How could I do this alone?
CHAPTER SEVEN: SLEEP NOW
“BEAU, WHAT’S WRONG?”
I didn’t know how much time had passed, just that I hadn’t noted any of it while I sat grievin’ over Phoebe’s ills. Obviously, it’d been enough for Angel to find her way to the hospital and to my side.
“It’s Phoebe,” I choked. “She passed out.”
“Again? God. I thought that was all over now that the babies are . . .”
“There ain’t never been no guarantees. I think she’s real sick, sweetness. I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t lose her.”
“You won’t lose her. Not if I can help it.”
“Ya might not have a choice in the matter.”
Angel cupped my cheeks. “You won’t lose her. I can promise you that. Phoebe is a fighter.”
It was clear she’d intended to pacify me with her words—to give me the strength to make me fight another day—but even she didn’t have faith in them.
In the tears in her eyes and the lies on her lips, I could see Angel’s fear.
“Come here.” She didn’t give me a chance to resist as she wrapped her arms around me.
I let her give me her comfort, and I took every one of her reassurin’ words. I did it all for her. When I got the call that Phoebe was stable, I took one last comforting touch from Angel before headin’ down to find Phoebe.
Reaching her bedside, I found my wife still unconscious.
For the next day, I took up the vigil I’d lived for so many months and sat at her bedside waitin’ for more. The doctors came and spoke about what she was goin’ through. They talked to me about insulin resistance and nonalcoholic steatohepatitis; about dangerously low GFR counts and anemia; about a range of things that explained why she was sick, but not one on how she’d get better. They ran tests while she was unconscious and promised answers as soon as they could get them.
“Once she’s awake, we can discuss her prognosis and possible treatment options,” the latest doctor said before she left the room.
The instant the doctor was gone, I grabbed Phoebe’s hand in mine. “Goddammit, darlin’, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
I didn’t know how much more of it I could take, but when I was in the depths of my despair, one of the possible alternatives struck me, and I found myself almost happy to be at her hospital bedside. It was far better than bein’ near her grave.
Slowly, Phoebe recovered again and started to be more awake than asleep.
“Ya gotta stop doin’ that to me,” I admonished durin’ one of her wakeful times. I found as playful a tone as I could muster. “I can’t always be there to catch you.”
“You’re wrong there, Beau,” she said, starin’ off into the distance. “I know you’ll always be there to catch me when I fall. It’s part of the reason I knew I could have the twins despite it making me sick.”
“What happened?” I asked. “Why’d ya collapse?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. I just felt a little strange, and a metallic taste filled my mouth, and then it went blank.”
“The doctors will be on their rounds soon. You can ask them all the questions because they only told me the basics. Maybe . . .” I trailed off, wonderin’ if it was the best time to discuss the issue before decidin’ if the right time wasn’t right that instant, there would never be one. “Maybe it’s time to discuss the options of a transplant. Surely you’ve recovered enough from the caesarean by now? It’s gotta be better for ya to do that than to keep livin’ like this.”
“I’ll talk to them.”
When the doctor came back, I was gonna stay with Phoebe to listen to the doctor’s prognosis and ensure the things we both needed to know were asked, but Phoebe just looked over to me.
“Would you mind going to check on the twins while I go through this with the doctors?” she asked.
“They’re fine, Angel’s with—”
“Please?” she practically begged. “I need to do this alone.”
“Okay, darlin’. I’ll be back soon.” Despite the dread risin’ in my stomach, I did as Phoebe asked.
Exactly as I’d suspected, Angel and the nurses had everythin’ under control in the nursery. Still, I waited long enough for Phoebe to have her meetin’ with the doctor before headin’ back down.
When I walked back into Phoebe’s room, panic gripped me. The red on her cheeks and rimming her eyes was all wrong. It wasn’t the face of someone with good news.
Still, I refused to give up hope as I asked, “So what’s the verdict? How soon can you go in for surgery?”
“Sit.”
Her tone warned me that I didn’t wanna sit. Sittin’ meant she had somethin’ to say she didn’t want me standin’ for, and that meant it wasn’t gonna be good. I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Please?” She sobbed as the word left her.
My ass found the seat faster than I could’ve dreamed when that one tiny word slipped past her lips. “So what’s happenin’, are we linin’ up candidates who’re willin’ to give ya a kidney?”
“No. I can’t have anyone do that.”
A thousand arguments were ready on my lips. I knew the risks, everyone who would volunteer did, and every risk was worth it for her.
“Not because I don’t want to,” she continued. “I just . . . can’t.” Tears flooded her eyes again. “It turns out that my kidneys aren’t the only thing under stress.”
“What are ya sayin’?”
“It isn’t just my kidneys that need to be replaced.”
Was her liver failin’ too? I’d suspected as much with her jaundiced color but didn’t want to make any assumptions. “Well, what else do ya need? Is it a liver? I got a whole lotta things I can give to ya. Everyone does if it’ll keep ya healthy.”
“You can give me a new kidney, you might even be able to help out with some of your liver, but you can’t give me a new heart or another set of lungs.”
The world stopped spinnin’ in that instant. Every hope I’d had died. “What?”
“My heart . . . it’s not working so well anymore either. In fact, nothing seems to be. My liver, lungs, pancreas, kidneys, and heart. Everything. So many of my organs are breaking down.”
I shook my head as my lungs stopped workin’. If I refused to believe it, maybe it would stop.
“I’m dying, Beau. There’s nothing more they can do. Nothing anyone can do. I’ll need an entire set of new organs at this rate. It’s just not possible.”
I gasped for air; it was in short supply in the room. She was dyin’. There was no doubt in her voice—only fear.
Fear of the end, or of hurtin’ me? The answer became apparent when she spoke next.
“I’m sorry,” she said through her tears.
“You’re sorry?” I parroted in disbelief. “For dyin’?”
She bit her lip and nodded as her tears fell heavier. “This isn’t how I wanted it to end. Or when.”
“This ain’t the end.”
“Didn’t you hear me? Nothing is working like it should. I’m dying. I might have weeks left at most.”
I didn’t want to acknowledge her words. I didn’t wanna listen to the truth in them. If I just believed hard enough, begged the universe loud enough, maybe she would stay with me. “We’ll get through this, darlin’.”
“There isn’t anything to get through,” she snapped. “There isn’t anything anyone can do. It’s over.”
“It ain’t over. Ya ain’t dead yet. You’ve got two li’l girls who need to spend as much time with their mama as they can.” Squeezin’ into bed beside her, I wrapped my arms around her and drew her close. “And a husband who needs to love ya.”
“Until my dying breath.” She sobbed louder as she fell to pieces in my arms.
“No, darlin’.” I shook my head. “Until mine.”
After Phoebe had cried out her grief and stilled her tears, she looked up at me. “Do you hate me?”
“H
ow could I hate you?”
“Having the twins . . . That was my choice, and I broke my promise to you because I’m not going to be able to fight like hell anymore. I have no fight left.”
It didn’t seem right seeing her so defeated.
“Ya ain’t leavin’ me yet, are ya?”
Her chest heaved as she fought to keep her tears under control. “The doctors have said I might only have a month or two.”
I swallowed hard as the reality of the situation hit me. “Months?”
“If I’m lucky.”
I grabbed hold of her hand and drew it to my lips. “We’ll get through this,” I said.
“There’s one more thing. I-I don’t want to tell anyone yet.”
My brow dipped as I considered her words. “Why not, darlin’?”
“I just don’t want the rest of my family to spend the next few weeks worrying about me on top of the babies.”
“They’re gonna worry about ya anyway with ya bein’ in here.”
“I know, but not as much. When the girls go home, I’ll tell Mum and Dad then.”
The question of whether she’d make it that long lingered unspoken between us. “What about Angel?”
“We probably should let her know. It’s going to affect her.”
“It’s gonna affect everyone.”
“You know what I mean. Angel’s going to have to be there for you and the babies. You’re all going to need her.”
“Please stop,” I muttered. “I don’t wanna talk like this.”
“No, we need to talk about this, Beau. It’s not easy, but I need—I need . . .” She trailed off as tears stole her voice again.
“And we will talk. Later,” I promised. “I just need time to work things out in my head.”
She trailed one hand through my hair. “Take all the time you need.”
I played with the hair near her ear, tucking and untucking it. My gaze focused on that spot so I didn’t have to meet her eye and see the tears there. “Ten years might do it.”
As soon as the words were out, my gaze drifted across her face—from her twisted grimace to her sad eyes. “If I had a choice . . .”
Her lips quivered as tears stole her voice away.
“Hey, darlin’, you know it can’t be good for your health to cry so many tears.”
“I don’t want to. All of your memories will be of me with tears in my eyes, and that’s not fair to you. We had good times too, didn’t we?”
“The best.” I gathered her hands in mine and brought them to my lips. Keeping my gaze locked with hers, I kissed each one of her fingers in turn. “I know ya might hate me for sayin’ this, and I don’t mean to cause ya any pain, but I gotta say it. I’ll regret it if I don’t.”
“Say what?”
“I love you, Phoebe. I always have, and I always will. You’re so beautiful, and carin’, and lovely, that I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”
Although she flinched at my words, I didn’t regret sayin’ them. If anythin’ I was regrettin’ not sayin’ them more than I had.
“Me too, Beau. Me too.”
We lay face to face in bed, starin’ at each other until she started to drift off to sleep. She fought the call for a while and I wanted to remove the temptation so that she would sleep.
“Darlin’, if it’s okay with you, I’m gonna go check on the twins and head home for a li’l while.”
She nodded but didn’t open her eyes. “Go get some sleep and maybe talk to Angel.”
“But not your parents.”
“Not yet.”
I kissed her forehead. “Okay. Sleep, and I’ll be back tomorrow unless you need me sooner. If ya do, get the nurse to call—no matter the time.”
“Sure thing, Beau,” she mumbled.
Despite sayin’ I was gonna go, I didn’t leave right away. Instead, I stood and watched her until her breathin’ steadied and she was fast asleep. Then I found a nurse to have a word with to find out more about what was happenin’.
Thankfully, Phoebe had given the approval for them to discuss her case with me, and before long, I was in front of her doctor hearin’ the worst from another mouth. Phoebe wasn’t gonna get a happily ever after. She wasn’t gonna get another chance. There was nothin’ they could do. Feelin’ numb, I headed up to check on the girls and find out if there was any more news on them. While I was there, I held each of them in turn and changed their diapers.
“Is there something wrong?” the nurse asked. She was one I’d seen before from time to time, but I didn’t know her name.
I sighed. “I ain’t sure there’s much that’s right at the moment.”
“If you’re worried about something, it can help to talk to your babies. They respond to the sound of your voice, and it helps you get things off your chest.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank ya.” There was no way I could get through tellin’ them that their mama was gonna die.
After an hour with them, I headed home. The whole time, everythin’ Phoebe had told me spun through my head. When I arrived home, I pushed through the front door and just stood in the entrance as all of my thoughts smashed into me at once.
“Beau, is that you?” Angel asked.
I took a step forward, but couldn’t answer her with anythin’ more than a grunt.
“Are you okay?” she asked as she slid into view.
I clenched my jaw and gave a small shake of my head.
“Is it—oh, God, did something happen with Phoebe?”
“I—” I cut off. “She . . .” I hung my head and sighed. “I think we need a drink.”
“Sit. I’ll get us one.”
Walkin’ through the house, happier memories besieged me. The joyful years we had shared there. I could almost hear Phoebe’s voice callin’ to me, and I had to close my eyes to fight off the tears.
I sat at the dinin’ table and sank my head onto the surface.
“Here.” Angel slid a tumbler containin’ a decent servin’ of Fireball in front of me.
I stared at the glass of amber liquid.
“Are you okay?” Angel asked again, brushing her hand over my shoulder in comfort.
“How are you?” I asked instead of responding. If it wasn’t for Angel takin’ care of everything back at the house and doin’ shifts with the girls, things woulda been that much harder since the delivery of the twins.
“I’m fine. What’s going on?”
I lifted the glass of Fireball and downed the lot in one long gulp.
She sat across the table from me. “That good, huh?”
“She’s dyin’,” I said even though I didn’t want to admit the words.
“What?”
“Phoebe. She’s . . . she ain’t got long left.”
“Unless she gets a kidney, right?”
I reached for the bottle of Fireball Angel had left on the table. I had to be careful not to drink too much—just in case Phoebe called and needed me—but I had to have at least one more.
“Beau. She just needs to wait for a new kidney, right?”
My jaw tightened again, and my eyes burned as I shook my head. “It ain’t gonna be enough. She’s slippin’ away, and there’s nothin’ anyone can do to stop it.”
“No!” Angel’s cry of denial filled the house. “She promised that she was going to fight like hell.”
“She still is. She just ain’t got much fight left in her.”
“How can she give up so easily? How can you?”
“You ain’t seen her, sweetness. She’s fightin’ but it’s takin’ its toll.”
“What can we do?” Angel still seemed to be willin’ to deny the information. I couldn’t blame her—I wanted to deny it too. Wanted to wish it all away on a shootin’ star.
“We need to get ready just in case she’s able to come home.”
“What do you mean ‘get ready’? Wouldn’t it be a good thing if they let her come home? Wouldn’t it mean she’s getting better?”
I shook my
head. “I spoke to her doctor. It ain’t about savin’ her life or makin’ her healthy no more.” I could barely focus on what I was saying as the whirlwind of information the doctor had said tore through me again.
Home hospice.
Palliative care.
Words I knew well from my time at my sister’s side.
“It’s about makin’ her comfortable,” I said. “M-Makin’ her—” As the unfairness of the situation rushed through me, I stood and hurled the glass at the wall. It’s so goddamned unfair!
Angel screamed when the tumbler smashed against the wall and shattered.
Before her scream had even had a chance to die, I fell to my knees as everythin’ I’d been fightin’ since Phoebe had told me she was dyin’ crashed over me and sent me drownin’ in a wave of sorrow so violent and deep that I didn’t know how to fight my way to the surface.
Angel’s arms wrapped around me and her tears joined with mine. We stayed like that for the longest time before the ringin’ of a phone drove us apart. Not that either of us stood to answer it.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said. “This can’t be happening. Not her. Not now.”
“Phoebe doesn’t want Dec or Lys to find out yet,” I said to Angel. “She doesn’t wanna tell them until . . .”
“They need to know. She’s their daughter for Christ’s sake.”
I couldn’t meet Angel’s gaze. “She doesn’t want to worry them until the girls have been given the all clear.”
“And you agreed?”
“How can I deny her anythin’, sweetness?”
Her lips twisted, but she didn’t argue. “I guess you can’t.”
When the phone rang again, I pushed off the ground to answer it. My head ached, and my chest heaved with each breath I took. It was enough to send my head spinning as I pressed the button to answer.
“How is she?” Alyssa asked. “Angel mentioned she collapsed yesterday, but Phoebe told us not to worry about it. Is she home now?”
I closed my eyes. How could I lie to her and tell her Phoebe was okay? “She’s still at the hospital. The doctors wanted to keep her in for observation.” I tried not to let my voice break as I skirted as close to the truth as I dared to go.
Beacon (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story Book 6) Page 7