Her Sister's Child

“I think I can handle it, Dr. Callahan.”

“Can we please use first names, at least!”

“Is that wise? Shouldn’t we keep—”

He turned to her and gripped her upper arm, chafing it in a rough caress that he wasn’t even aware of. She was, though. Why did it feel so good just to be close to him? Was it just that he seemed so solid and strong?

“Look,” he said, “If you’re referring to the custody issue and the fact that we’re on opposite sides of the fence…then don’t! I can’t deal with that right now! I want my little girl to live. That’s the only thing that matters to me, and surely it matters to you, too! She’s your niece. Do you ever think of that?” The accusation mounted in his tone.

“Of course it matters! Of course I think of it.”

“Then do me a favor. Pretend we’re friends. Think about the fact that we’re on the same side right now, no matter what happens later on. I need you, Meg. Amy needs you.”

“I—I know.”

“And if you’re a compatible donor then you’re going to need me. Or need someone for support, anyway. It’s not an easy process to go through.”

“I know nothing about it,” she admitted. “Last night we only talked about the blood test.”

And I wasn’t sure, then, that any of this was real, she added inwardly. I’m sure now…

“Maybe that’s as far as we should take it for now,” he suggested.

“You’re scaring me. What exactly is involved?”

“No, sorry.” He released her arm at last, but the appeal remained in his face. “That’s not what I meant to do. I’m talking to myself, I guess. Telling myself to take it one step at a time. If you’re not compatible with Amy…” His voice was husky.

“One step at a time.” She nodded slowly. “You’re right. We can’t think too far ahead. Let’s just get this part done.”

Drawing the blood took only a minute or two. Taking his advice, she didn’t watch, just distracted herself by reading the humorous cartoons and sayings thumb-tacked on the walls.

“I used to take life one day at a time,” read one of them, “but lately a whole flock of days have attacked me at once.”

Strangely appropriate, somehow. If Adam had been in the room, she would have pointed it out to him, but when he’d asked if she wanted him there for support, it seemed too weak to say yes…or maybe she just hadn’t wanted him to hear if she yelled in pain!…so he was waiting outside.

“There, all done now,” said the medical technician cheerfully as she gently withdrew the needle. “Results in a week to ten days.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

A minute later, Meg had a circle of flesh-colored Band-Aid stuck in the crook of her left arm and was out in the waiting area where Adam sat. He had a magazine open in front of him. A fishing magazine. It wasn’t hard to tell that he hadn’t read a word of it. He flung it back on the pile and said lightly, “I didn’t hear any screams.”

“I screamed silently. Figured people would be grateful if I spared their hearing.”

“Considerate.”

“Very,” she agreed. “Seriously, though, it was fine. I haven’t had a needle in years, and I was expecting it to be a lot worse. She said the results would—”

“I know,” he nodded quickly.

“Of course. You’re a doctor. I keep forgetting.”

“Good. Let’s forget all of this, okay?” He was pep-talking himself as much as appealing to her. “Nothing more can happen until we find out the results. So for now I’m taking you to meet Amy.”

They both knew it was important, but somehow, by unworded agreement, they tried hard to pretend it wasn’t. That it was just an ordinary visit, one they both wanted, rather than one he’d tried hard to postpone. Meg still wondered about his reasons for that.

The glorious spring day helped in the illusion that they were in agreement, that this was a casual event.

“Can we take your car? Then, if you could, drop me back at the hospital later on?” he asked her casually as they left the main building and felt the brilliant strike of the spring sunshine. “My car’s here, and I have to work tonight.”

“Your car? What about the motorcycle?” It came out almost like an accusation, and she realized that she was still clinging to that bad boy image of him, conjured by Cherie’s words months ago. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might drive something so tame and civilized as a car, as well.

He looked at her sharply. “You didn’t notice I didn’t have my helmet with me?”

“Unobservant, I guess.” She shrugged, trying to make light of it.

“I used the motorcycle yesterday because I wanted the quickest way of getting between the hospital and your office in the traffic, since timing was tight, but mostly I don’t use it now.” He added deliberately, “It’s merely a relic of my wild youth.”

And she walked right into the trap. “You had a wild youth?”

He pounced. “You hope so, don’t you? That’s what you’re pinning this whole custody claim on.”