by CW Schutter
“Steve isn’t like them.”
Sean nodded. Patrick’s face had brimmed with utter contempt when he’d been asked to be tested. “I have no intention of going through a bone marrow transplant for a stranger,” he snapped.
Katherine’s response was, “So, how many other bastard children do you have, Sean?”
Sean winced at the memory. He didn’t relish being shot down again. “He’ll probably take it better coming from you.”
“Okay.” Susan nodded. “After all, Ashley is my niece. Isn’t this what are families are for?”
Susan was surprised to see a sprawling, gracious home with a long, circular driveway and Range Rover in the garage. Things really changed for Steve.
To her dismay, her heart beat wildly. Oh Steve, why didn’t you love me enough? Why did you finish your hippie stage but never thought to call me?
On her last birthday she’d turned twenty-nine. Even with all she’d managed to accomplish, at times she felt an aching loneliness that tore her apart. In a sea of people, she had no one to talk to, no one to share her highs and lows.
Not that there hadn’t been men. But that’s all they were. Men she pretended to love to make having sex more acceptable. After it was over she was faced with the truth. Love had been a lie she needed to tell herself. Susan didn't want the lie; she wanted a kindred spirit who loved and understood her.
Twice she slept with someone just to fill the void. A combination of too much wine, loneliness, and not enough self-respect. After sex was over, she rested in their arms and tried to enjoy the superficial comfort. Then the lights came on or the sun came out and she was reminded of the tawdriness of her situation. She felt empty and cheap. During those times, she almost hated herself. She often felt like half a person without a mate. And she really was beginning to feel like a loser and an old maid. How pathetic.
Then there was Steve. Their lives had touched for just a moment. Steve was the unfulfilled dream, possibly her soul mate, and once her dearest friend. Now standing outside the door of his gracious, Hawaiian-style home, she felt betrayed. She had thought their lifestyle was the only thing that stood between the two of them. But the way Steve was living made a mockery of that. He never even tried to call to see if they could get back together again.
She rang the doorbell.
An attractive blonde woman in her thirties answered the door.
Susan was momentarily thrown off base again. “Is Steve home?”
The woman stared at her in the oddest way. “Sure. I’ll go get him. Want to come in?”
Susan stepped into a glassed-in living room with soaring ceilings and Ohia wood floors. A massive lava rock fireplace dominated the room. Above it was an enormous canvas so beautiful, Susan caught her breath. She could almost hear Waimea Falls thundering in the midst of verdant foliage and feel the mist cooling her warm cheeks. Mesmerized, Susan walked around the room, enthralled by the magnificent canvasses on display.
“Your encouragement got me started,” Steve’s soft voice said behind her.
She whirled around. Wearing white duck pants and a polo shirt, and looking casually elegant, Steve was a totally different person. Except for his eyes burning a hole in her heart.
“Hello Susan,” he said.
Susan wanted to run and embrace him, but found herself unable to move. “It’s been a long time. You’re looking good.” Too good, she thought, as her hand touched her throat.
“You too.”
For a while, they just stood there staring at each other.
Steve broke the silence by gesturing to some chairs at the bar. “Sit down and let me get you a drink. What would you like?”
Susan sat. “Water would be fine.”
Steve poured two glasses of water. As he handed hers across the bar, their fingers touched. Susan drew her hand away quickly. “Thank you.”
Steve sat down across from her, the granite bar between them. “Did my father send you?”
“Yes.”
“Figures.” Steve raised his glass. “I was hoping you came to see me for yourself.”
“In a way I did,” Susan said. “I could have said no. I’m not his secretary anymore.”
“I know.” Steve looked at her left hand. “You’re not married?”
“No,” Susan sipped her water. “Are you?”
“No.”
“Oh. I thought the woman who answered …”
“Jeanne?” Steve laughed. “She takes care of me. She’s my housekeeper.” A Labrador entered the room and sat next to Steve. He reached down and stroked her. “This is the only lady in my life. Princess, meet Susan. Susan, Princess.”
“She’s beautiful.” Susan put down her glass and ran her fingers on the smooth granite surface of the bar. “Times sure have changed.”
“I grew up and decided to rejoin the world.”
“I can see that.”
“What about you?” He scratched the top of Princess’ head. “What’s happened to you these last five years?”
“Has it been that long since I saw you last?”
“Longer, it seems like a lifetime ago.”
Susan cleared her throat. “I need to tell you why I’m here.”
“Okay, why are you here?”
“Remember my sister Jackie?”
Steve nodded.
“Jackie has a daughter named Ashley. Ashley has leukemia. If we find a match for a bone marrow transplant she has a great chance of survival. If not, she’ll die soon. Our entire family was tested, but we're all incompatible. So we began to look for other possible family members.” Susan took a deep breath. “The most obvious place to look was Jackie’s biological father. He agreed to be tested but was not a match. So we're going to his family.”
“I’m very sorry for Jackie, but what does it have to do with why you’re here?”
Susan took a deep breath. “Your father is Jackie’s father.”
“What?” The sound of his voice seemed to echo in the large room.
Susan repeated, “Your father is Jackie’s father. And we need you to test as a possible donor. Please.”
Steve stood. “My dad? Jackie…”
“We were all shocked.”
“I can just imagine how my mother and Patrick took it.”
“Patrick refuses to be tested.”
Steve put his glass down. “I’m not surprised. He's always been selfish and self-centered. Of course I’ll be tested.”
“Thank you.” Tears came to her eyes. “Time's running out. We have to find a donor. I’d really appreciate it if we could do this as soon as possible.”
Steve walked to her, pulled her to a standing position, and took her in his arms. “I can think of better ways for you to thank me.” He kissed her.
Susan kissed him back with all the pent-up hunger inside her. She felt like she was coming home.
Steve took her hand. “Before you say anything, I want to show you something.” He led her down a long hallway into his bedroom. The natural light from outside flooded the room and lit the paintings on the wall with a soft, golden glow.
Susan gasped. She was on every canvas. “I thought you didn’t love me …”
Steve put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I told you once I've always loved you. Now do you believe me?”
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you call me? Even once in the last five years?”
Steve wrapped her in his arms. “I wanted to wait until I could offer you what you wanted.” His head tilted back a little. “About a year ago, I went to see you. To ask you to marry me.”
“And?”
“When I was crossing the street, I saw you in front of the office building. You were hugging another man.”
“Oh Steve!” Susan frowned. “I don’t even know who he was.”
“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is you’re here.” He held her at arm’s length. “I’ve had to paint you from pictures and memory. Maybe now I can paint you from life.”
“Only if you promise me one thing,” Susan put a finger on the tip of his nose.
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll never let me walk away from you again.”
Chapter Forty-seven
Sean fell in love with his granddaughter. She was beautiful and brave. Despite everything she went through, she always had a smile for him. The chemotherapy made her nauseous and she lost all her hair, but she comforted the people around her, telling them it wasn’t so bad.
“Grandpa, don’t be sad.” Ashley looked up at him with her big, brown eyes. “I know I’m going to get well because everyone is praying for me. I pray every day and I know God’s not going to let me die now that I found a new grandpa and so many new people in my family.” She threw her arms around his neck. “Grandma told me you’re working so hard to find a donor. She says if anybody can do it, you can.” She nuzzled her face against him. “I’m lucky to have a grandpa like you.”
Tears came to Sean’s eyes. It was amazing how much love this child had in her heart to give. How could she love him so fast? And yet, he loved her too. His Uncle Patrick and his mother always said, “Blood's thicker than water.” Maybe there was some truth in that. All he knew was they connected. He thought he could see his mother’s eyes—his eyes—set into Ashley’s olive skin. She was a beautiful girl of mixed blood, the best of all worlds blended wonderfully in her oval face. Even more, she had an amazing spirit and an indomitable will to live. She spread cheer to the people she loved.
Sean was determined to find a bone marrow donor. He couldn’t lose her now that he had found her. Besides, she trusted him and he refused to let her down.
Boston: 1978
Sean drove through the streets of Boston and thought how strange it felt to come here after all these years. He had stayed away, refusing to even pass through the airport. Boston was another life, another time, and he had been another person.
I could have come. I should have come. The words kept rat-tat-tatting in his mind. You just didn’t want to feel guilty.
He pulled up in front of a clumsy brownstone house with a neat little yard and colorful mailbox with the numbers 1452. It was the right address. Getting out, he looked around at the solidly middle class neighborhood lined with maple trees. This was where some of his family lived. Family, yet they were total strangers.
“And whose fault is it?” He could almost hear his Uncle Patrick asking. “It’s your own family you’ve tried so hard to forget. They’re hard-working decent folk who wouldn’t be able to relate to the likes of you.”
He tried to silence Uncle Patrick’s voice. This was why he leased a car and drove instead of hiring the usual limo. No sense shoving their faces in it. He knew what they thought; he used to be one of them.
He walked to the front porch and rang the doorbell. A woman in her early twenties peered through the screen door. “Sean Duffy?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
The screen door opened with a squeak. “Okay, come in.”
Sean followed the woman to a small living room overcrowded with furniture. Lace doilies were on the arm and head rests of the chairs and sofa. About twenty people were gathered in the small living room. Some of them attempted to smile while the rest simply stared at him.
“Nice of all of you to come,” Sean began.
“We came because we were curious about our great Uncle Sean from Hawaii,” a rotund man in his early forties volunteered. “We’ve heard about you all our lives.”
The young woman who opened the door crossed her arms. “Nice of you to finally visit your poor relatives.”
“Hush Megan!” A middle-aged woman in a floral print dress admonished. “Where are your manners?” She turned to look at Sean and offered her hand as she walked up to him. “Maureen Duffy Larson. I’m your cousin, your brother Seamus’ daughter. The mouthy one there is my granddaughter Megan.”
“Don’t be so obsequious.” Megan eyed him up and down. “He’s only here because he needs something from us.”
Sean took Maureen’s hand. “Megan’s right. I’m here because I need something from all of you.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Megan smirked.
“Shut your mouth,” a slender man with glasses scolded. He, too, walked over to Sean and held out his hand. “Ken Larson, the big-mouth’s father. Excuse her. That college education you paid for has made her think she knows everything.” He glared at his daughter.
Megan flopped into a chair with one leg flung over the arm. “I showed them the article about you in Town & Country a few years ago. I told them, ‘Is this the rich uncle who ignores his own family and greases his conscience by offering us scraps here in Boston?’”
“Megan, will you shut up and listen to what he has to say?” One of the men said. He looked at Sean. “Richard, her brother.”
Sean shifted his weight. “Is Sheila here? She’s the one I’ve been talking to.”
“That’s me.” A stout woman in her forties walked over to him and took his hand. “My mother talked about you all the time. Like you were some kind of prince.”
“And you didn’t even come to her funeral,” another voice in the crowd said. “Not that you couldn’t afford to come.”
A murmur began and a young man in his twenties disengaged himself from the crowd and walked over to him. “Christopher Treadwell,” he said without offering him a hand. “Bridgett’s grandson. Not that you care.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have come.”
“Right.” Christopher gave Megan a look.
Megan curled her lip.
“I wanted to forget where I came from,” Sean fumbled. “There were many painful memories here.”
“We can accept that but you should have cared about your brothers and sisters who loved you.” A middle-aged man walked up to him. “Jim Duffy, Seamus’ son.” He extended his hand. “Okay, maybe you didn’t know us. But Aunt Bridgett was your sister. She wanted to see you again. You should have come at least once before she died. Or you could have sent her a plane ticket to Hawaii. I suppose it never occurred to you to do that?”
“It should have and I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t think of it.” Sean shook his head. “It’s not enough to say I’m sorry, but I am.”
“So don’t expect us to greet you with open arms,” Megan announced. “Of course some of my relatives are impressed with your money. But the rest of us don’t care how much money you have, you’re still a stranger.”
Sean’s inclination was to walk out the door right then and there. But he couldn’t, for his granddaughter’s sake. How strange life was. The fate of a girl he didn’t even know a few months ago now lay in his hands. The family had exhausted all other possibilities.
“You have a right to be angry with me,” Sean said. “I acted like I didn’t have a family. Now I’m returning to ask you to help me save my granddaughter’s life.”
Sean’s candor seemed to shame some of them. Maureen spoke first. “At least you’re being honest.” She looked at the rest of the family. “It’s a Duffy trait to be sure.”
Sheila addressed the group now. “I told you all about Uncle Sean’s granddaughter. She has leukemia and needs a bone marrow transplant. A relative is the best bet for a match.” Sheila turned to Sean. “Better late than never to acknowledge you have a family,” she said. Then she did something Sean didn’t expect. She hugged him.
Before he left Boston, Megan apologized. “I’m sorry I acted like such a brat.” She looked down at the floor. “I never did thank you for my college education.”
Sean hugged her. He had never been demonstrative although his family was. The week he spent in his hometown, he embraced more people than he had in his entire life. “It’s okay. You were right, you know.”
“You turned out to be okay.” Megan smiled. “Uncle Sean?”
“Yes.”
“I’m graduating from Georgetown law school this year,” she said.
Sean looked at her with surprise
. Who would have thought this young girl with her ponytail, baggy T-shirt, and blue jeans was almost a lawyer. “I’m impressed.”
Megan played with her sandy brown hair. “I didn’t mean to impress you. I just wanted you to know your money didn’t go to waste. I did so well on my LSAT and my grades in college were so good, I was offered a full scholarship. I’m graduating in the upper ten percent of my class and made law review.” A proud smile lit her face. “I clerked for the Supreme Court last summer.”
“If you ever want to come and work in Hawaii …”
“No thanks.” Megan said. “I want to be a children’s advocate. I don’t suppose I’ll make lots of money, but I’ll be helping others. Do you understand? I don’t want you to think I was only interested in money. I’m interested in helping.”
Sean blinked back tears. He hadn’t cried since he was a child. “I’m so proud of you. I hope Ashley turns out as well.”
Megan reached out and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry Uncle Sean. I’m sorry you didn’t find a match among the clan, but no matter what, it was great everyone got to know you. Everything will be okay, you’ll find someone.”
Sean was tired. It had become his mission in life to find a match for Ashley. Funny, he was closer to this unknown grandchild than he was to his own sons. And he was determined to keep her alive. He spent a lot of time and money looking for possible relatives, even as far away as Europe and Asia, but to no avail. It had been seven months since the diagnosis; time was running out. He was alarmed at how much chemotherapy and medication had weakened Ashley.
His secretary buzzed and he pressed the intercom speakerphone. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Myers to see you.”
“Send her in.” Sean wondered what brought Jackie to see him. Since learning he was her father, she had kept her distance, even though he and Ashley had become close.
When the door opened, he was surprised. “Meg?”
Meg was an ageless beauty in her sixties who refused to dye her hair, electing to let it turn silver. Their affair seemed so long ago. And he had come to realize he was more in love with the idea of Meg rather than with Meg herself.