Saving Her Shadow

by Lutishia Lovely

  It was simple, a hook that encouraged the crowd to “pick it up,” and “pack it up.” Bryce came behind her with a counter punch. “Pickin’. Packin’. Uh-huh.”

  “That was good, babe!” Bryce said once they’d finished, reaching out for her arm and pulling her into a tight embrace. They kissed. It quickly became clear Bryce wanted to go further. But Raina still wasn’t ready for that.

  She pulled away. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

  “Bryce wriggled his eyebrows, looked at her meaningfully. “Me too.”

  He let it go though, and soon they were in heading to downtown Kansas City in his newly purchased, tricked-out pickup truck. Clearly, KCK’s tour had been successful. Raina reached for her purse and turned on the phone she’d turned off while recording. As had often been the case after a news story, the phone fairly sang with indicator pings.

  “Damn, baby! Your phone is beginning to sound like KC’s!”

  “Reporters, mostly,” she said, switching the volume to silent. “Another article on the custody case must have come out today. She tapped a search engine and was just about to google her name when the phone vibrated in her hand.

  “Hey, Jackie. What’s up?”

  “Raina! Where are you? I’ve been calling for an hour!”

  “With your cousin, same as yesterday.”

  “I’ve been calling him, too. Never mind, listen. Y’all are in Kansas City, right?”

  “Right,” Raina said, the word coming out slowly as she tried to gauge Jackie’s mood. “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t freak out with what I’m about to tell you, but Abby’s in the hospital.”

  “What?” Raina shouted, freaking all the way out. “When? Where is she? What’s the number?”

  “Raina, slow down. Listen, and breathe. I don’t have the details, just the name and address of where she was taken.”

  “Taken? From where?”

  “She’s there, Raina, in Kansas City at . . . Children’s Grace Medical Center. I’ll text you the phone number and address. Get there as soon as you can.”

  Jackie hung up.

  “What is it, babe?”

  “Abby’s here. In the hospital. Do you know where the one is that’s called Children’s Grace?”

  Bryce hit his Bluetooth. “KC does.”

  While he waited for KC to answer, Raina’s phone pinged with Jackie’s text that contained the address. She tapped it into the GPS. The app showed the hospital was fifteen minutes away. Bryce made it there in seven. He pulled into the emergency circle. Raina opened the door and was out of the truck before the wheels stopped rolling. She raced inside and up to the desk.

  “I’m here for Abby Reed,” she gushed, filled with emotion. “My name is—”

  “Raina?” One of the nurses interrupted. “We’ve been waiting for you. Come right this way.”

  Chapter 28

  They moved quickly down the hall to an elevator and down another set of hallways. As they neared a corner suite, however, the nurse stayed Raina with a hand on her arm.

  “I need you to try and stay calm in there,” she said softly, compassion streaming from her cornflower-blue eyes. “I’m going to be honest. Your sister’s pretty sick. She’s going to need all of the strength, support, and love you can muster, okay?”

  Raina’s eyes filled with tears. The nurse tightened her grip on Raina’s arm and shook it gently. “But . . . shh . . . but the doctors know about your shadow, Raina. They’ve read about Abby, and are especially determined to diagnose her condition as quickly as possible to get her on the road to recovery.”

  Raina calmly but firmly dislodged her arm from the nurse’s grip. “I want to see my sister.” She turned and softly opened the door. The first person she saw wasn’t Raina, but her mother. Jennifer’s face was a blessed combination of surprise and relief. She moved silently across the room and bearhugged her daughter.

  “Oh, honey,” she whispered, stepping back to look in Raina’s eyes while keeping her daughter tight in her arms. “I’m so sorry. I love you. I’ve missed you.”

  Raina relished the feel of her mother’s arms around her, a moment she’d dreamed of since leaving Lucent Rising. The circumstances could have been better, but the hug? It was the best. She broke away and turned to look at her sister.

  “Shadow,” she whispered. Tears leaped into her eyes. She walked over to the small, pale form lying against the stark white sheets, her frame smaller than Raina remembered, dark circles under her eyes.

  “Abby, I’m here,” Raina whispered, her hand caressing Abby’s cheeks and brushing back errant strands of hair from her face. “Sister’s here.”

  She stayed there for several minutes, just staring at Abby. That she was next to her, in a hospital no less, felt totally surreal.

  Finally she turned toward her mother, now seated in a chair by the bed. “What happened?”

  “She passed out, like that time at the house. The ILLUX machine wasn’t working. Her skin color changed. I didn’t even think about it, Raina. My fingers had a mind of their own. I don’t remember dialing 911.”

  Raina’s smile was bittersweet. “I know that feeling.”

  “I know that you do. On the way here by ambulance, you’re all I thought about. How I’d screamed at you the day you’d instinctively done the very same thing. The right thing. That’s when I called you. There’s so much to say. But the short of it is that I had to go against the rules and reach out to my daughter. In seeing my child pale, lifeless, her lips turning blue, a fog lifted and I remembered, Raina. I remembered someone I hadn’t thought of or felt like in a very long time.”

  Jennifer looked up at her daughter somewhat incredulously. “Me.”

  Raina hugged her mom. Fresh tears pressed against her lids. She held them at bay. “How long has she been this . . . sick?”

  Jennifer sighed. “After leaving Central Center, she seemed really well. Her skin was glowing. Her eyes were bright. She was back to the old Abby. But we lessened the light treatments little by little, until a month ago we were told we could stop them altogether. I don’t know if her worsening condition around that time was coincidental or if whatever she has just came back . . .”

  Jennifer’s voice trailed off as she looked at Abby.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Raina felt there was a whole other conversation packed into those three words. She returned her attention to Abby.

  “What have the doctors said?”

  “Very little, in terms of what’s wrong with her. They stabilized her vitals. She was dehydrated, so the intravenous tubing is providing liquids, vitamins, and minerals to help all of the areas where she’s depleted. They said it may be a few days before they have tests results back and anything to share. We just have to watch . . . and pray.”

  Raina’s eyes widened. “Have you left the faith? And Dad?”

  “No . . . I . . . right now I’m just focused on Abby getting better and will use any and everything available, including prayer, to help her heal.”

  Abby stirred, immediately cutting off conversation.

  “Shadow?” Raina whispered.

  Abby’s eyes fluttered open, widened briefly before closing again. “Sister.”

  “Yes, Abby. It’s me. I’m here.” Raina placed her face against Abby’s and squeezed her shoulder. With all the contraptions and tubes it was the closet she could come to a hug.

  Abby opened her eyes again. “You’re really here.”

  Raina laughed. Tears blurred her vision. “Yes, Shadow. I’m really here.”

  Abby turned and saw Jennifer. “And Mother, too?”

  “Yes, baby,” Jennifer said.

  “You’re both here . . . together?”

  “Together,” Jennifer noted. “Raina’s got her shadow back.”

  * * *

  Over the next month, Jennifer and Raina practically lived at the hospital. She put her classes on hold for a semester and moved into the home he
r mother had rented. They reconnected in a way that hadn’t happened since leaving the city when Raina was ten. One day, while having lunch in a spot in the city called Country Club Plaza, Jennifer received a call.

  “It’s the hospital,” she said, already reaching for her purse and starting to rise.

  Raina was right behind her. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, but it was the doctor. He wants to see us right away.”

  They arrived at the hospital and instead of going to Abby’s room, they were directed to the doctor’s office.

  “Hello, ladies,” he said when they arrived. “Please, come in. Have a seat.”

  “I don’t feel like sitting,” Jennifer said. “Do you have something to share about my daughter? Do you know what’s wrong with Abby?”

  The doctor went behind his desk and sat. Raina sat too and after a few seconds, Jennifer joined them.

  “It appears your daughter is suffering from a very rare blood disorder. A type of leukemia. That’s been at least one of the causes behind the symptoms you’ve witnessed—the near constant fatigue, shortness of breath, fevers and chills, and lately, the weight loss.”

  “Isn’t that cancer?” Raina asked.

  “A form of it, yes,” the doctor replied. “But treatable.”

  Jennifer slumped back in her seat. “Dear God.”

  “We’ll do everything we can to make Abby better, you have my word.” He looked at Raina. “Everyone wants to save your shadow.”

  * * *

  Abby remained in the hospital for another four weeks. Abby sat, wide-eyed and nervous, looking every bit as small as her seventy-two pounds, the hot-pink children’s hospital gown contrasting sharply with the white bed linen, tables, and walls. A nurse entered the room and began chatting comfortably while checking IVs and fluid bags and monitored the machines.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Hi.”

  “My name is Maria. I’m going to be your nurse today. On the chart your name is listed as Abby, but I understand you also go by the name Shadow?”

  “That’s my sister’s nickname for me. But my parents don’t like her to call me that.”

  “Why not?”

  “They say it means darkness.”

  “Hmm.” The nurse continued working. “What do you think?”

  “I kinda like it because of how my sister used it. Like our shadow created by the sun and follows us around.”

  “Let me guess. You’re the younger sister.”

  Abby’s smile widened. “Yes.”

  “I’m the oldest of three sisters and two brothers,” Maria continued, “so I have four shadows. For most younger siblings it’s the perfect description and therefore a perfect nickname. May I call you Shadow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, Shadow. Let’s get your temperature, make sure you’re not too caliente.”

  The nurse used an accent and rolled the r dramatically. Abby giggled, the desired effect. “We want you to be hot but not like a hot tamale, right?”

  Abby nodded. “Right.”

  Abby held up her finger and watched as the nurse slid on a finger thermometer. The nurse attached another set of monitors to Abby’s chest. Her look turned serious.

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  “You have some blood cells that don’t want to cooperate with each other,” Maria answered. “But don’t worry. A group of specialists have been assigned to your case. They’ve flown in from different parts of the world, just for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, because you’re Shadow, of course.” Maria winked at Abby. Producing another giggle, the desired effect.

  Chapter 29

  At times, Raina had thought she’d never see another good mood. But the day had finally arrived. There were still a plethora of challenges ahead of them, but today she focused only on the good news—Abby had been released! Life continued to move at a frantic pace with major changes happening daily, sometimes faster. Some were glorious new beginnings, like getting a great reference from Thomas in Chippewa and enjoying her first day working at the Breadbasket’s Kansas City location. Others swung the pendulum of her emotions in the opposite direction, like Ken’s unexpected appearance at the hospital last week. He arrived with two senior members from the Illumination and talked Jennifer into meeting with them. Two hours later, her plans had changed. Instead of them all moving in together, she’d decided to return to Chippewa and to her marriage. What that meant for the mother and daughter’s future relationship was unclear but for now, Raina was Abby’s legal guardian. After Jennifer had signed her over, Valarie quickly withdrew the petition for custody from the court. The change left Raina scrambling for a place to live. Again, Valarie was her angel. Through her connections and just days ago, she’d secured a temporary residence not far from the school. It was a quaint yet beautiful restored Spanish bungalow with high ceilings, big windows, a patio, and a fenced-in backyard. It was barely furnished, and Raina had no idea how she’d be able to afford the rent, but she’d worry about that later. Christine had honored her promise and for now would help Raina look after her sister. Today, she had a place to bring Abby. For Raina, that’s all that mattered in the world.

  She turned to her as Christine neared their street. “We’re almost home, Shadow. How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.” Abby’s voice was weak but her eyes were bright, taking in the tree-lined street and the homes beyond them.

  Christine reached over and squeezed Raina’s hand. “How are you, baby?”

  Raina let out a breath. “Still breathing. That’s good.”

  “It’s a big step you’re taking today, and perfectly fine to feel a bit nervous about it.” She gave Raina’s hand a final squeeze before returning her hand to the wheel and turning on to their block.

  Raina’s jaw dropped. Abby squealed with delight. As soon as Miss Christine’s gold SUV turned the corner, a riot of balloons came into view. Welcome home, congratulations, and other positive messages on balloons and placards could be seen up and down the street. They were on fences and in the trees. Decorating stop signs and light poles and cars. Held by the dozens of family, friends, and supporters who now lined the street to welcome Abby to her new, temporary home, A couple news trucks were parked nearby, with cameramen beside them recording the scene. When the crowd parted to allow Miss Christine to turn into the drive, she turned up the volume on the gospel tune playing on her radio. It was an apropos message for the long journey they’d all just experienced, the one where Abby had come through victorious and healthy on the other side.

  Victory is mine. Victory is mine. Victory today is mine!

  The crowd descended on the car and surrounded it, dancing and clapping to the upbeat tune. Christine beamed and joined in the celebration, shaking her shoulders as her fingers danced. From somewhere came the sound of a tambourine. A young teenager, marching like a troubadour, broke out of the pack, beating the skin and kicking his heels.

  “That’s Julius,” Raina said, recognizing the boy who’d come to visit Abby a week ago, along with other visitors and former patients who had also spent time on the children’s trauma ward. “Look! Over there! It’s Katie, Ramona, and Mike!”

  The impromptu party was infectious. Even the nursing assistant, Becky, who’d be visiting them daily for the next couple weeks, bobbed her head in time to the music. Abby sat there wide-eyed and stunned. Finally, she turned to Raina and asked her, “All of this for me?”

  “Yes, Shadow. All of this, because you chose to live!”

  The crowd was boisterous but respectful. When Miss Christine exited the driver’s side of the vehicle, they stepped back to give her room. Becky got out on the passenger side, then walked around to where the wheelchair was stored in the back. A determined news reporter pushed through the crowd, cameraman in tow. Raina had been about to open the passenger side for Abby, but she pushed the door shut and stood in front of it. Raina watched as Bruce once again appeared, as if by magic, along
with half a dozen other burly-looking, shades-wearing men dressed in black T-shirts and black denim jeans. One directed the reporter and cameraman away. The others formed a semicircle around the car to keep the crowd away from the SUV door. Bruce walked up, gave Raina a hug, then turned to direct the crowd backward. Only then did Raina see the writing on the back of his shirt. SHADOW’S SECURITY. She laughed out loud. Perfect!

  Abby was still too weak to speak with anyone, but Raina gave the young newsperson a tired smile, pausing his question with her finger. She watched as Bruce opened the door, lifted Abby into his arms, and then gently set her in the wheelchair. The crowd whooped and celebrated as though she’d run the one hundred . . . and won. Abby gave the crowd a wave, timid at first and then increasingly enthusiastic as she was wheeled up the sidewalk and into their temporary home.

  Raina returned her attention to the reporter. It was largely due to media coverage that everything had turned out as well as it had. She was grateful for their interest.

  “You want to know about Abby?”

  “Your shadow, right?”

  “Yes,” Raina nodded.

  “After such a public battle, how does it feel to be bringing her home?”

  “It feels amazing to have my sister here with me, ready to start our new lives. I want to take this moment and thank everyone who did anything to help us—made a call, sent a card, said a prayer, whatever. It took all of us to get to this moment and I’m very grateful.”

  “What about your parents? How do you feel about them?”

  “I love my parents and know they feel the same about Shadow, um, Abby and me. No matter the differences we’ve had in the past, I am sure they’re happy their daughter is alive.”

  Raina worked to keep her smile in place. Mentioning her mom and stepdad caused drops of sadness to seep into the happy occasion. With Jennifer having returned to her husband, Raina had sent an invitation to Lucent Rising and held out hope that they’d respond, that for the day anyway the four of them could be a family. Raina swiped away the lone tear that trickled down, even as she wondered if that scenario would ever happen again. Later she’d have to come to terms with what fighting for Abby may have cost her. Now, however, was not the time for that. Today was all about celebration.