Love Always, Kate

by D. Nichole King

  During the cart ride, my head began to spin, but I kept my eyes forward, hoping Damian wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t bad, and I could deal with it. I needed to deal with it…at least until the tenth hole.

  I did okay on hole six, considering Damian’s ball landed in the sand trap. While Damian hit solid pars on holes seven and eight, I bogied them both. Normally, I played a tight front nine and tired on the back half. Today, though, the effects of the headache slowed me down.

  One more hole. Hide it for one more hole!

  “All right, Lowell,” I teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

  “Watch out, Browdy,” he said, getting ready to swing. “I plan on tying it up right here.”

  It took a lot of energy to fake how I felt. With the way Damian glanced over his shoulder at me before he swung, I could tell he wouldn’t buy it for much longer.

  When I lined up, the ball blurred below me. I squeezed my lids shut, fighting to maintain control. My hands began to shake. Worried, I cut a stare to Damian for a second, but he was putting his club away and not watching me yet. Taking a deep breath, I swung.

  Thankfully, the wind had picked up and caught the ball, pulling it to the left. I put on a flirtatious smile and batted my eyes at Damian.

  “Nice shot,” he said, his voice low. He wasn’t smiling.

  On the green, I focused harder. The sun stung my pupils, and I wished that somehow I could sink the ball with my eyes shut. I missed the hole twice and felt Damian’s gaze on the back of my neck.

  Judging by his stance and how his blue irises kept popping up to check on me, he putted his ball into the sand trap, missing the hole by a mile.

  “Uh, Lowell?” I said pointing. “That wasn’t even close.” I winced at the pain.

  He bit his lower lip and hurried to dig his ball out. Carelessly swinging, he took two more taps to finish the hole.

  “Forty-three to forty—nine holes to go,” I said, handing him the score card.

  He didn’t take it. Instead he took my hand and led me back to the cart.

  “We’re done.” His voice sounded rough and irritated.

  “Done? What do you mean?”

  “I know that look, Kate. You’ve got another headache.”

  I adjusted my visor. “It’s really not bad,” I assured him. “Please. I can’t let these control my life.” I stared at him, hoping he’d relent.

  Damian handed me a bottle of water, and I took a sip.

  “More,” he demanded.

  I sucked down the rest and gave him back the empty bottle. “Please.”

  He sighed. “One hole at a time,” he said sternly. “If it gets worse, or you pale—we’re done.”

  I nodded. “Fine.”

  Damian studied me for a few seconds like he was trying to see inside me.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking his hand.

  He lifted it to his lips. Then, he drove to the tenth hole.

  I checked my watch.

  He has to be there. He promised.

  When I looked up, Dr. Lowell was standing at the tenth hole with his clubs next to him, ready to play the back nine.

  Damian’s eyes flitted to me. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

  I shrugged. “An investment, remember?”

  He said nothing.

  “He’s your father,” I told him. “And it’s time to make amends. For both of you.”

  “Kate.” Damian voice cracked.

  “I wanted to be here with you, and I will, but I don’t think I can play anymore.”

  “Maybe we should—”

  “No.” The word came out louder than I’d expected, taking Damian by surprise. I swallowed. “Please, do this for me. I’ll be fine.”

  Dr. Lowell walked over and shook hands with his son. I laid my head down in the cart, hoping I’d done the right thing.

  ~*~

  March 22

  Dear Diary,

  I think my plan worked. Unfortunately I didn’t get to be mentally there for the rest of the game, but Damian told me earlier today that his father asked us out for dinner tonight. He seemed genuinely happy about it. Damian’s picking me up in twenty minutes. I haven’t seen him all day, and I can’t wait.

  It’s times like this when I regret my decision to not try the experimental drug. Am I doing the right thing? If it would allow me to live just one more day, would it be worth it? Or would it just prolong the inevitable, allowing those I love to hang on to me and feel the pain a little longer?

  No. I made the right decision. They’ve suffered enough. I’ve suffered enough.

  I stuffed my diary under my pillow and headed downstairs to my parents’ room. Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a pink and black frill top, I dug around Mom’s closet for a matching pair of pumps.

  “Mom!”

  Her head immediately poked around the corner.

  “Do you have anything that will go with this?” I asked, throwing my arms down my sides.

  “You look amazing,” she said, beaming at me.

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to look dorky without shoes.”

  “Where are your black boots?”

  “The heel broke, remember? You took them to the cobbler at the mall.”

  Mom scratched her head. She didn’t remember. Just great.

  From the top shelf of her closet, she grabbed a shoebox.

  “You can wear these,” she said, handing me the strappy rhinestone pumps she reserved for special occasions.

  “Oh, Mom, they’re perfect!” I exclaimed.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them over my pink-polished toenails. Standing up, I admired my feet.

  “Well, Cinderella,” my mother said. “Same rules apply. Home by midnight, or they’ll turn into pumpkins.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that’s not how the story goes. She gets to keep the shoes.”

  “She’s probably still getting ready,” my father said from the kitchen.

  “Well,” my mother said with a chuckle. “Your prince charming is here.”

  Throwing my arms around her neck, I kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Damian’s face glowed when he saw me. He wore a sky blue button-up shirt, casually untucked, and with the sleeves rolled up. As always, my eyes drew to his dimples. They definitely completed the ensemble. Super sexy.

  Taking my hand, he kissed the back of it like a perfect gentleman. “Good evening, beautiful.”

  I blushed when his lips grazed mine.

  We met Dr. Lowell at a Japanese steakhouse in West Des Moines. Damian squeezed my hand as we walked into the lobby where his father waited, sipping on a glass of wine at the bar.

  Jackson Lowell grinned when he saw us. I peeked up at Damian. He returned his father’s smile and the two embraced like old friends. My heart fluttered.

  “You look lovely tonight, Kate,” Dr. Lowell said, nodding at me.

  “Thank you.”

  “That’s a pretty necklace.”

  My hand automatically grasped the Celtic symbol of hope I never took off.

  “Nora would have loved it.”

  Dr. Lowell’s lip twitched at his late wife’s name. He and Damian exchanged glances.

  “She was a wonderful woman. Her sons were the highlights of her life. I just wish…” His voice cracked, and he took a deep breath, his gaze passing from me to Damian. “I just wish she could be here to see what a great man you’ve become, son.”

  Dr. Lowell nodded at me. “She would have loved you, Kate.”

  Damian wrapped his arm around my shoulder and hugged me close.

  “You remind me a little of her,” he continued.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I wish I could’ve known her.”

  “I see her face every time Damian smiles.” The dim light reflected off my doctor’s eyes. I didn’t know if it was my imagination or if moisture had gathered in the corner of one of them.

  He slapped his son on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

  A beepin
g noise sounded at Dr. Lowell’s waist. Damian’s shoulders slumped, and he shifted his weight.

  Dr. Lowell excused himself and stepped outside to take the call. Damian leaned against the brick wall, his hands in his pockets. He focused on his shoes, not speaking. I slipped my arms through the small gap between his elbows and waist.

  “Hey,” I probed.

  He didn’t respond.

  I kissed his cheek and laid my head against his chest. The sound of his heart echoed in my ear, making me wish I could do something to slow the rapid beating.

  The hostess announced our group before Dr. Lowell came back inside. Damian didn’t flinch at the sound of his name. I walked over and told the hostess we’d be there in a minute.

  Damian raised his head when his father came back in. “Hospital?”

  Dr. Lowell nodded. “Yeah. Did they call our table?”

  Damian’s hands slipped out of the pockets of his pants. “Don’t you have to go?”

  Jackson Lowell clicked his tongue. “I told them Dr. Kepler could handle it. I’m spending the evening with my son.”

  Chapter 25

  Damian lay in bed next to me, his fingers gliding up and down my arm. I held his other hand tightly against my chest, kissing it when I needed to feel closer to him.

  It was the first day of April and a thunderstorm raged outside the windows. But it was nothing compared to the one raging inside my body.

  Everything hurt. My head felt like it would burst at any second, and my stomach spun as if a whirlpool were dragging it in a downward spiral to the ocean floor.

  I’d barely made it through my first golf tournament of the year before collapsing in Damian’s arms. He drove me home immediately and put me in bed. Then he called his dad. That was two days ago.

  I awoke several times in the middle of the night with dreams that would scare a zombie with a machine gun. Each time, Damian held me tighter, whispering comforting words in my ear until the fear passed.

  After the last one, I didn’t want to go back to sleep.

  “Damian,” I said, my voice shaking.

  “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

  “Will you take me to the window? I want to see the sunrise.”

  Damian kissed my temple. “If that’s what you want.”

  He slipped out of bed and threw on a t-shirt from the floor. By the time he made it to my side of the bed, I’d managed to sit up a little. Sliding his arms under me, he lifted me up and carried me to the window seat. With Damian behind me, I leaned up against him. He folded me into his arms where I felt safe, where nothing, not even death, could reach me. In the newness of the morning rays, peace spread over me, and I drifted into a restful sleep.

  ~*~

  That evening when I woke up I was back in bed, and the tremors had stopped. Grimacing, I rolled to face Damian. He had a faraway look in his eyes. I caressed his cheek and ran my fingertips over his lips. His gaze shifted to me, the beginning of a smile forming.

  “What were you thinking about?” I murmured.

  Shadows clouded his irises. “Nothing.”

  I rolled a loose lock of his hair around my finger. “Hmm. Liar.”

  He laughed softly. “Yeah. I forgot about that.”

  “Now you have to tell me.”

  Sucking his lower lip between his teeth, he hesitated.

  “I love when you do that,” I whispered.

  He chuckled under his breath. “Dad said if…if a donor wasn’t found soon, that,” he paused, doing the lip-thing again. “Uh, that there’d be more of these days until...”

  His head dropped, and he squeezed his lids closed, fighting back tears.

  “Hey.” I lifted his chin. “Open them.”

  They flitted open, two pain-filled sapphires glistening with moisture.

  “Everything will be okay,” I insisted.

  Damian shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

  “Sure I do.” I kissed his lips, but he didn’t return it.

  For a split second, I thought I saw the faces of Nora and Liam flash in his eyes. Just when he’d finally begun to deal with their deaths, the tide had turned again. When I’d fallen in love with him, dying hadn’t been an option. Now, it was staring me down.

  “There’s still time,” I said softly, tracing the curve of his jaw.

  Bravery. Hope. Courage. Yes, I did those things well. And whether Damian liked it or not, I did bedside manner just as well as his father.

  “Damian, don’t give up on me, because I’m not.”

  His eyes shifted up at the resoluteness in my tone. A chuckle escaped him.

  “You’re cute when you’re serious.”He tucked his arm under my head and pulled me into him. “No way in hell I’m giving up.”

  ~*~

  A week passed, and I stayed in bed three of seven days. I drained of energy faster and faster. Coach allowed Damian to drive me in a golf cart during practices, but I only managed half the course. He started carrying a soda and snacks for me during golf practice—and everywhere else. I usually declined when he offered; he was my boyfriend, not my nurse.

  During meal times, Damian’s eyes bored into me when I pushed my food away, my toddler portion half-eaten. Even writing diary entries was exhausting.

  Every night, Damian carried me upstairs and tucked me in before crawling under the covers beside me. Then, I laid my head on his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin flow through me before falling asleep in the only place I ever wanted to be.

  On Saturday, I had to sacrifice some time with Damian to go prom-dress shopping with my mother. The glow of pure excitement on her face made up for it. Mom acted as if we were going wedding dress shopping. Exhibit A: she’d gotten her hands on numerous prom magazines and marked the dresses she liked before setting them on my dresser.

  An overwhelming number of dresses attacked me in the first store. My mother danced around the racks, grabbing hangers off them at an incredible speed. Did she even stop to check the sizes before she swung them over her arm?

  On the other side of the store, I spotted one through the masses of silk, satin, and tulle, and found an empty dressing room. Not long after I’d locked it, I heard my mom’s voice calling my name.

  “In here,” I said, sticking my foot under the door and wiggling it around to catch her attention.

  After one knock, I let her in. She barreled through the door with so many dresses I couldn’t see her head.

  “What the…? Mom!”

  Within a minute, she had the gowns hung in an organized fashion on the pegs around us—a real Martha Stewart. I barely had room to move.

  “Where do you want to start?” Her girlish excitement made me laugh.

  “Um,” I said, showing off the dress I’d picked out and already had on.

  Mom stepped back to examine me. She made a funny face then shook her head.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I wasn’t impressed either.”

  An hour and a half later, only two gowns hung on the maybe peg. While I rested, Mom held up each remaining dress for my scrutiny; the last one being the most gorgeous dress I’d ever seen.

  Where the strapless gown dipped in the front over grey sheer, beads and rhinestones were interspersed down the bodice. Gathered material, fading from grey to white, wove around the front to the back. Layers of soft, sheer fabric flowed into a pure white skirt with fish-wire creating waves at the hems. A slit in the left hand side of the front ran to the middle of my thigh.

  The delight on my mother’s face said it all.

  I twisted to the mirror and gasped. It was perfect.

  ~*~

  Damian studied me with a smirk when I walked through my bedroom door carrying the dress in a black bag.

  “No peeking,” I said as I hung it up at the far end of my closet.

  He rose to his knees on my mattress, surrounded by homework. In one motion, he swept everything on the floor.

  “I don’t care about the dress. I haven’t been able to concentrate since y
ou left.”

  I stood at the edge of the bed with my hands on my hips. “You need to get your work done if you want to graduate.”

  “I put my name on the top of my math assignment. That’s enough for today.”

  He took my hands and pulled me on top of him. His arms circled me, holding me close. Rolling me to the side, he kissed my neck, and I giggled. Slowly making his way to my mouth, he pressed his lips against mine. His tongue slid inside, and I melted into him.

  My fingers tangled in his hair, and warmth filled me down to my toes. Just being near him set me on fire, but in his arms, kissing him, I was on a whole new level of burning. I kissed him back, allowing myself to absorb every touch.

  Damian rolled me onto my back, stood up, and started for the door.

  I frowned. “Where are you going?”

  Without a word, he shot me a mischievous grin and turned the lock. The tingles cascading down my spine made me shiver.

  Our clothes quickly found their places on the floor. Wrapped up in his embrace, the world faded away. It was easy to forget how quickly time ticked by with Damian’s skin pressed against mine.

  The room evaporated, and with it, all my medications on the nightstand, every reminder of how sick I was, and what the future held. In that moment, all that mattered was us.

  “You’d better get some rest before the party tonight,” he said afterward.

  Oh yeah! I’d completely forgotten about Brennan’s remission party the nurses were putting on.

  Damian leaned over to kiss me. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back up later.”

  He got up, swiping his clothes off the floor and got dressed. I watched him, the pit of my stomach beginning to tighten. He gathered his schoolwork off the floor and offered me a dazzling grin over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.

  Exhausted, and a bit frazzled, I lay back against the pillows, imagining Damian’s lips against mine. I’d give anything to have them back, even for one more second. The pressure in my stomach dissolved into emptiness, and I scrambled to dig out my diary from under my pillow.