Olympic Cove 2-Breaker Zone (45 page)

She opened exhausted brown eyes, trying to focus. “Aaron?
Is that you?”

“Mais oui, ma belle.”
Aaron stepped to her bedside, folding
her frail hand into his with the gentlest of motions. “And look who I found out
in the waiting room.”

Nick moved to the opposite side of the bed,
professionally blocking off his dismay with a smile. He picked up her free hand
and held it, surreptitiously taking her pulse. It was frighteningly slow.
“Hi, Delphine.
How are you, gorgeous?”

“Nicky.” The word was a whisper, but he could hear a
thread of genuine happiness in her tone. She managed a soft squeeze of his
hand. “It’s so good to see you,
cher
. Are you
on holiday?”

“No, I’m moving down here. In fact, this is my new job.”
Something tickled at the back of his consciousness. “How are you feeling?”

Even in her exhausted state, she managed a Gallic shrug.
“I’ve had better days,
cher
. But I’m glad we came. I wanted to see the
ocean one last time with
mon
amour
.”

Nick heard Aaron choke softly at that. “Anything you
want,
ma belle
.”

She rolled her head on the pillow, giving her husband the
ghost of a smile. “I want to rest. I want to be able to breathe again. I want
this pain to go away.” She winced then, coughing. “Soon enough, though.”

The tickling feeling came back, stronger. “Did you go
through chemo?” Nick asked.

“
Oui
,
and radiation. They didn’t help much.” Her eyelids fluttered. “The tumors came
back.”

The nurse poked her head into the cubicle. “Mr.
Carstairs, could we see you at the nursing station for a moment?” she asked. “We
need you to sign some forms.”

He grimaced, but nodded. Kissing Delphine’s hand, he put
it down carefully on her blanket-covered stomach. “I’ll be right back,
ma belle
. Nicky will stay with you.”

“Of course,” Nick agreed. Reluctantly, Aaron turned and
followed the nurse.

Once the older man was gone, Delphine seemed to relax
minutely. “I wish you weren’t leaving Chicago, Nicky. I always liked you very
much,” she said, her voice soft. “And Aaron will need you afterwards.”

Nick stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, feeling
the paper-dry skin. “I’ll help him as much as I can, gorgeous. But I have
someone down here now,” he said.
“Two someones, actually.”

Her tired eyes lit up a fraction. “Two? How European of
you,
cher
.”
She managed a weak chuckle. “Are they tall and handsome?”

“Very.”
Yet another odd tickle, more demanding
this time.
“Delphine, I’m sorry to ask you about this now,” he said, “but
you said chemo and radiation didn’t help. Were you ever checked for any other
diseases?”

“What other kind forms tumors in the lungs,
cher
?
I smoked since I was a girl.”
Another Gallic shrug.
“This was bound to happen,
non
?”

Nick didn’t want to give her false hope, but something
about her diagnosis just didn’t feel right. “With your permission, I’d like to
check something. This won’t hurt, I promise.”

Another of those pained-sounding
chuckles.
“That will be
a first, Nicky.
Mais oui.
”

“All right.
Close your eyes.”

She obeyed, apparently grateful to do so. Nick slid the pen-sized
Rod out of his coat pocket and touched it to her ribcage, concentrating. A
three-dimensional picture of her pulmonary anatomy appeared in his mind’s eye,
with the tumors infiltrating her alveoli in both lungs. He shifted the picture,
examining the growths from various angles,
then
zoomed
in on one, virtually dissecting it. Gross level, fine level, and—

There.
A wrinkled shape with delicate cilia
infiltrating nearby cells’ membrane walls.
He searched, finding other
wrinkled shapes, enough to confirm his diagnosis. Pulling back, he opened his
eyes to see Delphine staring at him.

“I felt that,” she said in wonder. “It felt like a
butterfly in my chest, the softest fluttering. Nicky, what did you
do
?”

Hopefully, I just saved your life.
“I need to go talk to Aaron,” he said,
giving her hand a careful squeeze. “Be right back.”

****

The hospital’s oncologist, a handsome man with Korean
features and a name badge that identified him as Dr. S. Liles, gave him a look
of disbelief. “A fungal infection?” he said, folding his arms across a broad
chest. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” Nick said firmly. “A pulmonary
actinomycosis-related pseudotumour can present as lung cancer. Even veteran
radiologists and oncologists can’t tell the difference on X-rays, and there’s
no reliable clinical test to identify it.”

“So you were able to diagnose this how?”

Time to tap dance, Gardiner.
“I’ve seen this before,” Nick lied. “A patient came into
the Memorial ER presenting with severe pulmonary edema related to what he
thought was Stage 4 lung cancer. One of our attendings was an expert on fungal
infections, and when he saw the color of the patient’s drained ascites he
tested it. It turned out the patient had a healthy colony of
Actinomyces israelii
in his lungs, and
the edema was actually caused by the radiation. The patient stopped radiation
immediately and was treated with antifungals, and within a week his lungs were
almost completely clear. I remember he had a very faint but unusual scent in
his breath, very memorable, and I smelled it on Mrs. Carstairs’s breath as
well. Considering her negative reaction to both chemo and radiation, I think
we’re looking at actinomycosis here.”

At the oncologist’s side, Aaron was a study of a man
afraid to hope. “Nicky, are you sure?” he demanded.

“Putting her on antifungals could worsen her edema and
send her into cardiac arrest,” Dr. Liles pointed out.

Nick turned to Aaron. “Sir, please, I’m begging you,” he
said, putting every ounce of meaning into his words. “Trust me on this.”

Aaron stared at him silently for a long, painful moment.
Then he nodded. “Put her on the antifungals, doctor.”

“But—”

“Doctor.”
The Dom voice came out, cracking but
still powerful. “My wife is exhausted and in a great deal of pain. I won’t keep
her in that condition for my own selfish needs. If this doesn’t work,” his
throat convulsed, “then at least she’ll be out of pain.”

Liles studied him, then Nick. Reluctantly, the oncologist
nodded.

****

The rest of the day became a waiting game. Delphine was
moved into an ICU bed, and along with the usual tubes, wires, and monitoring
equipment, a bag of antifungal medication was added to her IV. Aaron and Nick
took turns sitting with her, holding her hand and talking to her as she drifted
in and out of lucidity.

During one of his breaks Nick called the cottage,
relieved when Liam picked up. “Hello,
chuisle
,”
the mer rumbled down the line. “We thought you’d be back by now.”

“Yeah, something happened,” Nick said, explaining about
Aaron and Delphine. To his relief, Liam understood and agreed with his need to
sit vigil.

“Stay as long as you need,
Nick
,” the mer said sympathetically. “If we can help in any way,
just call.”

“Will do,” Nick said gratefully. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,
chuisle
.”

He ended the call in time to hear raised voices coming
down the hallway. Dr. Liles was arguing with a tall, bearded man in a designer
suit. “You should lose your license for this kind of malpractice,” the man
snapped at Liles.

Liles spotted Nick. “He’s the one who made the call,” the
oncologist said defensively.

“Oh, really?”
The new arrival stalked up to Nick.
“How dare you string my patient along with this bullshit diagnosis?” he
snarled. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Nick stood his ground. “Dr. Nick Gardiner. I’m a friend
of Aaron’s. And you are?”

“Dr. Roger Jemmison, Delphine Carstairs’s physician and a
board-certified oncologist. Unlike you,” the man snapped.
“Fungal
infection, my ass.
I have been treating cancer patients for over
twenty-five years,
doctor
, and I know
the difference between a fungal infection and carcinoma of the lung. Mrs.
Carstairs has been a smoker for the last 40-plus years, and her lifestyle
choice caught up to her, simple as that. And now, thanks to you, I have to be
the bad guy and take away Aaron’s last shred of hope.” He glowered at Nick. “At
least I can give him another day or so with her. I’m taking her off the
antifungal.”

“You can’t,” Nick said tightly.

“Watch me.”

“Dr. Jemmison,” Liles interrupted, “let me remind you
that you don’t have privileges here. At the moment, I’m Mrs. Carstairs’s
physician.”

“Really?”
Jemmison sneered. “Well, let me tell
you something, sonny. I have a license to practice in the state of Florida, and
I’m pretty damn sure I can talk your director of internal medicine into
granting me privileges long enough to see Mrs. Carstairs through to the end,
since she’s not strong enough to be moved to a quack-free hospital.”

Liles bristled at that, and Nick felt his own temper
start to fray. “Dr. Jemmison, I understand your position,” he said, “and please
believe
me when I say I am not trying to undermine
your authority or your expertise. But in this one case I think you’re wrong,
and we still have a chance to save Delphine if we keep her on the antifungals—”

Jemmison got into Nick’s face. “Listen, you little
prick,” he said. “I don’t know what kind of deal you’ve got going with
Carstairs, but if you think you can slide into his bed by getting rid of his
wife early, I’m here to tell you that you’ve got another think coming.”

Nick’s temper snapped. “Okay, first? Fuck you. Second,
you have no business making medical decisions for anyone considering the amount
of Scotch I can smell on your breath, and I’m pretty sure I can convince Aaron
to fire your ass on that alone. Third, if you don’t step back right now I’m
gonna make sure you get a personal tour of the ER as a patient.”

This time Liles interjected himself between them. “Both
of you, back off,” he ordered. “Dr. Gardiner, stop threatening Dr. Jemmison.
Dr. Jemmison, I suggest that you not make any unfounded accusations about Dr.
Gardiner’s motivations regarding Mrs. Carstairs. Your malpractice insurance
won’t cover a slander suit.”

Jemmison
retreated
a step. “I
want to see my patient.
Now.”

Liles pulled out his cell phone and checked the face.
“Visiting hours are almost over, so we need to make this fast.” He gave Nick an
annoyed look. “I’m guessing you want to tag along.”

“Damn right I do.”

“Fine.
But keep your voices down, or I’ll
have security chuck both of you out.”

He turned and headed for the double doors leading to the
ICU, Nick and Jemmison in his wake. After promising the head nurse at the
nursing station that they’d be quick, they headed for Delphine’s bed.

Aaron was still sitting at Delphine’s side, holding her
hand and talking to her quietly. Jemmison quickened his pace, reaching the
bedside first. “Aaron, I’m so sorry about this,” he said. “My damn plane got
held up by storms, otherwise I would’ve been here much sooner. We need to
discuss this treatment Dr. Gardiner talked you into—”

Aaron smiled. “It’s working.”

Jemmison stopped, silver eyebrows shooting up. “I’m
sorry?”

“It’s working. Delphie can breathe more easily.” He beamed
at his wife. “Can’t you,
ma belle
?”

“Oui.”
Delphine gave them all a smile that,
for all its weakness, was also a benediction.
“For the first
time in weeks.
It feels like that damned elephant on my chest has finally
shifted.”

Jemmison’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Delphine,
I’d like to examine you. You could be suffering some dissociative side effects
from the antifungal.”

The Frenchwoman arched one hairless eyebrow at him. “If
being able to breathe more easily is a side effect, I’ll take it,” she
said,
a hint of the old crispness that Nick remembered in
her tone. “But if Dr. Gardiner agrees, I’ll let you examine me.”

Nick hesitated, shooting Liles an apologetic look. The
oncologist simply held up his hands. “We probably should get a new chest X-ray,
Delphine.”

The woman sighed. After a beat, her face lit up at what
she’d just done.
“
B
ien
sûr
.”

****