by Kallysten
“And a promise,” Lisa continued.
They had never decided what they would say when they gave him the ring, but as it turned out, those few words were enough. When Brett remained still, Leo took the jewelry box from Lisa and popped it open.
In a nest of black velvet, the platinum ring gleamed, catching every bit of light that was bouncing through the room. They’d had it made in the same plain style as Leo’s, though the band was a little thicker, flatter. Leo pulled it from the box. Lisa took Brett’s left hand and lifted it. They slipped the ring on Brett’s finger together.
“I—” Brett began, his voice thick with the same emotion that danced through his eyes.
The telephone cut him off.
Leo would have liked nothing more than for Brett to ignore that phone, but habits too well ingrained had Brett reaching for it on the bedside table already. He picked up the phone with the same hand that now bore Lisa and Leo’s physical token of love.
“It’s Anando,” he said, looking at the caller ID.
Before he had even answered the call, Lisa had risen from the bed and was going through Brett’s dresser, pulling clothes out for him. Leo went to the bathroom to turn on the shower and let the water warm up. They had Brett cleaned up and dressed not ten minutes after he had hung up the call. Something darkened his eyes—Anando had sounded worried, he said—but there was no mistaking his excitement. They both kissed him before pushing him out the door. He came back within seconds, poking his head in to say, “Joy?”
Lisa nodded. Leo smiled.
* * * *
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
It wasn’t the pain, although the pain was there, stronger than anything Virginia had ever experienced before, sharper than she had been told to expect.
It wasn’t the noise, beeping machines and tense words she could only understand if she focused. It wasn’t the heat, burning her body until sweat poured off her temples, until she wanted to shake away the sheet, her gown, and all the bits of plastic and wires attached to her.
No, the wrongness was deeper than that: Anando wasn’t there. Virginia wanted to weep.
A hand, too small, too warm—human—stroked her arm. Virginia tried to pull away, but there was no strength behind her movement. A woman appeared in her field of vision, lowering herself to meet Virginia’s gaze. Her lips were smiling, but her eyes were not.
“You need to calm down,” the woman said, still stroking Virginia’s arm. “It’s not good for the baby that your heart is beating so fast.”
“Where’s Anando?” Virginia asked, or at least she tried to. Her words came out as a mumble behind a plastic mask that pushed air into her. When had they put that thing on her? She couldn’t even remember.
Everything had started out so well. Sure, the contractions had come early, enough so that Virginia had thought they were only a false alert. Anando had smiled and asked her to humor him and let him drive her to the hospital.
“If it’s nothing, it’ll serve as rehearsal for the main event.”
But even then, there had been something in his eyes. What was it he had told the doctor as soon as they had arrived at the hospital?
“Please check their hearts.”
She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, too caught up in a contraction to care much about anything, but the words came back to her now, echoing through her mind. Had he known something was wrong? Why hadn’t he told her?
She struggled to raise a hand to her face and tug off the mask. The nurse—yes, the woman was a nurse, of course she was—tried to stop her, but Virginia managed to say, more clearly now, “I want Anando.”
Hadn’t he been right there when she closed her eyes? And she had only closed them for a second, no more, she was sure of it. Where had he gone to? Why had he left her?
“Later,” the nurse said, readjusting the mask over Virginia’s face. “We’re going to deliver your baby now. Do you understand?”
Virginia shook her head and tried to rise. More hands pressed on her, holding her down.
“I want Anando,” she repeated, then again and again, clinging to that one thought and pushing away the pain and fear that were trying to consume her.
The beeping sounds accelerated, and so did the voices. Virginia’s head was spinning, her heart thundering. Wrong, it was all so wrong…
“Hey, lovely.”
There was a paper mask in front of Anando’s mouth, but his eyes were crinkled and she could tell he was smiling. Despite everything, she smiled back, raising a hand to touch him. He took her hand between both of his and brought it to his face, kissing her through the paper.
“You were gone,” she protested, and again her words were muffled by the oxygen mask.
Anando either heard or understood what she was saying. He stroked her hand with his thumb and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t stay in here. But I’ll be right outside, all right? I’ll be waiting for you. And Emma.”
He kissed her hand again, and she realized he was shaking. Why was he shaking?
“Anando?”
Someone else talked to him, and he looked away for a second before nodding and turning back to her.
“I have to go, Virginia dearest. But everything will be fine. I promise. You’ll be just fine.”
There was a gleam in his eyes when he squeezed her hand before letting go, a golden flame that burned bright and reassured Virginia. Something was wrong, yes, but it would be all right in the end. Whatever happened, Anando would make sure of it. He wouldn’t let her go.
* * * *
Even at their highest speed, the windshield blades couldn’t keep up. Brett’s heart was pounding even faster than the rain.
More than once, he urged himself to slow down. He wouldn’t see his daughter any faster if he ended up in a ditch.
The mere thought gave him a jolt, and of its own accord, his foot pushed down a little harder on the accelerator again.
A daughter. He was going to have a daughter.
He had known it for months, of course. He had prepared for it. But now that the day was here, now that it was a matter of hours before he could see her, hold her…
But maybe she was already there. Maybe he’d arrive at the hospital to find her sleeping in Virginia’s arms, or Anando’s.
Anando had sounded worried on the phone, but that didn’t surprise Brett. Anando had proved himself rather overprotective during the past months—as was perfectly normal. Of course he’d be worried now. If nothing else, Emma was arriving a little early.
Brett couldn’t wait to meet her. Months ago, when this had all started, when it had seemed so likely that he would be losing Lisa if he embraced fatherhood, this child had been so imprecise in his mind, so far away that it had been easy to choose Lisa.
If he had needed to make that same choice now, Brett didn’t know that he could have. He still loved Lisa more than he had thought he could love anyone, as much as he loved Leo, and the ring now snug on his finger reaffirmed that they loved him, too. But at the same time… He already cherished this small life he had only ever seen on a sonogram screen. Who knew how much he’d love her once he held her?
He was so, so very glad he wouldn’t have to choose. So glad Virginia and Anando had told him and also included him. Anando had been on edge at first, no doubt wondering how much ground to give, but things had grown easier as time passed, and now—
The blast of a car horn startled him, and he realized that not only he was driving too fast, he was also too close to the median line, and even going over it at times. He once again made a conscious effort to slow down.
“Calm down,” he muttered to himself. “There’s no rush.”
The words sounded like a lie to his own ears. He’d never been a very good liar.
It was stupid to speed up, he told himself, forcing his foot to lift off the accelerator a little more. They weren’t waiting for him. He wouldn’t even be in the room, for that matter. It was Anando’s place, not his,
and he had no desire to challenge him. He was already grateful that Anando had thought of calling him now instead of offering a simple courtesy call when it was all done and over.
And the fact that it was happening today, the same day Leo and Lisa had slipped that ring on his finger…
He was still thinking it was the most beautiful day in his life right up to the moment when his car skidded in the water pooled in the middle of the asphalt and barreled straight into an incoming truck.
CHAPTER 23
They wheeled out Emma first in a small crib of transparent plastic. The crib was the ugliest thing Anando had ever seen; Emma, the most beautiful, except, of course, for her mother.
He didn’t know whether to ask about the baby or Virginia first. The nurse saved him from having to choose, stopping by him with a soft smile. She was the same woman who had talked to the doctor on his behalf and gained him entry to the room before they had sedated Virginia.
“Mom is going to be fine,” she assured him. “She’ll be out in a few minutes, and you’ll be able to talk to her in a little while.”
Anando could have sworn his heart tried to beat in relief.
“And…” He looked into the crib. Emma’s eyes were open, her tiny hands fisted on either side of her face.
“And this little lady is perfectly fine,” the nurse said, reaching in to pick Emma up. “Would you like to hold her for a moment?”
Anando couldn’t remember holding a child as young as Emma before. He didn’t have much experience holding babies at all. But what he expected to be awkward became one of the sweetest moments of his life. He only wished Virginia had been there, too.
Emma was tiny in his arms, warm, and both incredibly light and heavier than he had expected. Virginia’s dreams made flesh—his own, too.
“I need to take her to the nursery for now,” the nurse said after a couple of minutes. “It’s on this floor, too. Down that way. We’ll bring her back when mom is awake.”
Letting go was more difficult than Anando would have expected. He watched the nurse push the crib away, and only when she had disappeared down the corridor did he turn back to the large doors marked ‘sterile area - do not enter.’
He’d been made to scrub down before being allowed in for a precious few moments. They’d tried to get him back to the waiting room after that, but Anando had resisted, politely but firmly. He didn’t use thralls as a rule, but he could be very convincing when needed.
Waiting behind these doors now was torture, even if he’d been told Virginia would be okay. What if she wasn’t okay? What if something unexpected happened again? What if Anando was too far away to do anything about it?
He couldn’t stand to think about it, but he wouldn’t let Virginia slip away from him—from him and Emma. He’d warned her in the past about asking him for what he wouldn’t give, but losing her now was unthinkable. If it came to that…
The door swung open, and Anando stood at attention, his body pulsing with hope as his gaze swept over the figure lying on the gurney. His first reaction was disappointment; not Virginia, but a man. The next was surprise as he recognized the features behind a strangely yellow complexion, bruised right cheek, and black eye.
“Brett?”
Two attendants wheeled the unconscious Brett away, while a surgeon followed at a slower pace, a clipboard in his hands as he made notes.
“Excuse me?” Anando caught his attention and gestured in Brett’s direction. “I know this man. We’re friends. What happened to him?”
The doctor frowned before flipping through the papers attached to the clipboard. “Car accident,” he said.
“Is he going to be all right?”
The doctor’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry, patient privacy. I can’t talk to you about his condition.”
With a shallow nod, the doctor walked away, following the wheeled gurney. For all that he refused to say anything, he might as well have shouted ‘critical condition.’ His demeanor and his scent spoke of frustration, worry, and resignation.
Anando was about to follow when the swinging doors opened once more. This time, it was Virginia on the gurney. Anando knew it before he even looked. He’d have recognized the smell of her blood anywhere, even mixed with those unpleasant chemical scents.
Approaching the gurney, he tried to talk to her, but she was still unconscious and the nurses didn’t slow down. The doctor who followed them with a clipboard—the same man who had allowed Anando in—rested a hand on Anando’s arm and patted it lightly.
“We’re taking her to an observation room to keep an eye on her,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “She’ll be fine. Go grab something to eat in the cafeteria, and by the time you come back, she’ll be just about ready to wake up.”
Even if the cafeteria had served the kind of food Anando needed, he wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving Virginia. He followed after the gurney to a room that ended up being close to Brett’s, and managed to talk his way in to sit by her side. Her hand felt cooler than usual between both of his, but her heartbeat was strong under the sound of the machines buzzing around her.
Through the open door, voices drifted in. Anando looked through the glass wall. Virginia’s doctor and Brett’s were talking quietly enough that, with all the noises around them, they could believe they wouldn’t be overheard. They couldn’t know, of course, that a vampire was a few feet away, watching them, listening.
Anando had never cared much about human medicine. It had long ago ceased to concern him in any way. He didn’t understand much from the doctors’ talk of transplant list, and blood type. But the gravity of their tones reinforced the impression Brett’s doctor had left him with earlier.
He considered Virginia for a few seconds. He hated to leave her now, but he had to know. He kissed her hand before laying it on the sheet and standing. He took a few quick strides out of the room and to the two doctors. They were startled by his sudden appearance, and even more by his abrupt question.
“How long does he have?”
The oldest, Virginia’s doctor, observed Anando from behind metal-rimmed glasses. He didn’t say anything. The other man sported a five-o’clock beard. Heavy bags darkened his eyes. His scrubs were clean, but he reeked of blood anyway.
“I’m sorry, sir. Like I told you earlier, medical matters are confidential and—”
“He’s dying,” Anando cut in, glaring at both of them. “He’s dying, and you’re not doing anything about it.”
“There’s nothing we can do,” the same man said. “We can only make him more comfortable. Excuse me.”
He walked away, pulling a buzzing beeper from his pocket. The older man was still considering Anando.
“Why do you care about this man?” he asked at last, tilting his head to the glass wall that separated them from Brett. “Who is he to you?”
The words came up before Anando even knew what he was saying. “He’s family.”
The doctor didn’t bat an eyelash at that claim. After a few more seconds, he glanced into Brett’s room. “He could use a friendly face right about now. And if he has more family, they should be told. We’re looking for a donor for him but… There isn’t much time.”
With that, he ambled away, his hands in his white coat’s pockets, his back a little bowed, leaving Anando reeling at the news.
If Anando had had the phone number with him, he’d have called Lisa and Leo at once. He didn’t, though. Not here. He only had Brett’s cell phone number. He’d have to ask Brett for theirs. But if time was of the essence, he wouldn’t go alone.
He marched through the long corridors as though going to battle—which, in a sense, was exactly what he was doing. The first nurse he talked to flat out refused to even listen to him.
After a few minutes, by chance, he saw the one who had let him hold Emma and asked to talk to her. She was reluctant at first, but when Anando told her the baby’s father was dying in the ICU, she stared at him in confusion, then yielded.
“Don’t even
think about taking her off this floor,” she warned. “Alarms will sound if you do. And I’ll come with you. I’ll take her back here after a few minutes.”
It wasn’t until he was standing at the door to Brett’s room that he realized what he had said. He’d called Brett Emma’s father, and the word had come easily to his tongue. He still considered himself Emma’s dad, but he couldn’t deny that Brett, for however long he had to live, had a right to the same title.
He brushed the lightest of kisses against Emma’s forehead, and she shifted but did not wake up.
Steeling himself, he pushed the swing door open and walked in. The nurse remained outside.
‘Comfortable,’ the doctor had said, but when Anando entered the room and looked at Brett, it was possibly the very last word he would have used to describe the situation.
Brett lay under a sheet that covered him halfway up his chest. On his left side, multiple wires attached him to buzzing, whirring, beeping machines. His skin tone had a faint yellowish hue that, next to the green of the sheet, seemed even sicklier.
The familiar scent of his blood was mixed with less pleasant ones: disinfectant and other medical smells. Anando held Emma a little closer to his chest and took slow, quiet steps to the head of the bed. A man in scrubs had been fiddling with the machines. He turned to Anando and frowned, ready to send him away.
“The doctor said it was all right,” Anando said preemptively. “The short one? White hair, dark glasses?”
The nurse, if that was what he was, frowned more deeply still, but in the end he nodded. “Keep him calm,” he said, then left the room.
Brett’s eyelids fluttered open. For a moment, he seemed to have trouble focusing his eyes, but he smiled when he met Anando’s gaze.
“Hey.”
Anando’s throat felt like it was filled with crushed glass. “Hey. How do you feel?”
“Probably as bad as I look.” Brett licked his lips, took a raspy breath, and asked, “Doctor talked to you?”
Anando nodded. “Do you want me to call them?”