A
braham sat in his son’s hospital room with Saralyn and Rebecca. Isaac was asleep,
but neither of them wanted to leave his side. The doctors had told them that his son
was in for a tough trek so the rest was good for him. Abraham was content to let him
sleep. Rebecca seemed to need to touch him. She’d been holding his hand and murmuring
words of love and hope since they entered the room. Saralyn had staked out the role
of nurturer, her focus on her son’s comfort. Did he need another pillow? Should they
freshen the pitcher of water beside the bed? Now she was arranging a huge bouquet
of flowers to give his room some “life.”
Abraham knew the women were doing what they needed to do to deal with the uncertainty
before them, so he let them be. Earlier, he’d suggested that they step out and get
some fresh air, but that suggestion was met with icy glares. He gave up, even though
he knew they needed to leave the room and take some time for
themselves. He needed that, too, but couldn’t make himself leave either. He sat staring
at his son lying in the bed, and wished he could trade places with him. He didn’t
see a hale, thirty-year-old man before him; rather, he saw a small, frail, little
boy who needed his father’s strength to pull an overloaded wagon across the patio.
He wiped at his eyes. Why? Why Isaac and why now?
Before he could ponder the questions, the door to the hospital room opened and in
walked the doctor. Standing, Abraham could hear his heart pound as he prayed that
Isaac’s condition could be treated with medication. He looked from his wife, standing
less than a foot away from him, to Rebecca, seated next to the bed holding Isaac’s
hand. All three of them seemed to be frozen in place by fear and anxiety.
From her position seated next to Isaac, and still holding his hand, Rebecca asked,
“Is it good news, Doctor?”
Taking a step closer to Saralyn and reaching for her hand, Abraham prayed harder.
Isaac was strong, he told himself. Everything would be fine. He squeezed Saralyn’s
hand to transmit the same message to her. He wanted to look at her and give her the
same reassurance with his eyes, but he was afraid she’d see his fear instead.
The doctor made eye contact with him and Saralyn before answering Rebecca’s question,
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but Isaac is going to need the liver transplant.”
Saralyn’s hand went limp in his, and he braced her with an arm around her waist. She
turned her face into his side and began to cry. Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears but
no sound came from her. She lowered her head to Isaac’s hand and wept silently. Abraham
felt her pain as if she’d screamed from the bottom of her heart. Isaac had to get
better, if only to learn how much this woman loved him, regardless of what had gone
on in the past.
Abraham rubbed Saralyn’s back and encouraged her to sit.
When she did, he poured her a glass of water. “Drink this,” he said. “You’ll feel
better.”
Her eyes told him she didn’t believe him, but she drank anyway.
Glancing over at Rebecca and seeing her head still resting on her and Isaac’s clasped
hands, he went to her. The soft weeping that greeted him almost sent him over the
edge. He bent down and kissed her head, whispered whatever words of comfort came to
his mind.
The doctor, who’d undoubtedly given this message time and time again, merely waited
for them to adjust to the disappointment before plodding ahead with options and alternatives.
Fighting back his own grief and disappointment, Abraham stood and asked the doctor,
“What’s next?”
The doctor walked closer to the bed and placed his clipboard on Isaac’s bed tray.
“There are two types of liver donors,” the doctor began, “cadaver donors and living
donors.”
Saralyn moaned at his words and Rebecca finally raised her head. Abraham could only
bite down on his lower lip.
“As the names suggest, with a cadaver donor, the liver is taken from a deceased person
who was an organ donor. There is a very long waiting list for one of those livers.
If Isaac had a cadaver donor, we’d simply remove his diseased liver and replace it
with the donor liver.
“The second type, living donors, is gaining in popularity and occurrence because the
liver in a healthy donor will regenerate itself. A living donor is typically a living
relative who is in excellent health and has a compatible blood type. Possible donors
will have to be tested. After we identify a match—or if there are multiple matches,
the best match—we’ll schedule surgeries for the donor and for Isaac. During the surgeries,
Isaac’s liver will be removed and about half of the donor’s liver will be removed
and transplanted into Isaac.”
The doctor paused as if to let his words sink in. After a short moment he continued,
“In Isaac’s case, the best option is the living donor route. In addition to being
quicker than the cadaver donor route, the success rate is higher. There is minimal
risk to both Isaac and the donor, though as with any medical procedure, there can
be complications.”
“I’ll get tested,” Abraham said.
“So will I,” Saralyn said.
“Me, too,” Rebecca added.
The doctor looked across the three of them. “Of course, I want all three of you to
be tested, but I have to tell you that none of you are good candidates.” Turning to
Rebecca, he said, “You’re not a blood relative so you wouldn’t be my first choice.”
Then he turned back to Abraham. “Mr. Martin, you recently had your own health problems.
You wouldn’t be a good risk for this procedure.”
“What about me?” Saralyn asked.
“Of the three of you here, you may be the best option. The only problem is your size.
Your son is much bigger than you, suggesting that his organs are as well. The size
of your liver may eliminate you as a viable candidate. Do you have any other children?”
the doctor asked. “Siblings are typically the best candidates.” He flipped a couple
of pages on Isaac’s chart. “I see that Isaac has none. How about half siblings? The
match may not be perfect but if there is a half brother about Isaac’s size, he should
definitely be tested.”
Abraham refused to look at Saralyn. All he could think about were the awful things
she’d said to and about Michael, and the recent decision he’d made to withhold the
boy’s seat on the MEEG board. Now they needed him to save Isaac. Would the boy do
it? He didn’t know.
“He has a half brother and a half sister,” Rebecca finally said, turning Abraham’s
attention to her. “The brother, Michael, is about Isaac’s size.”
The doctor picked up his clipboard. “Let’s get him in here and tested, then,” he said.
“We need to move quickly.”
Saralyn stood. “Wait a minute, Doctor,” she said. “Can’t there be other living donors
out there?”
“Anything is possible, Mrs. Martin,” he said. “You’re welcome to have as many people
tested as are willing to be tested, but the statistics suggest that the half brother
is the best candidate.”
“Thank you,” she said. When the doctor left the room, she turned to Abraham. “You
have to convince him to be tested, Abraham,” she pleaded. “Give him whatever he wants,
just don’t let my baby die.”
J
osette sat at the foot of her bed and stared at the two suitcases and the vanity case
she’d packed. She was really going to do it; she was going to leave Michael. She didn’t
see that she had any other choice. She couldn’t let him keep lying to her with no
consequences. She needed to take a stand, and this was the only way. Hearing the truth
directly from Rebecca’s lips had knocked the rose-colored glasses off her face. Now
she clearly saw her husband for the man he was, and she didn’t like what she saw.
He was her child’s father, so they’d always have a bond, but she no longer saw herself
as his devoted and loving wife.
For the first time in a very long time, she didn’t look at the clock when she heard
him enter the house. She sat calmly and waited for him to come upstairs. She didn’t
have to wait long.
He knew something was wrong as soon as he crossed the threshold to the bedroom. She
could see it in his wide-eyed ex
pression when he saw the packed bags in the middle of the floor.
“What’s this?” he asked, looking from her two packed bags to her.
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like somebody’s going on a trip.”
“Since I’m somebody, it seems you’re correct.”
He stared at her. “Where are you going?”
“Away from you,” she said, her voice tighter than she wanted it to be. She told herself
to breathe, remain calm.
He stepped around the bags and leaned against the dresser, facing her. “You can’t
keep running to my mother’s every time you get upset with me,” he said. “It’s childish.”
His words made her flinch. Going to his mother did make her seem childish, not to
mention stupid. Leah and Deborah would always take Michael’s side. They had deceived
her from the beginning. She couldn’t trust them. Oddly, the only person she felt she
could trust to tell her the truth was Rebecca. “I’m not going to your mother’s,” she
said.
“Then where are you going?”
She met his eyes. “I told you,” she said, unwilling to get more specific. She’d rather
keep him guessing than tell him she would be staying in the guesthouse of one of Rebecca’s
friends a few mere miles from their home. “Away from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. “Stop talking in riddles. You wanted my
attention. Well, you’ve got it.”
He was too smug for his own good. She wanted to wipe that smugness off his face. She
rubbed her belly. “Your daughter and I are taking a vacation, a long one.”
He glanced down at her belly. “Not too long, I’d guess.”
She hated his dismissive attitude. He should be asking why she was leaving and begging
her to stay, like a normal husband would. Then she remembered that she was dealing
with Michael
Thomas, definitely an atypical husband. “I went to visit Rebecca today,” she said,
giving the conversation a stiff shove in the direction she wanted it to go.
He jerked his head up. “Rebecca? Rebecca Martin, Isaac’s wife?”
She didn’t bother to answer, only stared at him. How many other Rebeccas did they
know?
“Why’d you go see her?” he asked. “I told you there was nothing going on between us.”
“That’s not what she said.”
“Then she’s a liar,” he said.
“Somebody’s a liar. I’m not sure it’s Rebecca, though.”
He moved away from the dresser and began pacing in front of the packed bags. “So now
I’m a liar?”
“If the shoe fits…”
He stopped pacing and pinned her with a stare. “You can’t believe anything that woman
says. She’s always had a thing for me. She and Isaac are having problems and she can’t
stand that we’re happy. Don’t let her play you.”
Somebody was playing her, all right, but it wasn’t Rebecca. “Stop lying, Michael,”
she said, losing patience with him. “For once, be honest with me. I already know you
slept with Rebecca after we were married. Why won’t you admit it? She did.”
He studied her, as if weighing the pros and cons of telling the truth. Finally, he
said, “It was only a few times, and it didn’t mean anything.”
She blinked fast to keep the tears that had quickly filled her eyes at bay. “It meant
something to me. I took my vows seriously and I thought you did, too.”
He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her with those pseudo sad eyes, hoping his
charm would sway her. Same old Michael.
“Why did you marry me, Michael? What do you want from this marriage?”
He sat down next to her. “Why are you asking me all these
crazy questions? I want what everybody wants—a wife, a family, a home where I can
love and be loved.”
Now this was the Michael she’d fallen in love with. She’d thought he was lost to her.
“You can’t build that kind of life on lies, Michael. It doesn’t work that way. It
doesn’t work that way for me. I need honesty. I need to know I’m loved.”
“I do love you,” he said. “You know I do.”
She shook her head. “I used to know it. Now I’m not so sure. You married me without
telling me of your relationship to Abraham and Isaac. You cheated on me with Rebecca.
And you lied to me about both for a very long time.”
“I didn’t lie to you,” he said.
“Of course you did. You lied by omission.” She caressed her stomach. “This baby is
our future, Michael. What kind of father will you be to her? Will you be another Abraham?”
“Never,” he said. “I’d never abandon my children.”
“You already have,” she said softly. “You’re here physically, at least some of the
time, but emotionally you’re somewhere else.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. You don’t have any energy left for the baby and me because you expend
it all on your hatred for Abraham and all that he has. He consumes you, Michael. What
good will it do to exact revenge on Abraham if you lose your family and everyone who
loves you in the process?”
“I’m not going to lose my family.”
She shook her head slowly. “Leah and Deborah will always stick with you, that’s true.
You three are as tight as the Three Musketeers. I envy your closeness and wish that
we had a sliver of it in our marriage, but we don’t. Do you know why that is?”
“You have all the answers, so you tell me,” Michael said, moving from charm to peevishness.
“I don’t have the answer to that one, and that’s why I need to get away for a while.
I need to figure out what I’m going to do after
the baby is born. Right now, I don’t think I’ll be coming back to this house, to you.”
“Those are your hormones talking,” Michael said. “Of course you’re coming back here.”
“You’re not listening to me, Michael. Our marriage is in trouble and it’s going to
take some serious work to fix it. I don’t know if you’re up to it.”
“You’re talking crazy.”
She refused to let him turn the conversation. “I’m deadly serious. You’re going to
have to fight for me and the baby, if you want us, Michael, and it’s a kind of fighting
you’re not used to.”
Her cell phone rang and she answered thinking it was the car service she had scheduled
to pick her up. But the caller ID told her it was Deborah. She handed the phone to
Michael. “It’s your sister,” she told him.
With a scowl, he took the phone. “Yeah, Deborah,” he said. “What can I do for you?
Josette and I were in the middle of something.”
He handed the phone to Josette. “She wants to talk to you.”
“It’s Josette, Deborah.”
“Good,” Deborah said. “I didn’t want to tell Michael this over the phone, but Isaac
Martin is in the hospital.”
She pressed her free hand to her chest. “Is it serious?”
“Very. He needs a liver transplant.”
“What?” Josette said, thinking about the kindness Isaac had shown to her the day she’d
visited his office. He was a good man. She didn’t want him to be sick.
“I know it’s a shocker. It was to me, too. They are asking for blood relatives to
test as possible donors. That includes me and Michael.”
Josette glanced at Michael. It would be a miracle if he agreed to the test. Just like
it would take a miracle to restore their marriage. Did she believe in miracles?
“Look, Josette,” Deborah said, “they wanted to start testing tomorrow but Alan convinced
the hospital to start tonight. I need you to get Michael to the hospital so we can
convince him to get tested. If you tell him why, he won’t come.”
More deception, Josette thought. This family was full of it. “I’ll do what I can,”
she said. “And regardless of what Michael decides, I’ll be there.” She hung up the
phone.
“What is it?” Michael asked.
“Isaac’s in the hospital,” she said. “He needs a liver transplant. They’re asking
all blood relatives to be tested. I’m going and I want you to go with me and be tested.”
Michael shook his head. “No way. No how. Why should I do anything for them? What have
any of them done for us?”
“When I said you were going to have to fight for me and the baby, this is what I meant.
You’re going to have to fight your baser instincts and do what’s right. You can’t
let the need for vengeance destroy your capacity to love. If there is to be any chance
for me and this baby to come back to this house, you have to come with me to the hospital.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “So I have to give up my liver or you’re going
to take my kid away?”
She shook her head. “I’m not asking you to give up a liver. All I’m asking you to
do is to be tested. You may not be a match.”
He lifted a brow. “And if I am?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”