by KH LeMoyne
Her gaze flickered from his card to him and back but she tucked it in her pocket. “If anything happens and if it’s not a conflict of interest, I’ll see.”
“Thanks, Tasha.”
CHAPTER 8
Ansgar walked through the foyer of the busy restaurant and scrutinized the crowd of power suits and hundred-dollar highlights. He waived a hand to dismiss assistance from the maître d’ and pushed on through the closely nestled tables toward one in the far corner.
His sister was as easy to pick out as a thousand watt light bulb in this frenzy of humanity. She and a co-worker were in white tailored shirts, their ID tags hung about their necks. Medical schools must have classes on cloning the professional female doctor look.
He rounded the table, as Briet looked up, puzzled. A second later, she smiled. Two seconds after, she opened eyes wide and reached for her purse to shuffle through the meager contents.
“I’m so sorry. I meant to call.”
Reaching out a hand of welcome to the confused blonde sitting with Briet, he gave her a quick smile. “Hi, I’m Briet’s brother, Ansgar. The person she was supposed to return a call to three days ago.”
The woman retracted her hand with a quick glance to Briet, who looked more guilty than concerned.
Wonder what that’s about?
“Sheri, my brother. Ansgar, Sheri Arnault, one of the other doctors on the trial.”
“Would have figured as much.” He gestured to the ID tags and pulled a spare chair around to sit between the two women. “I promise I won’t interrupt your lunch for more than a minute.”
“You could join us.” Sheri’s smile held a possibility of something more than lunch, but Ansgar shook his head. The woman was attractive with her sleek hair, dark red lipstick, and professionally done nails, but he felt nothing. Not even a spark. He’d given up playing for entertainment value decades ago.
“Must have left my phone in the lab.” Briet was still patting through her tiny purse as if the phone would magically appear.
“Handy. Hard to get the message I left for you if you never have the phone with you.” He dug into his pocket and plunked a cell phone on the table by his sister’s hand with a look.
“I left it at home?”
Her question was more hopeful than it should have been. She knew damn well she hadn’t left it at home.
“No. A Good Samaritan found the phone on a table in the coffee shop in your lab building. They called the first number. Me.”
“Ah, hmm, well.” She slid the phone into her purse with a tiny tap and a quick smile.
Oh, no. Not that easy, sis. Ansgar turned to Briet’s companion. “Sheri, I'll bet you have your phone with you?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t—” Sheri stopped, pursed her lips, and quickly slid her gaze away.
“No. You would probably worry about patients who needed to reach you, family members. Or heaven forbid, if you were in trouble it might come in handy?”
“Stop. I give up.” Briet put her hand on his arm. “I will keep better track of the phone. I will call you later today. I promise.”
“Thank you.” He leaned in, kissed Briet’s forehead, and stood up. “It was nice meeting you Sheri. I’ll leave you ladies to your lunch.”
Briet watched her brother cut a path through the crowd and disappear out the door.
“Your brother seems very concerned about you?”
“He’s protective. Our parents died when we were young. Sometimes he thinks he's my father.”
Sheri’s smile widened appreciatively. “He’s a young looking father.”
Briet bit her lip to keep from laughing. Now she knew why Ansgar had left so quickly.
***
“I don’t think Davis Randall’s up to an interview.” Sandy Rasmerson’s normally perky voice was subdued to a whisper. Jason gave a quick glance over his shoulder to gauge the reason for her concern.
“The shy one?”
She nodded and lifted one shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it and don’t let anyone pressure him. It’s not a big deal.” His words drifted off as he turned back to the crew of two people handling the taping and interview of Mario Sanchez. The questions and process had been smooth up until a second ago. Jason had missed the question, but whatever it was, Mario was upset. Not good.
“Hey, can we take a break for a few minutes?” Jason's look stopped Danielle Fry in mid-sentence. The public relations representative Welson had sent to interview the children gave a not-so-discrete glance toward the clock on the wall, but nodded. The cinematographer, Ed, started to move by and Jason tapped him on the arm. “Those last questions?”
The man faced away from the boy, pretending to fiddle with his video camera. “About the kid’s family, brothers, and sisters. Got him kind of homesick.”
Jason pursed his lips. He’d expected a little more compassion for these interviews, but everybody had pressures and deadlines. “You going out to the lobby with Dani?” He got a nod back. He guessed from the smell of their clothes and the look of the man’s fingers, they were both headed for smoke breaks. “Do you have time to finish up here?”
“I’m good for the rest of the afternoon.”
“Good, let Dani know I appreciate her coming here, but if she’s got another appointment, I’ll pick up the last two interviews.”
“Will do.”
Grabbing a rolling stool, Jason sat down by Mario. The kid had retracted like a turtle, his head down, shoulders hunched, fiddling with two wooden chess pieces clenched tight in his hands. Layers of blond and dark wood swirled in the carvings of the rook and knight. No amount of rubbing would stop this kid’s misery.
“You play chess, Mario?”
The boy nodded, not looking up.
“I have a set at home. My pieces aren’t nearly as nice as those.”
“My dad made these.” The words came out thick with the boy's tears.
“He did a really good job. Can I see one?”
Mario held out the knight and swiped at his cheek with the back of his other hand. A quick attempt to save face, Jason noted, scrutinizing the piece while the kid collected himself. The work was beautiful.
“Do you know how your dad made this?” Jason nudged a tissue box with his elbow to the side of Mario’s chair.
“He had left over pieces of wood, from projects, all different woods.” He sniffled a little and held out the other piece in his hand. “The white pieces have more of the lighter wood and he made the black pieces with more of the darker. He, like…makes the woods fit perfect together…” his palms pressed together. “Then he cuts the blocks for the pieces and carves them and sands them.”
The craftsmanship was incredible. There were no visible seams between the colors. Not even a rough patch. The layering was quality, the angle of color striations almost mathematically technical and the finish alone must have taken hours for each piece. Jason held the knight between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you have the whole set here?”
Mario finally looked at him, his eyes red but wide and alert, sadness gone for a second. “Yeah.”
“Would you mind if we played a game while we talked.” Jason waved a hand at the door. “Not the stuff Ms. Fry was asking, just stuff like if you’ve met the other kids here? Things you’d like to show your friends.”
One side of Mario’s mouth lifted.
Jason handed back the piece. “I know your mom and dad are going to like seeing you on tape. Did you know they receive a copy? I bet your dad would get a kick out of watching you play.” Mario’s smile widened.
There was no need to explain to the boy that the artistry of Mr. Sanchez’s work would make a good marketing tool for his skills. Or Jason’s intent to release a clip of the video to the local news station for a human-interest piece. The kid only wanted to connect with home.
A quick tap at the glass signaled Ed was back. The door opened and Sandy Rasmerson slid in. “How about we have Nurse Sandy get your set and we’ll try again?�
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Sandy gave them a smile and thumbs-up. Briet Hyden’s expression through the large treatment window looked less than pleased. How long had she been standing there? That woman must have an alert for when her patients were having a hard time. Lucky for Mario. Not so much for him.
She left them alone for the interview. Mario beat Jason, and not because he let the kid win. Mario lost himself in the intensity of the game. He spoke of his treatment, his eagerness to see his family, about the other kids he’d met, and his nice lady doctor.
“I’m going to have to get Briet a pedestal,” Jason thought wryly. He leaned back against the doorframe as Sandy got Annie Bremar situated for the last interview of the day. Ed downloaded the footage to his laptop, made a second copy of Mario’s interview, and prepped for Annie’s.
The eight-year-old settled into the big padded chair. Jason watched as she chatted merrily to Sandy while they organized Annie’s artwork in the sequence the child wanted to display them.
The shimmering outline of Annie’s body became a haze before Jason’s eyes.
He blinked and focused again on the girl. The intensity of his stare made him feel as light and transcendent as the image of Annie’s body shimmering before him. He blinked faster and the shimmer disappeared. So did Annie. At least to Jason’s view. What remained was an odd composite of colors and moving parts.
Man, he’d had too much caffeine or not enough.
He didn’t move, concerned the lightness in his body might make him pass out. He couldn’t look away from the image that should be Annie. The colors and shapes diffused, streams of flowing dark scarlet and white and hues in between, aligned with physical contractions of sinew and fibrous tissue.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was seeing Annie from the inside out. The movements and colors, like so much blood and muscle. His vision went deeper. He swallowed against the nauseous sensation of the bottom dropping out of his stomach. Lungs, heart, blood vessels, and tissue gave way to micro views of moving, living cells.
He was both thrilled and terrified, because for a runaway imagination, this was a good as it got. Though the lack of control of his body was frightening.
The bits and miniscule pieces of Annie’s being swirled and pulsed, smaller and deeper until all Jason could see before his eyes were cell bits. Like a vision from a powerful microscope, nucleus, ribosome, and mitochondria moved and danced before his eyes.
Weird and disturbing as that should have been, it was the tiny black threads of a structure Jason couldn’t identify, wrapped like filament in a light bulb around the mitochondria in Annie’s cells, which sent a chill of unease down his spine. The threads didn’t register from any college biology class he had ever taken and he’d had his fair share.
He rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, pressing his eyeballs to erase the odd visions from his memory and his view.
“You okay, Mr. Ballard?”
Sandy’s voice sounded far away until Jason blinked and found her standing in front of him. Her hand was on his arm. Annie, normal as she should be, sat in the chair holding her pictures tight in her hands, waiting.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just…I’m good.” Jason sank to the rolling stool. “So Annie, you ready to show me your artwork?”
CHAPTER 9
Jason squinted at the laptop’s screen, then rolled away from the conference table to stretch his neck. The digital set of the interviews from Ed had been quick and clean, each one tagged by patient and then by question to make them easy to manipulate and splice. His own notes to accompany the segments were turning out to be a lot more time consuming.
“Would this be a bad time to speak with you, Mr. Ballard?”
He glanced up. The formal tone didn’t bode well for Briet’s state of mind, but at least she’d taken the first step and come to speak to him. Her shoulders were set, eyes focused, hands tapping her pant leg. Nope, she wasn’t happy. Jason could bet she was itching to fist her hands on her hips and glare at him.
“Have a seat.” He waved her next to him at the table and reached behind him for the sealed paper cup of hot water and herbal tea bag he had waiting on his desk.
Her eyes widened as he placed them in front of her. “I’m that predictable?”
“When it comes to your patients, yes.”
She unhooked the plastic lid to the paper cup and narrowed her eyes. “It’s still steaming.”
“Just got back twenty minutes ago and I knew you would finish your rounds soon.” He held up a hand. “I swear I’m not tracking your movements.”
“Speaking of video.” She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “Was it really necessary to put those kids through that? Does Welson not have enough PR without brutalizing sick children?”
“I admit it probably came across that way, especially with Mario—”
“Probably? The woman had him in tears.”
Jason held up his hand. “Your promise was you’d come to me and let me try to explain.”
She took a breath, dropped the tea bag into the water, and folded her hands, giving him an opening.
“The majority shareholder’s meeting is tomorrow.”
She raised her right eyebrow.
“I’m presenting these interviews as part of the closing statements on the status of the project. And—” He needed to hurry up. Briet’s brows had drawn together like thunderclouds. “Several of the shareholders, who I’ve already approached for extraneous funds, will be there. The clips are a tool. To validate the money I’ve proposed they commit for the initial procurement and support of a small facility to house parents and siblings while they visit patients.”
Briet’s frown lines smoothed out. “You’ve already spoken with these people?”
“I initiated this discussion a few weeks ago. The clips will be for their PR use, within their own companies or for their own manipulation. I frankly don’t care as long as they pony up the funds.”
“But this trial doesn’t last long enough to warrant purchase of a building.”
“The oncology ward in this hospital is huge, as well as the pediatric wing. Between the two, the family/guest facility would be in full-time operation. Once Welson’s project is completed, the facility will be entrusted to the hospital for this ongoing purpose. For the donors, it’s a viable tax deduction, win-win.”
“You’re playing way out of your sand box, Mr. Ballard.”
“Briet.” He emphasized her name.
She had the good grace to flush with embarrassment. Scaling back to calling him Mr. Ballard wasn’t going to resolve anything between them. Why it was so important to him that she stay open and connected with him, he didn’t know. His reactions went against every rule he set for himself. Right now, he didn’t give a damn. All he wanted was to reestablish balance between them.
“I took this job because I can play wherever I want. As long as the job is successful I get a lot of freedom.”
“Must be fun having all that freedom.”
“Maybe you’d like to try your hand?” He shook his head at her scowl. “There’s a reception after the meeting tomorrow. The shareholders like to meet the doctors, makes them feel like they’re personally influencing the process.”
“Thought they weren’t allowed to personally influence us?”
He laughed. Of all the people least likely influenced, Briet was at the top of the list. “Don’t take any money or bribes and you’ll be fine.”
“Can’t remember the last time I took a bribe.”
“Probably never?”
She pretended to consider and answered soberly, her eyes sparkling. “Yes, never.”
“Perhaps I could induce you to have a late dinner with me after the reception?”
The question took her by surprise. She almost missed putting the wet tea bag down on the cup lid. “Dinner, like…”
“Like eating. Somewhere public.”
Jason couldn’t have prepared for her response. Until he saw her smile, he didn’t realize how h
e longed for it. Sweet God Almighty, she could just lay him low with something so simple. Made no sense, but he knew he’d do anything to see that again.
“Sometimes these functions get out of hand, but we’ll play it by ear.”
“All right. I would like to see what some of the people who support the Welson project are like.”
“They’re very normal, boring even.” He figured she would impress more than a few. The screen saver now swirling over the video clips caught his eye. “I’m sorry about Mario. It was not my intent to make any of the children uncomfortable.”
She dipped her head and he could almost see the thoughts whirl there. When she looked up again it was with a softer expression, her large brown eyes bolstered her smile, once again filled with trust.
“You did very well with Mario. I haven’t seen him let go like that since he’s been on the ward.”
Jason shrugged. “He’s got a lot to worry about and no way to shake it off.”
Briet watched the compliment sink in and the lines of tension around Jason’s mouth ease. The only sign she’d ever detected of his stress. And he was still stressed, though he hid it well. She doubted the cause stemmed from the presentation. If anyone could talk with ease in front an important crowd of people, it would be Jason.
“Does the trust go both ways?” she asked.
Looking wary, he nodded.
“Tell me what happened when you were with Annie?”
With a deep breath, he opened his mouth to reply. She could swear he was preparing for a denial. None came.
“I don’t know what happened. One minute I was looking at her and the next…”
“What did you see?” It was impossible to help him until he waded a little deeper into her world. She needed him to wade a little farther in order to prepare him to accept changes beyond normal human comprehension.
His hand scrubbed over his face. “Nothing that makes sense. Thinking back now, it seems more like a dream or a bad horror movie. You know, seeing body parts instead of the whole person kind of thing.” Pushing the laptop to the middle of the table, he clasped his hands and leaned forward, not meeting her gaze.