I’d do anything for her.
So with a reluctant smile, I said, “Okay.”
Her eyes closed and she let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, dear.” She leaned forward, kissed both cheeks, and pulled me into a hug.
Maybe if those kids who made fun of me took half a second to think about all the amazing things their mothers did for them, they’d have done the same.
Despite my love and respect for her, I couldn’t rid myself of my suspicions. Randomly donating a kidney, to a stranger no less, was not normal. There was zero chance this woman was doing this out of the goodness of her heart. I understood my mother’s desperation, but my guard would definitely stay up.
The fact that we knew my own father wouldn’t even consider giving me a kidney made trusting a stranger’s decision to do it ten times harder.
I smiled and found genuine ease in her happiness, assuaging her worries and giving her peace of mind, but I secretly vowed to figure out what this woman could want, and to make sure she didn’t get it.
Like ripping off a Band-Aid. That was how I had to treat this.
I had been toying with the idea of becoming a living kidney donor for over six months. When I first told my family they were relatively supportive, but somewhere in the back of their minds, I was sure they’d thought they could talk me out of it. Maybe given enough time and persuasion they could have, but not after I met Catherine Blake in that chapel.
I was a believer in signs. And that was most definitely a sign. A large, flashing, neon sign that I was meant to do this.
As I got out of my car, I straightened my dress and tucked my long, chestnut brown hair behind my ears before making my way up the driveway. I cut across the perfectly manicured lawn and knocked once on the large wooden door, stepping through without waiting for an answer.
“Mom? Dad?” I called out, shrugging off my light jacket and hanging it on the coatrack. It was mid-May in Boston but some of the bitter cold was still hanging on.
After I left Dr. Moore a week and a half ago, I grabbed my sister’s things and hightailed it to her room, almost an hour after I was supposed to arrive. No one noticed; everyone was too wrapped up in Calla and Mirielle. I didn’t bring it up, letting Calla and Kent have their moment.
The doctor called the next morning so we could begin setting up appointments, and within a week the tests were done. When Dr. Moore called yesterday morning and told me I was a match, I knew I had to come clean to my family.
My sister had been discharged a couple of days after delivering. Thankfully Kent worked for an awesome company that granted new fathers two weeks paternity leave. I knew my parents were dying to go over and hover, but Kent made it clear they wanted some time to themselves. Besides, we all knew Calla would call if something was really wrong. There was no way she’d risk her child for anything.
I walked into the kitchen and found my brother, Aster, sitting at the counter, shoveling cereal into his mouth. He may be a couple months short of thirty, but he had no trouble reverting into a teenager. Aster lived in New York City and had come up once Calla went into labor. He had been saving to take two weeks off, and was staying with our parents until he left in a couple days.
“What’s up?” he mumbled.
“Nothing. Just needed to talk to Mom and Dad about something.”
He sat up straight, a suspicious glint in his eyes. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“I know that look,” he said, pointing his spoon my way. “Nothing good ever comes from it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“So where are they?” I asked.
“Don’t know about Dad, but one guess where Mom is.” Aster tilted his head toward the backyard. Chuckling, I smacked a kiss on his cheek before heading outside.
My mom lived for her garden. She loved growing fruits, vegetables, herbs, and pretty much anything she could. But nothing surpassed her love for flowers. It was no coincidence that me and my siblings were named after flowers. Well, actually, mine was a coincidence.
My parents had been content with Calla and Aster; they’d always longed for one boy and one girl. But for some reason, one day, my mother decided she wanted to have a third child, and she wanted to adopt him or her. I was nine years old when they found me.
Dad said it was love at first sight for him. Mom didn’t deny the feeling either. She said when she found out my name was Iris, it felt like a sign. I suppose I got my love of signs from her. I was hoping that meant she would understand why I had to do this.
I believed in miracles and destiny; I believed the Chamberlains were always meant to be my parents. My birth parents never really felt like mine. They belonged to each other more than me. I wasn’t bitter about it. Maybe God knew their time here would be short and I was simply proof of their love; I was the reminder that a great love could be had in a short and sometimes difficult life. I didn’t really know, to be honest, but I’d always felt like I belonged with the Chamberlains.
The two of them took me in when they didn’t have to. They gave me my life back, and I’d always wanted to be able to change someone’s life in some meaningful way too. To give them another chance when they thought they weren’t getting one. That was the reason I’d already looked into becoming a living donor, and even though Nick’s situation wasn’t dire, meeting Catherine made me feel like I was meant to help him. Like my interest was always meant to lead me here.
Aster would no doubt roll his eyes, but I knew my parents wouldn’t. They always supported their children.
My mom’s bright yellow sun hat stood out like a beacon the second I shut the door. “Hey,” I called out as I walked toward her.
“Iris, honey, what brings you by?” She smiled for a second before it quickly dropped. “Is it your sister? Have you heard something?”
“No, Mom. Relax.” She let out a breath. “You and Dad need to stop worrying so much.”
“Impossible. It’s a parent’s job to worry. Besides, with the complications and Mirielle almost not making it…” she trailed off and shook her head, like she couldn’t even entertain the idea.
“I understand. But they’re okay now, and shouldn’t it be a comfort that trained medical professionals felt they were both well enough to be discharged?” I asked softly. My mom stood up, brushing dirt off her jean capris, giving me a dubious look. I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. Worry.”
She smiled and linked her arm through mine, steering me back up to the house.
“So what brings you by then?” she asked again once we were inside, patting Aster on the back before heading to the sink to wash her hands.
Some people had the amazing ability to articulate exactly what they were feeling. To lay everything out in a poignant way and speak with power and conviction.
I was not one of those people. It all sounded great in my head, but once I opened my mouth, especially if I was nervous or excited, word vomit was all I was capable of.
My mom and brother stared at me as I told them everything. They were used to making sense of my disjointed monologues, so they kept up. I could tell by my mother’s worried—what a shock—expression, as well as my brother’s disapproving one, that this might be a harder sell than I originally thought.
“Iris,” my mother began, her voice soft and hesitant. “I love how much you care about other people, I do. But—”
“There’s no buts, Mom. This man will die if he doesn’t get a kidney.”
Aster rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. He has months, if not years. You don’t need to fork over a kidney for a stranger. If you’re in need of feeling good about yourself just go volunteer at a homeless shelter or something.”
A glare to the back of his head was all the response I gave my brother. I focused my attention solely on Mom.
“They’ve already run my tests, and Dr. Moore is sitting down with Catherine and Nick today to tell them I’m
a match. I’m going back in a few days to discuss setting up the surgery and to meet Nick. It—”
“You’re crazy,” my brother muttered. I’d tried to ignore my brother’s mumblings, but after that comment I couldn’t.
“You don’t understand, fine. But that doesn’t make me crazy—” His scoff interrupted me and my mom shot him a withering glare. She was the sweetest, but you did not want to be caught in her crosshairs.
“Actually the fact that you’re crazy makes you crazy,” Aster said, clearly not caring about upsetting our mom. He lifted his hands when he noticed our narrowed eyes.
“Won’t this affect your health? I’d hate to come back and say I told you so.”
No, you wouldn’t.
“It’s not like I’m giving him my heart, Aster. I’m going to live a normal life.”
“There’s always risk—”
“You’re right. Just like there’s always a risk when I get in a car, so should I stop driving?” He rolled his eyes again, his patent move. “You’re being ridiculous,” I added for good measure.
Aster dropped his attitude. “I want to make sure you’re gonna be okay. You’re still my baby sister.”
I let down my defenses too. “I know. But I… I have to do this. I’m going to help him.” My mom was now smiling as she leaned over and brushed a stray wisp of my hair behind my ear.
“Of course you are, sweetheart. That’s what you do. I just want you to be sure. This is a big deal.”
I nodded. “I know. But you weren’t there… seeing her, speaking to her… I felt…”
“Like you were in the right place at the right time?” she guessed.
“Yes! Exactly.”
My mom smiled. “Okay, well of course we’ll support you. Whatever decision you make.”
I knew that despite his reassuring words, my brother still thought this was over the top and insane. And even though I loved him, I didn’t care what Aster thought. If the worst thing about me was that I was too nice, too giving, too caring… I’d wear those labels proudly.
I was about to meet the woman who was going to give me my kidney… her kidney… a kidney…
Shaking my head, I looked out the window. I was still having trouble getting used to the idea. When my ma told me that this woman—Iris, I learned—was a match, I felt conflicted. Despite my bah humbug attitude, I was grateful for this opportunity. My ma had been right. This was a huge life change. Between the medical bills and the dialysis that chipped away hours of a day, I would most certainly become depressed if this was my life for years.
But part of me also felt guilty. Now that I’d had time to digest my situation and research the statistics online, I realized how fortunate I was. I was twenty-eight years young and had only been on dialysis for a couple weeks. There were many people out there who were far older and who had been waiting on a kidney for years. People who had felt these strains much longer than me.
Why did I deserve this chance?
Was it selfish of me to take it?
Why has Iris picked me? I kept asking myself.
It heightened my suspicions, bringing about even more guilt. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. It wasn’t going to end well. We didn’t know this woman. We didn’t know—
“Knock, knock,” my ma chirped. I glanced over just in time to see the slightly ajar door swing open, lightly bouncing off the wall. Her smile was wide when she walked into the room. She seemed so weightless and joyful compared to the woman hunched over my hand two weeks ago.
Despite how vivacious she was, my gaze was pulled to someone else. To the woman walking in behind her. I couldn’t fully see her yet—her head was turned, looking back and laughing at something in the hallway.
I stared at the back of the woman’s head. Her light brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the ends touching the top of her back, just below where a string of pearls sat on her neck. I couldn’t tell whether they were real or fake. It didn’t matter either way. That simple necklace still spoke volumes about the type of woman she was. She wanted the appearance of wealth, to seem “elegant.” I’d known women like her my whole life. Two-faced. Women who—
All thoughts of other women were obliterated when she turned toward me. Large, chocolate brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, met mine. They were warm and sincere as an even bigger grin spread across her light pink lips. She looked… effervescent. That word wasn’t a regular part of my vocabulary, but it was the first one to come to mind.
I was gaining a kidney.
My ma was getting her son back.
This woman… Iris… she was losing something, and somehow she seemed happier than Ma and me combined.
She appeared a couple inches shorter than me, with B-cups and a slight curve to her waist. Her light green sundress was modest, ending just below her knees, and her shoulders were covered with a white sweater.
Damn, she’s pretty.
That probably meant she was even more used to getting her way. Well, whatever she wanted, we weren’t giving it to her. Not that we had much anyway. Distrust crawled up my spine and settled in my brain, reminding me there was no way this woman was going to give me her kidney without stipulations.
I straightened my back along with my resolve and met her chipper expression with my stony one. She was completely unaffected. Her smile stayed wide and her eyes remained bright.
“Nicky, this is Iris. Iris, my son, Nicholas.”
“Hi.” She gave a tiny wave. Ma grabbed her arm and brought her next to my bed. Iris immediately held out her hand. “It’s great to meet you.”
“Yeah. You too.” The skepticism in my voice was heavy, and if my ma’s scalding gaze—a look that still caused me to shrink back like a five-year-old—was any indication, neither woman missed it. When I glanced back at Iris, she still appeared sincere despite by my gruff behavior. Regardless, my mother hated disrespect in any form, and I knew she wouldn’t let my attitude fly just because I was laid up in the hospital after almost dying.
“Nicky,” she scolded.
“Sorry, ma’am.” After giving her a sheepish, please-forgive-me grin, which she accepted with a nod, I looked to Iris. “Seriously, uh, thanks.”
Internally, I cringed. I didn’t want to be an asshole. But not knowing her motives was seriously affecting my ability to be a gentleman. And I couldn’t exactly cross-examine her with my mother in the room.
“Don’t mind him, dear. I could blame his apish tendencies on the accident, but honestly, my Nicky has never had a way with words. And his social skills, or lack thereof, have always been appalling, no matter how hard I tried to correct him.” I flinched as she pinched my cheek.
“No worries. I’m a teacher—dealing with difficult personalities is half the job.”
“Oh, you are?” She smiled at my “angel.” “What grade?”
“Second.” Iris beamed back, clearly in love with her profession.
“That’s wonderful. But don’t make excuses for Nicky. Your students are seven-year-olds, not grown adults.” Ma shot me another pointed look.
A phone rang and we both watched my ma dig around in her purse until she pulled it out, waving it in the air like she’d scored a massive victory. Her bag wasn’t large and she didn’t keep much in it, but she repelled technology. To the point where merely finding her phone made her feel triumphant.
“Be right back.” I watched her affectionately squeeze Iris’s shoulder before stepping out.
The door shut and our eyes instinctively found each other. I was sizing her up. She just continued to smile.
It wasn’t natural.
“Why are you giving me your kidney?”
She shrugged like she wasn’t even a little bit put off by my distrustful tone or very apparent scowl. “I’d been thinking about it for a while. I’d already done some research and when I met your mother, it seemed like fate.” Iris reached behind her and dragged the chair next to my bed before taking a seat. “Convincing my family wasn’t easy—”
> My eyebrows rose. “You’re an adult. Shouldn’t you be making your own decisions?”
“I do. But their opinions matter to me.” She arched her eyebrow and somehow her expression was smug and sincere all at once. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t care about your mother’s opinion?”
Damn.
She had me. “It’s different.”
“Of course it is.” Iris was grinning as she reached into her purse and pulled out a magazine. Silence settled around us, and she started flipping through her issue of People. She was completely calm, while I was crawling out of my skin. How wasn’t she unsettled by the quiet?
“What do you want?” I asked.
She didn’t hesitate. “Currently I’m craving a lemon bar.”
I rolled my eyes, even as my lips involuntarily tipped up. I quickly forced them back into a frown. “I mean, what do you want from us? Why are you doing this?”
“I’m doing this because I want to. I am curious, though—what do you think I could want from you?” she asked, eyes still on her magazine.
“Money is the most obvious.”
Her lips quirked into a smile. “That would be illegal. Besides I don’t need money.”
“You’re a teacher,” I said, like it should be obvious.
When I didn’t immediately continue, she raised her eyebrows and asked, “So?”
“And?”
“And what?”
“You’re telling me you’re a teacher, with no other job, and you don’t need money?” I tried to look down at her left hand but her fingers were hidden. “Your husband must have a pretty cushy job.”
Iris took a deep breath before closing her magazine and folding her hands over it, left hand on top, as she wiggled her ring finger. “I’m not married.”
She rolled her eyes when I continued to stare her down. “Fine. Not that it’s any of your business, but I have a trust fund.”
I started laughing; I couldn’t help it. How often had I seen rich kids go out of their way to do something nice to make themselves feel better? Too often to count. It wasn’t always malicious, and I figured it wasn’t that way with Iris either. It didn’t matter though, the results were always the same. They typically backed out, especially if it was something big. And this was freaking huge.
Pure Hearts Page 3