Joshua stirred in his sleep, and Nick stiffened. A slight frown flitted across Josh’s features as he tried to find comfort in a bed that offered none. Trying to roll over onto his stomach, he stopped halfway as tubes and IVs hindered his progress. Finally, after a few more twists and shifts, he perched himself partway on his side, facing Nick, and settled. Soon, a soft snore escaped.
Nick’s hand slowly unclenched from the cold bedrail. He hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed it when Josh had started to stir.
A lock of thinning hair had fallen across Joshua’s face, and Nick stretched his arm out, ready to brush the hair away. Only before he did, he stopped, holding his hand in midair as indecision crept through him. What right did he have?
Nearly sixteen years ago he’d been denied everything when Hope had cut him out. He wasn’t a member of this family. If Joshua woke and found Nick in his room, how would Nick explain his being there?
His children were nearly sixteen years old. And then another question haunted him. If by some miracle Joshua and Susan wanted him in their lives, what type of father could he hope to be?
Slowly, Nick withdrew his arm and it fell back to his side, hanging there all but useless.
He clenched his hand into a fist as frustration built. He should have rights, damn it. He should be able to come into his son’s room at any time of the day or night and know he would be welcomed. Accepted. He should have been in Joshua and Susan’s life from the beginning. And he should be able to find a way to save his son. He would find a way.
* * *
“OKAY, I’ve brought the suitcase; now are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Dana walked into Hope’s bedroom and plopped the case on the bed.
Hope didn’t turn around. She didn’t dare. Instead, she reached into her open dresser drawer and pulled out a neatly folded stack of pants and threw them onto the bed. Shutting the bottom drawer, she moved on to the middle drawer. Two stacks of tops followed the pants. Using her hip, she slammed that drawer shut, then yanked open the top one, only to pull so hard it came off its track and fell to the floor. “Damn it.” She left it where it lay and scooped up a pile of underwear and a handful of folded socks. She dropped them by the other piles on the bed.
“Hope.” Dana put her hand on Hope’s arm. “Honey, what’s going on?”
Hope turned away quickly, dislodging Dana’s hand. She knew she was being rude, but she couldn’t help it. If she looked into her friend’s eyes and saw the worry and concern she heard in Dana’s voice, it would be Hope’s undoing. And she was too close to the edge now.
Unzipping the suitcase, she tossed in clothes.
Dana’s hand stalled her once more. “Please, won’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Hope wrapped her arms around her stomach. She felt a well of grief so large it nearly buckled her. “You can stay here, with Susan, right?”
“Yes, of course I can. Just like I told you earlier this morning on the phone. I’ll stay for as long as you need me to, and I’ll go and see Josh.”
“Thank you. I know Susan’s fifteen and can stay by herself, but lately . . . lately she hasn’t been the same.”
Dana sat on the bed. “Honey, lately none of you have been the same. How could you be? How can any of us be? But right now, it’s you I’m worried about.” Dana eyed the heap of clothes on the bed. “That’s an awful lot of clothes for what you said would be a quick trip. Long or short trip, I’m here no matter how long you need me to be. But I know you. You wouldn’t be leaving unless it was incredibly important. Will you tell me where you’re going?”
Hope followed her friend’s gaze and realized she’d all but emptied her dresser. She began to haphazardly shove almost all of her clothes back. “A day. Or two. I don’t know.”
Dana stayed Hope’s frantic “unpacking” with a gentle touch of her hand. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Tears pooled in Hope’s eyes, threatening to spill over. She swallowed hard. She felt as fragile as a china doll and knew she was barely holding on to her sanity as it was. If she started explaining to Dana, she would lose what little control she still had.
Concentrating on the task at hand, she flicked through the hangers, searching for her black coat. Where was the damn thing? And why in the hell did she have all these clothes? She didn’t wear half of them. She searched deeper, farther back, until her hand came into contact with the feel of soft leather. Relieved, she pulled her coat out from the far back. As the garment came into the light, a pain erupted into her chest.
“Oh, God,” she gasped, unable to catch her breath. Tears ran unheeded down her face. “Oh, God.”
“Hope?”
Dana’s voice came to her, but it sounded so far away, muted, as if it came from inside a tunnel. Hope tried to focus on it, to grasp onto something else besides what was in front of her. But no matter how hard she tried, there was no looking away. Through her watery vision, Joshua’s red-and-white letterman’s jacket swam before her eyes.
She leaned forward, tried to stem her grief, but that only made it worse. She was so close to his jacket she could smell the leather; the scent made her think of pep rallies, Friday night lights, of Joshua. “Oh, God.”
“Honey, it’s okay. It’s only Joshua’s jacket.”
“He’s not a match. God help us, Dana, he’s not a match.”
“Who? Who’s not a match?”
Hope could barely get the word out. “Nick.”
“Oh, honey.” Dana gathered Hope in her arms and held her tight. Her embrace was strong and Hope found herself letting Dana support her, letting Dana be the strong one for just this once.
“I was so sure. So positive that calling Nick would be the answer. And now, now that I have, he’s back in my life and the twins’, and I—” Hope willed her tears to go away. She’d spent too many hours last night crying. Now, she needed to get busy. Keep moving. Be strong. Find a way to save Joshua.
She pulled out of Dana’s hug.
She rehung the jacket and went into the bathroom. Gathering her toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and hairbrush, she looked around the countertop and knew she was forgetting something but couldn’t think of what it was and really didn’t care. She walked back into the bedroom.
Dana stood by the bed, her eyes red with tears. The suitcase lay open on the bed in front of her; Hope’s messy piles of clothes had been refolded and organized and repacked.
Dana wiped her eyes. “Are you going to tell me where you’re headed?”
“To Minnesota. To Claire’s to make sure she gets tested. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Shock registered on Dana’s face. “You can’t go alone. I’m coming with you.”
“No.” Now it was Hope’s turn to lay a comforting hand on Dana’s arm. “I need you here. Joshua and Susan need you here.”
“But—”
“There’s no other way.”
“But why do you have to go? I mean, what if she’s been tested and you just haven’t heard?”
“She hasn’t been. I called Joshua’s doctor this morning and asked. Not only had he not heard anything but he’d double-checked with the doctor Claire was supposed to see. They haven’t heard from Claire. She has no intentions of getting tested. I know it.” Just the thought of her mother’s blatant uncaring was enough to make Hope feel sick all over again.
“But why go there? Why not call her on the phone and insist she get tested?”
“I’ve called.” Hope thought of last night, of the numerous phone calls she’d made during all those dark hours. “But she’s not answering. I’m sure she’s screening to avoid talking to me. If I don’t get there, Claire Montgomery will never see if she can save my son.” Hope’s voice caught on the last words.
“She can’t really—”
“Yes, she can. She’s not like your family, Dana. When there’s a trag
edy you band together. Claire wouldn’t even begin to understand something like that.”
Hope wiped her eyes. Tears and heartache weren’t going to cure her son. Only a bone marrow transplant would, and time was running out. Hope could feel it as only a mother could. A relative was their best chance at a match. She knew what she had to do. She would fly to Minnesota and drag her mother to the doctor’s office if that was what it took to get Claire to do the right thing.
“How are you going to get there?” Dana asked.
“I’m going to fly.”
“You’re scared to death of planes. Never mind that you’ve never been on one. I remember the year you saved to take the kids to Disneyland and you spent half your vacation driving because you couldn’t step on a plane.”
“I’ll just have to get over it. I can’t drive to Minnesota. I don’t have that kind of time. And even if I did, Gertrude is in the shop. I need to do this now, Dana.”
A soft look of understanding passed over her friend. “Yes, of course you do. But I know you can’t afford this. All of your money goes to Joshua. I wish—”
“I know.” Hope squeezed her friend’s hand in gratitude. Dana didn’t have the extra cash any more than Hope did.
Hope had tried booking a ticket early this morning when it was clear that Claire refused to pick up her phone, but she’d been denied. Her credit cards were maxed. It was then that she knew she had only one option.
“So if neither of us has the money . . . how are you going to afford the ticket?”
Hope drew in a fortifying breath. She’d been awake all night just thinking . . . and dialing . . . and thinking, and calling her mother’s number time and time again. After three hours and still no answer from her mother, Hope knew she needed to take a different approach. But when she couldn’t book a ticket no matter how hard she’d tried and pleaded, the one idea that had been persistently pushing itself to the forefront of her mind, insisting on being heard, wouldn’t be ignored a moment longer.
“I’m going to ask Nick for a loan.” Hope was surprised at how normal it sounded; as if she’d said nothing more ordinary than I’m going to the grocery store. But she knew there was going to be nothing easy about the asking. Asking anyone for help had never been one of her strong suits, and asking the man who had abandoned her would be damn near impossible. But for her children, she would do anything.
“You’re what?!”
The doorbell rang.
“That’ll be the cab I called.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t tell me something like that and then leave. And a cab? Why? I can drive you to wherever it is you’re going.”
“No, I need you here.”
The doorbell rang again.
From the top of her dresser, Hope grabbed the piece of paper. “Here.” She handed it to Dana. “I’ve jotted down Claire’s number and address just in case you need it. I don’t know yet where I’ll be staying”—definitely not with her mother—“but I’ll call tonight and let you know. And”—she paused—“you should know that I haven’t told the twins where I’m going or who I plan on seeing. If Claire refuses—”
“You don’t want them to get hurt. I understand. What do I say if the kids ask about Nick?”
“They won’t. Nick and I agreed that for now they’d only know him as an old friend of mine.”
Shock widened Dana’s eyes. “I’m surprised he agreed.”
“To tell you the truth, I was too. Thankful but surprised.”
The doorbell rang again.
“Don’t worry. Claire isn’t going to refuse you.”
“You’re right, she’s not.” Not if there was any way humanly possible for Hope to prevent it. “Susan’s still sleeping. I tried waking her to explain I have to go and see someone about Josh but I don’t want him to know that yet. For now, all I’m telling him is that I’m not feeling well. I told her I’d explain everything later. She mumbled an okay but I’m not sure she even heard. She can always reach me on my cell. I called Josh and explained I can’t come to the hospital for a day or two.”
Hope hated lying to her children, but she really didn’t see any other alternative. Josh had accepted her explanation without question, knowing that anyone with an illness, even the slightest of colds, was forbidden in the oncology department. There was no way anyone wanted to compromise a sick child’s already weakened immune system. Hope had been relieved when Susan had been too tired to ask too many questions. Hope knew it was a temporary reprieve, but she’d take it. Right now, all she could focus on was getting to Claire.
The doorbell rang again, louder. As if the person pushing the bell was growing impatient.
Hope glanced to the half-packed suitcase.
“Go,” Dana said, shooing her out of the room. “Answer the door. I’ll finish here.”
Hope grabbed her purse from the bed and made her way down the hallway. She opened the front door, expecting to see the taxi driver. Only it wasn’t the driver on the other side.
“Nick.”
“We need to talk.”
Eleven
NICK didn’t waste time with pleasantries but stepped into the narrow entryway only to come up short.
The stunned, surprised look on Hope’s face slipped away to be replaced with a look of—relief ? Right. Nick would have laughed at his own gullibility if their situation weren’t so dire. Relief was not an emotion Hope felt whenever he was near.
From the moment he’d shown up in Hope’s yard, she’d been doing everything in her power to distance him as much as possible from her life. From his children’s life. Without a doubt, this morning would be no different.
But he was done with Hope’s barriers. She didn’t want him in her life, she’d made that abundantly clear, but she wasn’t going to keep him separated from his kids. Nick never again wanted to feel like he did last night standing by Joshua—removed, isolated. A stranger to his children. He was their father.
Before Nick could say anything more, a tall woman with red hair hurried around the corner of the hallway, a black suitcase thumping against her side. Catching sight of Hope and then Nick standing in the entryway, she came to an abrupt halt and let out a soft oomph. It was obvious by the redhead’s expression that catching sight of Nick had thrown her off balance.
Hope didn’t lose a beat. “Thank you,” she said to the other woman, taking the suitcase.
The other woman momentarily forgotten, Nick looked pointedly to the suitcase. “Going somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“Your trip is going to have to wait. What I have to say is important.”
“Actually, I was on my way to see you.”
If Hope had said, They made a mistake and you are a match, Nick wouldn’t have been more surprised.
“Why don’t we go out on the front porch and talk,” Hope said, taking a step forward, her suitcase brushing against his thigh.
Separating. Distancing. She didn’t even want him in the house. Nick stayed right where he was. “Why don’t we talk in the living room?”
“Nick, be reasonable. It’s not even six in the morning.”
He glanced at his watch before he could stop himself. Was it really that early? He rubbed a hand across his eyes, across his jaw. He almost felt bad about showing up so early. Almost.
“Susan’s still asleep,” Hope was saying, “and I don’t want our voices to wake her; besides . . .”
He waited, then prompted when it became clear she wasn’t going to continue, “Besides?”
Hope hesitated, readjusting the suitcase’s handle in her grasp. “I’m waiting for a cab,” she finally said. “If I’m outside I can see when it pulls in.”
Nick would have laid money that that wasn’t what she’d originally been going to say, but he let it go. He had other things—bigger things—on his mind. Like figuring out a way to save his son. Was
ting time arguing about where they talked was pointless. “Fine.” He stepped to the side and opened the door. “Lead on.”
It was then, when Hope went to walk by, that he remembered the woman standing behind Hope. It was clear Hope had no intention of introducing them.
Nick shifted, partially blocking Hope’s exit and angled his head toward the tall woman behind her. “Are you going to introduce us?”
No. The word all but hovered in the air between them. Nick didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to hear what Hope wanted to, but didn’t, say.
The same frustration that had consumed him last night in Joshua’s room overtook him once again. This was a small thing, Hope’s reluctance to introduce him to someone she knew. But in his mind, it grew. Final straw and all that. It was time she realized he was here to stay.
He waited, not moving, looking first to Hope, then to the other woman, then back to Hope. It didn’t take her long to get the none-too-subtle hint.
“Nick, this is Dana. Dana, this is Nick.”
He held out his hand. “Hello, Dana.”
Dana’s hand felt cool in his. “So you’re Hope’s Nick.” She grasped his hand tighter, almost giving it a squeeze.
Hope all but pushed him out the door.
She walked down off the small covered entryway porch, down the cement path, not stopping until she reached her driveway. There she set her suitcase down and then turned and faced him.
“Like I said earlier, I was on my way to see you.”
“You weren’t going to call first?” Nick knew the moment he said the teasing statement, it was a mistake. Not only did Hope not get his reference to the question she’d asked him the last two times he’d shown up at her house, but his attempt at putting some life back into her sad, bleak eyes backfired. A dark shadow came over her, obliterating what little color had been in her cheeks.
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