Carly's Gift (35 page)

“It may be one of the last things you get to hold down for quite a while.”

Carly's jaw dropped. How could he talk to her like that? Didn't he know how scared she already was? “From everything I read on the plane, that's not necessarily true,” she said, unable to keep the anger from her voice.

“In Andrea's case it will be.” Still looking at Carly, he said to Andrea, “I take it you haven't told her about what's in store for you yet.”

Carly couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was not the same man she had called before leaving home. Only hours ago, David had been so distraught about what was happening he'd been unable to talk through the tears. “I just got here,” she said to David, reining in her anger. “So far all we've discussed is Andrea's refusal to start treatment until she's finished school.”

Now his gaze shifted to Andrea. “I told you, that's not an option. You're going to the hospital if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming and sit on your lap the whole time they drip that god-awful stuff into you.”

It wasn't until then that Carly understood what was going on. David was handling his own fear in the only way he knew how. If immediate chemotherapy was Andrea's best hope, there was nothing she could say or do that would talk him into waiting. “I think he means it,” Carly said.

Andrea turned so that her back was to both of them. “Why don't I have any say in this? It's my body.”

David ran his hand across the back of his neck. “Because right now, I love you more than you love yourself.” His voice softened and grew strained. “I told you, there's no way I'm going to risk losing you.”

Andrea curled into a fetal position, drawing her knees up tight and tucking her hands under her cheek. “I'm tired,” she said. “I want to go to sleep now.”

“That won't make it go away,” David said.

“No more,” Carly protested, reeling under the impact of all she'd heard and seen.

“All right,” David told her. To Andrea he said, “I'll see you later.”

David and Carly were halfway to the door when Andrea stopped them. “Chinese sounds good. But could we have it a little later?”

David closed his eyes and swallowed hard as if physically trying to hold in his emotions. “Egg rolls and beef and broccoli sound all right?”

“I think I'd like some moo shu pork, too.”

“All right.”

“And some sweet-and-sour chicken.”

“Anything else?” David said with amused patience.

“Fortune cookies.”

He retraced his steps to her bed, bent, and kissed her. “We don't need them,” he said softly. “We already know how everything is going to turn out.”

Thirty-one

“Been here long?”
David asked, walking across the hospital foyer toward Carly, his arm loosely draped around Andrea's shoulders.

“Only a few minutes,” she lied. Actually, she'd been there almost an hour, showing up early to familiarize herself with the building in an effort to take each piece of the intimidating experience and cut it down to a manageable size. When David stopped beside her, Carly put her hands on either side of Andrea's face and gave her a kiss. “How are you this morning?”

“Fantastic,” Andrea shot back. “Great. On top of the world. Next question?”

“If you're not careful,” Carly warned, “I'm going to lay some psychiatric crap on you and say you're striking out at me because you're scared shitless and can't find any other way to express your feelings.”

“Going to?” Andrea said.

“That's just a warm-up.”

Andrea's lip began to tremble. Tears glistened in her eyes. “All right, I'm scared. So what does that prove?”

“It proves we can be honest with each other and get through this together instead of at each other's throats.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” David said.

A nurse stepped off the elevator and came toward them. “We've Andrea's room all prepared for her, Mr. Montgomery.” She smiled at Andrea. “We should be getting you up there and prepared for your surgery straightaway.”

“Sister Nash, I'd like you to meet Mrs. Hargrove, Andrea's mother.”

“How do you do?” the sister said, extending her hand.

Andrea turned to Carly. “Are you coming up later?” she asked, her effort to seem in control of the situation taking its toll on her composure.

She reached for Andrea's hand and gave it a squeeze. “I'll be there as soon as I've talked to the doctor.”

Sister Nash smiled. “We'll be off, then, since we're a bit pushed for time. Doctor has a number of broviacs scheduled for this morning.”

The double-line broviac that would be inserted under the skin on Andrea's chest was the first step on her long journey. The line would provide immediate access for the chemotherapy, blood transfusions, and antibiotics, even providing nutrition if it became necessary. But it would also be a constant reminder—at least in the beginning—of how sick Andrea was. In a few days, if she reacted as strongly as predicted to the drugs that had been prescribed for her chemotherapy, none of them would need any reminder of her illness.

Carly forced her mouth into an encouraging smile. “If we get tied up with the doctor, remember you're supposed to call your grandmother Barbara at noon. Shawn and Eric spent the night there so they could talk to you, too.”

Sister Nash gently touched Andrea's arm. “We're off, then,” she said cheerfully.

Carly watched them go, her heart in her throat. After they had disappeared in the elevator, she turned to David. “We might as well get this over with.”

According to everyone David had talked to, Dr. Richard Reardon was the best pediatric oncologist in England. Some had even gone so far as to say the best in Europe. He looked too young to have earned such a lofty reputation, but his success rate couldn't be argued with. He was blunt and aggressive and always seemed to be in a hurry.

David had tried to prepare Carly for what she was about to hear by giving her as much information as he could remember from the discussions he and Reardon had already had. Whether or not it had done any good was another matter.

“Have a seat,” Dr. Reardon said, leading Carly and David into his office. “I'll be with you momentarily—soon as I finish signing these papers.” Several seconds later, when they were both in chairs opposite his desk, he looked up. “Would you prefer I answer your questions right off or give you my standard speech?”

“Why don't you start and if I have questions, I'll ask them as you go along,” Carly said.

David noticed Carly's hands clasped together in her lap, the grip so tight her knuckles had turned white. It was the only outward manifestation of her nervousness. To the casual observer, she would seem the picture of calm.

Dr. Reardon leaned back in his chair. “I believe surprises should be saved for birthdays and Christmas.” He hesitated, as if waiting for David or Carly to comment. When neither did, he went on. “As you know, your daughter has one of the more difficult types of leukemia. Our goal is to get her into remission and that is going to take six to eight weeks of intensive therapy. She will be very, very sick during this time.”

“I've been reading a lot of articles online,” Carly interrupted. “Several said not everyone gets sick.”

“Andrea won't be one of them. Not with the dosages we'll be giving her. She will lose her hair, require frequent blood transfusions, be highly susceptible to infection, and likely lose her appetite entirely. In which case we'll sustain her with intravenous feedings through the broviac. Still, she'll lose weight. Another thing you should be aware of, even with the antibiotics we'll be giving her, the mouth sores she's already developed will get worse. Also, she'll develop diarrhea and have severe cramping.”

David chanced a look at Carly to see how she was taking the rapid fire devastation. Her body was rigid, her face a mask.

“As I previously said, our goal is to get her into remission as quickly as possible.”

“And then she'll be through with the chemotherapy?” Carly asked.

“The initial treatment, but not the maintenance.” Dr. Reardon frowned. “Mr. Montgomery hasn't explained the procedure for the transplant to you?”

“Carly just arrived last night,” David said. “I thought she'd heard as much as she could handle from me and decided it would be better to have you explain the transplant process.”

“What kind of transplant?” Carly asked, clearly confused.

“Bone marrow,” Dr. Reardon answered. “In Andrea's case, it's her best chance for full recovery.”

“Where does the bone marrow come from?” Carly asked.

Richard Reardon rocked forward in his chair and leaned his elbows on the desk. “This is where it gets a bit tricky, I'm afraid. Mr. Montgomery has explained that Andrea and her brothers don't share the same father. Is that correct?”

Carly nodded.

“They were our best bet, but not the only one. We'll want you to be tested, of course, but we're also tapping into the donor network here in England and on the continent. Should that prove fruitless, we'll contact the one in the States. The chances are fairly good that we'll be able to come up with someone suitable.”

“Fairly good?” David prodded.

“For the general populace, it runs about one in ten thousand.”

Carly readjusted herself in the seat. “Which means it isn't necessary for a relative to be the donor?”

“Certainly not. However, as you would expect, the closer the relation, the higher the odds of finding a perfect match. There's been some publicity lately about mums having another child for the sole purpose of acquiring a donor. In Andrea's case that's not an option, unfortunately.”

“What if there isn't a perfect match for Andrea anywhere?” Carly asked.

“Then we'll go with the best we've got, which is likely to come from someone inside her family, most probably you or Mr. Montgomery. But, considering the circumstances, it might just as well be an aunt or uncle.”

Carly hugged herself, seeming to grow smaller in the chair. “How soon can I be tested?”

“This afternoon, if you like. It's a simple procedure, and painless.” There was a light tapping on the door. Dr. Reardon looked toward the noise and barked, “Yes?”

The door opened wide enough for a woman to poke her head through. “Sorry, Doctor. But Jamie Peterson's having some trouble and Sister was wondering if you could come up.”

“Tell her I'll be there straightaway.” He pushed his chair back and started to stand. “I'd hoped for more time this morning, but . . .” He shrugged. “Feel free to call with questions whenever you like. Otherwise, we'll be running into each other in Andrea's room, I'm sure.”

“Thank you,” David said.

Carly didn't move. When the doctor was gone, David turned to her. “Are you all right?”

“What if there isn't a suitable donor, David? We could lose her.”

“Stop borrowing trouble.”

“I can't help it. Without any full brothers or sisters, the odds are already stacked against her.”

David had never seen her so scared. “We'll find someone.”

“But what if we don't?”

He wouldn't let her maneuver him into that corner. It was unthinkable that Andrea might die. He refused even to consider the possibility. “Then you'll have to go to Andrea's father and his family and ask them to be tested.”

Her head moved back and forth slowly, as if she were in shock. “I can't,” she whispered.

“What?” David asked, sure he hadn't heard her correctly.

“I can't go to Andrea's father.”

“Why in the hell not?”

She hung her head. “He's dead.”

Not until that moment had David realized how much he'd been counting on having that little ace in the hole. “What about his family?” He was unwilling to let it go.

“I can't go to them either.”

“Can't? Or won't?” he said.

She turned to him, the look in her eyes a plea for understanding. “You want it to be simple, but it's not. Andrea and I aren't the only ones involved.”

“Who are you protecting?” He didn't know how to get through to her. “And why, for God's sake?”

She reached for her purse. “I want to see Andrea now.”

Frustrated beyond words, he followed her out of the office.

Carly's heels echoed in the empty hallway leading to Andrea's room. She'd left David in conversation with the doctor who had operated on Andrea that morning. There were sounds of machines and metal clanging and, incongruously, children's laughter somewhere on the floor, but no visible people. She'd stopped at the floor station to see if Andrea had been assigned a room number and was pleased to find out that it was on the park side of the hospital.