“Will it hurt?” her mother asked.
“Today’s blood draw? No. No more than the normal poke you get at a doctor’s visit.”
“How soon will we know the results?” Nick’s voice startled Hope. It was the first question he’d asked since they’d arrived, and she was so focused on the mission at hand, she’d almost forgotten he was there.
“With the weekend upon us, it will take an extra couple of days to learn the initial results. I would hope by Tuesday or Wednesday we would hear something.”
“And then?” Hope asked, already knowing. She had researched extensively about Joshua’s illness and bone marrow donation. But she asked the question because she knew her mother would not.
The doctor turned his sympathetic gaze to her. “If your mother is a match and in good health, the harvest process will proceed one of two ways. Either by extraction of peripheral blood stem cells, or PBSC, or by the method most people are more familiar with—extraction of the bone marrow. PBSC,” the doctor said, looking not only to Hope but to her mother and Nick as well, concentrating mostly on Claire, “is a nonsurgical procedure. For a few days leading up to the donation, the donor”—he nodded at Claire—“will be given injections of filgrastin, a medication used to increase the blood-forming cells in the bloodstream. On the day of donation, a needle is placed in the donor’s arm to remove their blood, which is then passed through a machine that separates out the blood-forming cells. The remaining blood is then returned to the donor through another needle in the other arm. Since this is a nonsurgical procedure, not only are the risks far less but so is the recovery time.”
“And the other method of donation?” This time, the question came from Nick.
“Unlike PBSC, bone marrow harvesting is a surgical procedure and therefore carries with it greater risks. Especially for someone of Claire’s age. The procedure consists of using needles to draw liquid marrow from the back of the donor’s pelvic bone. While this procedure is performed in an operating room and the donor receives anesthesia, once that wears off, the donor’s discomfort, level of pain, and recuperation time can vary greatly. Most donors are able to return to their regular life within a week, but that is not always the case.”
“Who determines which method is used?”
“Joshua’s doctors.”
Hope barely heard this question Nick asked or the doctor’s response.
Needles.
Extraction.
Harvest.
Pain.
A new terror gripped Hope as the doctor’s words replayed in her mind. She knew all of this. Of course she did. She’d done enough research to earn her own PhD. But now, sitting in the doctor’s office, next to her mother, Hope also kept hearing: Will it hurt?
If by a miracle Claire was a match for Joshua, how would her mother ever be convinced to go through the procedure when she was worried about the all-but-nonexistent pain she’d feel from today’s simple blood draw?
The rest of the appointment passed in a blur. After Claire completed the medical questionnaire, the doctor swabbed her cheek, drew blood, and asked her several more times if she had any questions. Her mother’s answer was the same each time: No. As they were leaving the office, the doctor pressed his business card into Claire’s hand and also handed one to Hope, telling both of them to call at any time if a question should arise. The doctor didn’t hand one to Nick; Hope was sure it was because Nick already had all of the doctor’s contact information.
“Best of luck,” Dr. Arnt said as he accompanied them to the front door. “I’ll be in touch with Joshua’s doctors but as I said, don’t hesitate to call if I can be of further assistance.”
Little was said during the return trip to Claire’s house. Hope tried to talk to her mother, explain more about the procedures, the next steps, answer unasked questions her mother might have. They only time her mother seemed to be aware of Hope was when Hope handed Claire the large manila envelope she’d filled with brochures and literature on bone marrow transplants. Claire had taken the envelope and placed it on her lap, under her purse, without saying a word. After that, Hope found it easier to stop talking.
Now, as she and Claire made their way to the front door, Nick having stayed behind in the car, she struggled to find the right words. What did you say to someone who wanted nothing to do with you but could possibly save your son’s life?
No words were adequate.
With keys in hand, her mother reached for the door. In moments she’d be gone, shut away once again from Hope, from the grandchildren she didn’t want. Without another thought, Hope took hold of her mother’s hand.
At the contact, Claire’s eyes widened and she drew in a quick breath.
“Thank you,” Hope said. “Thank you for what you did today.”
Her mother looked down at their entwined hands. A look passed over her face and Hope could have sworn it was a look of longing. But then it was gone so quickly, leaving Hope questioning if she’d really seen it.
Claire pulled her hand free. “Ask him. Ask him when he called.” Without another word she walked inside, closing the door behind her.
For several moments, Hope couldn’t move. She looked down at her hand, remembered the feel of her mother’s palm against hers, and she shivered as she realized that her son’s future lay in her mother’s cold, cold hands.
Seventeen
HOPE returned to the car, slid into the passenger seat, and slammed the door. She grabbed the seat belt and tugged. The seat belt stopped short. She tugged again.
“Are you okay?” Nick asked.
“Yes.” She yanked again. Harder. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re about to pull that seat belt from its bolt.”
Hope closed her eyes, drew in a breath, then tried once more. The belt slid easily, clicked into place. “My mother . . .”
“Always knew exactly what to say to upset you.”
Ask him. Ask him when he called.
Nick put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. “I knew I should have gone with you when you walked her to the door.”
Hope felt the start of a headache bloom behind her right eye. “No. It was better you didn’t. Wednesday,” she murmured, rubbing her temple.
“Maybe Tuesday,” Nick said, once again reading her mind with pinpoint accuracy. “Dr. Arnt said the results may be back as soon as then.”
“Maybe,” she said, but her voice held no conviction. She wouldn’t allow herself to invest in the earlier date. Too many times during this journey of Joshua’s they’d been disappointed by delayed test results.
Summer colors blurred past as Nick maneuvered through town and then to the interstate. She knew without asking that they were headed directly to the airport. After receiving the call from her mother’s neighbor this morning, they’d thrown their things into their suitcases and stowed them in the trunk before checking out of the hotel. There was nothing to delay their departure. She was glad. It felt as if she’d been gone for weeks instead of hours.
“It’ll be good to get home,” Hope said. “But . . .”
He rested his hand on top of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You hate to leave without knowing Claire’s test results.”
“Yes, but there’s no way I’d be gone from the kids that long. But what if she leaves again and this time she doesn’t return? What if she’s a match—when she’s a match,” Hope said vehemently, instantly correcting herself, “and we can’t locate her? The Claire I remember didn’t leave on overnight trips, but she was gone when we got here. And I never thought to ask her where she’d been. Not that it mattered. And not that she’d probably even tell me, not with our history. You saw her reaction when the doctor explained the procedure. It could be painful. Her recovery time could be lengthy. She could leave and we wouldn’t be able to find her.”
Nick gave Hope’s hand another s
queeze. “If Claire is a match, there is nowhere she could hide that I wouldn’t be able to locate her. You have my word.”
Before he refocused on the road, Nick’s steadfast gaze held hers. In his eyes she saw the absolute truth of his words.
“Now, are you going to tell me what she said to you when you walked her to the front door? It obviously upset you, whatever it was.”
Ask him. Ask him when he called.
Hope stared down at his hand atop hers, felt the warmth of the connection. From the moment she had opened her front door yesterday morning and Nick had been on the other side, he’d done everything in his power to help her. And then some. Not only had he been with her every step of the way during these last two days, he’d also worked incredibly hard behind the scenes to make sure Claire got tested as quickly as possible and the results processed just as swiftly. He’d been strong and unfaltering when Hope needed it the most. In the beginning—when Josh had first been diagnosed—Hope had been better. Stronger. But the constant worry and stress over time took its toll. These last couple of days, Nick had been her strength. And Claire had seen that. She’d never liked Nick. Had tried everything in her power to break them up all those years ago. Her mother lived an unhappy life; the only thing that probably brought her any joy was to cause misery for others.
Ask him. Ask him when he called.
“Nothing,” Hope said. “My mother said nothing that mattered.”
* * *
HOPE woke with a start and glanced around. Sleep wrinkled the edges of her mind and she fought to clear her head.
“Good afternoon.”
She followed the sound of the voice across the plane’s narrow aisle and saw Nick. “Hi,” she said, stifling a yawn. She sat up, untwining the afghan from around her legs.
“How’s your headache?”
She brushed her hair off her face and gathered it in at the base of her neck. With her right hand still holding her hair, she used her left hand to remove the elastic band from her right wrist, twining her hair through. “Better, thanks.”
“That was some nap.”
“Was I asleep long?”
“Not long.” His grin exposed his lie. “About four hours.”
She paused, then finished securing her hair in a low pony. “I guess the PM in Excedrin PM really does its job.”
“We should be landing in just a few minutes. If you look out the window you can see—”
“No thanks.”
He chuckled, walked the short distance across the aisle, and sat down across from her. “We’re going to have to cure you of this fear of flying.”
He was so close she could see the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow. She felt his nearness all the way down into her bones. No, she felt his nearness all the way deep into her soul. And that was a hell of a lot scarier.
“Don’t tell me I snore,” she said, trying to sound casual and light, trying to cover how his proximity unnerved her.
“Okay.”
Embarrassment fanned across her cheeks. “How loud?”
“You don’t snore. I couldn’t resist teasing you. Besides . . .” He paused, didn’t say anything for several moments. “I can’t be the only guy who could have told you that.”
Suddenly last night was between them.
“Sorry,” he said. “That question was out of line.”
“Yes, it was.” Not that she had any wild tales to tell. She’d all but lived the life of a cloistered nun.
“Last night was incredible,” he said, leaning forward and taking her hands in his. “You’re incredible. I know I’m not the only guy who realizes that. You must have men banging down your door, but I’m not about to lose you again, Hope. I’m prepared to fight a whole posse if need be. Claim you as my woman.” He flashed her a grin.
Fireworks erupted in the pit of her stomach—from his words or his sexy-as-hell smile, she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. “Posse? Claim? I think you’ve been watching too many Westerns.”
“It’d be a hell of a lot easier if we were living in the Wild West. I could pull out my six-shooter and drive them off.”
Could he really be saying what she thought he was saying? “You wouldn’t need a six-shooter. I haven’t had what anyone would call an active social life. Even if dating had been a priority, the opportunities weren’t there.”
“Bullshit,” Nick said. “I’m a man. The opportunities were there. You either ignored them or were too busy being the great mom you are to pursue them. Which,” he said with that same sexy grin, “is just fine with me. And before you say anything, I get the double standard. While you’ve been raising our children, I’ve been . . .”
“Pursuing an active social life?” She couldn’t stop the twinge of jealousy when she thought of all the women she’d seen Nick with over the years. Magazines, the Net, television shows.
“If I’d known we’d find each other again, Hopeful, I would have lived a completely different life. But I can’t change the past. I can only promise you that from this moment on, I’m yours. I meant what I said: I never want to lose you again. Or Joshua or Susan.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you again either.”
When he tugged her from her seat and into his arms, she went willingly. This time he wouldn’t go away. This time he would be there for her, for them.
His kiss was full of promises and made her feel complete in a way she hadn’t in a long time. She felt delirious at his touch, over what he was saying.
“Ah, Hopeful,” he whispered near her ear. His breath was warm, his kisses even more so. “The season is nearly half over. I know my schedule is hectic, but I’ll fly up to be with you and the kids as much as I can. And when Joshua is well, I want all three of you to join me.”
A darkness tried to invade her euphoria. She pushed it away. But no matter how hard she tried, it refused to budge.
“Join you?” She couldn’t understand, shook her head, tried to clear her thinking. “Join you where?”
“On the road.” He pressed a swift kiss to her lips, hugged her tightly. “Honey, that’s where I am February through November. Traveling. Going from one state, one track, to the next.”
“But I thought . . . I thought that now that we were going to be together, you’d stay here, with us.”
Nick drew back, a frown creasing his forehead. “What are you saying, Hope?”
Without his touch, she suddenly felt cold. The few inches he’d created between them felt as wide and as vast as the sky around them. “You’re not going to stop racing?” She’d asked it as a question but knew she needn’t have bothered. She already knew the answer.
“Stop racing? Why would you think that?”
“But Joshua . . . and Susan.”
“Are my children. And I don’t plan to ever be out of their lives again.”
“But you said . . .” She couldn’t go on.
“That I want to be with you. All of you.”
She felt as if she were in a daze. Nick wasn’t giving up racing. Once again, he was choosing his career over her. Over the children. A career that not only would take him away from them nearly all of the time but could easily kill him.
What a fool she’d been to believe in a future together.
“What type of life are you offering them?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Think about what you’d be putting the twins through every time you raced. Every time you got behind the wheel, they’d have to worry that you might not survive. Joshua and Susan have had a college-sized education on how precious and fragile life is. They don’t need any more.”
“I know how valuable life is.”
“Do you?”
“Life is a risk, Hope.”
“You’re right, it is. But there are risks and then there are risks.”
Tears burned the backs of her eye
s. “I can’t be a part of your life if you continue to race. And neither can Joshua and Susan. I won’t put them in that position.”
“The choice isn’t only yours,” he said after a lengthy pause.
“Give up racing, Nick. For us. For all of us.”
“No.”
She drew in a breath, tried to steady herself. “Just like that?”
A tic started in his jaw. “Let’s talk about ‘just like that.’ Just like that you made a decision sixteen years ago to lie not only to me but to my children.”
“I did what I thought best.”
“You did what was best for you.”
“How can you say that?”
Nick’s jaw tightened. “You might be willing to throw away what we have because of who I am, of what I do, but I’m not going to throw away my chance to be a father to my children.”
“How can you do this to them?”
“How can I do this to them? How can you do this to them? They have a right to know who I am.”
“They are my children—”
“They are our children. Mine and yours. No matter what you think of me, or of what I do for a living, that’s a fact you will never be able to change.”
Whatever else Nick was going to say was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. With a growl at the interruption, he got up and grabbed it. He looked as if he was going to turn it off without answering it, but then Hope saw him glance at the number.
“Fortune,” he snapped into the receiver.
Hope listened with only half an ear to what Nick was saying, her mind still reeling from their conversation. She didn’t realize he was off the phone until he spoke to her.
“Something’s come up and I need to leave right after we land. I’ll arrange for a car to take you wherever you want to go. But, Hope”—he waited until their gazes collided—“don’t think this conversation is over. When I get back, I’m telling Joshua and Susan who I am. I’m done lying.”
Fear shot straight through her, stabbed at her heart and sent such excruciating pain throughout her body that she couldn’t draw a breath.
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