

  Hunt gave her a skeptical look. “She was probably concerned that people might assume that she was sick—she couldn’t handle that.”

  “Hunt, now that you know you’re in no danger, why not be generous? Frankly, if I can call my mother for advice, you can see yours now.”

  He harrumphed. “All right. On one condition.”

  She eyed him dubiously. “Am I going to like this?”

  “You tell me.” He raised both hands to either side of her face and kissed her—affirming lust, relief and life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  HUNT WATCHED THE SLOW DRIP of the antibiotics with growing impatience. A full course took one hour, one more hour of his life that he was forced to stay in the hospital. After three nights he’d had enough. He’d finished the newest John Grisham, the latest issue of The Economist, and a book on birthing with pictures that Hunt would sooner forget. His mother had even come to visit—twice more. It was awkward, but Hunt had to admit she was trying. Now, he was ready to leave.

  His doctors had decided that because he had been fever-free for forty-eight hours and the swelling had substantially subsided, and the CT scan showing his lymph nodes were clear, he could head home. He’d have to take oral antibiotics, and he had instructions to take it easy and schedule a follow-up appointment in a week.

  Sure! Whatever! Hunt had already packed his few belongings hours ago. He was more than ready to have the PICC line removed from his arm. And if they didn’t take it out soon, he was going to scream.

  Sarah had counseled patience. This morning when she’d stopped by on her way to work, she had said to call when he was ready, no matter what time. Katarina would drive her now that they had come back from their jaunt up north.

  Hunt stared at the drip. This was not happening soon enough.
>
  “Knock, knock. Can I come in, or is this a bad moment?” Ben stood by the corner of the curtain dividing the room in two.

  Hunt waved him in. “It’s a bad moment only because I’m still here. Come and amuse me in my misery. Just move my stuff off the chair.” He pointed to the armchair by the window.

  Ben lowered the bursting shopping bag to the floor and settled into the chair. It hadn’t exactly been built for someone his size, and he shifted back and forth. He managed to get semicomfortable and crossed his legs at his ankles. “So, I hear they’re letting you out today.”

  “And none too soon. I’m feeling one hundred percent better.”

  Ben tilted his head to get a better look. “Still a bit puffy there.” He held up his hand to his own cheek to show what he meant.

  “You should have seen me a few days ago. Really strange. Talk about Night of the Living Dead. Anyway, that’s all in the past.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  There was an awkward silence while Ben drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.

  “How was the trip?” Hunt asked finally.

  Ben held up his hand. “The trip was good. It was the first time we’d all gone away together as a family. One of those bonding experiences. Only now Katarina feels so close to Matt, she’s already talking about ‘empty nest syndrome’ when he goes away to college.”

  “But that’s…that’s still more than a year away, right?”

  “Right. But you know women.”

  “Actually, not really.”

  “Neither do I, really,” Ben agreed.

  They both sniffed.

  “So, Sarah will be there still when you go home?” Ben asked a little too casually.

  “Yeah. She already tells me she’s been baking up a storm in anticipation of my arrival. And Wanda stepped in to help with Fred. She’s more or less adopted him when nobody’s home, taking him for walks, feeding him far too many treats. Sarah told me that her own dog died recently, so I think Fred is good therapy.”