Dustin went on, sounding almost curt. And she knew that it was the short way she had spoken to him that had brought the shadow into his eyes. “Now that I see you’re fine, I’ll be heading back. Let’s get this goddamn thing signed so I can get out of here.”
She followed him, noting how straight he held his back, knowing that she might have been a bit hard on him. Maybe hewasjust trying to be nice. But this was business, and in business there were casualties. She was prepared to live with that, as long as she got what she wanted—needed—out of the deal, and the casualty wasn’t her.
Chapter 8
Dustin stood with his back against the wall, arms folded, smiling with genuine happiness as he watched Kim, Aaron, and Arabella celebrate. They were hugging, gleeful, occasionally sobbing, telling each other over and over the story of how everything had changed overnight for them.
About that strange call from a charitable organization nobody had ever heard of, informing them that Arabella had been selected from an exclusive list of under twenty-five-year-old patients in dire need of healthcare coverage. Apparently, his sister fit the criteria of an anonymous benefactor who lost the love of her life to kidney disease and had become determined to ensure that others wouldn’t have to worry about medical coverage when they’re stressed about their declining health.
Arabella, who was closer to her mother’s complexion, sat up in bed with her oxygen tubes still fitted to her nostrils. The last few days hadn’t been good. Her latest bloodwork wasn’t encouraging, and the dark circles around her eyes were testimony to the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping. But today, beneath her ashen skin, were the beginnings of a glow of hope and promise.
Assisted by Aaron, Kim had hauled herself out of her chair onto the edge of the bed, to wrap her long brown arms around her daughter, squeezing her, not wanting to let her go. “I couldn’t believe it!” she kept saying. “I dropped the phone, thought I’d lost the person on the other end, but they were still there. Promising to send a courier early next week with a check to cover her medical bills!”
Aaron, in typical teenage exuberance, broke into a gleeful dance, boogieing around the bed and snapping his fingers. “Half a million dollars!” he sang.
“And another half in several months’ time,” Kim reminded him, her brown eyes misty with wonder and gratitude. Enough to pay off their bills, pay for Arabella’s transplant surgery, and have lots left over to dig the family out of debt.
What was more, they’d received word that the hospital had located a very promising donor, and that once the tissue match was confirmed, Arabella would immediately be scheduled for surgery.
“It’s a miracle,” Kim murmured, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s your dad looking down on us and making this happen. It’s a miracle.”
“Half. A. Million. Bucks!” Aaron yelled in Dustin’s ear, pounding on his bicep in punctuation.
“Damn!” Dustin rubbed his upper arm. “Why are you always punching me?”
Aaron winked. “Because you’re too goody-two-shoes to hit back.”
Dustin decided it was time to disabuse his brother of that notion, and shadow-boxed back, but Aaron darted out of the way, laughing raucously.
“Cut it out, you two,” Kim ordered. Then, to Dustin, she said, “C’mon, help me back into the chair and walk with me. I want to take a turn around the garden.”
Wondering what was up, he complied, and as the door shut behind them, he could hear renewed squeals, as two of Arabella’s favorite nurses had heard the ruckus and had come to see what all the fuss was about. No doubt they were being regaled with the news of their charitable windfall.
He and Kim didn’t speak much until they were halfway across the spacious visitor’s garden, when she pointed to a bench and urged him to have a seat. Wheeling to face him, she reached out and took his hands in hers. He looked down at her thin brown hands, clasping his hard, and felt the warmth and sincerity of her love for him.
“What’s up?” he asked. Surely, the problem had been solved. There couldn’t be another issue, could there?
She squeezed his hands. “I just wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this. For everything. What you’ve done for Arabella and all of us.”
He felt guilt creep into his face. Kim couldn’t know, could she? She couldn’t have guessed that somehow he was behind this? Guiltily, he looked down at his hands, all fingers bare. No sign of a wedding ring, even though he was now a married man.
Two days ago he and Chantelle Moreau–Clark had been married in a ceremony so devoid of emotion or pomp that he even questioned the use of the word ‘ceremony’. It had been more of a formal signing, two signatures at the bottom of a handful of pages, initialed and notarized. It had taken place in the lobby of a small hotel which had been shut down for two hours to afford them some privacy… proof that if you had enough money, you could do anything.
He remembered stepping into the lobby, mildly surprised to find it empty, and then reminding himself that Chantelle Moreau was the kind of woman who made anything she wanted to happen, happen.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the silvered mirrors that graced the lobby walls. He was wearing a dark gray tuxedo, impeccably pressed, cummerbund and pocket square included. His hair was trimmed, his stubble tamed. He’d considered a boutonniere, but had to admit it would have been taking things a bit too far.
The excruciating irony was that this tux hadn’t been bought at the spur of the moment, with money he didn’t yet have. It had been purchased a year ago, intended to be worn at his own wedding, to a girl he thought he’d loved, and who he thought had loved him back.
That was before his fiancée, Jen, had shown her true side, springing into action while he was away on an artists’ retreat in Colorado. He’d come home to their shared house to find her and her clothing gone. No note, no explanation.
Cold intuition led him to check on his bank accounts, both savings and checking, as well as the small money market fund they’d set up to save for their wedding, honeymoon, the down payment on a house, where they could start their family….
“What’s this?” Chantelle was standing before him, taking in his clothing with surprise. Maybe a hint of disdain. “That’s a bit of overkill, isn’t it?”