The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “From my recent biopsy?”

  “Yeah.” Ellen shook her head. ‘No way. This can’t be right.” She reached for her phone.

  Elliott’s heart dropped. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’d rather not say, not until I speak to Dean.”

  “Ellen.” Concerned laced his words as Elliott walked nearer to her. “What is it?”

  “Please don’t put stock into this. I may have screwed up. There might have been an error . . .”

  “Oh my God,” Elliott whispered out.

  “In fact, can we wait? I’d rather not say . . .”

  “Ellen. What . . . . what does it say.”

  “It says . . .” Ellen, phone in hand, turned her chair some. “If this is correct and there is no error, Elliott, it says . . . . “ Ellen smiled. “You’re in remission.”

  ^^^^

  The joy of the prospect was overshadowed by Dean’s anger with Ellen for opening her mouth to Elliott. How misleading. How devastating it would be to him if Elliott found out human error gave him false hope.

  He only hoped that the rational and logical side of Elliott Ryder would emerge before the wishful thinking side did. Plans for an early evening were thwarted. Dean called Elliott in for a biopsy of his lymph nodes. An immediate second testing was warranted and in Dean’s mind, the humane thing to do for Elliott Ryder was to confirm or deny Ellen’s results.

  It wouldn’t take too long if Elliott came right up from the cryo. Dean started gathering the biopsy necessities in his lab right away.

  “Dean?” Andrea called into the lab. “I know you’re busy.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Dr. Blue has the flu.” Andrea paused and giggled. “Sorry. Anyhow, he’s ill and a few of his patients have come here. I have that knee surgery in twenty minutes. Can you do a quick suture for me?”

  “Andrea I . . .”

  “Please?” she asked. “Can you be a Futomara and do that.”

  Dean cringed. “Fine.”

  “Thank you. Room Two. Probably four stitches.” Andrea smiled and hurried away.

  “Great,” Dean mumbled. “It shouldn’t take long.” He moved in haste across his lab to the cabinet where they kept the suture kits. He removed one and turning at the same time, he stopped when he saw Elliott.

  “Dr. Hayes.”

  “Elliott.” Dean held up the suture kit. “Can I get you to go to Room Three and wait? I shouldn’t be long.”

  “Sure,” Elliott replied.

  “Thanks.” Dean tried to hurry out.

  “Dr. Hayes.” Elliott halted him. “Just . . . just in your opinion. Do you think . . .?”

  “Stop.” Dean held up his hand. “My wife is good but she does make mistakes. I’m very upset with her right now for opening her mouth.”

  “But it is my health.”

  “And it is your heart that can be broken if these are wrong. I hope to God they aren’t. I really hope to God they aren’t. But if you really want my opinion, then I have to say they are because I’m not that good to throw a latent stage of leukemia into remission.”

  Elliott nodded slowly and lowered his head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No.” He held up his hand. “I asked.”

  “I’ll be with you shortly. OK?” Getting agreement, and shaking the feeling of ‘bad’ he got from being so blunt, Dean moved to examine room two.

  Misha Sabatino was the name written on the chart that Dean picked up when he walked into the examining room. “Sorry.” He closed the door, saw the dark haired young woman on the table, and then Jenny sitting in a chair. “Jenny?” Dean questioned. “Andrea didn’t tell me you were here.”

  “Misha asked that I sit with her. She feels uncomfortable with you.”

  “With me?” Dean questioned as he pulled a tray close to the table.

  “Aside from the fact that you’re a man, and she’s well, been around . . .” Jenny dropped her voice to a whisper, “women. We all know your reputation with young attractive women who could be your daughter.”

  “What?” Dean grabbed Misha’s hand. “Oh, good, Andrea cleaned this. This shouldn’t take long.” He smiled at Misha.

  Misha raised her head. She was soft spoken, seemingly timid, yet somehow in her dark eyes there was a confidence. “Thank you.”

  “There’s no need to be afraid of me.”

  Misha looked at Jenny.

  “Really, he is harmless,” Jenny stated. “He’s just a player. I explained that term . . .”

  “Jenny,” Dean snapped.

  “See.” Jenny pointed. “His son is also very rude, so that should say a lot for him. He’s been extremely mean to a man named Henry.”

  “Ah, yes.” Misha smiled. “He is Hector’s friend.” She smiled.

  Dean smirked with a snicker. “If you can say that.”

  “See,” Jenny said strongly. “You are so wrong.”

  “What?” Dean lifted the sutures. He tapped lightly upon Misha’s wound. “Can you feel this?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Do you not like Hector? Is that why you left my shop yesterday.”

  “No. I like Hector,” Dean answered and began to stitch her hand. “I left the shop because I didn’t see anything I liked.”

  “Rude,” Jenny whispered.

  “Jenny.” Dean paused in his task and looked at her. “If you can’t be quiet, leave.”

  Jenny gave a ‘see what I mean’ nod to Misha.

  A tiny embarrassed giggle left Misha. “So you like Hector? Do you know him well?’

  “Not as well as Henry.”

  “Dean,” Jenny growled.

  “What?” Dean said clueless. “No, I know Hector, but not well. Why?”

  “Well, I am, looking to start my own family. I cannot do that where I am at.”

  “She wants a man,” Jenny interpreted. “She’s doing a vital selection process.”

  Dean cringed. “Jenny, I know what she means. Misha, I know for a fact that Hector is very good with children. Very good. He helps Henry raise his son.”

  “So he has a family,” Misha said. “In a sense. That is the child he purchased for. Does he have a woman?”

  Dean snickered.

  Jenny growled again.

  Misha looked confused. “He has had many women in Beginnings,” she said sadly.

  “Hector?” Dean asked with a chuckle. “Not Hector.”

  Before Dean could say anything, Jenny intervened, “Hector isn’t with any woman and doesn’t have a history of women in Beginnings. We all like him. In fact, he’s working at the greenhouse. Why don’t we stop by before you leave?”

  “That would be forward,” Misha said. “I have no reason.”

  “Sure you do.” Jenny gave a wave of her hand. “You want a tomato. Everyone stops by for a tomato. It’s not out of the ordinary.”

  Dean, finished the stitches and shook his head with a smile. “No one stops by out of the blue up there but I think you should if you like him.”

  “I would like to find out if there is interest in him. I have not had the opportunity to do that,” Misha said softly. “He seems so nice and is very handsome.” Her eyes shifted to Dean’s name tag. “Oh,” she wisped out. “You are the male Dr. Hayes. Jenny did not tell me. Your wife, she is wonderful. We love her.”

  “I do too.” Dean smiled. “This is finished. Keep it clean. I wouldn’t bandage it, but watch that the sutures don’t get wet.” He gathered up the supplies.

  “It must sadden you to know your wife is leaving. It saddens us.”

  “Yeah,” Dean exhaled. “But I won’t let her leave alone. I plan on going with her.”

  Misha looked puzzled. “But you have children.”

  “They’ll be taken care of.”

  “And this community you cure?”

  Dean scoffed. “I don’t care. They take second place to Ellen.” He went to the sink to wash up.

  “This surprises me. Forgive me, but Dr. Hayes speaks of you so kindly as a
father and doctor. I would think that you, as a man who loves his wife, would find the suitable companion and protector for your wife instead of leaving your other responsibilities behind.”

  “Ouch,” Jenny commented. “Misha, Dean just doesn’t want some man out there alone with Ellen. He doesn’t trust her.” She lowered her voice as if to tell a secret. “Meanwhile, he’s one to talk.”

  “Jenny,” Dean grumbled her name as he dried his hands. “Misha, I . . .”

  “What of Sgt. Ryder?” Misha asked. “He is very honorable and he is her friend. I am sure if you asked him to respect your marriage, he would.”

  The towel slowly lowered from Dean’s hand. “Sgt. Ryder . . . he can’t go. I still prefer to be the one.” He laid the towel down. “It was nice talking to you. I have to attend to the honorable Sgt. Ryder right now.” Dean flashed a fake smile. Misha had brought forth with a vengeance the thoughts of the testing he had to do on Elliott. With concern and nervousness, Dean hurriedly left the exam room.

  Misha slid from the table. “He left abruptly. I’ll apologize for upsetting him.”

  “You didn’t upset him . . .” Jenny reached for the door. “That’s just Dean. He’s rude.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “It becomes inconceivable to the advanced mind, but with uninhibited science in Beginnings, the probability is high,” Billy said to Elliott who sat on the sofa. “I just wanted to convey that to you. I believe in my father’s ability. Keep the faith.” He gave a thumbs up.

  Elliott blinked in surprise. “Thank you.”

  “Night Mom. Sgt. Ryder.” Billy, like a little Dean, walked from the room.

  “How old is he again?” Elliott asked.

  “He’ll be eight,” Ellen answered taking a seat next to Elliott.

  “Somehow I feel if I label him only ‘smart’, he’ll be insulted.”

  “Somehow I think you’re right.”

  With hid elbows resting on his knees, Elliott stared out and tapped his fingers together. In an antsiness, he stood.

  “Elliott, sit.” Ellen pulled him back down. “Pacing won’t make the time go any faster.”

  “What is taking so long? It has been hours.”

  “He’s testing and retesting. I’m sorry.”

  Elliott looked at her. “For what?”

  “For telling you. I was wrong. It was very unethical to deliver such news to you.”

  “It was pretty unlike me to take it so to heart.” Elliott’s voice dropped. “However, your husband lowered me from the clouds.”

  “He was blunt?”

  “Yes.” Elliott nodded. “Very blunt.” He rubbed his hands together. His parted lips released the exhale of his nervousness and he felt a shimmer in his stomach when Ellen glided her hand to join his. “Thank you.” He squeezed tight. “Why am I so nervous about this? I have never been nervous about any of the results.”

  “That’s because there are probabilities right now that we never thought possible.”

  “As much as I fought it, as much as I hid it, for as much as I pretend it doesn’t exist, the truth is, it’s there. I know it.” Elliott slowly shifted his eyes to her. “I don’t want to die.”

  The front door opened.

  Did Ellen’s heart drop as much as Elliott’s? He squeezed tighter to her hand and tried to act the cool exterior he always portrayed.

  Ellen tried to read Dean when he walked in. He held something behind his back. The test results perhaps. “Dean.”

  Dean lifted his free hand. “Stay seated.”

  A lump formed in Elliott’s throat. “You finished the results?”

  “Yes.” Dean nodded and walked in front of the coffee table. “You know, did you ever notice if you make a friend, the more you hang out with them, the more you pick up their mannerisms, ways of speaking and so forth?”

  Puzzled, Ellen looked at Elliott then back to Dean. “What does this have to do with Elliott’s tests?”

  “Pretty much everything,” Dean answered very calm and serious. “Deliverance, El. Frank turned out to be my friend and right now, to sound like Frank would be the best way I can give the results. OK?” He nodded. “Ok. Sounding like Frank . . .” Dean pulled a bottle of wine from his back and set it on the table with the hugest of grins. “Not that you can have any but . . . I am so fuckin cool!” he said with excitement. “You . . . Sgt. Ryder, are in remission!”

  Ellen had a delayed reaction but only momentarily and she jumped from the couch with a shriek. “You did it?”

  “No, we did it.” Dean nodded with arrogance.

  “Elliott?” Ellen turned to him.

  Shocked, Elliott stood from the couch then so unlike himself, he too let out a small shriek of enthusiasm and embraced Ellen in his doing so. “Oh, shit.” He caught his breath. “I’m in remission.” He turned to Dean and extended his hand. “Thank you. I’m in remission.”

  “You’re in remission,” Dean said proudly.

  “You’re right, Dr. Hayes. Unbelievable. You’re cool,” Elliott stated with exuberance.

  Arrogantly, Dean grinned and winked. “I am.”

  ^^^^

  “I love you . . .” Robbie sang sweetly with emotions. “I honestly . . . love . . .” He pointed to Frank. “You–ooh–ooh.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That was my favorite Olivia Newton John song.” Robbie grinned. “Should I do it again? How about that ‘Oh Danny Boy’ tune.”

  “No. Go. Don’t you have to sleep or something?”

  “I would have come in and played guitar, but . . . you know. That’s impossible.”

  “Two hours, Robbie. Two fuckin hours. You can’t sing Olivia for much longer. Missing an arm or not, you go on my people to kill list.”

  “Whew.” Robbie let out a long breath. “You know what? I feel like singing that song again. Water.” He lifted a glass from the night stand and took a sip. “Ah. Ready?” He cleared his throat. “I love . . .”

  “Robert,” Joe called out from the door.

  “Oh, hey, Frank. It’s Dad.” Laying his hand on the side of Frank’s face, he moved Frank’s entire head to face the door.

  If it was at all possible, Frank felt dizzy. “Oh, right, make me go on a fuckin hospital bed roller coaster.”

  Joe walked in and to the bed. “Frank. Robbie.”

  “Hey, Dad. I’ve been singing,” Robbie said.

  “I heard.”

  “Frank likes it.”

  “I’m sure,” Joe stated, “Fix his head.”

  “Whoops.” Robbie turned Frank’s head straight again.

  “I’m fuckin killing Dean.”

  “Christ, Robert. Take the ribbon out of his hair.”

  “What!” Frank blasted then cringed when he saw Robbie reach out and when his arm came back into view, Frank saw the ribbon.

  Joe pulled up a chair. “Enjoying the Hal plan, Robbie?”

  “Oh, yeah. It made me feel better.” Robbie sat down as well. “Are you here to torture Frank?”

  “Nah.” Joe shook his head. “Hal wants me too but I, more than anyone, knows how it feels to be under the Salicain.”

  “Yes,” Frank said. “Yes, you do.”

  “People come in . . .” Joe continued, “and talk about shit you don’t want to hear.”

  “Ain’t that the fuckin truth?”

  “Frank was the worst.” Joe pointed at him. “He came in everyday and talked about his marital problems with Ellen. Dean this. Ellen that. Yep,” Joe exhaled. “I could very easily drive him nuts right now. Talk and talk and talk.”

  Frank swore he felt his heart sink. “You talk, Dad. I swear I’ll listen to every word you say. Talk to me. I don’t care, just talk to me.”

  “So,” Robbie spoke up. “Does this mean you’re not gonna torture him then?”

  “Hell no,” Joe replied. “It’s payback time.”

  “Ha!” Frank scoffed. “Nothing. Nothing right now you can say, especially you, Dad, that will torture me.”

  Joe lea
ned back in the chair. “I thought I’d share some intimate details of my earlier sex life.”

  “Except that.” Frank closed his eyes.

  ^^^^

  “Mine.” Hal spoke with a gasp, lowered the shot glass, and poured another. “And this . . .” He showed it to Elliott. “Is yours.” He raised it higher. “To your health, my friend.” He downed the drink.

  Elliott smiled. “It is great news, isn’t it?”

  “No.” Hal shook his head. “It is awesome news.” Setting down the shot glass, he laid his hands on the table in the empty Hoi-Hoi on the Range. “What a celebration. Whiskey . . . Sushi.” He motioned his head to the plate of test sushi before him. “This is the life.”

  “The sushi does look good.”

  “Yes.” Hal clapped his hands together. “And you and I get to try it. Go on, Elliott. You first.”

  “Um . . .” Elliott tilted his head. “Why don’t you try it? You outrank me.”

  “That’s correct and as your superior, I order you to try the sushi first.”

  “Is that ethical?” Elliott questioned.

  “Yes.” Hal pushed the plate forward. “Go on.”

  “All right.” Using chopsticks, Elliott lifted the tiny maki-style sushi and dipped it in the brown substance that was supposedly soy sauce. He hesitantly brought it to his mouth.

  “Eat.”

  After a grumble, Elliott did.

  “Well?” Hal asked. “Good. Bad. Adequate.”

  Chewing then swallowing, Elliott nodded. “Not bad.”

  “Yes.” Hal clenched his fist. “There is a God. Sushi has returned and so has my friend’s health. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. So what all does this remission entail?” Hal grabbed the chopsticks and tried the sushi. He moaned in his chewing of it. “Excellent.”

  Elliott chuckled. “It means I can be asymptomatic for a short time, or . . . years.”

  “Years,” Hal wisped out. “So all the worrying and babying you, I did for nothing.”

  “Babying me?” Elliott laughed. “When did you ever baby me?”

  “Come now, Elliott, you mean to tell me you don’t think I gave you special treatment.”

  “No.”