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The line looks like an IV that goes straight into her chest. The doctor hangs the bag on her IV pole, but my vision is blocked after that, with the doctor and nurses all huddled around Raven.
About ten minutes later, the nurses move back.
“You’re all set, Raven. Your brother’s bone marrow will be infused over the next couple of hours. Your nurse will watch you closely for any signs of intolerance, but we don’t expect any issues. I’ll be back this evening to examine you as well. Do you have any questions?”
“No,” Raven says.
The doctor turns to me. “And you, sir?”
I shake my head. “Just take care of her.”
“We have every plan to do just that.” He turns and leaves the room.
I rise and follow him.
“Hey, Doc?”
He turns. “Yes?”
“What are her chances? I mean really. Level with me.”
“Survival rates after transplant for acute leukemia are fifty-five to sixty-eight percent when the donor is related, which you are.”
My heart drops into my gut. “That’s it?”
“That’s better than fifty-fifty, Mr. Bellamy. Raven is young and strong, and she responded well to chemotherapy. She has a good chance.”
“What about donors that aren’t related?”
“From twenty-six to fifty percent.”
“I see.”
“There is every reason to be optimistic, Mr. Bellamy. The most important thing is for Raven herself to be optimistic, and she seems to be.”
“Does she?”
He cocks his head. “Has she said something different to you?”
“She says stuff like, ‘whether I live or die,’ as if it could go either way.”
“It could go either way.”
“But like you said, she needs to be optimistic. She needs to get her head in the game.”
“She’s been optimistic throughout her treatment, Mr. Bellamy, but she’s tired. She’s exhausted. She’s lost her hair, and the chemo takes its toll on everyone, even young and strong women like your sister. She is optimistic. She’s just tired.”
“Not good enough,” I say.
“I’ve treated many patients with Raven’s disease over my career. She’s doing well mentally and emotionally. I assure you.”
I breathe in. Exhale. “If you say so.”
“I say so.” He smiles. “Now go. Be with her. Hold her hand. Give her your strength. It will help.”
“All right. And Doc?”
“Yes?”
“Is this leukemia a genetic thing?”
“No. Not usually. In fact, we couldn’t find anyone in your extended family who had it. There’s no need to worry for yourself.”
“I’m not worried for myself,” I say. “Trust me, I’m the last person I worry about. I just want to be informed. I should have done more research, but I just got out—”
Yeah, time to shut up.
“I’m aware of your circumstances, Mr. Bellamy. You have time now to become better informed if you wish to.”
“I do wish to. I’ll do anything for my sister.”
“You’ve done all you can. You’ve given her a good chance, Mr. Bellamy.”
I nod. “Thanks, Doc. For everything.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ll be back this evening.”
He walks away, and I head back into Raven’s room.
She’s fallen asleep.
19
SAVANNAH
Nothing like sitting through four hours of a workshop on not getting involved with your parolees.
Yeah.
Great.
Nothing new. I’m aware of ethics and conflicts of interest and all that jazz.
The only problem?
This time I personify the training.
I don’t fault myself for the first kiss at the bar. I didn’t know who he was then. The problem is that once I found out, I screwed him in an empty hospital room. I also let him kiss me—twice —this afternoon during my lunch hour.
And he thinks I’m meeting him this evening at the hospital.
Which I’m not, of course.
I can’t.
No matter how much I want to.
No matter how good the sex was.
And oh my God, it was good. A wham, bam, thank you, ma’am that was better than the most prolonged sessions with any of my exes.
But damn…
I can’t do it again.
The idea when I left Austin was to stay under the radar. Getting involved with a parolee doesn’t exactly fit that bill.
I gather my purse and a few files to take home with me and head out. The drive from my office to my duplex takes only ten minutes, and when I get there, Gert’s car is on the street.
I sigh. That’s right. They’re staying another night, which means I’ll be couching it tonight.
Once inside, Gert greets me with a cupcake. “Your favorite,” she says. “Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.”
I throw my purse on the coffee table and take the cupcake. “What’s the occasion?”
“A thank you for letting us crash here. There are five more in the fridge. Jordan and I found this delish cupcake place on the Summer Creek main drag. Didn’t you know about it?”
“I haven’t had the chance to do much exploring,” I say. “I moved, got settled, and then started my new job.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Gert says. “Jordy and I thought we’d stay the weekend and see your new town. Apparently you’ll be seeing it for the first time as well.”
