by Gina Watson
He rested his palm on her abdomen and gently slid his fingertips up her body until resting between her breasts. “I can’t believe it either. I’ve never known a woman who eats as much as you. Ari could give you a run for your money though.”
“Your sister?”
“Arianna.”
“She’s pretty.”
“She’s a firecracker.” They laughed.
The heat of the sun made them lazy and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Parker kept tabs on the weather and knew that soon the clouds would roll in permanently.
Eventually they dressed and spent the day on the boat deck. Even though the sky was overcast, given Bailey’s fair skin, he drew the sunshades for her to sit beneath. She watched him tinker with rods and various baits. After a while she laid back on one of the deck benches and read from her book. By eleven she was asleep. He let her sleep and lit the grill. Beneath the deck he prepped potatoes with oil and salt, wrapping them in foil for the cooker. He placed them away from the direct heat thinking their slow bake would give Bailey time to wake from her nap.
He covered her with a light sheet and checked the rods and then he sat beside her on the bench. A barge floated by and, as was customary, gave a honk. Parker waved and looked down to the sleeping woman on the bench. He chuckled. The barge’s engines made a loud mechanical sound, not to mention the loud horn blast, but she’d slept right through it.
The line on the fishing rod started to unwind and he jumped up, grabbed his thick fishing gloves and put them on as he walked over to the back of the boat. Whatever was caught was large given the tension. He carefully lifted the rod from its fixed position at the back of the boat and began to reel. The fish fought, but Parker collected the slack with the skills of a master fisherman. When the fish was close to the boat he set the rod into the pocket and grabbed the fish around the toothless jaw and dorsal fin. The slippery fish slithered from his hands and slid across the boat deck. Parker watched as the swordfish flopped and flailed about.
Once settled, he took the fish by the tail, realizing it would provide enough flesh for dinner as well as lunch. Parker got busy filleting and trimming. Once he had the table set with the food, real linens, and a candle he went to wake her.
Gently, he caressed her back. She felt sun warmed and soft. “Lunch is served.”
She moaned and stretched, smiling sweetly up at him. He helped her to her feet and saw the wince she made. She reached for her back and struggled to maintain a standing balance. “Bailey, what is it?”
“My back is a little sore.” She winced again and sucked in air between her teeth. “I just need to walk it out.”
He walked her to the end of the deck and carried her down the steps and into the cabin. When she saw the set table she made a coo of delight. “It’s so pretty. I can’t believe you did all this while I was taking a nap.”
“You must have needed to catch up on sleep.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
He watched her flake some fish onto her fork and place it into her mouth. Immediately her eyes closed and she moaned around the fork. “Mmm, delicious. What kind of fish is this?”
“Swordfish.”
“Oh, the one with a sword for a nose.”
“That’s the one.”
“How did you manage that? Wouldn’t he try to stab you?”
“It did try to, but you have to know where to grip.”
“Oh.” Her dark blue eyes were large and round as she processed the information.
“How do you know it’s a he?”
“Well I don’t think a lady would stab at you with her nose.”
He laughed. “No, I don’t guess a lady would.”
Her cheeks bloomed with color and she looked down at her plate, smiling.
After dinner he put in a movie and indicated she should sit between his legs so that he could massage her back. She’d been nursing that same spot all through dinner. When his hand closed around her lower back she wailed in agony and gripped his arm.
“No, please stop. It hurts.”
“Are you sure you don’t have a kidney infection?”
Her entire body tensed. “I’m going to be sick.”
He helped her to the bathroom and held her hair back while she vomited into the toilet. He wet a rag with cool water and passed it to her. “Thank you. And I’m sorry I’m ruining your boat trip.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It couldn’t be helped.”
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Is it okay if I just lie down for a while on the bed?”
“Of course.”
While she rested he tried out some new baits he’d purchased and learned how to best use his depth finder. He organized his lures in the provided storage box near the helm of the boat and then he spent some time inspecting and lubricating the riggings. At four o’clock he decided to go check on Bailey. He thought maybe they should cut the trip short if she was coming down with something.
“Bailey,” he called as he stood over her at the side of the bed. “Bails.” He shook her, but she didn’t respond. His fingers beneath her nose waited for signs of life and he rejoiced when he felt the telltale signs of her breathing. He sat her up, but she wouldn’t wake. He felt his pulse rising, the blood swiftly coursing through his veins. Gripping her face he gingerly shook. “Bailey.” When he got no response he tapped her cheek with his hand. “Bailey!”
Fear seized him as he climbed the rungs of the ladder and slid across the deck. He flipped a switch to begin the process of reeling in the anchor. While he waited he ran across the deck and back down to the cabin. She was in the same spot. “God Bailey, please.” He pulled her into a sitting position and her head popped back, eyes rolling upward until only the whites showed. “Bailey.” He choked. Dropping her onto the bed he ran up top to check the status of the anchor.
He fixed the course for the Grand Isle dock and set the boat at top speed. With Bailey lifeless below deck he felt utterly helpless as he steered the fast-moving vessel closer to land. He forced himself to keep his sanity. There was absolutely nothing that could be done out on the water. Crippling panic washed over him when he recalled that he’d looked up the nearest emergency facilities—Brook Meadow, twenty-two miles north.
After a grueling twenty-five minutes he began to see the colors switch from deep to shallow on the depth meter. Sweat beaded on his otherwise cool skin as he reduced speed to allow for the shift in density. Expertly, he pulled the boat into the dock. As soon as he killed the engine and dropped anchor he went for Bailey. Completely ignoring the stairs he jumped into the cabin. He put her over his shoulder and grabbed his keys and wallet from the kitchen counter. He saw their phones and scooped those up as well.
At the truck he fastened her into the seat. He drove as fast as his truck would go, his focus laser fine as he drove over one hundred miles per hour on the small gulf expressway, only removing his right hand from the wheel to check her pulse. It was low, but he felt the kick.
Relief washed over him as he squealed to a stop in front of the small emergency clinic. He leapt from the truck and ran around to her door. Unbuckling her was difficult because his fingers shook so badly. Finally he pulled the top of the belt over her head and lifted her from the seat. He ran in, frantic, and screamed for some help. A young man came running down the hallway.
“Bring her back.” He motioned and Parker ran with her in his arms. He turned the corner to be met with a small clinic room and a desk where a woman sat behind a computer.
This was it? “Please, is there a doctor?”
“I’m a nurse practitioner,” the boy from the hallway answered. “Name’s Joe Babineaux.”
No! He was a child. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s been like this for a while.”
He patted an examination table. “How long?” Parker laid her down gently, the paper crinkling in his ears when she made contact with the table.
Parker’s thoughts were fuzzy. He couldn’t say how long e
xactly because she was napping. “I don’t know. She went down for a nap and when I went to check on her she wouldn’t wake up.”
“Did she come into contact with any insects or reptiles?”
“What? No.” God, he wasn’t helping.
“Is there a history of medical problems?”
“Yes. Yes, there definitely is.”
“What?”
“Huh?”
“What are her medical problems?”
“I don’t know.”
Joe looked at him, his mouth gaping. “She wouldn’t tell me … I don’t know … she sometimes has marks on her arms.” The phones! He needed her sister. Without explanation he ran from the clinic room, down the hallway, out to his truck finding it haphazardly parked and with the driver and passenger side doors left open.
He reached for her phone. Fuck! The screen was locked. She had one of those new-fangled phones with the thumbprint device. He ran back inside and into the room where the doctor was listening to her heart. Parker isolated her thumb and held it to the spot. It took a few tries because his entire body shook.
He found Maura’s number under favorites and called.
“Bailey! Jesus, I can’t—”
“It’s Parker. Bailey’s not responding. We’re at a clinic. I need to know what’s wrong with her.”
“Oh, God.” Maura choked. “She’s in the acute stages of renal failure.”
“Acute renal failure.” Joe grimaced. Maura was talking, but Parker could no longer process her words.
“We’re not equipped to deal with this. I’m going to have her medically transported.”
Joe walked out of the clinic room and Parker could hear him making arrangements for a helicopter transport. Parker looked down at her arched, rust-colored brows and pale-pink lips and reached for her cold lifeless hand. He squatted, resting his elbows on the examination table. It was strange to observe her so still when she’d been so full of life before. Her hand in his, he brought them to his lips and whispered a prayer.
“Helicopter will land within minutes right out front.”
The T-shirt she wore didn’t cover her as well as Parker would have liked. “Do you have something I can put on her?”
Joe passed Parker a set of green scrubs. Before Parker had the drawstring on the pants tied, he heard the whir of blades outside.
He carried her out to the copter.
“Excuse me sir, we’ll take it from here.”
A paramedic removed her from his arms and placed her on a gurney. “I’m going with her.”
“Are you family?”
Parker didn’t know if he’d be allowed to go if he weren’t, so he said the first thing that popped into his mind. “She’s my wife.”
Joe quirked a brow at him, but left it at that.
He watched the paramedics tend to her and felt like a scientist watching rats in a maze. They moved around her body, but there was no status change to be had. He couldn’t hear what they spoke about, but the bead of sweat traveling down one of their faces and the grim demeanor of the other told him they were at a loss.
Bailey’s phone buzzed. Not knowing if it was allowed or even safe to operate a cell phone in the copter, he switched it off. He sat hunched over with his face in his hands. How could this be happening?
He constantly thought about her—he’d even dreamed about their future together. He knew his family would love her fresh spirit. He’d thought of so many things he wanted to show her—the city mouse. In turn, she’d show him a few things about the big city. Excited about the possibility of a trip to New York, he’d planned to gift her with airline tickets.
She’d tried to warn him. It was why she never wanted any romance—because she had acute renal failure. The only thing he knew for sure was something wasn’t right with her kidneys. Kidneys filtered blood. What did it mean if your body couldn’t filter it’s own blood? He had no idea. He wanted to ask one of the paramedics, but it was extremely loud and they wore cans over their ears. Desperation gnawed at his bones. He was helpless and he’d never felt that way before. He was a fixer, a doer. If something was needed, he provided it. But what could he do for her?
They put the helicopter down in New Orleans. He hadn’t thought of that. He figured they’d go on to Baton Rouge. A team of doctors met them on top of the building. With efficiency they procured her body and wheeled her one way while he was steered in a different direction by a petite woman in a white lab coat.
“I’m Nurse Williams.” She led him to a private office where she gestured to a chair across from a large synthetic wood desk littered with stacks of folders. “We’ll get your wife processed and into the system. Would you like coffee or water?”
“No.”
“Okay, let’s get started. Do you have insurance?”
“She does. In our haste I left everything behind.”
“That’s quite all right we can work around that.” She typed away on a keyboard with proficiency. “What is your wife’s full name?”
“Bailey Rose Jones.”
“B-A-I-L-E-Y.” She spelled as she typed.
He nodded. “And what is her social security number?”
Her social. Shit. He had access to her personnel records. He could access that system from the internet, but he didn’t have a computer. “Give me a moment.”
He dialed her sister.
“Parker!”
“Hey, we’re at Tulane Medical Center.”
“Tulane! We went to Baton Rouge General. I’m coming.”
“What’s her social?”
Through Maura he related all of the information the nurse needed and learned that Bailey had missed her dialysis that day around lunchtime. To be with him, she’d missed her appointment.
He was escorted to a private waiting area where the surroundings were nicer than anything he’d ever experienced at a hospital. The staff still referred to him as Mr. Jones, but he didn’t correct them. He wanted to be at her side so he’d continue the ruse even if the punishment were death by lethal injection.
His mind continued to work overtime. If she’d undergone dialysis, maybe she’d still be full of vigor, sparring with him about everything with her quick wit and biting tongue. Why had she not undergone transplant surgery? Was that even a possibility? Would she wake up?
Nurse Williams quietly entered the room. “Here’s the remote to the television. When her sister arrives will you please show her to my office?”
She had asked him about power of attorney to make end of life decisions on behalf of Bailey. He’d panicked, but Nurse Williams assured him it was standard admission protocol to obtain the information. Parker figured Maura would have been placed in the position to make that decision and he related his thoughts to the ever-efficient Nurse Williams.
“Nurse Williams, has Bailey fainted or is it something more? Is she in a coma?”
“I don’t have any information—”
“Yes, you said that before, but could you please find out for me? Or if not, at least tell me when I can see her.”
She sat across from him, a serious look on her face. “Mr. Jones, right now they’re running tests on your wife. It’s imperative that a good baseline be established so that they know exactly how any treatment applied will impact her body. As I mentioned, I have not received an update on her status. From experience I can tell you she is probably in exploratory surgery, the integrity of the organ is being assessed. Once she is out of surgery information will come and you’ll get to see her.”
The too quiet room she left him in was maddening. He turned on the television to escape the silence. He’d wanted to ask more questions, but he’d been unable to voice them. He wanted to know why she’d been so lifeless. If she was in surgery that meant she was alive. Didn’t it? What if she wasn’t? How long would he sit here while her body lay dead? He rested his elbows on his thighs, dropped his head into his hands, and cried for her—for them.
Would she ever be warm in his arms again? Would she sigh
around a spoonful of something tasty? Would he ever hear her soulful giggle? See the sun light her hair aflame? God, if only he’d known. He’d have obsessively seen that she received all the treatments she needed. He would have found a solution for her. Purchased her a kidney no matter the cost. If—only—he—had—known. He didn’t know how long he’d sat in that room. The shadows from the windows had grown dark and several episodes of a law drama had aired. He leaned back and closed his eyes, his lashes wet from tears.
A knock on the door preceded two men in scrubs.
“Mr. Jones, I’m Dr. O’Rourke and this is Dr. Adams. We’ve got Bailey on dialysis. One kidney is completely nonfunctional while the other is functioning at about thirty percent. If she can’t get a transplant soon I’m afraid her prognosis is not good.”
They watched him, but he just stood before them, mouth agape, speechless.
“Nurse Williams is checking her status on the united organ sharing network to see where she is in the process, but in my experience, only a fraction of kidney transplants come from donors outside of friends or family.”
“Friends?”
“Usually a family member, less often a friend will donate one of their kidneys.”
“One kidney.”
“A person only needs one kidney to live so to give the other doesn’t affect a healthy person.”
“I’ll give a kidney.”
The doctors looked at one another. “We assumed you would have already been tested as a possible match.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“A few simple tests can tell us if you’re a tissue match.”
Dr. O’Rourke turned to Dr. Adams and told him to put a call in to the lab to ensure someone would stay to process tissue samples. “If you’d like to come with me we can get started.”
An hour later he’d traded his clothes for a surgical gown. He laid on his stomach in an operating room while a nurse pinned his gown and sheet so that only the kidney portion of his back was exposed. Dr. O’Rourke used an ultrasound to locate Parker’s kidney.
“Looks good. I’m going to inject a local anesthetic so you may feel a slight sting.”
Fuck, it burned. He loved Dr. O’Rourke’s slight sting summation. Parker didn’t care how much pain he had to endure. Saving Bailey was worth his ultimate death.