by Kate Tailor
“That’d be great.”
“Let me get you a beer.” Theo led them into the kitchen. “Beth, your brother is here.”
Beth removed the lasagna from the oven and pressed a finger on the melted cheese. “Patrick, are you staying for dinner? We have enough for your whole family. Should I call Shannon?”
“No. I’ll stay, but I don’t think you’re going to want a crowd.”
Beth pushed a lock of red hair behind her ear. She raised an eyebrow at her brother’s physician voice and scrutinized his face. “What is it, Patrick?”
“Mom, we know what’s making me sick,” Raleigh said.
Beth’s oven-mittened hand flew to her chest. She looked at Raleigh, then at her brother, and lastly her husband. “What?”
“We figured it out today. Uncle Patrick had a specialist come and analyze me, and she solved it.”
“What!” Beth gulped down a sob. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Better than all right!” Raleigh hugged her mom and took in the flour, cheese, and all the other wonderful smells associated with her. “There’s a treatment and everything.”
Beth’s eyes grew glossy. “I knew. I told you. Didn’t I? I told you that we’d figure it out. Now we have. What is it?”
“A hormone.” Patrick didn’t include the name. “I sent the specialist, Doctor Orman, the blood work last week. We got confirmation that the hormone is the likely culprit behind the blackouts.”
“It’s a miracle.” Beth grasped Raleigh’s hands. “And the treatment, is it a medication? We’ll have to start her on it immediately.”
Raleigh’s mother had none of her daughter’s reservations about hope. Raleigh capitalized on that. “That’s the most important thing, right? That I get better?”
Her father must have heard her apprehension. “Yes. That is what matters most. If you’re worried about the cost, we’ll find a way to afford it.”
“Is it expensive?” Beth asked. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll work with the insurance.”
“It’s free.” Raleigh glanced to Patrick. The bad news had to be delivered at the perfect moment.
“Well, that’s even better!” Beth beamed. “To think, when we woke up this morning it was a perfectly normal day. Patrick, thank you so much.” She embraced her brother. “How soon can she start? Of course, I’ll want to see all the research on the treatment, but I can tell you’re confident.”
Patrick grimaced at Raleigh. “There is a treatment, and it is free. But it involves an extraction of the hormone from Raleigh’s blood.”
“That sounds serious,” Theo said.
Patrick shrugged. “Doctor Orman didn’t imply that it’s anything to be nervous about.”
“Is it like dialysis?” Beth was familiar with the process because of her father’s kidney disease years ago.
“Similar,” Patrick said. “Only it can’t be done at one of the local centers. It requires a special machine. Doctor Orman’s is old and difficult to move, so Raleigh will have to go to her for treatment.”
“Well, we can make arrangements to drive her to the treatments. I don’t want her moving to downtown Denver.” Beth tucked a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear.
Raleigh inched back from her mother. “Dr. Orman doesn’t live in Denver. She lives in Liege, Belgium.” Confusion crossed her mom’s face. “It’s the tiny country north of France. Waterloo.” That was the extent of the information Raleigh knew.
Beth looked back and forth between Raleigh and Patrick. “I know where Belgium is.”
Patrick spoke again, heading off the argument. “In a year or two, the doctor thinks she’ll be able to provide Raleigh a portable version. Until then, the large one in Belgium is the only option.”
Beth’s face grew pensive, and Raleigh sensed her pulse slow and her breathing steady. “Then Raleigh will have to wait a year or two.”
Patrick pressed his lips together and looked to Raleigh. “If she stays, she’ll likely be a sophomore when the machine comes.”
“She’s not going to college,” Beth said.
Raleigh let out an exasperated sigh, she’d had enough. “So, let me get this straight. You aren’t going to let me go to college because I’m sick, but you aren’t going to let me go to Belgium to get better.”
“You can’t go to college while you’re ill because you could get hurt. The school is so large and people won’t be familiar with your condition.” Beth stood rigid. She wouldn’t back down. “We’ve had this conversation enough times. There is no way I’m allowing you to go to Belgium. We don’t know if this treatment will work. I admit, I’m excited that you two are so on-board with whatever Doctor Orman told you, but I haven’t met the woman. How many doctors thought that they’d solved your problem only to do nothing? Living abroad is challenging, and you might still be sick. Even if you get better, it’s going to be hard. You’re only eighteen. We’ll wait, get the portable machine when the time comes, and then, if you’re healthy, you’ll go to college. This is a wonderful development. You said you wanted to go to college and couldn’t wait for a treatment. Now you have a timetable. You need a bit more patience, but I know you have it in you.”
It figured that her mother had a third option. On the way over she assumed she’d push for her to go to college over Belgium. The idea of sitting and waiting hadn’t crossed her mind. Waiting was like being in a stalled-out car while the rest of the cars breezed by on the freeway. She was all too familiar with it.
“I need to try this treatment,” Raleigh said. Her mother had hit on a sore point. The Lucidin removal might not stop the blackouts. Unfulfilled promises of the past haunted her. What made this different was that it explained the sensing. Raleigh considered telling her mother that piece but left it out, knowing it would invalidate the diagnosis in Beth’s mind.
“I want it to work.” Beth squeezed Raleigh’s arm. “But going away is out of the question right now.”
Raleigh tugged away from her. “I’m sorry. I’m going. To Belgium, not college.”
Beth frowned and narrowed her eyes. “We won’t fund it.” This argument hadn’t panned out with college, but she was going to try it again with Belgium.
Raleigh had some money. Last summer she’d worked at a bookshop and saved every penny, in the event that her scholarships didn’t come through. She’d have enough for a ticket there and enough to scrape by for a while. The bakery job Dr. Orman offered probably didn’t pay well. There was also the whole issue of working internationally that she didn’t pretend to know the logistics of. Still, if she lived frugally, she’d have enough to figure it out. Worst-case scenario was she ended up flying back in a few months.
“I don’t need your money,” Raleigh said. “And I’m eighteen.”
“I forbid you to go.” Beth turned away.
“Don’t you want me to get better?”
“I do.” Beth removed the plates from the cabinet, clanging them together purposefully. “But it can’t be done hastily.”
“Could you accompany Raleigh?” Patrick wondered aloud.
Hot mortification blazed Raleigh’s cheeks. Her mother would fuss over her every inch of the way.
Beth swept her arm out. “I can’t. I just opened the flower shop. Leaving now would sink the whole venture. I’ve waited years for this, not to mention the investment. I’m committed to it. Theo can’t take leave from his work. He’s taken too much as it is, over the years. Could you take her, Patrick?”
“I can’t leave my practice, or Shannon and the kids. Raleigh might be gone months.”
“Just long enough to set her up?”
Patrick rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled. “In two months, I can check-in.”
“I can go for the holidays,” Theo said. “We’ll take turns.”
Beth turned to Raleigh. “Can you wait until your uncle goes?”
A month or two? Would it become three of four? “I’m going to go now.” Raleigh wouldn’t compromise. Patrick might become
a part of a study, or one of his kids could have summer camp, or any number of things could arise. It had been too many years, too much waiting, to put it off any longer. She couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.
Beth pursed her lips. “Raleigh, you don’t know how very large and cruel this world can be. I’ve sheltered you too much.”
She couldn’t deny part of that statement was true. At the same time, she knew a lot more about the world than her mother gave her credit for. Raleigh knew about pain and suffering. Through other people, she’d experienced depression and anxiety. People said that she had an old soul, and she did because hers had been soaking up the knowledge of so many around her.
“Please don’t be mad about it,” Raleigh said, sensing her mother’s teeth grind. It amazed her that the woman had any molars left at this point.
“I’m not going to support you in this,” Beth said and stormed out of the kitchen. Dinner sat on the counter near the plates. None of them moved to eat.
“I’ll help you buy a ticket.” Her father yet again took her side.
“Thanks.” Raleigh hugged him.
With Patrick, they went to the study to buy the ticket. This treatment needed to work, otherwise she’d be crossing her mother in vain.
5
SAYING SHE WAS going to Belgium was one thing, standing in line at customs she realized that going was another. The long flight left her tired and achy, but she wasn’t the only one. Most of the other people waiting in the queue had the same soreness. Those that weren’t stifling yawns had caffeine racking their nerves.
The singsong language of French kept begging her attention. Some of the familiar syllables tricked her ears into thinking they might be understood, only to be unrecognizable in the end. Despite not knowing the words, they still had meaning, with each conversation that passed they spoke to her about how she didn’t belong, how her mother might have been right. The farthest she’d traveled before this was California, and she stood grossly unprepared for a journey this far.
Eventually, a customs officer checked her passport and ushered her into the terminal. With a good tug, her heavy bag lurched forward. People flooded around her, their suitcases and bags brushing her sides. A woman’s roller suitcase clipped the edge of her toe. Ignoring the pain in her foot, Raleigh trudged down the hallway to the terminal.
The frantic terminal made her stop short, and her bag ran into the back of her calves. A man skirted around her and over to a little girl who he bent down to hug. Another set of passengers spoke loudly as they sat down at a small table. With so much going on, it would have been easy to get lost, then she spotted the row of people holding signs. Exotic names she couldn’t pronounce scrolled across them, Groves stood out amongst the foreign monikers.
Tightening her hand on her bag, Raleigh approached the woman holding her name. This had to be Sabine’s sister, but they had little in common besides their age. For starters, the lady was tall, heavy-set, and had dark thick hair wrapped up into a bun on her head. Her knees, hidden beneath a floral print skirt, had arthritis.
The woman searched the arrivals, pausing when she reached Raleigh. “Are you Raleigh?” she asked, her accent stiff and British, not French.
“That’s right. You’re Sabine’s sister?”
“Sister-in-law. My name is Maggie. I live with Sabine and my brother. We’ll head off to home if you don’t have anything you need to do first.”
“I’m ready to go.”
“Great. We have a car at home, but the trains are much easier. Come this way.”
They descended underground in a crammed elevator. Here in the underbelly of the airport the air tasted stale and thick. The cavernous tunnels captured the sounds of the trains and passenger commotion and echoed them away. Signs explained destinations and towns that she’d never learned of in school. Raleigh kept in step behind Maggie catching wafts of her perfume as she followed her to the platform. Maggie’s manicured hands held a pair of train tickets.
While they waited, Maggie curiously looking her up and down. “Are you any good with baking?”
Raleigh shook her head. The kitchen with its burners and sharp edges had been off limits. Laundry and cleaning were safer. “No. My mom kept me out of the kitchen.”
“You’re going to learn, and I bet you’ll love it. Sabine said you’d help me in the bakery. It will be nice having you. Sabine always says she will help once she retires, but she loves her work.”
“What kind of doctor is she?” Raleigh didn’t bring up the Lucidin. Presumably, Sabine had moved on from it.
“Family practice. She has considerably fewer patients than she used to. It’s good news for you, otherwise she might recruit you for filing. That is very dull work.”
“Then, thanks for the job.” It was nice that they offered her a place to stay and she wasn’t about to complain about the tasks they gave her. Baking and filing were both better than a slew of other jobs.
A gust of hot air arrived with the train. The door opened, and they navigated the metal steps. Raleigh’s bag scraped the narrow passageway. Once in, she had to wrangle it into place alongside the other suitcases. Due to the humidity, beads of sweat formed on her brow. She wiped them away with the back of her hand before entering the train car.
She sat down across from Maggie and found the coarse fabric of the seat similar to the buses back home. The jolt of the train moving rocked her back into her seat. Slowly the platform faded from view, the train picking up speed.
“Is it far?” After the flight her legs wanted nothing more than to walk.
“Less than an hour. You will love Belgium.”
Before Raleigh could ask why, Maggie delved into a complete history lesson on the small country. Every town they passed had some unique fact that Maggie offered up, often with large swooping hand gestures. They settled into an easy acquaintance, Maggie contrasted the hesitant nature of her sister-in-law.
Outside the window, Belgium rushed by in greens and grays. Towns and farms dotted the fields. At every stop Raleigh observed the people, wondering what their lives consisted of. Were they like her? Did they have warm families tucked away in the quaint cottages?
“This is us.” Maggie stood.
Raleigh rose out of her seat, swaying as the train slowed and shook to a stop. By their stop most of the people had already gone, making the task of getting her bag easier. Tugging it down the steps she stood on the concrete platform, finally in Liege.
White pillars wove up in clean lines giving the impression of a large ribcage, the trains resting at the heart of the station. Overhead the clouds hung low in the dewy air. Stone-colored buildings melded with the sky. In the right light, it looked cozy, in some of the shadows, it took on a dreary tone.
“We’ll walk, if you don’t mind,” Maggie said.
Even with the bag Raleigh wouldn’t have turned down a walk, but she worried about Maggie’s knees, a concern that Maggie herself didn’t seem to have. She set a brisk pace, murmuring something about beating the rain.
It was hard going. The uneven stone sidewalk trapped the bag’s wheels. Small cars flew down the tiny streets passing dangerously close to them. The uphill and thin path proved difficult to navigate. Still, at the lower altitude Raleigh’s lungs languished in the abundant oxygen. Although cumbersome, this trek had nothing on her mountain hikes.
Row houses hugged the curves of the street, and parked cars took over chunks of the already tight walkways. The city was designed before automobiles, and it showed. Hints of the past mingled flawlessly with the new. Lace curtains and old knockers sat alongside modern numbering and sleek windows.
Maggie stopped half way up a particularly steep incline. From her pocket she withdrew a heavy set of metal keys. She inserted the tiniest one, and the lock opened. “This is home.”
They entered a tidy living room with a stiff-looking blue sofa and two white chairs. A modest wooden table sat a little further in and beyond that a sliver of a kitchen. Flanking the rooms on the ri
ght side was a stairwell with a worn wood banister. Sabine’s birdlike presence announced her to Raleigh before she entered the room. There was also a tidy man who closely resembled Maggie.
Sabine walked over and kissed both of her cheeks. “I hope that your journey was safe.”
“It was a long flight.” Raleigh rubbed the bridge of her nose aware of the bags beneath her eyes.
“You’ve met Maggie, and this is my husband, Henry.”
Henry’s large hand delicately shook hers. “I’ve made lunch. You must be hungry.” He scurried to the kitchen and returned with a tray of cheese, bread, and fruit.
“It looks great. Sabine, what about the treatment?” Raleigh whispered the last part quietly wondering how much Maggie knew about her. Surely, she wouldn’t think that a teenager would travel across the world to help in a bakery.
Maggie’s face didn’t change, but Sabine’s did. “So soon? Wouldn’t you rather eat and be settled first? It’s physically draining.”
“I’m due for a blackout. I really want to know if it works.” Every inch of distance she’d crossed had been in anticipation of getting better. Now she had to find out if it had been in vain.
“All right, then.” Sabine motioned to her husband and then the bag. “We’ll take your luggage up to your room, and I’ll get you started.”
Maggie pulled a chair out from the small table and unfolded a napkin. “I’ll start on lunch, if you don’t mind.”
Raleigh gripped the banister and followed Sabine up the thin steep stairwell. Not far behind, Henry struggled with the suitcase. Raleigh turned to assist, but upon seeing his warm face, she knew that he wouldn’t allow it.
“This floor has Henry and my bedroom, our study, and a bathroom.” Sabine pointed at the various doors before continuing to the next level. The third story had the same hallway and door configuration as the floor below. Sabine opened the first room revealing a tiny sink, toilet, and tub. “This is your bathroom. Next over is Maggie’s room, and the last door is yours.”
Sabine stopped in the stairwell, but Henry lumbered on to Raleigh’s room. She followed, glancing inside at her first room away from home. White curtains hung half way up the window letting the afternoon sun filter in the top. The bed had a homemade quilt and an armoire. Simple but sufficient, she gave one full turn around the room before joining Henry at the stairwell.