by Radclyffe
Very softly, Auden kissed her forehead. “And I love you...forever and always.”
As Hays drifted off to sleep, she felt no fear.
*
Auden was awakened by a muted cough. She jumped slightly, turned her head, and almost cried out at the cramp in her shoulder. She’d finally fallen asleep curled up in the chair. Hays’s hand was still in hers.
Rubbing her stiff muscles, she regarded the middle-aged man with dark curly hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, who stood just inside the door. She glanced at Hays, who seemed to be still asleep. The fact that she hadn’t yet awakened was unusual, and she was very pale, almost colorless. Heart twisting, Auden placed her hand protectively on Hays’ shoulder as she looked questioningly at the newcomer.
“The nurses can move a lounge chair in here for you,” he said quietly. “They have some sort of cot, too, if you’d rather.”
“Will I be able to stay?”
“Unless she shows signs of infection or her white count drops dangerously low, yes.” He stepped closer, and Auden saw that he carried a clipboard under his right arm. Flashes of navy blue chinos and hiking boots showed beneath the yellow gown. “I’m Paul Rosenberg, Hays’s hematologist.” He extended his hand.
“Hello. I’m Auden Frost, Hays’s...” Auden glanced at Hays, wondering if there was one word to encompass everything that Hays meant to her. How is it that when it matters the most, words fail?
She met his gaze as she returned his handshake. “I’m her lover.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
Hays stirred, moaned softly, and opened her eyes. Immediately, she looked for Auden, smiling in relief when she saw her. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Auden lifted Hays’s hand and brushed it against her cheek before lightly kissing her fingertips. “How are you?”
“That’s my question,” Rosenberg said with affection as he stepped up to the bed. “Morning, Hays.”
“Hi, Paul.” Hays slowly pushed herself up and blinked several times. “Okay, let’s see. My head feels a little fuzzy but no pain anywhere.” She gave Rosenberg a hopeful glance. “Any chance we can hold off?”
“I’m afraid not.” His eyes were soft with kindness, but his tone unyielding. “The red cell transfusion you got last night will mask your symptoms for a while, but the medications just aren’t stimulating your bone marrow any longer. You need viable cells before a complication develops. You need the transplant now.”
Hays’s hand shook in Auden’s, and Auden squeezed gently.
“Okay,” Hays said steadily after a second. “Radiation this morning and then...?”
“We’ll do the transplant later this afternoon. Your brother called me from the airport. I reviewed things with him, and he’s ready to go. He’ll be here by eleven so we can harvest his bone marrow and prepare the material for transplantation.”
“Is it painful?” Auden asked, feeling as if she had sawdust in her throat. It’s really going to happen.
Rosenberg turned to her. “Not really. Christopher will be sedated for the harvest, and his back will be a bit sore for a few days. Once the marrow is processed, Hays will get something that looks like a blood transfusion through the large vein in her neck.”
“It’ll be okay,” Hays said reassuringly, having heard the infinitesimal tremor in Auden’s voice.
Auden smiled at her. “I know.” Then she fixed Rosenberg with a steady gaze. “And after that?”
“If there’s no temp spike, which might indicate an acute transfusion reaction or some kind of infection, home tomorrow, two days of outpatient chemo, and then...we wait.”
“For what?”
“Evidence of engraftment—uh, signs that the transplanted cells have survived—a rising white count, healthy cells on a blood smear, and eventually a bone marrow biopsy to check for repopulation of Hays’s marrow with normal cells.” He spoke matter-of-factly, watching both Hays and Auden as he spoke.
Hays laughed shortly. “Sounds simple enough.”
“Sometimes it is.” The doctor shrugged.
Auden asked, “When will we know?”
“Two to four weeks.”
“So soon?” Hope resounded in Auden’s voice, and she glanced quickly at Hays, whose expression was guarded.
Rosenberg continued, “For the initial take...success...of the graft, yes. Then, of course, we’ll have to monitor for graft rejection or host reactions or a flare of the original disease.”
Hays turned to Auden. “It will be months, maybe longer, before we really know anything.”
“That’s okay.” Auden brushed her fingers lightly down Hays’s arm. “I can handle the uncertainty, as long as I have you.”
“Well,” Rosenberg said briskly, “the nurses will be in shortly to get some blood for the baseline values, and then you’ll go down for the radiation. I’ll see you both later.” With that, he left.
“Are you really feeling better?” Auden asked as soon as they were alone.
“Pretty much.” Hays swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “I’m tired as hell, but I’m used to that. Nothing hurts.” She stood slowly. “I’d better get cleaned up.”
Auden slipped her arm around Hays’s waist. “Need help?”
“Can you help me get these IVs organized so I don’t hang myself?”
“Sure.” Auden transferred the remaining bags to a wheeled pole next to the bed. “Okay?”
Hays grabbed the pole with one hand and leaned to kiss Auden’s cheek. “Yeah, thanks. I got it. You can shower in there if you want.”
“Hmm.” Auden stroked Hays’s back as they made their way to the adjoining bathroom. “I guess you can’t join me with those lines taped all over you, can you?”
“No,” Hays said with a very healthy grin. “But I can watch.”
*
Three hours later, Hays was back in bed, asleep, after having spent two hours in Radiology receiving a single dose of total-body radiation. While she’d been gone, Auden had taken a cab home, packed an overnight bag, and returned. She’d also picked up some work—final edits on Dark Passions, the next book she intended to publish. She sat in a chair by the bedside, the manuscript propped on her knee, a pen in one hand and the other resting on Hays’s head.
The woman pushed the door all the way open and approached the bed. She looked down at her lover for a long time. The bleeding had stopped, leaving the sinewy planes of her perfect body obscured by fluid pooled in the injured tissue. She sank slowly down on the floor beside the bed, pushed her back up against the wall, and reached her hand up into the hair framing the beautiful face. She closed her eyes and gently let the strands fall through her fingers.
As she read, Auden fingered sweat-dampened locks, her breath stumbling on the jagged edge of pain. Images overlapped, fused, and re-emerged so much sharper as her hand moved over fragile flesh. The damage was so terrible, and now the anguish was palpable, so real—so close.
She thought about the satin-soft skin in the firelight and how it had glowed with perspiration as they made love. She thought about the sharply etched muscles in the sculpted back as she rose above her in ecstasy.
Gently, Auden...
...traced the fine planes of the striking face, remembering how her lover looked just before orgasm.
Her eyes blurred and she...
...sat still for a long time, listening to the quiet breathing.
The words disappeared as the...
...anger flooded her heart.
I will not let you go.
When the door opened, Auden looked up vaguely, still lost somewhere between Rune Dyre’s fiction and Haydon Palmer’s life. A man with Hays’s obsidian eyes, dark hair silvered at the temples, and aristocratic features regarded her with interest.
“Ms. Frost?”
“Christopher?” Auden stood, glancing once at Hays, assuring herself that she was resting comfortably. She’s not bleeding. She’s safe here with me.
He nodded and beckoned with hi
s head to the anteroom outside. Auden followed.
“I’m Auden,” she said when they were alone. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”
“I hope you don’t mind. Abel mentioned you when he picked me up at the airport,” he said as they faced each other in the small space. “Things are moving so quickly, he was just trying to bring me up to date.”
“He told you about Hays and me?”
“Yes. It’s good to meet you.” Christopher looked toward the closed door. “How is she?”
“Worn out, but otherwise all right. I’m so glad you were able to get here so quickly.”
“I’ve been waiting—hoping—for the call. I’m glad it finally came.” He smiled faintly. “We hardly knew each other when she was growing up. There are a lot of years between us, but she’s my sister. Besides, someone has to keep Palmer Publishing going, and it’s always been her baby.”
Auden smiled. “Where’s Abel?”
“Parking. I wanted to see Hays before the procedure. I only have a few minutes, but if she’s asleep—”
“No, go in. I’m sure she wants to see you. And Christopher...thank you.”
He met her eyes, and his held the same intensity she often saw in Hays’s. “I’ll do it a dozen times if we have to.”
“Let’s hope that isn’t necessary,” Auden whispered as he disappeared into Hays’s room.
*
Hays was sitting upright in bed, a new intravenous catheter taped to her chest, when Paul Rosenberg walked into her room five hours later. The large line ran into the subclavian vein just below her collarbone and from there, directly into her heart.
“You ready?” He held up a plastic bag filled with viscous red material.
Hays looked at Auden, and they both looked at him. “Yes,” they said in unison.
He fussed with the line and the bags for a moment and then stepped back, observing the flow of harvested cells into Hays’s bloodstream. “They’ll float around for a while and eventually find their way into your bone marrow. Then they’ll set up housekeeping and get busy reproducing. Smart little buggers.”
“Let’s hope so,” Hays said fervently, watching the slow migration of life into her body. “How’s Christopher?”
“Fine. He’s sore but out of recovery already. Mr. Pritchard took him to your place.”
“Good.”
“I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you,” Rosenberg said as he left.
As soon as he was gone, Hays pushed to the far side of the bed and said to Auden, “Come lie here next to me.”
Carefully, Auden settled beside Hays, taking her lover’s hand and leaning her head on Hays’ shoulder. “Can you feel anything at all?”
“I can feel you,” Hays whispered into her hair, unexpectedly calm and content. “That’s all I need to feel.”
Auden turned her head and kissed the corner of Hays’s mouth. “I can feel something.”
“What?”
“The future.”
“Are we together?” Hays’s voice trembled.
“Oh, yes.” Auden held her lover more tightly. “Forever and beyond.”
*
Three weeks later, Auden steadfastly clung to that belief because she had no other choice. Hope seemed to be all there was left.
“I’m going to admit her for observation,” Paul Rosenberg said quietly. A few feet away, an emergency room technician bent over Hays, drawing yet another blood sample. “She should be showing signs of repopulation by now.”
“And she isn’t?” Auden was amazed at how calm she sounded. Inside, she was screaming. Hays looked terrible. Her color was beyond pale now; her eyes, always so intense, were dim with pain and exhaustion. She’d lost weight in the weeks since the transplant, and, for the past twenty-four hours, had been too weak to leave the house. Now she had a fever, and Auden feared that an infection at this point might be more than Hays could fight.
“Not yet. The chemo and radiation have worked—her bone marrow has shut down, and her own counts are low. That’s the good part. The problem is, Christopher’s cells don’t seem to be flourishing.”
He looked worried, and that frightened Auden more than anything had thus far.
“What are we looking at here?” The question terrified her, but she had to know. She wanted to be ready. Hays would need that.
“If her counts don’t rise soon, she’ll be at risk for hemorrhage and widespread infection. I’ll transfuse her tonight, and we’ll keep a close eye on her temperature.” He gave Auden an encouraging smile. “This may just be a bump in the road. In a week, we could all be celebrating.”
“Isn’t there something else you can do?”
“I’m sorry.” His frustration was evident. “I’ll talk to her.”
“No,” Auden said quickly, grasping his arm. “I’ll tell her.”
As the technician left with her tray of blood samples, Auden crossed to the stretcher and leaned down to kiss Hays’s forehead. Hays’s eyes were closed and her breathing shallow. “Darling?”
Hays’s eyes flickered opened, and she smiled weakly. “I think I fell asleep.”
“That’s all right.” Auden stroked her cheek and managed a smile of her own. “Paul wants to keep you here for a bit.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Your blood counts are low. He wants to be careful.”
“What about the results of the bone marrow tests?”
“The transplant hasn’t kicked in yet.”
Hays studied Auden’s eyes and saw the fear she tried so hard to hide. “Call Gayle, okay? I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Auden replied softly, her throat thick with tears she would not shed. “I’m with you.”
“Auden, please call her.” Hays’s voice was weary but insistent. “I need to know that you’re okay.”
“I’m all right.” Auden bent near and kissed Hays’s cheek again. With her lips close to her lover’s ear, she whispered, “I have you, and that’s all I’ll ever need. I want you to remember that no matter what comes, I’ll be with you.”
“I love you,” Hays murmured. “But I’m so tired.”
“Then you should sleep.” Auden was grateful that Hays had closed her eyes again and could not see her face. She bit her lip and steadied her voice. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Already drifting away, Hays clung to those words and the image of Auden’s smile.
*
“Any change?” Gayle asked softly.
Auden shook her head. Hays was asleep, her face a wash of sweat. The light sheet covering her chest barely seemed to move with each shallow breath. She’s so still. Almost as if...Auden shuddered, the pain so swift she couldn’t breathe.
“Have you had dinner?”
“I...I’m not sure.” Auden tried to think. It had been three days since Hays had been admitted, and Auden had spent almost every minute in the hospital, sitting by her bedside, talking with her when she was awake, holding her hand or stroking her hair as she’d slept. Sleep, however, was something that had eluded Auden. She was afraid to be away from Hays’ side. Desperately, she hoped that her constant presence would lend Hays strength and prayed that her love would ease Hays’s pain.
“Come on,” Gayle whispered, resting her hand gently on Auden’s shoulder. “Thane is coming by to have dinner with me in the hospital cafeteria. You’re joining us.”
“No,” Auden replied quietly. “I can’t.”
“You have to.” Gayle’s voice was fierce, but her touch tender as she brushed her fingers over Auden’s hair. “You need to take care of yourself. You know Hays will never forgive herself if you get sick. Is that what you want, to add to her pain?”
Auden glanced up into her friend’s concerned eyes. “You don’t play fair.”
“Never said I did.” Gayle shrugged. “I love you, and she’ll need you more than ever now.”
“All right,” Auden agreed with a sigh, rising unsteadily. She was h
ungry, and so very tired. “Just for a little while.”
As they stepped out into the hall, Paul Rosenberg unexpectedly appeared around the corner. He was in street clothes and without his usual clipboard.
Auden’s heart rose in her throat, and she grasped Gayle’s hand automatically. It’s after seven on a weeknight. Why is he here?
“Is something wrong?” Auden asked anxiously before he even had time to greet them.
“No,” he exclaimed, a huge smile breaking over his face. “Something is finally right. I just looked at the results of Hays’s latest bone marrow biopsy. She’s finally chimeric...” At Auden’s uncertain look, he clarified. “There are definite signs of transplanted cells growing in her marrow. We’re getting a response.”
“It’s working?” Auden whispered, almost afraid to believe she’d heard correctly.
When he nodded, Auden suddenly felt dizzy. Had Gayle not slipped an arm around her waist, she might have fallen. Instead, she turned her face into Gayle’s neck and let the tears come.
*
“Auden?” Hays’s throat was dry and her head pounded with the dull ache that seemed to be her constant companion whenever she was awake.
“I’m here, darling.”
Hays frowned at the dark circles under Auden’s normally vibrant eyes. “What time is it?”
“Eleven.”
“At night?”
“Yes.” Auden slid the chair forward and tilted the water cup with its straw toward Hays’s lips. “Here. You must be thirsty.”
After Hays managed a few sips, she said, “Thanks. You look tired, sweetheart.”
“Mmm, a bit.” Auden smiled. “I have news.”
“Good news?”
“The best.” Auden couldn’t hide the tears, but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t try. “Paul says the latest bone marrow biopsy shows sign of take. The transplant is working.”