The Other Brother (Chop, Chop Series Book 4)

by L. N. Cronk

  Charlotte looked at him and nodded subtly in my direction.

  “But,” he added quickly, “I’m sure this girl . . . what’s her name?”

  “Amber.”

  “Right,” he nodded, “Amber. I’m sure Amber’s in a great home.”

  “I didn’t know about any of this,” Mrs. White said.

  “I know,” I said. “I just haven’t really wanted to get into it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “But I’d rather talk about something else.”

  “Sure.”

  “When are you going to get tested, Charlotte?” Laci asked.

  “I got tested on Monday.”

  “Already?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’d you find out?”

  “We won’t get the results back for a week or two,” she said.

  “What happens if you’re a match?” Laci asked.

  “Then Jacob will check into the transplant center here in Cavendish and he’ll go through this . . . what’s it called?” she asked him.

  “Preparative regimen,” he said.

  “Right. Chemo and radiation. It’ll get rid of all the cancerous cells. Then he’ll get my good cells and voilà!” She snapped her fingers. “We all live happily ever after.”

  “What if Charlotte’s not a match?” Laci asked Jacob.

  “Then I’m probably going to have to go to Iowa City or Chicago. The transplant center here in Cavendish doesn’t do transplants from non-related donors.”

  “I’m going to be a match,” Charlotte said, smiling at Jacob. “I can tell.”

  ~ ~ ~

  TEN DAYS LATER – the day before Jordan was set to fly back to Texas and the day before Charlotte was supposed to drive back to State – Charlotte’s bone marrow results came back.

  “Five out of six markers!” she said excitedly when she called to tell me.

  “So what’s that mean?”

  “It means he can use my marrow!”

  “But weren’t there people on the registry who were five out of six?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “What about it?”

  “Well, you need to just let one of those people donate. You don’t need to be going through this right now.”

  “Going through what?”

  “Look,” I said. “Donating marrow can be very dangerous. You have to go under anesthesia and that’s always dangerous, and I read about this man who donated and he got an infection in his blood and he died from it and . . .”

  “David,” Charlotte laughed. “They hardly ever harvest it that way anymore. All they’re gonna do is take some blood. It’s just like donating platelets.”

  “You should let somebody else do it. You’ve got school to think about.”

  “It’s not going to interfere with school,” she insisted. “But even if it did, school can wait! This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to help somebody. And not just somebody – it’s my brother. Plus, this way he can stay right here in Cavendish. I don’t want him going all the way to Iowa City or Chicago!”

  “He’s your half-brother, Charlotte. You happen to share a little DNA with him – that’s it. You barely even know this guy.”

  “I know him! I’ve spent the last two weeks getting to know him!”

  “You can’t get to know somebody in two weeks,” I argued. “You don’t know anything about him! What if he’s got a record?”

  “A record?”

  “Yeah. Have you checked to see if he has a record?”

  “No I haven’t checked to see if he has a record!”

  “Well, you should,” I said. “He could be a criminal.”

  “He’s not a criminal!”

  “He could be . . . mentally unbalanced.”

  “What?”

  “He said himself that his mom was really messed up. I’ll bet she did drugs when she was pregnant with him. Plus, he spent his childhood in and out of foster care! You think he came out of all that unscathed?”

  “What are you talking about?” she cried.

  “He could have some real psychiatric problems. Who knows what’s going on in his head? He could be schizophrenic or psychotic or–”

  “What?”

  “I’m saying you don’t know anything about him. For all you know, he could be completely crazy!”

  “You’re completely crazy!” Charlotte answered.

  The next day, as soon as Laci left to take Dorito to school, I called Jacob.

  “Hi,” he said, clearly suspicious.

  “Charlotte tells me she’s a match.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “I’m worried about her,” I said. “I don’t think she should do it.”

  “She told me that.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “She told me you were worried about the procedure, but I thought she told you that it isn’t invasive?”

  “She did,” I said.

  “Then what are you worried for?”

  “Because I care about her,” I said. “I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to her, either,” he said. “I care about her too.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course, really!” he said defensively.

  “If that’s true,” I said, “then you won’t let her do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Have you thought about what’s going to happen if you don’t make it?” I asked him quietly.

  “What?”

  “I mean, I . . . I really, really hope this works and everything and that you wind up going into complete remission. I really do, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “There’s a chance this isn’t going to work, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How much of a chance?” I asked.

  “About a twenty-five percent chance.”

  “A one-in-four chance that it won’t work?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And if it doesn’t, how do you think Charlotte’s gonna take it?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’ve been reading up on this,” I said. “You know that when it’s an anonymous donor some transplant centers don’t even let them know how the recipient does for a year?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “You know why?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Because,” I said, deciding to tell him even if he thought he already knew, “when somebody donates their marrow and then the patient dies, the guilt they feel can be devastating to the donor.”

  “I know,” he said quietly.

  “So, have you thought about that?” I asked him. “Have you thought about what Charlotte’s going to go through if she donates to you and then you don’t make it?”

  “No,” he said, still very quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Why don’t you get it done somewhere else?” I said. “Then, in a year or so – after you know you’re gonna make it – you can come back and get to know her . . . after there’s not so much chance that she’s gonna get hurt, you know?”

  He was quiet.

  “I mean, if Charlotte was a perfect match,” I went on, “if your chances were better with her being you’re donor, I’d say ‘Go for it.’ You know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But, if it doesn’t improve your chances any . . . it seems like Charlotte could really get hurt. You know?”

  “Yeah,” he said again. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  “I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” I insisted. “I just think that we need to really be thinking about Charlotte.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Maybe you’re right.”

  ~ ~ ~

  CHARLOTTE CALLED ME. She was livid.

  “Did you try to convince Jacob that he should get his bone marrow transplant from someone else?” she cried.

  What an idiot. He was supposed to just get out of town and get o
ut of Charlotte’s life . . . not talk to her about it first.

  “Charlotte,” I said. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I know you want to do this, but I think it would be best if–”

  “I don’t remember asking you what you thought.”

  “Look, Charlotte,” I said. “I’m worried about you, and I think you’re too close to this situation to look at it objectively.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I know you’re excited to have found Jacob, but you’re not thinking clearly. You don’t even know if you can trust him! You’re not protecting yourself.”

  “From what?”

  “From . . . from all sorts of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like . . .” I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. “Like, what about your trust fund?”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, if he finds out that you have a trust fund that was set up because your dad was killed, he might just decide that since it was his dad, too, that maybe half of it should belong to him.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it’s not,” I said.

  “For your information he already knows about my trust fund and he hasn’t said one word about it wanting any of it!”

  “You told him about your trust fund?” I covered my eyes with my hands and groaned. “You and your mom need to go talk to a lawyer.”

  “I don’t need to talk to a lawyer!”

  “How long do you think it’s gonna be before he decides that half that money should be his?”

  “Maybe it should be,” she said defiantly. “My dad didn’t know about him, but I bet if he had, he would’ve made sure that Jacob was taken care of. Actually, now that I think about it, I think that half of that money probably does belong to Jacob!”

  “Don’t you dare give any of that money to Jacob!” I said, appalled.

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” she yelled. “You’re not my father!”

  “I never said–”

  “If I want to give him my bone marrow, I’ll give him my bone marrow! If I want to give him my money, I’ll give him my money!”

  “Charlotte, I–”

  Click.

  She had hung up on me.

  Over the next two weeks, Charlotte refused to answer her phone whenever I called. I even tried her on Laci’s phone once, but as soon as she heard my voice, she hung up on me again. During this time, Jacob had intensive chemotherapy at the transplant center.

  Charlotte came home on the weekends and spent every spare moment she had with him. She also came home on a Thursday, donated her marrow, and hung around the next day while Jacob received it. I found all this out from Laci, Tanner, and Mrs. White (all people with whom Charlotte was still on speaking terms).

  Saturday – the day after the procedure – Tanner came by to play cards.

  “Racquetball is a lot more fun than this,” he complained.

  “You’re just sore ’cause I can beat you at this.”

  “How much longer ’til you get your cast off?”

  “Well,” I said, “Three weeks, but who knows when I’m going to be able to play racquetball?”

  “Are you gonna help out again in Dorito’s class after you’re outta that thing?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, shrugging and sweeping up the cards. “Amber’s not in there anymore.”

  “She’s not?”

  “No,” I said, shuffling the deck. “I think Erin Lamont moved her to another district just to get her away from me.”

  “I’m sure she’s okay,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure,” he said, watching me shuffle cards for a minute.

  “I saw Charlotte this morning,” he finally said.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah,” he smiled. “She sends her love.”

  “Seriously,” I said, holding the deck tight. “What’d she say?”

  “She said to tell you that she got pneumonia from the anesthesia and she’s been coughing up blood and that she had a severe allergic reaction to the drugs they gave her and now she’s got a blood infection from the IV and that’s she’s probably going to die.”

  “Very funny.”

  “She also said that she’s going to flunk out of college.”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed.

  “So, she’s doing okay?”

  “Yup. She and her mom are camped out in the waiting room at the hospital. I don’t think she’s going to leave until they find out if it worked.”

  “It’s could be four weeks before they know that!”

  “Yeah,” he laughed. “That’s why she’s gonna flunk out of college.”

  “It’s not funny, Tanner! This is what I’ve been saying all along – she needs to be back at college, studying and concentrating on her schoolwork. Ever since Jacob came into her life, her priorities are all screwed up. She’s been completely forgetting about the things that are really important in her life!”

  “Like you?”

  “What?”

  “Isn’t that why you’re so jealous of Jacob? Because you’re afraid she’s going to forget about you?”

  “JEALOUS?”

  “Yes, jealous.”

  “Of Jacob? I’m not jealous of Jacob!”

  Tanner laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not kidding.”

  “I can’t believe you don’t know how jealous you are.”

  “I’m not jealous!” I insisted.

  “Are you sure?” Tanner asked. “He’s Charlotte’s brother.”

  “Half-brother.”

  “Yes,” Tanner agreed. “You’re always very quick to point that out. But the reality of it is, he’s her brother and you’re not.”

  “They share a little bit of DNA,” I said. “So what?”

  “And now they share a little bone marrow, too.”

  “So what, Tanner? That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Are you serious?” Tanner asked. “It means everything! I mean, everybody knows that ever since Greg and Mr. White died, you’ve really stepped in and tried to be like a brother to Charlotte, but . . . now that she’s got another brother – a real brother – what’s she need you for?”

  “That’s stupid, Tanner! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

  “Yeah, it’s stupid,” he agreed, “but I think that’s what your problem is. I think you’re worried that Charlotte’s gonna forget all about you or that she’s going to choose Jacob over you or something – just because she’s related to him.”

  “Well,” I said, “she pretty much has chosen him over me, hasn’t she? So if I am jealous, maybe I have every right to be.”

  “No,” Tanner said, shaking his head. “She hasn’t chosen him over you. She’s just mad at you because you’ve been acting like a jerk. It doesn’t have anything to do with Jacob.”

  I sat for a moment, thinking about what he’d said.

  “I don’t like him,” I finally said quietly.

  “You haven’t given him a fair chance,” Tanner answered.

  ~ ~ ~

  WHEN I HAD been worried about Amber, I’d taken things into my own hands and tried to control the situation myself, never once asking God for help or guidance, even going against what I knew to be His will.

  Now, here I was – just a few weeks after losing Amber – doing essentially the same thing . . . chasing after what I wanted, not asking God what He wanted, trusting in my own abilities instead of asking God for help, doing things that I knew He didn’t want me doing. It was no wonder I was losing Charlotte too.

  This time, when I locked myself in the bathroom to pray, however, things went much better.

  I don’t want to keep screwing up. Please help me to seek Your will first and then help me to know Your will and then help me to do Your will.

  When Laci knocked on the door and asked me if things were all right, I was
able to honestly tell her that they were.

  “I want to go to the hospital and see Jacob,” I told her after I’d opened the door.

  “Now?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Do you think your mom could watch the kids?”

  “I’ll find out,” Laci said, pulling out her phone and heading upstairs. I made my way into the living room and sat down. A few minutes later, she came downstairs with the kids in tow.

  “She said that’s fine,” Laci told me. “I’m gonna take them over there. Are you ready to go now or do you want me to come back and pick you up?”

  “I just need a few more minutes,” I told her.

  “Okay.”

  They’d only been gone for a minute when my phone rang. I’d been planning on praying some more before going to see Jacob, and I almost ignored it. Almost.

  “Mr. Holland?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Stacy Reed with the Department of Social Services, Children’s Welfare Division.”

  “Yes?”

  “We have a child we’d like to place in your home.”

  “Oh,” I said, “I . . . I don’t know if my wife and I are actually interested in taking in a foster child right now. I mean, I know we applied and everything, but–”

  “I believe you know this child,” she interrupted. “She’s an eight-year-old little girl? Her name is Amber Patterson?”

  I could hardly breathe.

  “Is this a joke?” I asked.

  “No, sir. I have her paperwork right here in front of me.”

  “Wait. Who did you say you are?”

  “Stacy Reed,” she said again. “I’m a caseworker with the Department of Social Services, Child Welfare Divi–.”

  “But you’re not Amber’s caseworker . . .”

  “I am now,” she said. “My supervisor assigned her to me this morning and gave me specific instructions to call you for placement.”

  “Why?” I asked. I’d gone from not being able to breathe to hyperventilating. “What happened? Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. I met with her and her current family about an hour ago and she’s fine.”