Sharp Left Turn Read online

  Mom’s already standing there waiting. She’s a sight for sore eyes. Cam and I are going to need my whole family to rally around and give us strength to face whatever may come.

  She runs her hand over his head and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “There’s my sweet boy.”

  I go in and take him to my old room. Thankfully, he doesn’t stir when I lay him down. I stand there taking him in for a long minute before I exit the room ready to shatter my mom’s world, just as mine has been.

  When I find her, she’s in the kitchen, making grilled cheese; Cameron’s favorite. The tears automatically fill my eyes. I don’t know how to do this. She’s oblivious to the heartbreak I’m about to deliver.

  After a deep breath, I heave myself up onto a bar stool and sit there waiting for the inevitable. Not even thirty seconds later, Mom turns to face me. Her smile falls. “What’s the matter?”

  The expression on my face says all she needs to know.

  This is bad. Really bad.

  I crumble.

  I bury my face in my hands and start bawling for my brave little boy who’s already given his blood twice. I have no idea what our future holds, and now, I have to repeat the news to the rest of my family. However, most of all, I bawl because I’m scared out of my mind ... scared of losing my baby. My sanity is buried behind a locked door, and I’m not sure I can find the key.

  Strong motherly arms encircle me, and a soothing, shushing sound escapes from her lips. “It’s okay, baby. Mom has you. Whatever it is, Mom’s got you.” She sways us back and forth while I cry and cry and cry.

  I can’t contain the sobs enough to speak just yet, so I absorb. I absorb every inch of motherly comfort she’s bestowing upon me. Countless moments pass while I take. I take everything she has to give.

  When it’s become too much for even her to bear, she pulls back and gives me a slight shake. “Easy, you have to snap out of it and tell me. Something’s wrong. Terribly wrong, and I need to know!” Panic laces her words.

  With chest-wracking sobs still escaping my lips, I utter one thing. “It’s Cam.”

  Confusion mars her features. “Cam?” She releases me and goes to the sink, wetting a rag. When she approaches again, she begins wiping the wetness from my face. It brings a soothing calm that only a mother’s attention can. “You’ve got to calm down, honey, and tell me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s the matter.”

  I sniffle a few more times and take in a huge gulp of air before releasing the devastation with one exhale. “He’s sick.” And the sobs return.

  She continues wiping my face, collecting the tears as they leak from my eyes. “There, there, honey. Calm down and tell me.” More firmly. “What’s wrong with him?”

  I dig deep.

  I draw on all the comfort I know she can provide. I suck up the tears, and with hiccups in my voice, I tell her everything I know at this point. By the time I’m done, she’s crying almost as hard as me. She grabs and squeezes, hugging me so tight I can barely breathe.

  “He’s going to be fine, Easy. My sweet grandbaby is going to be perfectly fine,” she says, as she pulls back and gives me a firm stare. “David is the best. He won’t let anything happen to Cameron.”

  Her words hold finality. She’s so sure. Her strength flows into me, and I try to begin pulling myself together. “You’re right.” I give a sharp nod. “David will take care of him.”

  “He will, and we’ll be there every step of the way. You’re not alone,” she says, shaking her head.

  I give her a slight smile. “I know you will. I never thought differently.”

  She gives me one more firm hug. “Why don’t you go lie down with my precious grandson and take a nap yourself. You could use it after burning all that energy just now. I’m going to give your father a call.”

  I yawn. “I think I just might. Thank you, Mom. I love you.”

  “Love you.”

  I head to the bathroom to wash my face, then straight to my old bed, crawling in and curling around my precious son. Within minutes, my thoughts are no more.

  When my eyes open again, the glow from the windows barely lights the room, as the sun has sailed toward the horizon. Cameron is still snuggled in my embrace, breathing lightly beside me. I disentangle myself and reach for my phone on the nightstand.

  Seven twenty-two.

  I take a sharp breath.

  Cam’s been asleep for almost three hours. I turn back to him and give a slight shake. “Cam, time to wake up, sweetie.”

  He mumbles but continues sleeping. I shake him more firmly. “Cameron, time to get up.”

  He rolls away. “Tired, Mama.”

  I nudge him a little harder. “No, Cameron. You have to wake up.” I’m starting to get worried now, but at least he’s responding.

  He starts whining, annoyed with my persistence. “No, Mama. I don’t feel good.”

  “Sweetie, we’re at Nana and Papa’s house. Don’t you want to visit?” I gently sit him up and prompt him to look at me.

  He shakes his head. “I dizzy,” he answers, just as vomit explodes from his mouth.

  I yell for Mom. When she comes in, I pass Cam over to her and ask that she strip his clothes. My call to David is frantic, but he understands the symptoms and asks me to meet him at Metro University Pediatric ER as quickly as I can get there.

  Snatching open a random drawer, I grab Cam a change of clothes and toss them on the bed while I gather our stuff. Not even a minute later, I’m standing at the bathroom door. “I’ve got it, Mom. Will you take our things to the car for me?”

  She passes Cameron over and takes the items from my arms. I sit him on the counter and throw on a clean T-shirt before we rush through the house and out the front door. My dad’s car is idling at the curb.

  He looks up when he notices me approaching. “Come on, honey, we’ll get there faster if we take the SUV.”

  A sigh of relief escapes, and I start shuffling in his direction. Mom has the car seat already strapped in by the time I make it there with my son. I buckle Cam in and scoot up right next to his side, the panic starting to mount now that my body has quit moving. I brush my hand through his hair and whisper soothing words in his ear. His presence is the only thing that’s keeping me sane.

  Agent Harold Wilder tears out of our driveway headed for MUP. His sirens blare and his blue lights flash, yet I can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed.

  As vehicles pass in a blur, I brush my hand along my baby’s clammy forehead, knowing in my heart that things just took a sharp left turn.

  4 YIELD

  Easy

  We arrive at the hospital amid a flurry of activity. David is waiting at the entrance to the ER and has several nurses at his side. I unbuckle Cam and remove him from his seat, being as gentle as I can. He’s already fallen back to sleep.

  “Follow me.” David’s tone is brisk, no nonsense. “Melissa,” he says, addressing my mom. “Go to the desk and start his paperwork, please.”

  I follow him through the emergency department and back to one of the treatment rooms. “Lay him down on the examination table.” He turns to the nurse that followed us in. “Get an IV started and page Dr. Sen.”

  “Who’s Dr. Sen?” I ask.

  He turns to me. “He’s a pediatric hematologist; this area is his specialty. I had already contacted him regarding Cam’s case.”

  I recoil. “He doesn’t need a specialist. He needs you!”

  My father steps up and places his hand on my shoulder from behind. “Sweetheart, David is only doing what he thinks is best. I’m sure if he consulted another doctor, it’s in Cam’s best interest.”

  David sighs. “Easy, I’d never leave Cam. I just want the best for him, and his condition requires a specialist.” He looks to Cam for a second then back to me. “You have to know that this isn’t a good sign ... that his condition is worse than I feared?”

  I take deep, steady breaths, allowing his words to settle in my mind. The only problem is that
it automatically balks at the concept. “Worse? No, David, you said it could be mild and maybe only need medicine! You said he’d be okay!” Cam stirs, and I realize my rant has disturbed him. My whole body sags. Defeated. “Just make him better.”

  He nods and walks over to Cameron. Another doctor with dark eyes and bronze skin sweeps into the room, joining him. “Is this him, David? The boy you mentioned?” he asks.

  David acknowledges him with a nod. “It is.”

  He looks him over physically before turning to me. “How long has he been getting bruises like this?” His voice is direct with a hint of an accent, but it doesn’t feel like an accusation.

  I shrug. “A couple of months. He’s a boy.”

  He sighs and turns to the nurse, who’s standing just inside the doorway. “Patty, get me the lab on the phone.”

  She nods and scurries from the room. Then he looks to David. “He’ll need to be admitted.”

  David scrubs his hand through his hair. “I figured as much.”

  “Admitted?” my mom asks as she enters the room.

  David walks over, looking as defeated as I feel. “I’m sorry, but his condition has deteriorated quickly. His symptoms indicate his condition is more severe than I suspected.”

  “What do these symptoms mean, David?” I ask, wanting him to spell it out for me.

  His weary eyes lock on mine. “It means he’s pretty sick right now, Easy. As soon as the other test comes back from the lab, Dr. Sen and I can give a more definitive outlook.” He reaches over and strokes my hair. “But for now, I need you to prepare yourself.” He looks to my parents. “You all need to prepare yourself.” His hand drops, and he walks back over to where Dr. Sen is examining Cameron.

  My world starts to crumble around me, but one glance at my precious boy and my resolve strengthens. I had my chance to break down, and I took it and reveled in it. That was it, my one and only opportunity. It’s over and done, and the only thing I can do now is be the rock my baby needs.

  I draw in one huge lungful of air and expel every bit of weakness with it. The pain can no longer control me because it’s buried deep below the fight. The fight we’re going to give against anything that threatens my son.

  David and Dr. Sen continue to speak in quiet tones as they discuss my son’s condition, broken only by the entrance of Patty, the nurse. “Dr. Sen, I have the lab on the phone at the nurses’ desk.” With a careful look to David, he walks briskly from the room.

  Moving to my son, I brush my fingers through his hair. “Is it okay that he’s still sleeping? He’s been asleep almost since we left your office earlier.”

  “Sleep is a defense mechanism. When our bodies are tired and worn down, they sleep to build back up. It’s perfectly normal,” he says, the sadness filtering into his words.

  “This isn’t your fault, you know? Whatever this is, it’s not your fault. I can see the guilt sitting there like a brick on your chest.” I hold out my arm and offer a brief hug before pulling back and staring into his eyes. “I trust you, David. I know you’ll do everything in your power to make him better.”

  A small smile curls up on his lips. “Thank you, Easy. And I will. I’ll do everything I can to make Cameron well.” He sighs. “There are going to be some tough decisions to be made, but we’ll do it together, as one strong unit.” He motions to Cam. “For him.”

  I suck in a deep breath and nod. “For him.”

  Just then, the door opens, and Dr. Sen pokes his head in. “David, can I talk to you … outside?”

  David stiffens. “Are the test results in?”

  Dr. Sen nods, a solemn look on his face.

  David clears his throat. “Hopefully, we’ll have answers for you soon,” he says as he starts for the door.

  “Excuse me,” I snap. “If you two think you’re going to go outside and talk alone about my son and his condition, then you clearly don’t know me as well as I thought.” David pauses and turns back to me. “Anything that needs to be said can be said in my presence as well.”

  Dr. Sen peers around David to make eye contact with me. He doesn’t look pleased. “Save it!” I say, shaking my head. “You will tell me what’s wrong with my son!”

  His eyes widen slightly before David steps forward and motions for him to come inside the room. “Dr. Sen, first, I’d like to introduce you to Easton Wilder. This is Cameron’s mother.”

  “I gathered.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Second, I agree with Easy. Whatever those test results are, she has a right to know. Why don’t we go to your office and discuss them together?” David says this as a suggestion, but his tone is stern and commanding.

  “David, I don’t th—”

  “That’s not your decision, Kabir. Easy will hear the results first hand.” His voice is firm but holds no malice. The decision is his, and he made it.

  Dr. Sen sighs. “Very well then.”

  David turns to Mom and Dad. “Would you sit here with Cam while we have this conversation? When we come back, we’ll be able to share solid facts about his condition.”

  “Of course,” Mom replies. She steps forward, giving me a firm hug. “We’ve got this, baby. You go see what’s wrong with our boy.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  We’re seated in Dr. Sen’s office, him behind his desk and David and me across from him, when the reality hits me. My worst fears are about to be confirmed. The dread is welled up inside me like a bomb. If I don’t hear the facts before long, I might explode.

  Dr. Sen clears his throat. “Ms. Wilder, Easton, if I may?”

  “Everyone close to me calls me Easy, and I think it is safe to assume that you’re going to be an integral part of my life after this meeting,” I offer, extending an olive branch to the man who’ll be working with David to make my son better.

  “Easy, Cameron is very sick right now. When David first consulted with me on this case, his CBC numbers were concerning. Now, having reviewed both sets of blood work, and coupled with his symptoms, I’ve come to the conclusion that he is indeed very sick.”

  I huff, ready to be told more than my son is sick. “I understand that, Dr. Sen.”

  His dark eyes implore me to trust him. “Please, feel free to call me Kabir. We’ll be working very closely, and I want us to feel comfortable with each other. I realize you have a close relationship with Dr. Logan, but I hope for Cameron’s sake, that you’ll trust me just as much.”

  I hesitate before giving a slight nod of agreement. “Very well, Kabir. I understand that Cam’s sick. Sicker than we originally thought, but I need you to stop telling me that and tell me what it means. I want to know what our options are. And how we’re going to make my son better.”

  He picks up a pen and twirls it between his fingers, studying my face. If he’s looking for a breakdown on the horizon, it won’t be coming. Not this time. I’m going to channel all my hurt and pain into one thing.

  Healing my son.

  Finally, he sighs and glances at David. “The new blood work reveals that his Reticulocyte Count is exceedingly low. In my experience, numbers this low can only mean one thing.” David slumps in his seat. Kabir’s eyes move back to mine. “The test proves that his marrow isn’t producing a sufficient number of cells. We’ll be ordering a bone marrow test immediately to determine the degree of severity, but I want you to be prepared for the worst.”

  “Okay, David mentioned this test was a possibility,” I supply, my mind busy trying to grasp the speed at which his condition is progressing.

  David faces me and reaches over, placing his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll put him on an antibiotic to prevent infections since his white cell counts are low.” His grip tightens. “Aside from that, we’ll give him a blood transfusion to replenish his counts. He’ll bounce back relatively quickly, but it’s only a temporary solution, not a cure.”

  The tone of his voice brings me back to the conversation in his office just this afternoon. It seems like such a long time ago. I take
a deep breath and dispel it, bracing myself for what’s to come. “What’s the cure, David?”

  His grip loosens, and he leans back in his chair in full doctor mode. “I think you already know.”

  “Say it.”

  He nods. “The transfusion isn’t a one-time option and can be used again if necessary. It’s a relatively simple process. We’ll find a matching donor and give him the transfusion through an IV.” He takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes before putting them back on and meeting my steady gaze. “Our only option for a cure, though, is a bone marrow transplant.”

  I absorb his words, allow them to penetrate my mind, break into the deep recesses that have refused to believe. Okay, I can do this. We can do this. “So a transplant will cure him?”

  David nods. “If we can find a matching donor, Cam has a chance at a full recovery.”

  Relief takes hold and I allow it to bloom. My son has just been offered a lifeline, and it’s the only result I will accept. “Then let’s do it.”

  “Easy, I need you to slow down for a minute.” Kabir holds up his hands. “Yes, Cameron can be cured, but only with a properly matched donor. Sometimes, they’re impossible to find. Does he have any siblings?”

  David answers for me. “He doesn’t. Cam is an only child.”

  Kabir nods. “We’ll check the national registry first thing, but generally a sibling is the best chance. Of course, another family member may be a close enough match. Everyone will need to be tested, on both sides.”

  A small sliver of guilt moves down my spine. “Um, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.”

  “What do you mean not possible?” Kabir looks at me as if I’ve sprouted two heads. “Easy, for Cameron to have every chance of recovery, he needs everyone related to him to be tested. The best chance for a match is a sibling, beyond that is a family member. Do you know the odds of finding a perfect stranger that’s a match? It’s a very low number.”

  I can’t believe this is happening. Never in a million years did I imagine a scenario like this, or any, where I may need information on Cameron’s biological father. The donor’s medical history is provided as a part of the file to be weighed as a factor in choosing sperm, but this opens a whole world of possibilities. Has this person donated again since I purchased all available sperm? Did another woman choose him before me? Are there half-siblings already out there?