Luanne Rice (24 page)

Secret
Agent started a new topic: “Jake Update.” Then he typed in his message: “Hey
you guys. Here’s the latest on my nephew, Jake. Thanks to all of you, my sister
was able to take him to the best plastic surgeon in Miami. And you
know
they’ve got great plastic surgeons
in Miami. (We know all about face-lifts and boob jobs.) Anyway, now they’re
talking about a few operations.”

He paused,
wondering how far he could go with this. He had learned, over time, to set the
hook and then be patient—let the people on the board reach into their hearts
and pocketbooks and offer. He rarely had to actually ask. Rereading his
writing, he deleted the part about face-lifts and boob jobs—it struck a wrong
chord. Then he hit “Send.”

Didn’t have to wait too long, either.
It was
late night, past midnight, and there were plenty of Spirit fans camped out by
their computers, chatting with each other.

“So sorry,
man. That family’s been through too much,”
came
the
reply from Spiritfan1955.

“What kind
of surgery? How extensive?”
came
the question from
SpiritGirl—who posted a signature picture that showed she was hot, blonde, and,
interestingly enough, surgically enhanced.

“Pretty
extensive,” Secret Agent typed back. “His face is
very
scarred. He’s only 13, so he’s pretty devastated.” Here came the bait: “The
worst part is
,
my sister has used nearly all the money
you folks have been so great to send—trying to fix up the house. It’s a
disaster.”

Now he
waited again. He was itching to get out of here. He had a porn site open at the
same time, and he was really dying to get back to his hot, horny, barely legal
honeys. But he couldn’t resist making a little money tonight—not that he needed
the funds. He had plenty from the bitch. But Secret Agent’s theory was
,
if people wanted to give it, well then, it was his job to
take it. He stared at his “Jake Update” heading, and opened the single new
reply.

“Like you said: it’s a disaster.
That means
it’s a disaster area, and your sister is getting money from the government.”

Whoa! Who
the fuck was this? Secret Agent looked at the signature: White Dawn. Had to be
a woman—no guy would sign on with a name like that. On the other hand, it was
the title of a Spirit song, and these Spirit fans—men or women—
were
freakily obsessed. Then Secret Agent noticed the number
positioned right next to the screen name: 1.
It
was
this person’s first post on the message board.

“Nice first
post, White Dawn,” Spiritfan1955 wrote back sarcastically. “You don’t know the
whole story.”

“Exactly,”
wrote PeaceBabe. “Welcome to the board, White Dawn. Secret Agent’s sister and
her family were affected by Hurricane Catherina, and we’ve been pitching in to
help. Disaster aid goes only so far—and it takes a long time to sort out the
bureaucracy. We’ve just given the family a little boost.”

That was
Secret Agent’s cue. He typed: “Thanks everyone. I’m sure White Dawn didn’t mean
any harm. It’s
just,
we’re like a family here, White
Dawn. These guys have been a lifeline to my sister.” Should he remind everyone
about little Jake and his cut face, the reason for starting this topic in the
first place?
Money for young Jake’s reconstructive surgery?
People, get ready, there’s a train a-comin’ … He’d give it a couple of minutes.
But he didn’t have to:
bingo.

“Hey White
Dawn,” Spiritfan1955 wrote. “Here’s how the SpiritTown board works. This thread
started out with a story about Jake. Thirteen y/o
boy
,
needs plastic surgery? I’m in—Secret Agent, PM me your PayRight info, and I’ll
make a contribution.”

Secret
Agent didn’t waste a second: he sent Spiritfan1955 a private message,
containing his account information, along with the requisite “thanks, man.”

“I’m in,”
wrote PeaceBabe. “I have a thirteen-year-old daughter.”

“Dude, so
sorry about Jake,” wrote OneThinDime. “I’ll help out as much as I can. My wife
was in a car accident last year, and I know how bad it can be. Plastic surgery
isn’t cheap, and those bills mount up. She went through a lot—we all did. We
listened to the box set
Spirit Days and
Spirit Nights
for about a month straight—got us through. My prayers are
with you.”

“Thank
you,” Secret Agent wrote back. “I’m humbled by your generosity.
Truly.
And I think I’ll get my sister that box set—great
idea. Her spirits are very low right now, needless to say.”

“We’re with
you, man,” Spiritguy1974 wrote.

“Totally
with you,” LastCall25 chimed in.

The
PayRight account was filling up—a good night’s work, Secret Agent thought, just
getting ready to say good night to his fabulous friends, his SpiritTown family.
He had been slipping back and forth between
websites,
tuned in to a webcam focused on the nether regions of some horny housewife in
the Badlands somewhere—but now the time had come to give Ms. Housewife his full
attention.

Just then,
White Dawn’s screen name appeared in the “Jake Update” thread. Secret Agent
chuckled.
Another convert to the world of give-me-your-money.
He’d had just about enough of this, and was really ready to click onto his
porno screen. He’d just see what White Dawn had to offer, so he scrolled down
to her post.

“Beware.”

Secret
Agent’s blood turned ice cold. He couldn’t believe it. Just one word there on
the SpiritTown screen, for all to see: Beware. White Dawn’s second post—warning
the world. Secret Agent felt as if he had a new enemy—as if he had just turned
over a rock and found a rattlesnake coiled and ready to attack him.

He couldn’t
believe his eyes. Another post had popped up, and he read it:

“Hurricane
Catherina didn’t hit Homestead. It tracked north, dude. You can do a better job
conning people if you first check out the storm track on the NOAA website.”

“You
fucking bitch!” he yelled. But he didn’t even know whether it was a man or
woman—he knew nothing about White Dawn at all. He looked for the profile and
found none. He was going to find out—that was for sure. He would learn this
person’s identity and make White Dawn sorry for shaming him on the board.

“Fuck you!”
he said out loud, totally losing his erection.

Chapter 21

B
oston was filled with kids. Lily saw them
everywhere: with their families, with groups, on camp outings.
Heading to the Public Gardens, the science museum, the Freedom
Trail, Faneuil Hall, the aquarium.
Kids having fun,
too excited to walk slowly or in single file.
They tried to outrun the
rain. They tried to outshout the city noises. They tried to have more fun today
than they’d had yesterday.

Lily hoped
they would all succeed. Even more, she hoped that Rose would one day be able to
join them. She turned away from the wide plate-glass window overlooking the
playground on the banks of the Charles River. Then she sat in one of the orange
chairs of the hospital waiting room, Liam by her side, while Rose was being
prepped for surgery.

She glanced
over at him. She felt she was in a dream, where everything was both normal and
bizarre at the same time. Here she was, sitting with Liam Neill, as if they
were a longtime couple. They were waiting for Rose to have open-heart surgery.
Two nights ago he had kissed her.

That was
the part that made life
feel
like a dream. Lily
couldn’t understand how she could be feeling so secretly happy and tender while
her daughter was in the fight of her life. Liam touched the back of her hand,
and Lily turned liquid inside. He asked if she would like a cup of tea, and she
was so befuddled, she couldn’t quite stop looking at his eyes.

But there
had been no chance to talk about what had happened—or even to repeat it. Since
getting to Boston, every minute had been focused on being with Rose and talking
to the doctors. Lily knew that was for the best: she didn’t want to be
distracted. Rose was her full-time job, and more: she was Lily’s life. And Lily
didn’t want to jeopardize anything by messing up her priorities.

At least,
that’s what she told herself about the fact that Liam hadn’t kissed her again.

“Are you
okay?” Liam asked now, sitting in the waiting room.

“I’m fine.
Are you?”

“Yes,” he
said. But the way he said it, “yes,” with his blue eyes glowing and fixed on
Lily’s—well, it confused her, made her blush.

“Um, good,”
she said.

“Something
has changed,” he said. “And you don’t have to be afraid of it, Lily.”

“About Rose?
About her tests?”

Rose had
had another echo test; she was so tired now from the cumulative effect of not
getting enough oxygen, she slept while the technician rubbed cold jelly on her
chest. She seemed oblivious to the loud sound made by the Doppler. But the test
had revealed no surprises—Rose had been stabilized by her time in Melbourne,
and she was now ready for surgery.

“No,” Liam
said, smiling. “Not about Rose.”

“She’s all
I can think about right now, Liam.”

“I know.
We’re almost there,” he said.

“We’ve been
here so many times before,” Lily said—and as she looked up into Liam’s
weathered face, she felt her stomach flip. They had both said “we,” and the
word was apt. Liam had been with her and Rose every time. Why had Lily never
let that sink in before?

“This time
is different,” Liam said.

“How do you
know?” Lily asked.

Liam
reached for her hand. She shivered, wanting him to hold her—she felt like a
tornado of emotion. She wanted him to hold her together, keep her from flying
apart. She felt her skin tingling—and the length of her spine, and the backs of
her legs—all from some fantastic longing that confused and shocked her and
seemed like the worst timing possible. All he had done was hold her hand.

“This time
is different,” he said, “because the procedure is straightforward. All they’re
doing is replacing an old patch. The hole in her heart hasn’t torn or grown or
widened. The only problem is the patch, and this surgery will be definitive.”

“She’s not
getting worse,” Lily said.

“No. She’s
not. Her symptoms are all related to the patch, and to the stenosis.”

“I can’t
take it,” she whispered.

“Yes, you
can,” he said, giving her hand a firm shake. “Just think it through, Lily. You
know it’s going to go well.”

She watched
Liam, who was watching the door through which the doctors would walk—to tell
them Rose was ready. Her mind clicked through everything she knew about Rose, a
laundry list of what would happen today. Although Tetralogy of Fallot included
four defects, only two were of supreme importance today. Pulmonary stenosis—the
outflow passage, where Rose’s right ventricle and pulmonary artery connected,
was narrow and blocked; and the large ventricular septal defect—the patch had
become brittle, allowing blood to freely mix between the two ventricles.

Rose’s
severe stenosis meant that less blood reached the lungs with each heartbeat,
causing her to turn blue. Her surgery today would involve removing the
thickened muscle beneath the pulmonary valve and replacing the old worn-out
patch with some brand-new felt Gortex. It all sounded so simple—yet Lily felt
that she herself might not survive another minute of stress.

Now the
doctors came out, wheeling Rose alongside. Prepped for surgery—groggy, hair
held back by a paper cap, hooked up to monitors and an IV—she managed to lift
her head slightly, searching for Lily. Only, the person she called for was
Liam.

“Dr.
Neill,” she said.

“I’m here,
Rose.”

“Remember
what I said.”

“I do
remember. I never forget.”

Lily saw
the looks pass between them, and felt that mysterious stomach drop—not knowing
what they meant, but realizing it was important.

“Did you
find her again?
Nanny?”

“Yes,” Liam
said, crouching down, face-to-face with Rose. “I did. It’s so unbelievable, but
you know where she is?”

Rose shook
her head, eyes rolling back as she tried to stay awake. Lily touched Liam’s
back—partly for support, and partly because they were all together in this.

“Tell Rose,
Lily—”

“Honey,”
Lily said, hardly able to believe it herself. “Nanny is swimming south from
Nova Scotia. While all the other whales are migrating north, we think she’s
coming to Boston, to find you—”

“Will she
be okay?” Rose asked, looking worried.

Lily
nodded. “Yes.” The moment shimmered between them. “Nanny will be fine,” she
said. “And so will you, my darling girl.”

“You will,”
Liam said.

“It’s time
to go now,” Dr. Garibaldi said. “When you see Rose again, she’ll be as good as
new. She’s told me all about this Nanny character—and she’ll be back in Nova
Scotia before the
week’s
out, and by August, she’ll be
swimming with all the whales she wants. We’re going to put on the best,
strongest patch in the world, and this will be Miss Rose Malone’s last surgery
for a long, long time. Now come on—let’s go.”

Lily and
Liam bent down to kiss Rose, and that was that—they wheeled her away. Lily’s
own heart nearly gave out, watching her go into the elevator. She felt Liam’s
arm come around her, she let him lead her to the chairs in the waiting room.
There was a television on—there was always a television on—and a pile of
magazines, and that morning’s papers. But Lily just put her head in her hands
and tried to hold herself together.

“You heard
the doctor,” Liam said. “He sounded so positive—he said Rose will be home by
the end of the week.
Lily—that’s six days.”

“I know,”
she said.

“Six days,
Lily. We’ll be back in Cape Hawk. Rose can have her summer.”

Lily let
him hold her. There were times when she couldn’t talk, couldn’t even really
think. There were aspects to life nine years ago that were so traumatic, she
had developed a fight-or-flight response. Her body would flood with adrenaline,
and she would go totally numb. She was right there, right now.

Rose’s
father had created so much terror back then. He had been so angry about the
pregnancy—and his behavior had gotten so much worse. Lily, not getting it, had
tried every way possible to reassure him that she would love him as much—or even
more—after the baby was born. But he was unmoved by her promises.

“Promises,”
she said now.

“Which
promises?” Liam asked.

Lily was
almost in a trance—her baby was about to be hooked up to the heart-lung
machine. The idea was so
terrifying,
all Lily’s old
trauma was being reactivated. She started to tremble, and couldn’t stop.

“I made
promises to Rose’s father,” she said to Liam now. “I promised that we would
stay together, that I would love him as much or more after the baby was born. I
promised that she wouldn’t take up all my time—that I’d still have plenty of
time for him. More, I said. Because I was going to stop work and stay home …”

“Lily, what
are you thinking of him for?” Liam asked. “You know he doesn’t deserve your
words or thoughts.”

That’s
right, Lily thought. She had told Liam about him that very first night—when she
was nearly crazed with pain—both physical, from giving birth, and emotional,
from having run for her life from Rose’s father. She gulped back a sob.

“And he
doesn’t deserve your tears,” Liam said, leaning over to kiss her forehead, her
cheek, the corner of her mouth.

“I used to
drive myself mad,” Lily said.
“Wondering
why
.”

“Why?”

“Why Rose?
Why did she have to have these problems? We
don’t have heart disease in our family—the only person who ever had a heart
attack was my great-grandfather, and he was ninety-one. I ate a healthy diet
during pregnancy—gave up caffeine. I’d given up wine even before I got pregnant
… .
I didn’t smoke. I exercised, but not too much. Why?”

“I don’t
know, Lily,” Liam said, kissing her hands, looking into her eyes.

“The
doctors didn’t know either. They say Tetralogy of Fallot isn’t hereditary. It
just happens—and it’s random. There’s no knowing who gets it.”

“Lily,
don’t do this—”

“It should
be so simple—it is for other children. Air and blood meet in the lungs, and
then the heart pumps the blood through the body. Why can’t it work for Rose?
It’s so simple
… .”

“But it
does work for Rose,” Liam said gently. “She’s had some challenges,
that’s
true. But I believe the doctors. They say that this
will be her last surgery for a long time.”

“A long,
long
time,” Lily corrected.

“Right.
A long, long time.
And
we’re going to hold them to that.”

We.
That word
again.

“There are
mysteries about Rose, it’s true,” Liam said. “We don’t know why. We might never
know why. But there
are
other whys we might never know
either. Such as why I went to your house that night, the night Rose was born.
Why I had to take the books back to you that exact night. And why, once I
walked through that door, I never wanted to walk out again.”

“Liam,” she
whispered, remembering the promises he’d made that night, and for the first
time, wanting him to keep them.

“Why,” he
began, but stopped himself. His lips moved against her skin, and she felt
rather than heard him say “Why I love you both so much.” But then she realized
that he had just kissed her neck—he hadn’t said anything at all. Of course he
hadn’t—they were in the middle of the waiting room—with nurses and doctors and other
parents walking in and out.

She held
his hand tighter, listening to him—feeling herself materialize more in her own
body, no longer numb and floating up in the air, a traumatized ghost.

“We love
you too,” she wanted to say, but didn’t. She wanted to tell him that, because
it was finally washing over her—the reality, that this man had been with her
and Rose, right by their side, since the very first day. He was like Rose’s
father. Rose’s real father was nothing to them—nothing at all. Liam was one reason
why Rose felt so loved, one of the reasons why she thrived.