Forevermore

by Cristiane Serruya

  He spent the short drive to his building trying to convince himself of that.

  He parked the car, got out of it, slamming the door behind him, and went to the elevator, pressing the code to his penthouse.

  He didn’t flip on a light until he reached the kitchen. Rachel had always said he had the night vision of a bat.

  He opened the refrigerator and studied its contents without actually focusing on a single item, then closed it again. He wasn’t thirsty for anything—except, maybe, for Ava, and it was too soon for that.

  He hadn’t bothered with such niceties as timing with the women his brother set him up with in the past two months. Their feelings just hadn’t mattered much to him, though he’d never been deliberately unkind. He made sure they were always well satisfied sexually and sent them flowers along with a brief card the next day.

  But there had been something aloof—and a sadness—in Ava which didn’t make him press for more than the kiss, which was unusual for him. His lips opened in a rueful grin as he walked through the dining room to the front entryway and the stairs.

  He trailed his hand over the top of the ebony lacquered banister as he climbed the stairs.

  The empty penthouse yawned around Aleksander as he opened his bedroom door and went inside.

  He tossed back the duvet, fluffy and white, slid in, and switched off the light. In the dark he could hear the wind picking up, a sharp whistle, the sizzle of rain against the windows, and his bed never felt so cold. Stop it. It’s just an open window.

  He got up to check and found that the window was open just a crack. With a derisive huff, he closed it, then went and turned up the thermostat to get rid of the chill, then got back in bed. He closed his eyes and wished as he did every night for a few hours of peaceful oblivion for him and for his daughter.

  But when sleep took him, Ava was still ensconced in his mind.

  Chapter 4

  Sloan Kettering Memorial Cancer Center

  Tuesday, November 10, 2015

  12:00 p.m.

  * * *

  It took Ava a fair amount of self-discipline to stop thinking about Aleksander and concentrate on her studies.

  She’d left him standing on the sidewalk—not even thanking him for the champagne, she’d realized later with chagrin—before she’d hustled herself into her apartment.

  She hadn’t trusted herself to spend a minute longer in the car after the kiss. So, she’d escaped inside and taken the stairs two at a time to her apartment on the third floor. For a long moment, she had leaned back against the white paint of her front door catching her breath—and not because of the exercise exactly.

  She had stood there for a while, thinking about how she could have been having dinner with Aleksander at that moment, enjoying a conversation and perhaps flirting some more, instead of getting ready to study.

  She’d been right to say no, exactly because she’d wanted to say yes so badly.

  She remembered exactly how her body had responded to him, because it was still humming, still lit up from the electricity of his touch, the memory of his lips lingering softly over hers.

  He hadn’t called, but he hadn’t promised to. She looked at her watch and laughed. Don’t be an idiot. It’s only noon.

  And he probably wouldn’t be interested in anything more than quick sex anyway. And even if he wanted something more—there was no way he could, because men like him don’t go for women like me.

  It was a night out with a stranger—dangerous and delicious—and that’s all.

  But she didn’t want it to be all.

  “Hey, Ava!”

  She looked up from her iPad to see Brian Duncan, a first-year resident in pediatrics, running in her direction. She smiled at him when he skidded to a stop beside her and matched her step. “Hey. Where’s the party?”

  “Joseph Cumber told me you’re not going home for the holidays,” Brian said, ignoring her comment. “Is it true?”

  “Yes. It’s a long way to and from Norway to just spend a couple of days.” The truth was Ava didn’t have a pressing need to be at home on any given day, least of all on Christmas—one of the big days of the year that did nothing but stir up sad and painful memories. So she chose to keep her mind busy by offering to work on all holidays. Her family was disappointed that she was not going home for another holiday—the third in a row she had missed since moving to the United States—but she was sure her nephews would be much happier with the radio-controlled drones she had already shipped them than a visit from their thirty-one year-old spinster aunt.

  “Could you cover my shift on Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve?” he asked, as they walked to the cafeteria.

  “Yeah, probably. I just have to check if it’s alright with Dr. Wang,” she said, referring to the administrator of the pediatric oncology ward. “I’m working day shift on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s day. Plus Joe has asked me to cover for him on New Year’s Eve. You know how Dr. Wang is with long hours.”

  “God, spare me when Dr. Wang calls on me.” Brian faked a shudder. “That woman breathes fire.”

  A visit to doctor Paloma Wang’s office made every resident tremble in their shoes. Such visits could result in very bad news, such as a reprimand due to a patient complaint or mishandling of hospital procedure, or even a dismissal due to suspected medical malfeasance; or it could bring exceptionally good news, like an award of excellence or a commendation of some sort. There was rarely a middle-of-the-road visit with Dr. Wang.

  “She only breathes fire on those who party too much.” Ava smiled when Brian made a face. “I’ll ask her about working those nights for you. I promise.”

  They entered the cafeteria which was teeming with doctors, nurses, and in-patients’ companions and headed to the buffet, picking up their lunch. Brian directed her to a table where they found Sydney and another nurse, Whitney Mobutu, eating by themselves and delighted to have company.

  “Taking a break, Sydney?” Brian asked.

  “Olivia’s dad is with her.” Sydney’s lowered her voice and added, “That man could have been a freakin’ movie star.”

  Ava smiled and shook her head at Sydney, who was the kind of person who said whatever was on her mind; the classic no filter between brain and mouth.

  Ava had heard a lot about Olivia’s father. She had yet to meet him though since transferring to the children’s oncology ward. But she knew that whenever he was on the hospital floor—which had been often since his daughter had begun an extensive and aggressive cancer treatment—he caused a commotion. Plus, he always generously tipped the staff, which Ava assumed made him even more handsome in their eyes.

  “I would stay with Liv for free if he wanted me to,” Whitney, who was the other of Olivia’s private nurses, said with a sigh. “He smells like a heady dive in an exotic, dark pine forest, raw and sensual. Manly.”

  “Well, you’re not going to be smelling that raw manly sensual scent for much longer,” Sydney said in a low voice.

  Ava was still chuckling at Whitney’s comment, when she looked up at Sydney and noticed the young woman had tears in her eyes, and that made her stop short of taking a bite of her cheese sandwich. “What happened?”

  As a standard practice, the nurses and interns rotated areas so that none of them became too attached to any one patient. But Ava knew from the hospital gossip machine that Aleksander had requested—and handsomely paid for, along with a huge donation to the pediatric oncology service as an incentive—a team of two rotating nurses to stay with his daughter.

  Plus, the girl had easily became a favorite among the staff, not only because of her having lost her mother, but because rather than constantly complaining about her condition or treatment, little Olivia was always helping lift the spirits of the other children on the ward. Although cancer was slowly sapping the life out of her, she smiled often and her upbeat personality was contagious.

  Whitney patted Sydney’s shoulder and explained to Ava, “Olivia is going home.”

>   Ava sucked in a breath. Going home in that ward only meant two things: either the patient had been cured, or had been pronounced incurable.

  “She’s not responding to treatment anymore.” Sydney sniffed. “Mr. Maximilian’ll be taking her home tomorrow morning.”

  “They decided to stop treatment?” Ava asked. “But they haven’t even tried surgery.”

  “Her tumor is inoperable and her medical condition has only been decaying,” explained Whitney.

  Suddenly, Ava wasn’t hungry anymore. In fact, just the smell of the forgotten sandwich in her hand was turning her stomach. She put it down on her plate.

  At the end of the year, fourteen years after entering the pre-med program, Ava would seek board certification as a pediatric oncologist. And despite her years of experience, the imminent and inevitable death of a child, left her shaken. “But couldn’t it shrink with another round of chemo so they can extirpate it?”

  Sydney shook her head. “I heard Dr. Follett saying that any response to any chemo at that point is negated by the miserableness with which she would spend her last days.”

  “She’s also occupying a room that could be used by a child who actually has a chance,” said Brian.

  Sydney gasped, “Christ, Brian!”

  It was not the words but the indifference in Brian’s tone that made Ava’s chest hitch painfully with a stifled breath. She clenched her hand under the table, her nails biting into her soft palm and keeping her rooted in the present.

  “People die everyday.” He shrugged. “That’s life.”

  How can he be so cavalier? Bile rose in Ava’s throat. I’m going to be ill.

  With her tray in her hands, Ava hurriedly pushed up and away from the chair, causing her full glass of juice to topple over.

  “Shit!” Brian jumped back to avoid being splashed with orange juice. His chair crashed loudly on the linoleum floor.

  The conversation toned down and all eyes converged on her, standing there. “Oh, God! I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Sydney said, throwing some paper napkins over the spilled liquid while Whitney dragged her tray away.

  “Are you okay?” Brian straightened her now empty glass and eyed her speculatively. “Ava?”

  “I…” Focus. She took a deep breath. “Yes. I have a paper to present tomorrow. I’d better take a few minutes to review my notes.”

  With that pitiful excuse, she turned on her heels.

  “Don’t forget to ask the dragon about my shift,” called out Brian.

  Don’t count on it, Doctor Cold-Heart. “I won’t,” she replied, and marched out of the cafeteria. If you can shrug at children dying, you can work on each and every holiday.

  Olivia Maximilian had big blue eyes that seemed even larger on her thin face. Her tiny mouth, pert nose, and delicate body made her look like some sort of magical fairy that might sprout wings at any moment and fly away. The pink flowered elastic band she wore around her bald head with a tuft of glittery orange tulle just added to the impression.

  On her good days, Olivia would take her faithful companion Toddy to visit the other children on the floor, but on most days she worked on filling her journal.

  Despite her failing health, Olivia was a ray of light that stole the hearts of all the medical staff on the floor, including Ava. She was very smart and was keenly aware of the serious nature of her illness, though she never let it put a damper on her spirit. Some nurses joked about Olivia being their favorite patient, especially when her mysteriously handsome father was around. But since Ava had never met Olivia’s father, she could honestly say he had nothing to do with the fact that Ava oftentimes found herself paying Olivia more visits than was required of her. She was simply drawn to the girl as if she was her own.

  Ava wasn’t due to check in on her, but she stopped by Olivia’s hospital room anyway, eager to hear of her exam results.

  When Ava pushed the door to Olivia’s room open, she couldn't help but smile as she was greeted by those large blue eyes.

  “Good morning,” she said, after a brief knock at the door frame.

  “Ava!” Olivia exclaimed. “You heard? I’m going home.”

  “I heard, Pixie.” Ava smiled and approached the bed, fluffing her pillows and adjusting her sheets and then greeted Olivia’s golden retriever, “How are you today, Toddy?”

  Toddy huffed in greeting followed by a few wags of his tail. Ava reached in her pocket, pulled out a dog biscuit she carried for all the dogs who accompanied patients and gave it to Toddy, who ate it happily.

  “If you’re going home that means your exam results came in,” Ava said, hoping to pull some information from Olivia.

  “Yes, but I didn’t look at them,” Olivia said. “I don’t like exams.”

  Not getting the answer she wanted, Ava glanced over at the computer that rested on the counter. She knew the results would be there, but to access them without necessity for the job would be against hospital code. Still, she wondered if the results had been left open on the desktop.

  “I don’t like exams either.” Ava moved to the computer and cursed inwardly when she realized the exam results hadn’t been opened yet on that computer.

  “Guess what, Ava?”

  She turned back towards Olivia. “What, Pixie?”

  Olivia’s smile grew even brighter. “My dad and I are going to spend the holidays at The Cottage and have lots of parties!”

  “Oh my, parties?” Ava asked. “I bet they will be the greatest holiday parties ever.”

  “Yup! You should come and spend Thanksgiving with us.”

  “Oh, I wish I could. I already promised someone I would work for them on Thanksgiving so they can be at home with their families.”

  “How about Christmas, then?”

  Ava chuckled at the girl’s insistence and shook her head. “I’ll be working then, too.”

  Olivia’s smile faded. “Oh. Okay.”

  Not every child had a long and healthy life written into their future, and her job reminded her every day just how precious something as simple as a Thanksgiving dinner or a Christmas party could be for someone, especially when it could be their last.

  Determined to see Olivia smile again, Ava walked back toward Olivia’s bedside and said, “How about I send you a present? It’ll be delivered right to your cottage and you can think of me when you open it.”

  Olivia’s smile returned. “Okay! But how will it get to The Cottage? You don’t know where it is.”

  “Christmas magic,” Ava said, though she would probably just write down her address from her records. I’m just breaking all the rules today.

  “You still believe in Christmas magic?” Olivia asked.

  Ava wished she did still believe in things such as magic and miracles. Watching children die was part of her job, and it often made life feel completely void of magic at times, but she wouldn’t tell that to Olivia. Each person deserved to live as happily and as comfortably as possible and Ava would made sure every child under her care did so. Especially Olivia.

  She glanced back at the computer. Maybe she could get away with forwarding the exam results to her private email address. It would be less obvious than opening it, though still an ethical breach. She went back to the computer and typed in her private email with the file attached, but hesitated to send it.

  “I still believe in Christmas magic,” Ava said, turning back to Olivia. “It’s rare—more rare than I would like—but I think it’s still there.”

  “Well then, I hope you see some Christmas magic this year,” Olivia said, with a fairy’s smile that melted Ava’s heart.

  Doctors who want to remain sane try to keep an emotional distance from patients, especially when it comes to kids with cancer since the odds are so often stacked against them, but Ava found it difficult, if not impossible, not to lose her heart to the children she tended to.

  “I hope the same for you, too,” Ava said.

  A nearby ceiling speaker came to life as a familiar v
oice mingled with a mechanical buzz said, “Would the following staff please report to the large conference room on the oncology ward?”

  Ava listened with divided attention and heard her name included in the list. “I suppose I should go see what I’m needed for,” she said, walking back to Olivia to give her a hug and pat Toddy atop his golden head.

  “Okay. Don’t forget the Christmas magic!” Olivia said.

  “I won’t, Pixie.” Ava said, then she turned and clicked Send on the computer before heading out the door and down to the conference room.

  1:30 p.m.

  * * *

  “What’s going on?” Sydney asked, sitting beside Ava in the fourth row of the small room. Brian, a couple of other interns, and a few nurses were already sitting in the rows in front of them.

  “I have no idea,” Ava told her. “I was notified I should come here and here I am. When you get an out-of-the blue meeting call from Dr. Wang, you don’t ask, you just come.”

  “I wonder what she wants. I hope this isn’t about a change in the holiday schedule. I already bought my family’s plane tickets for Thanksgiving. We’re going to make our dream trip to Disney,” said Whitney, seated on the other side of Ava. She leaned over to put her hand on Sydney’s knee and asked her, “You’re still working my hours, right?”

  Fresh out of nursing school, Sydney needed all the money she could make. “Don’t worry. I got you covered.”

  As a few more older and experienced doctors arrived, it was abundantly clear to Ava that this was no ordinary shift-change meeting.

  The loud buzz of conversations filling in the air dulled to a low hum when the back door opened to let in Doctor Wang, Doctor James Cullen, the hospital administrator, and Doctor Marshall Follett, chief of the pediatric neuro-oncology service, followed by a couple who Ava didn’t know, and to her utter surprise, the man she had kissed last night—Aleksander.

  Surely this isn’t about me.