Gone Too Far (8 page)

“Dr. Chase, please.” Max reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Don't leave.”

Leigh jerked her shoulder away from his touch, but she did turn around. “You may not have meant for this to be a private dinner, but you clearly don't mean for it to be a serious one, so there is no need for me to be here.”

“Even if you could talk to Alan Bud?”

Leigh looked at Max to see if he was serious, then looked around the room. “The governor's chief of staff is here?”

Max nodded. “I was just talking to him five seconds ago. Him and Ned Artus.”

Leigh immediately recognized the name of the head of pediatrics at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. “Where?”

Max pointed to the right corner of the room. “He's over there talking to Anna Wagner, CEO of Pacifica Health Insurance. She's the one who implemented the free flu shot initiative at schools across the West Coast, right?”

Leigh couldn't hide her enthusiasm. “I have to talk to her.”

“There are a lot of health care power brokers here, Leigh. That's why I invited you.” He took a sip of his wine.

All was forgiven as Leigh realized the treasure trove of health care professionals before her. She turned to Max with a smile as apologetic as she could muster and still have some pride.

“I'm very happy you invited me,” she said.

“So you're going?”

Leigh wasn't sure how long Kelly had been standing behind her, but when she turned around, the woman was barely a foot away. “Excuse me?”

“You said you're happy he invited you.” Kelly's expression was flat. “So you're coming to Africa.”

Leigh turned back to Max, who had a look of disappointment on his face. “Kelly, can you give me and Dr. Chase a moment?”

Kelly huffed before walking away.

“Africa?” Leigh asked.

“I was going to wait until you had happily talked to a lot of people and maybe had a glass of wine or two before asking,” Max said. “But, yes, I am going to Nairobi to review and assess our health care–related programs in caring for the thousands of Somali refugees living there now. I'm doing it on behalf of the president, not California.”

“Doing what, exactly?” Leigh asked.

“Assessing their success, worth, and value, among other things.”

“Worth and value?” Leigh asked. “Isn't that just another way of saying you're looking for reasons to explain cutting the funding?”

Max pointed his finger at her. “You are a very suspicious one, Doctor.”

“You're going to go and get publicity shots to add to your political portfolio and come back recommending the government slash aid to needy Africans in half.”

“If you haven't noticed, Leigh, money to take care of Americans is sparse. You can't expect us to cut that before we cut money spent abroad.”

“It's Dr. Chase,” she corrected. “And, no, I wouldn't expect you to, but I imagine this president is going to have a higher standard than you.”

“Ouch.” His brows drew together in an agonized expression. “Despite what you think, Dr. Chase, I'm a human being, and I actually want to do an honest assessment. That is why I wanted to invite you. You've been to Kenya, and you have a unique perspective. You can help me do what's right.”

Leigh couldn't help but be tempted. It was a great opportunity to prove him wrong and protect much-needed international programs. This was what she wanted. She would have to check to make sure this trip was on the up-and-up, but how could she refuse an opportunity to have such a direct effect on a report going straight to the president?

“I'll need some time,” Leigh said. “I'll have to—”

“You don't have time,” Max said. “We're leaving tomorrow.”

 

When Avery heard a banging sound, she rushed from the kitchen into the living room. Connor was safely in her playpen, so Avery was worried that Anthony had fallen. It hadn't happened in a while, but it was always a danger.

But when she rushed into the room, she saw Anthony sitting in the La-Z-Boy situated across from the television. His wheelchair was right next to him.

“Are you okay?” Avery asked.

“I'm fine,” he answered, reaching for the remote on the coffee table next to him.

Avery noticed he sounded out of breath, but she also remembered something. The second after she entered the room, something had caught her eye; she let it pass out of concern for Anthony, but his quick breathing brought it back.

The sofa had decompressed. While being firm, it was made to conform to the shape of whatever pressed against it. Once you got up, the sofa had an indentation of your shape. It slowly decompressed and came back to its natural form. It happened so often that Avery almost didn't notice it, but something about Anthony's voice bothered her.

Why was he out of breath? The only time Anthony was breathless was when he was doing his upper-body exercises, but he hadn't been doing those. Had he? Wondering about this was what brought the decompression of the sofa back to mind. It was no longer indented, but Avery thought it had been the shape of something small, like a hand, and it was three feet away from where Anthony was sitting.

“What was that noise?” she asked.

“A book fell off the end table,” Anthony said, gesturing toward the other end of the sofa.

Avery walked over to the book and placed it back on the table. She threw her ridiculous thoughts aside and went over to her baby. She got on her knees outside the playpen and held her arms out, but Connor was too preoccupied with a set of mini-soccer balls to notice.

“Come on, sweetie,” she said. “You should have been to bed an hour ago.”

“I thought I asked for some dessert an hour ago,” Anthony said.

Avery kept her back to him. “I'm tired, Anthony. Just get some ice cream from the refrigerator.”

“So you would like me to spend the next half hour trying to get a pint of ice cream from the kitchen when you could do it in a couple of minutes?”

“Come to Mama,” she cooed.

Connor dropped the ball in her hand and let out a loud yawn. She leaned over and reached for her favorite toy, her black Baby Stella doll. She wouldn't go anywhere without that….

As Avery reached for the doll in order to lure her daughter to her, it suddenly struck her that only an hour ago, she had taken Baby Stella away from Connor as punishment for a tantrum. Connor wanted her pacifier, but Avery was weaning her off of them and wouldn't give it to her. Connor threw Baby Stella at Avery in a fit. Immediately after, she grunted her demand for Baby Stella, and as punishment, Avery took the doll and placed it on the third shelf of the walled bookcase.

So how did it get back in the playpen? She looked over at the bookcase and gauged its height. It was possible for Anthony to reach it if he tried very hard. Wasn't it?

“Avery?” Anthony's tone was impatient. “I'm still waiting.”

Avery picked up Connor, with Baby Stella in hand. She had to be crazy to think what she was thinking. No, she wasn't crazy; she was just tired. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She had to have given Connor her Baby Stella back at some time but just forgot about it. Anything else would just be impossible.

“I'll get your ice cream,” she said, heading toward the kitchen.

 

“It's okay, sweetie,” Kimberly said as she kissed her son on his cheek.

Evan was cringing as the nurse drew his blood. He hated needles, and it killed Kimberly to see him in pain. She cradled his face to her chest with one hand and gently rubbed his head with the other.

“That's all,” the nurse said in a sweet voice as she pressed against his arm with a cotton ball. She quickly covered the cotton with a Batman Band-Aid. “That wasn't so bad.”

Evan responded with a grunt as he leaned into his mother.

Just as the nurse was leaving, Dr. Brown entered the room. He was one of the best pediatricians on the entire West Coast, and he had cared for Daniel and Evan since they were born. They had both become attached to him, and Kimberly found him, a black man who had lifted himself from the L.A. projects to the Ivy League and graduated at the top of his medical school class, an inspiration. It was hard to get an appointment with him earlier than a week ahead, even for his richest clients, but the Chase name, not to mention his involvement with the Chase Foundation and his friendship with Leigh, could get her in within a day or two.

But she wasn't so happy with him right now. “Are you going to tell me it's nothing again?”

“I've never told you it was nothing,” Dr. Brown said. He was almost fifty but looked much younger, with a shaven bald head and a fit figure. He was a very dark raisin brown with light brown eyes. “I told you it was nothing serious. It was just a little bug.”

“What do you say now?”

Dr. Brown placed his hand on Evan's chin, gently lifting his head. “Well, I need the blood results and the urine test back before I can say exactly, but it looks like a flu.”

“Swine flu?” Kimberly asked, feeling her chest tighten.

He shook his head. “I've seen several of those cases in the past year, and this isn't that.”

“He has a fever, and he says he's very tired.” Kimberly kissed the top of his head. “His neck hurts, he won't eat, and on the way over here he said he wanted to throw up.”

“That could be several things,” Dr. Brown said. “Maybe a flu just hitting him hard. You need to take him home and get him in bed. His temperature is one hundred and one, so keep him cool, give him a fever reducer, and keep him hydrated.”

“For how long?” Kimberly knew she would be up all night. She could never sleep when her babies were sick.

“I've given the test a rush,” he said. “I should be able to call you tomorrow afternoon with the results. We'll go from there, okay?”

“I just…”

Kimberly stopped talking and looked down at Evan, who seemed to be struggling to get away from her.

“Nurse!” Dr. Brown screamed out as he reached for Evan.

“What?” Kimberly asked, panicked. It took her a second to realize what the doctor had realized immediately. Evan wasn't struggling—he was convulsing.

As the doctor snatched him away from Kimberly and laid him on the table, he was shaking all over.

Kimberly was screaming, running to the other side of the bed as the nurse came in. “What's happening?” she asked frantically. “What's happening?”

The doctor ignored her as he barked orders to the nurse. Kimberly reached for her son, but the doctor pushed her hands out of the way. She tried to stop screaming, but the sight of the whites of her baby's eyes and his trembling body filled her with shattering fear.

“T
hank you so, so much,” Leigh said to the flight attendant who met her at the door to her flight. “I know I'm so late. I really appreciate you waiting for me.”

“Thank Senator Cody.” The woman smiled as if just saying his name was exciting. “We were going to take off without you, but he convinced the pilot to wait a few minutes longer.”

“I'll be certain to thank him.” Leigh stepped aside as the male flight attendant, not interested in being nice, reached for the door.

“Please take your seat,” he said.

“You're in Three-B.” The woman gestured toward the first-class section. “I'll take your bag and put it in the overhead.”

Leigh handed her the bag and rushed down the aisle.

“How nice of you to join us,” Max said as she approached.

Leigh looked up and realized that he was in 3A. “Did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Never mind.” She sat down quickly, shoving her purse underneath the chair in front of her.

“You're welcome,” he said.

“I know you got the plane to wait.” Leigh fastened her seat belt. “But I'm not thanking you, because it's your fault I'm late.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” The stewardess was asking Leigh but was looking and smiling at Max.

“No, thank you,” Leigh said, annoyed by the woman already.

“How do you figure I'm at fault?” Max asked.

She turned to look at him and was immediately struck by how much he looked like a model out of a Lands' End catalog. He was wearing a dark camel, thin British sport coat over a white T-shirt and jeans. This was the first time she had seen him in his more “rugged” attire, and it definitely suited him.

“At seven o'clock last night, you tell me we're leaving tomorrow. I had to do a million things to make this happen.”

“You're a Chase,” he said. “Don't you have people to do that for you?”

“No, I don't,” Leigh answered sharply. “I'm not you. I have to plan my own life. I had to make sure I could get a substitute doctor to work at the clinics.”

“And?”

“That was not easy,” Leigh said. Now that she was saying it, it seemed like a small thing. “Packing for Africa can be complicated. It's not like a weekend in the Bahamas.”

Leigh left out the opposition her father had to her going back to Africa. Neither of her parents wanted her to go there the first time years ago after she finished her first year of residency. Africa was dangerous and far away, but Leigh was passionate about the Peace Corps program and went despite her parents.

When she told them of her plans to go back there on a noon flight later today, her father attempted to forbid her. Her mother hadn't wanted her to go but seemed to calm down a bit when she told her she would be with Senator Cody. After agreeing to allow her father to hire his own private security in Kenya, Leigh focused on packing and getting to the airport.

“Well,” Max said, reaching into the pocket of the chair in front of him. He pulled out a copy of the
L.A. Times.
“At least you're in first class. All the way to our layover in London.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked defensively. “I can't afford first class. I make nothing at the clinic. I'll have you know that I used miles to pay for this flight.”

“Whose miles?” Max asked. “You never go anywhere, Leigh. From what I hear, you go to your clinics and back to View Park.”

“From what you hear?” Leigh rolled her eyes. “You don't know what you're talking about. My father has hundreds of thousands of miles with this airline from business traveling.”

Max smiled. “You're certainly sensitive today.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Are the taxpayers footing this bill?”

“Please.” Max flipped open his paper just as the plane started taking off. “Traveling from D.C. to L.A. and all over California, I probably have more miles than your daddy.”

Leigh bristled at his use of “daddy,” indicating that he considered her spoiled. “How nice for you to have so many miles that only you can fly in first class. What about your security or staff? Shouldn't Kelly be sitting where I am?”

Max paused for a moment, his expression suggesting he was analyzing Leigh's tone and expression as much as her words. “Kelly isn't coming, Dr. Chase. Can I ask why that matters to you?”

“It doesn't,” she responded.

“You're lying,” he said matter-of-factly. “But if you're wondering, there is nothing going on between Kelly and me. She's my staff. It would be highly inappropriate, and she's not my type.”

“She's very pretty,” Leigh added.

Max nodded and said, “But my life is focused on the governor's race next year. I'm not seeing anyone right now.”

Why did she care? Leigh asked herself. She had already made such a fool of herself in front of this man with her assumption last night.

“The governor's race?” she asked, even though she probably should have stopped talking. “Isn't that a done deal? I hear that an actual election is a formality. Why be so concerned?”

Max smiled a winning smile as he placed his paper on his lap. “So you can believe what you hear, but I can't? Interesting.”

Leigh laughed her way out of awkwardness, but her mouth pulled her back into it. “This country doesn't often elect unmarried governors.”

“You offering something?” he asked.

Leigh's brows set in a straight line. “Now it's you who flatters yourself. I'm just trying to make conversation. If we're going to be sitting here for an endless amount of hours, we might as well be civil.”

“I thought I was,” he said. “Nevertheless, dating is extremely complicated. The only serious girlfriend I had since my wife passed…Well, politics can be unkind at times.”

“Your Republican backers weren't that excited about you dating a white woman,” Leigh said. She could tell she was getting a little too personal for his taste and enjoyed having the upper hand in this conversation for once. “That was what was rumored, of course.”

“There is some truth to that,” he answered, “but I would have never let that end a relationship if I really loved her.”

“If that's what you want,” Leigh said, “you're better off being with her and hoping people see your courage as a positive thing rather than wanting her but tossing her aside for a more politically safe woman.”

“Is that what you think I would consider a black woman? Politically safe?”

“I don't know,” Leigh said. “Your wife was white. The only woman you've been serious with since was white. I'm not dogging you, Senator. I—”

“You couldn't possibly be,” he said ardently. “Since you've swirled yourself. Recently, I believe it was an actor?”

Leigh didn't want to talk about Lyndon. She would rather forget that ever happened. “I'm not running for office.”

“Your assumptions about my…preferences are wrong,” he said. “I married my wife because I fell in love with her, and I dated…Well, I guess I didn't love my girlfriend as much as I thought. If I had, I wouldn't have let anything keep us apart.”

“You guess?” Leigh asked. “You don't know if you were in love?”

“It's hard to tell,” he said. “After my wife…”

Leigh watched his entire face soften, and his eyes seemed to look somewhere that was far away. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so personal.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said. “I'm sure you understand how difficult dating can be when you or the person you're with is famous.”

That was the understatement of the year.

 

As CFO of Chase Beauty, monthly division finance reports didn't reach Michael's desk until they had been scoured over by several levels of finance. Still, he demanded to see the details, because he could always find a mistake. He thought he'd just spotted an error in the expense reports for the marketing division when his assistant buzzed his phone.

“I told you not to disturb me until I'm done reading the reports.”

“It's your wife,” she answered quickly, sounding very upset. “She's been trying to reach you on your cell. You have to take this.”

Michael had thought to remind her several times that Kimberly was his ex-wife. “What is it?”

“It's an emergency. It's your son.”

Michael dropped the pen and grabbed the phone. “What is it? What's wrong?”

He could barely understand her. She was panicked, screaming and crying at the same time as she tried to tell him what was happening. He felt a sense of terror rise within him that he couldn't control.

“Where are you?” he asked, shooting up from his chair.

“UCLA,” Kimberly cried. “Hurry!”

Michael threw the phone down and was out the door in two seconds. He rushed past his staff, yelling out for anyone who could hear to call his father.

 

“Where is my son?” Michael's voice boomed down the hallway of the Emergency Medicine Center at Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center, considered the best hospital in L.A. “Where is he?”

Everyone was rushing around, and it wasn't clear who could help him. He was feeling frantic. It had taken him fifteen minutes to get over here, and he kept getting disconnected from Kimberly on the phone.

“Michael!”

Michael turned and walked back to the hallway he just passed. Standing there was Kimberly, looking unhinged. The look of dread on her face made him think the worst, and he barely had the strength in his legs to make it to her. She started running for him, and he opened his arms for her. There was no thought in this, no thought of the fractured state of their relationship. They had done this so many times, finding comfort in each other's arms at times of pain or fear. And although it had been a long time since they'd last done that, right now it was the only thing they could do.

“Please.” His voice cracked as he held her away. “He's not…”

Kimberly's red eyes were full of panic. “No, but…Michael, he's in a coma.”

“What?” Michael looked up. “Where? Where is he?”

“We can't go in yet.” She grabbed him by his suit jacket as he started down the hall. “The doctor said that we can't go in for another half hour or so.”

“What are they doing?”

“I don't know.” Kimberly started crying again. “It was so awful, Michael. He just started shaking all over and…”

Michael wrapped his arms around her again, squeezing her tight. He was trying to think, trying to figure out what to do, while at the same time he felt like he was losing his mind. This was his son. “Where is Dr. Brown?”

“He's in there,” she said, pointing to the area they were holding him. “He said he'll be out in a few—”

Before she could finish, Dr. Brown came out of the room.

“What in the hell has happened?” Michael demanded. “You said he was fine.”

“Mr. Chase, I need you to calm down.”

“Calm down? What the fuck?” Michael stood only inches from the doctor. “You said my son was fine, and now he's in a coma. You better tell me right now what is going on, or I swear I will bring hell down on you.”

The doctor seemed to be a little afraid. The problem with dealing with the rich was, although there were a lot of perks, if you pissed them off, they could destroy you. Dr. Brown looked as if he was aware of that.

“Michael.” Kimberly placed her hand on Michael's shoulder to try and calm him. “Doctor, just tell us.”

“I believe Evan has—”

“You believe?” Michael asked. “You still don't know?”

“Mr. Chase,” he said sternly. “Let me talk.”

After a pause, the doctor began again. “I believe that Evan has acute disseminated encephalomyelitis.”

“That sounds like encephalitis,” Michael said.

“It isn't that,” Dr. Brown said. “That is good news. ADEM has some of the same symptoms as encephalitis, but that isn't what he has. This is very hard to detect and is completely unpredictable. It is a very rare condition.”

Feeling her knees about to fall out from under her, Kimberly had to sit down as Dr. Brown explained to her that ADEM is a neurological disorder characterized by inflammation of the brain and spinal cord that attacks mostly children after having caught the flu, measles, or other viral infection. Its symptoms were like the flu but could come on even faster. A coma was one of the symptoms of the disorder, but Dr. Brown told them that he believed Evan's coma was going to help him.

“How can a coma help?” Kimberly asked, frantic.

Dr. Brown motioned for a nurse standing nearby to come over.

“What is this?” Michael asked as the nurse gave Kimberly a stack of brochures.

“This is information on the disorder,” Brown said.

“What now?” Michael asked. “Who are the experts in this? I want them here now. I will send the Chase jet to get them if they are in this area.”

“Now,” Dr. Brown said, “we will transfer him to the Children's Critical Unit, and we'll monitor him to make sure his immune system doesn't deteriorate. I know the coma is very upsetting, but it can be a good thing. The body is shutting down all its other functions so it can focus on fixing this problem. He is otherwise very healthy, which means—”

“Do children die from this?” Kimberly asked, feeling a sharp pain through her heart just at the question she had no choice but to ask.

Dr. Brown seemed hesitant to answer but finally said, “Yes, they can.”

“Oh, my God.” Kimberly felt her heart leaping out of her chest, and she couldn't breathe.

“But you need to know that death is very rare,” the doctor added. “This is an acute condition. It isn't chronic, so he should recover. It has about a five percent mortality rate.”

She starting pacing in a circle before Michael grabbed her. “Kimberly, look at me,” Michael told her. “That's not going to happen.”