The Tie That Binds. Laura Gale
working.”
“Well—” she took a deep breath “—it did what it could. Technically, she’s in remission, but it took longer to get her there than we expected. She’s weak. She needs continuing therapy to keep her well. In her case, the bone marrow transplant is the best—”
“People die of leukemia,” Lucas stated flatly.
“Yes,” Rachel whispered. “They do. Technically, it’s a kind of cancer.”
Lucas released a long breath, contemplating the cigar resting in its ashtray, deciding not to pick it up. There was a chance his hands were too shaky to manage the task.
“We might still have some success through the donor registry, too. It happens. But if you don’t do it… She needs this, Lucas. Frankly, her long-term chances aren’t very good. They never are. Without this kind of care, it will come back. Or spread.”
“But this treatment can cure it?”
“Well…” she hesitated “…they’re always cautious about throwing around the word cure. But, yes, this treatment is a ical step in helping patients maintain remission and live life leukemia free.” Finally she looked up at Lucas again, her golden eyes dark and shadowy. Whatever emotions caused those shadows were off-limits to him and he knew it. That was as it should be. Right?
It hit him then that he didn’t know what those emotions might be. Not anymore. How he felt about that…well, he didn’t know that, either.
Rachel’s control, which had been eroding since she entered Lucas’s office, was in danger of snapping. “Look, Lucas, if I had a lot of reasonable options, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have involved you. I’ve raised Michaela on my own, as my daughter. It didn’t occur to me to involve you until things got…bad, because I’ve never involved you in anything where she’s concerned. I knew you’d have accusations, I knew it would be ugly. Why would I set myself up for that? There was no reason to force that until now. Until now—” she sighed, her breath catching on emotions that she kept in check “—I had no reason to try to involve you.”
For better or for worse, she added silently. Keeping your daughter from you seemed like my only option at the time. That’s just how it was. Suddenly Rachel was angry—angry at what life had dealt her daughter, angry at what she needed from Lucas. “If you understand nothing else, understand this—I will do whatever I can to help my daughter, including come to you. If you won’t help voluntarily, well—” she faltered, but flared again “—I’ll see if you can be legally forced to do it. At least to find out if you’re compatible.”
She knew that would get his attention. Lucas would go a long way to avoid confrontation of that kind. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t want this dragged into the public arena of the courts. His parents certainly wouldn’t. At least, not on her terms.
“Right now,” she continued, “I’m talking about hope. That’s the best weapon I have—that and continuing medical care.” She took a deep breath and pressed on. “You are her father and I just can’t ignore that when her life may be at stake. In good conscience I need to give you the chance to know your child. To deprive you of that wouldn’t be fair to either of you. You’ve gone long enough without knowing each other. I never would have planned for you to meet this way, of course, but…” Again, her voice trailed away. “I probably should have found a way to tell you about her before now, but there wasn’t an obvious good time or way to do it. Or at least I didn’t think there was, knowing what our reunion would be like. I had to protect her from—” Rachel caught herself before she finished the thought, before she said, I had to protect her from you. She couldn’t be sure if Lucas realized what she’d been about to say.
Lucas understood what she was saying. He didn’t want to, because it made him uncomfortable. Still, he did understand that this might be his only chance to meet the little girl, a child Rachel swore was his daughter. If he truly might hold the key to her cure—to her remission, he corrected—how could he withhold that? How could he walk away without finding out?
Lucas James Neuman, who had steadfastly avoided personal involvement and responsibility as well as emotional entanglements for the past five years, who went out of his way to avoid conflict of any kind, was being slammed in the gut by something he didn’t want to recognize but was afraid he did. He thought it had something to do with doing the right thing.
It was then that he knew he would do what Rachel asked, even though he wasn’t sure what it involved exactly. He was human, after all, and this was the humane thing to do. Had there been no possibility it was his own child, he would have chosen to do it, to see if he could help. So if there was a chance that it was his kid, he didn’t really have any other option.
“I’ll do it, Rachel,” he stated. “What’s next?”
Rachel’s shoulders slumped, her eyes closed, the sting of unshed tears causing her to blink. She jumped to her feet and looked for a private corner where she could compose herself, where she could hide. She found herself standing in front of the bar, hugging herself, swallowing over the lump in her throat that seemed to be connected to her tear mechanism. Otherwise, why would her eyes suddenly water and sting—and surely those same eyes shouldn’t struggle so to focus on a bottle of Jack Daniels, be so unable to read the fine print on the label.
“Are you okay?”
His voice behind her startled Rachel. His hand on her shoulder caused her to jump and recoil in one motion. Her effort to gain composure had been so complete that she had not sensed his approach.
His presence, so close to her that she could breathe his oh-so-familiar scent, was doing nothing to help her in her quest for calm. His touch—or rather, the place on her shoulder where he had touched her—still burned. He had caused that quivering inside her with just that simple touch. Rachel hadn’t felt such sensations in years. In fact, she hadn’t felt it since the last time Lucas had caused it. Certainly, no one else had inspired it in the past five years. But she couldn’t reflect on that. Not right now.
“No…yes, I mean, I will be. I just need to…collect myself. Just give me a minute.” She glanced up at Lucas, caught the flicker of something liquid and black in his eyes, felt herself melt somewhere deep inside. He seemed so like the Lucas of old—and she was responding to it.
Biting her lip, she broke their eye contact, looking somewhere, anywhere, for a route that would put distance between them. Between the counter of the bar and Lucas’s solid body, she didn’t have much room to move. But she had to. She had to get away from him.
She turned abruptly, finally freeing herself of his presence, and drifted back to the couch. Dios mio, I need some space.
And she needed him—there was no way to get around that. But she couldn’t need him for herself. Only for Michaela. She couldn’t trust him, no matter how much he might seem like the Lucas she used to know, however briefly he might seem that way. No, she couldn’t let those kinds of thoughts cloud what was happening. She couldn’t afford to. She was better off keeping certain emotions, and the paths to those feelings, well and truly buried. It had worked for her so far. It was the only way.
“Okay,” she said on a deep breath. “You’ll need to talk to Dr. Campbell.” Normalcy, that’s what she needed to project. But it wasn’t terribly convincing. Her careful facade had cracked, and they both knew it.
“Dr. Campbell,” she continued steadfastly, “will explain the typing procedure as well as the donor procedure. Typing has to be done first, of course, then if you’re compatible, they’ll set you up for the donation procedure. He’ll be able to tell you about DNA, too. He’s at Phoenix Children’s Hospital, in the Samaritan Medical Center.”
“Is that where…Michaela is?”
“Yes,” came her prompt answer. “Lucas, you have to understand. Michaela’s a very sick little girl. Her leukemia came on fairly quickly and it just sapped her energy, her strength. The chemo took whatever was left. She doesn’t…she doesn’t look much like that picture anymore.”