by Nan Dixon
All the more reason for her to skedaddle. “Wish I could.”
She kissed his cheek and escaped. No way would she stick around. She didn’t want to see Daniel. Not yet.
* * *
DANIEL STEPPED INTO Pop’s hospital room. Mom was in the lounge chair and Nathan stood next to the window.
“Good. You’re all here.” Dr. Lageson pushed two rolling stools into the room.
Nathan leaned against the windowsill and Daniel took one of the stools.
“Samuel, we’ve confirmed your myelodysplastic syndrome diagnosis. We’ve staged you at between low risk and intermediate one.” Dr. Lageson showed them the chart and handed out pamphlets titled “MDS.”
Mom and Pop both asked questions while he and Nathan listened.
“Your bone marrow isn’t producing fully developed red blood cells. Your blasts, or blood cells, are immature when released into the bloodstream, and therefore not as effective as they should be. This is why you have the bruising, shortness of breath and fatigue. It caused your fainting spell yesterday.”
Daniel glanced at the nasty bruises on Pop’s arms from the IVs.
“There’s more questions than answers about your disease,” the doctor added. He talked and talked. His words blended into meaningless medical tech talk. Something about how rare the disease was and how very little research was occurring.
“So how do we beef up my red blood cells?” Pop asked.
“You’ve already had your first transfusion. You’ll have frequent blood draws to determine when you need the next one. And we’ll give you drugs to help produce higher-quality blood.”
“Transfusions can cure his disease?” Daniel asked. “I’ll donate blood.”
Dr. Lageson shook his head. “It’s to make him feel better.”
“But how do we fight this...thing...in my body?” Pop waved a hand over his chest.
Mom linked her hand with Pop. They looked expectantly at the doctor.
“Supportive care is administered until the disease progresses to the intermediate two stage.”
“What’s supportive care?” Nathan asked, coming closer.
“We eliminate the symptoms.”
Daniel tilted his head. “But you do nothing about the cause?”
“There is no cure. When patients progress to leukemia, we start chemo.” Dr. Lageson tapped his thigh. “MD Anderson is doing a lot of research on MDS. You might be eligible for a trial, instead of treating the symptoms.”
“Is it nearby?” his mom asked.
“Houston,” the doc said.
Nathan shook his head. “There’s nothing closer?”
“Not really. I’ve had other patients participate in their trials.” He smiled. “They’re good at what they do.”
Daniel swallowed. His mother shifted closer to Pop. Nathan’s face paled.
“So, I’d go to Texas for treatment,” his dad said slowly, as if he was testing the words.
His parents held hands so tight, the skin whitened around their knuckles.
“If you want to pursue this path, yes. You’d have to be evaluated to see if you met the trial criteria.”
The seriousness of his dad’s disease smacked Daniel like a two-by-four. His doctor could ease his symptoms, but if they wanted a chance for remission, Pop would be part of an experiment.
“I’m discharging you today,” Dr. Lageson said. “But no running around.”
“Fine.” His dad scowled.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t.” Daniel never wanted a replay of Pop’s fall. “You sure you shouldn’t keep him here for another week or two?”
“No.” The doctor laughed. “This morning you received Procrit to help your bone marrow produce healthier cells. But it takes time. If you’re dizzy, you need to pay attention. No more falls.”
Mom nodded her head. “I’ll keep my eye on him.”
“Spend the next few days deciding what you want to do.” Dr. Lageson handed him a business card. “Call me with any questions. I want you to have all the information you need to make this decision.”
There was no cure.
Daniel went to his mother and stood with his hand on her shoulder. She patted his hand.
“Can I get dressed?” Pop grumbled.
“Yes. The nurse will come in with your discharge orders and one more prescription that needs to be filled.” The doctor left the room.
As they helped Pop into his clothes, he said, “You just missed Bess.”
“She stopped in?” His chest ached. Had he done the right thing by sacrificing their relationship for the good of the family business? He didn’t know. But he’d done it. Now he’d live with the consequences.
“I’m proud of her going out on her own. She’ll do well.”
“Going out on her own?”
Pop tilted his head, frowning. “She’s starting her own company. Get her to bid when we have landscaping needs. That’s an order.”
“Sure.” As if she’d want to work with him.
Pop flirted with the discharge nurse while he held Mom’s hand. Daniel and Nathan hung next to window.
“You feel free to slap his sassy face if you need to,” his mother said.
“How do they do it?” Nathan’s face was as drawn as Daniel’s felt. “How do they stay so positive?”
“I don’t have a clue. I can barely talk and Pop’s over there flirting with a nurse and Mom’s chiming in.”
Pop pointed a finger at them. “Go back to work. Mom and I are heading home.”
“We can come with you,” Nathan said.
“And let me stare at your doom-and-gloom faces sitting around, drinking my beer? Go back to work. Mom wants you home for dinner. We’ll talk then. But if you walk in and look at me like I’m on death’s door, bring your own beer.”
Daniel hugged him. “Love you, Pop.”
* * *
DANIEL DROVE TO Carleton House. Pop wanted him to work. He would work.
No cure.
When he’d first researched anemia, he hadn’t worried. The docs could load Pop up with iron and he’d be as good as new. When MDS was diagnosed, he’d assumed the doctors had more knowledge than what was available online. But this—he’d never imagined Pop passing out. He’d never imagined there was no cure.
Time to smash something before he went crazy. He grabbed his tool belt.
Bess stood on a ladder, attacking an overgrown vine next to the carriage house. She was a magnet, pulling him closer. He’d be able to talk to Bess about his dad. She’d understand.
“Hey.” He set his hands on the ladder to steady it as she leaned to the side.
“Daniel.” Her voice was icy. Her coolness added another layer to his numbness. “Do you need something?”
He shook his head. He’d blown it. He shouldn’t have bothered her. “Sorry to interrupt.”
She looked at him. Shock rolled across her face. She rushed down the ladder, dropping her clippers to the ground. Grabbing his hand, she held on. “Did something happen? How’s your dad?”
“We got the biopsy results. Pop... Pop...” His voice sounded as rusty as the old light fixtures Bess had insisted she could reuse.
“Daniel.” She rubbed his arms. Her warmth couldn’t break through the cold fear encasing his heart.
“There’s no cure.” His voice cracked. “Everything I read sounded more hopeful than what the doctor told us.”
Bess stared up at him. “Oh, Daniel.” She pulled him into a hug.
He inhaled her scent, trying to clear out the hospital’s medicinal stench. He clutched her to him, stealing her comfort like a thief.
She squeezed one more time, then pulled away. Leading him to the bench under the live oak, she asked, “What can they do?”
&nbs
p; She let him tell her about it. Let him ramble. Every now and then she touched his hand. He longed to lace their fingers together and just hang on. Let her serenity wash over him.
But he’d erected the walls between them. For the sake of his family, he needed the walls in place to keep the business running.
“The doctor made a point to tell Nathan and me it wasn’t genetic, as if our first thoughts were about ourselves.” Disgust filled his voice.
“I’m sorry,” Bess said. “Does Samuel know what he wants to do?”
“He and Mom want to talk about it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to hope for. Doing nothing feels wrong. But heading to Texas...”
“Are there other options?” she asked.
“They would keep him comfortable and treat his symptoms. Once his condition gets worse, he’d end up on chemo.” He let out a breath. “It’s that or become a drug-company guinea pig and enroll in a clinical trial.”
“If the drug companies know the most about the disease, that’s what he should do.”
Peace settled inside him. Bess was like the eye of a hurricane, calming and gentling him. He was wrong about her making him crazy.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
What was she sorry for? He stared into her eyes. They were a pale green today, with sparks of gold. He leaned closer, wanting to kiss her and make everything disappear for a while.
“What can we do to help?” she asked.
We. Her words stuck like the sharp pain of a splinter. She was talking about her sisters—not just herself. He’d messed that up by ending everything with her.
“You have.” He let go of her hand. He didn’t even remember grabbing on to her. “It helped having someone to talk to.”
“Daniel.” Her hands folded in her lap. “If you and Nathan worked through your issues, you could talk to him. You could be there for each other.”
He stared at her. “I told you what life was like growing up with Nathan.”
“You were young.” She placed her hand on his arm. She always touched her sisters, or him or even Nathan. “I can’t imagine what life would be like facing problems without my sisters. Talk to Nathan. You need each other.”
“We weren’t that young.” Not enough years had elapsed for him to forget Nathan’s antics slashing through the family like a ripsaw.
“I have to work.” He shook his head. “Thanks for listening.”
Her fingers slipped off his arm. “Whatever we can do to help your family, we’ll do. But you should reconcile with Nathan.”
He got the message. He couldn’t rely on Bess anymore.
* * *
DANIEL UNLEASHED CARLY and she ran back to the family room—to Pop.
“Come here, girl.” Pop’s voice sounded stronger and he looked healthier than he it had in weeks. The magic of a blood transfusion.
Sometimes Daniel couldn’t believe his father was ill. No. He wouldn’t whitewash it. His father had cancer.
He headed to the back of the house. The table was set with Mom’s happy dishes. Flowers on the hutch added sparks of color to the room. “Smells good back here.”
“I threw stew together.”
She tipped her cheek and he kissed her before moving to the fridge. “Want anything?”
She shook her head. Worry lines formed around her eyes. “Samuel. Do you need anything?”
“I’m good,” Pop called.
She cut out biscuits. “Sit with your father. I’ll call when dinner’s ready.”
Nothing in the fridge appealed to him, but he grabbed a Guinness, knowing Mom would have put some in the stew.
Nathan filled the love seat. Daniel sat on the floor. Carly scrambled down, gave him a lick and then leaped back onto Pop’s lap.
“I don’t know who that dog loves more,” Daniel said.
Pop rubbed between her ears, making her collar jangle. “She’s a good dog.”
Nathan’s eyes were hooded. Or were they glazed? Had his brother headed to the nearest bar or gone to a job site like Pop had requested? Why did Bess keep insisting they resolve almost fifteen years of animosity? It wasn’t happening.
“I’m applying for the clinical trial.” Pop’s voice was strong and certain.
“Really?” Nathan sat up.
Pop gave a nod. “I want to fight this—” his hand waved around his body, making Carly bark “—this thing messing with my body.”
It was as if someone had taken a load of plywood off Daniel’s shoulders. “Great.”
“I’ll kick this bastard.” Pop’s jaw flexed. “Since I can’t do it by getting transfusions, I’ve got to go where they have the right tools.”
Daniel touched his dad’s leg. “Fantastic.”
“I called Dr. Lageson. He’ll let me know when I can go to Texas.”
They talked about Houston and the trial.
“What if you don’t qualify?” Daniel asked.
“I have to believe.” Pop’s voice was steady. “I’d rather beat this now than have to wait.”
Mom wrapped her arms around him from the back of the chair. She brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Time for dinner.”
As he and Nathan got up, Pop pulled her in for real kiss.
During dinner, Pop cracked jokes and Mom was a rock. Nathan vowed to work harder.
Daniel put up a great facade, but inside? He was as out of control as a hurricane. He no longer had anyone to confide in or support him.
Without Bess, he was alone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.
William Shakespeare
“I’M BIDDING ON another project,” Bess told Abby and Dolley. They’d gathered in the Fitzgerald House kitchen and were nibbling on wine-tasting leftovers.
“A landscaping bid?” Dolley pointed at the last prosciutto-wrapped fig. “Anyone want that?”
Both she and Abby shook their heads. Bess didn’t think she could put anything else in her churning stomach.
“I sent Jamie Gessler a bid for his Hilton Head project yesterday.”
“Good for you.” Abby rubbed her arm, pouring prosecco in her flute. “We can celebrate now and when you get the bid.”
She glanced at Dolley. “Once Devon gets my company set up, my work can’t affect Fitzgerald House?”
“No. Any liability will remain with you,” Dolley explained.
Bess chewed on her nail. “Good.”
“You should pick up insurance, too,” Dolley said. “Did you build enough cushion to pick up coverage?”
“I did, but it’s based on what Cade and I always used.”
“I’ll have our agent get in touch with you.”
Oh, my. This was really happening. “Thanks.”
“I’m so proud of you.” Abby tipped her glass toward her.
Dolley did the same. “To your success.”
“I love you guys. Now let me show you what I’ve been noodling.” Bess pulled out the spreadsheet she’d worked up for this meeting. “I want to use orchids in the guest rooms instead of bouquets.”
“We discussed this before.” Abby frowned.
“It merits another discussion. When Carleton House opens, our flower expenses will double.” She handed her sisters the costs she’d pulled. “With that money, I could buy a new orchid each week. Maybe even two.”
“But the sunroom is already packed with plants.” Abby tapped her fingernail against the wine bottle. “Where will you put them when they’re not blooming?”
“In the rebuilt greenhouse.” Bess straightened her shoulders. “The flower savings will pay for the cost in thirty months.”
She walked her sisters through the numbers.
“H
ave you talked to Daniel?” Abby asked.
“Why?” Had Abby guessed she and Daniel had—whatever the two of them had had?
Abby frowned. “To see if his crew can fit the work in.”
“Oh. No, not yet.” She took a sip of wine to cover her nerves. “I wanted to talk to you two first.”
Dolley and Abby asked questions.
“I say we do this. It makes economic sense.” Dolley toasted Bess. “Good thinking.”
Bess nodded to Abby. “Well?”
Abby rocked her head back and forth. “We’re asking Gray to put up more money.”
“Not much.” Bess wasn’t backing down this time. “We’re salvaging more lighting than we planned.”
“I hate cleaning rusty lights.” Dolley pouted.
“Too bad.” Bess figured she’d end up doing most of it anyway.
“Okay. Yes to moving the greenhouse up. I’ll talk to Gray.” Abby pointed at Bess. “You talk to Daniel.”
“Good. Great.” Her stomach did somersaults at the thought of talking to Daniel. But they had to work together. And she had to show him he hadn’t destroyed her.
If she kept working and moving, eventually she’d heal.
To her sisters she said, “Now let’s talk about Carleton House’s decorating schemes.”
* * *
BESS STOOD IN the middle of the old greenhouse. Her coffee churned in her stomach. Her knees wobbled a little.
Maybe she should have waited a couple of days before asking Daniel to give her a bid. She wiped at her cheeks, hoping the wetness was from fog and not tears. She would not let Daniel see that he’d ripped her out by the roots and she was trying desperately to replant herself. She had to concentrate on next steps, not the fact that Daniel thought she was a luxury he had to trim away.
Weeds hid the foundation. The steam from her coffee mug rose and mingled with the mist, the damp blanket muffling the sounds from the streets. Fitzgerald House’s lights were dim twinkles sparkling through the gray fog.
Would this be enough space? She paced between the footings. To get a better sense of the size, she decided to clear the space.
Her weed whip hummed as she worked around volunteer vines and small trees. By the time she’d cleared the inside perimeter, trucks rumbled into the yard. She peered through the fog. Daniel. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.