On Wings of Love (10 page)

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

Noah’s mouth opened and shut. Alarm crept into all the angles and planes of his face as he struggled to get the words out. “Are you going to die?”

Ruth fell into the liquid pools of his eyes and understood his fear. He’d already lost his wife and son. He didn’t want to lose anyone else. She reached across the small table as if to stroke his cheek, but her hand fell back to the tile. “No. I’m not going to die. At least not from the same thing that my sister did. Rachel had a defective heart.”

“I’m really sorry about your sister.” Sorrow clogged his voice, and she knew he understood her pain. “That’s why you do what you do, isn’t it?”

His fingers tenderly pushed a loose curl behind her ear. He stroked the end of her hair as if memorizing every detail. If she stood and leaned a little closer, she could reach his lips.

If she wanted to. And she did.

Ruth nodded, dispelling her sadness and her attraction to Noah. Grabbing her water, she put the cup to her lips to keep from spilling any more words. This whole dinner thing was supposed to be about answering Noah’s questions, not about her.

With her stomach full, Ruth pushed her plate away and signaled for a carryout box from the busboy carrying a large tray of dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Then she eyed Noah from beneath her lashes. The man was too good-looking for her comfort. His cropped hair suited him, his crow’s feet made him distinguished and the color of his eyes made her think of the lake near her childhood home. Deep and mysterious, with a splash of fun on a hot summer day.

“So Noah, why did you stop by my house earlier?”

Noah shifted on the hard wood chair and stared at the mound of lettuce and tomatoes and a few clumps of shredded cheese he’d left on his plate. He placed his napkin over the remains and gave them a proper burial. “I—I…”

He grabbed a chip and crumbled it between his fingers as the hostess seated another couple at the next table. He dusted the fragments away. Deciding to talk to Ruth this morning after he’d seen Hannah and Dylan had seemed so easy. Actually doing it was harder than he’d expected. Despite the air-conditioning, he felt warm and clammy. The interior of the restaurant seemed to shrink to the size of his hall closest, and he pulled at the collar of his polo shirt in order to breathe.

“Thank you. May I have some coffee, please?” Ruth smiled at the busboy who’d just dropped off a box for her leftovers. Then she turned her attention on him and pressed on. “I’m here for you, Noah. Please share with me what’s bothering you.”

Her words eased a bit of his anxiety. She made talking about Hannah sound easy.

“My office manager has polycystic kidney disease.”

“Oh, Noah. I’m so sorry. How can I help? What do you need to know? Would you like me to talk to her?” Ruth’s concern touched him.

How like her to immediately offer assistance to Hannah, a complete stranger. Noah struggled with a reply, but the words caught against his throat. Finally, he nodded to another hovering busboy to remove their plates. Maybe in the interim he could think of something coherent to say.

“There is one thing.” The words sounded foreign and unused. “Will you say a prayer for her? I don’t seem to be able to.”

“Of course.” Ruth bowed her head and clutched Noah’s hand in hers. “God, please keep Noah’s office manager in Your loving care. Help her to receive the best possible medical care, and heal her body. Amen.”

Amen.
The word echoed inside Noah’s brain.

“How far along is she?”

“End stage.”

“End stage?” Concern flared in Ruth’s eyes. “She doesn’t have a lot of options.” Ruth’s compassion surrounded him like a comforting blanket as she squeezed his arm. He could get used to the feeling again. Yes, he had his dog, but he missed the human touch and the closeness.

“I know. She’s scheduled to have her kidneys removed next week.”

“She can go on dialysis.”

“Not what she wants to do. She wants a new kidney.” His harsh words matched his emotions. Putting it out there meant he couldn’t keep his secret any longer. Not that he wanted to anymore. Sharing Hannah’s health problems with Ruth meant he was ready for the next step. Ready to move on. Ready to accept what happened. Ready to help Hannah in whatever way he could.

“Here you go.” Lourdes dropped off two cups of steaming black coffee, some containers of cream, and a bowl full of sugar and sugar substitute packages. “I figured you’d like some, too, Noah. Just like always.”

“Thanks.”

Silence deafened the distance between them as Ruth dumped two containers of cream and a packet of pink sweetener in her cup. The click of the spoon against the side grated on his nerves a bit. Ruth’s eyes softened to the color of freshly mown lawn. “Noah, please tell me if I’m out of line, but were Michelle and Jeremy organ donors?”

“Jeremy was.” Noah drew out the words.

Ruth bowed her head for a moment before making eye contact with him again. He saw the understanding dawn in her expression, and she reached across the table to squeeze his arm again. “Nobody explained anything to you, did they? That’s why this is so hard for you.”

“No. All that woman wanted was to pass his organs around like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

“I have a feeling I know who you’re talking about. She’s no longer working in that area anymore. Not that it will make you feel any better.”

“Not really.” At least she didn’t thank him or give him the mumbo jumbo line about how his son’s organs had helped other people. Her sensitivity to his feelings left him raw and at the same time thankful she’d left his dignity intact, and it made him care about her more than he should, even though he wasn’t ready for anything more.

“I’ll help you understand this the best that I can,” Ruth continued. She stood and moved her chair around to the other side of the table kitty-corner from him but still remained out of the way of the servers. She took a sip of her coffee before placing her hand on his again. “There is one other option. She can have what’s called a live transplant.”

Noah liked the words better already. He also liked the way the soft overhead lighting picked up the slight reddish tints in her hair and the way the warmth of her hand felt against his skin. “A live transplant?”

“That’s where a living person donates a kidney to the one in need. They do both surgeries at once. Transplants tend to be a little more successful and last longer through this option because the donor is living. They just did a multiple surgery like this a few months back, and everyone is doing great.”

“You can live with one kidney?”

“Of course. For some reason God gave us a spare.” Ruth’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I can test to see if I’m a match. So can you.”

“You would do that?”

“I would. I have before. I just have never been a match.” Her gaze dropped from his, and she ran her fingers along the rim of the cup. “Of course, there’s the other option we haven’t discussed yet. Do you want to hear about it?”

Noah’s gut clenched and sweat gathered under his arms.

“No. I mean yes. I wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise. I’ve been thinking of it since I found out yesterday. I know that a deceased donor is the more likely scenario.” Noah began to play with the glass salt and pepper shakers, shuttling them around each other. “That’s why I’ve come to you. To find answers. To find hope.”

To find love? Impossible.

“Then I’ll do the best I can to explain. As you mentioned, a deceased donor is probably the best option. That’s where my team or one like it comes in to retrieve the organ and place it in a recipient. What’s your office manager’s name?” Ruth questioned softly.

Noah took a long sip of coffee before he spoke. Was he crossing a line with his employee by giving out her information even in an attempt to help? He had no choice. He couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Hannah’s life and Dylan’s happiness depended on it. “Hannah Stevenson.”

“I’ll make some inquiries. I’m assuming she’s on the waiting list?”

Noah nodded. The goodness in this woman astounded him.

The trill of Ruth’s cell phone shattered the mood.

“Excuse me for a second. I’m on call tonight.” Ruth
appeared reluctant as she reached for the BlackBerry attached to her purse and turned slightly away from him. “Ruth Fontaine.”

Noah didn’t need to hear the person on the other end to know what the call entailed. She was being called out on another coordination. But where was the anger? The denial? The guilt over his son’s death? Only a fraction clutched him this time, but it was still there. Waiting. Watching. Not wanting to let go because the guilt had infiltrated every cell in his body.

Ruth disconnected the call and gave him a look of trepidation as she pulled her wallet from her purse. “I’m sorry, Noah. I have to go. I’ll keep Hannah in my prayers.”

“I understand.” Noah put out his hand and stopped her from paying the tab. “Your money’s no good here. I’m buying.”

“But, it’s my treat.” Ruth insisted as she placed her purse strap over her shoulder.

“No, it isn’t. I insist.” Noah retrieved several bills from his wallet and threw them on the table. Then he took the napkin from his lap, set it on the table and pushed his chair away. “Good thing we brought separate cars. Let me walk you to yours.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked her through the restaurant and out the front door. She felt so right in his arms. His gaze scraped the cloudless blue sky, and Noah shook his head, confused. Once Ruth sat safely behind the wheel, he suddenly had the urge to jump in next to her and accompany her to the coordination.

Despite what he’d told her in anger, he realized he did want to learn more, and that he wanted to spend a lot more time with her.

“N
oah? What are you doing here?” A just-woken-from-a-deep-sleep Ruth answered her front door Sunday morning. Her eyes widened, and her body tried to catch up with what her brain had already recognized. She stared at Noah and Houston, or rather Houston’s shaggy back end as he sniffed under the tree, trying to find her neighbor’s cat.

She came around instantly and stared down at her bare feet. At least she was dressed. Kind of. If she counted the clothes she’d worn yesterday as dressed. She must have literally fallen into bed this morning, which meant she hadn’t brushed her teeth or combed her hair. Heat flushed her cheeks as she pressed her fingers to her lips. Yet Noah didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s not exactly morning. It’s five past noon.” And Noah looked every inch ready to face the day with his light blue polo shirt and khaki shorts. The noon sunlight glinted off his damp dark hair, and the light scent of aftershave wafted by her nose.

“Five past what? I slept through church?” Ruth groaned.
“I’ve even missed the late service. I never miss church unless I’m out on a call. I must have forgotten to set the alarm.” Though she had to admit, being awakened by Noah left her heart beating faster and her lungs fighting to take in oxygen.

“You probably needed the sleep and I’m sure the—” Noah hesitated for a moment and pulled his collar “—the Lord won’t mind you missing a service or two occasionally. What time did you get in last night?”

At Noah’s mention of God, hope blossomed in her heart. Maybe he’d begun to make his peace. She just continued to pray he would and that she’d be there to help him if needed. “Three a.m.”

“That’s late.” Compassion laced his voice.

“My job knows no boundaries, only opportunities.” Pride tangled with remorse at her words. She had the most handsome man she’d even seen standing on her doorstep, and yet both had issues that still tainted the air between them.

“Let’s hope one of those opportunities is for Hannah.” Noah spoke quietly and shifted into the sliver of shade cast by the tiny porch.

“I continue to pray for that. Would you like to come in?” Ruth opened the front door a little wider, and Houston shot in the space between her right leg and the door frame.

“Not right now.” Noah held up a large rectangular box. “I came to install some motion lights, but I’ll come back later. Will three work?”

Motion lights. To light her way and keep her safe when she dragged in late at night. Ruth should be put off by his overprotectiveness, but she wasn’t. He wasn’t family. But then again, she suddenly realized that her parents and siblings had only wanted what they thought best for her,
too, because they loved her. Did Noah love her even when they’d both agreed on friendship?

Ruth ran a hand through her unbound curls. “Look, Noah. I don’t want to inconvenience you. You’re here. You may as well stay and put them in.”

“Are you sure?” His expression changed as if he’d just noticed her state of dress. Crimson stained his neck and took residence on his face. “Look. I ran out of coffee this morning and could use another cup. Would you like me to get you one while I’m at it?”

How sweet.

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.” She rubbed her eyes against the light filtering in from behind Noah. Not only was he bringing back a decent cup of coffee but he was also giving her time to shower and change.

“There’s a good place that’s not too far. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Come on, Houston.”

Ruth blushed when his gaze lingered on her lips.

For a moment, the cozy sense of a brief companionship lingered in the air around them until Noah quickly departed.

While he was gone Ruth showered and tried to force her hair into a twist. Not happening. She gave up and forced a headband on as her doorbell echoed through the house.

This time when she opened the door ready to face the day, Noah held out the cup of coffee with two little containers of cream and a few pink packets piled on top. “Here. It’s black. I didn’t know how much to put in.”

“Thanks. I’ll fix it up inside.” Noah’s thoughtfulness at remembering what she put in her coffee jolted her senses awake far more than the caffeine in the liquid. Their arms brushed when she ushered Noah and Houston into the foyer, sending her determination to keep up the just friends status into a freefall.

Their steps echoed on her hardwood floor in the tiny hallway that spilled into her blue-and-white themed kitchen.

“Would you like some toast?” Ruth set her cup down on the white tiled counter and popped two pieces of bread in the toaster.

“I’m good. Thanks.” Noah took a sip from his cup.

As Noah eyed the small interior, Ruth wondered if he would find her country-inspired decorations quaint or outdated? And would that be a good thing or a bad thing?

“Before I start, I need to turn off the electricity. Your fuse box is around back?”

“Yes. Right next to the air-conditioning unit. Give me a second and I’ll show you.” Ruth dumped the contents of both creamers into her cup and one packet of sweetener. She stirred it as she walked to the back door.

“That’s not necessary. I can find it. Besides, your toast is burning.”

“Oh.” As Noah stepped trough the threshold, Ruth ran to retrieve her slightly crispy pieces of bread and slathered the toast with apricot jelly.

Outside, she heard Noah wrestling with the door to the fuse box as she said a quick prayer.

Then she picked up a piece and took a bite before washing it down with a sip of coffee. What was taking Noah so long? Mindlessly taking another bite, Ruth headed back toward the door as she heard the clang of metal against brick.

“Ouch.”

Had Noah hurt himself? Ruth’s stomach tied itself in knots. How bad? Was it something she could handle or would he need to go to the doctor?

Seconds later, the light and overhead ceiling fan went off. She scurried outside and met Noah on the porch. “What happened?”

“I cut myself. It’s no big deal.”

No big deal? Then why did she see blood? Placing her toast and coffee on the glass surface of her patio table, Ruth held out her hand. If Noah was anything like her brothers, he’d probably deny that he needed medical attention even if the cut required stitches. The fact that his hand remained bunched in a fist didn’t instill much confidence in his diagnosis either. Her voice softened. “I’m a nurse, remember? Let me determine that.”

He pulled his hand away and back over his right shoulder. “All it needs is a bandage.”

“Good. Then who better to look than me? The bandages and peroxide are in the bathroom. Come on.” Ruth wound her arm through his left one and guided him back into the house. On their way through the kitchen, Ruth grabbed a napkin and wiped the thin trail of blood trickling down his wrist. The cut was deeper than Noah led her to believe. She led him into the tiny light tan room off the main hallway, and as she’d expected, the space felt like it shrunk to the size of a shoe box.

Ruth pulled out a first aid kit and a brown bottle out of her medicine cabinet and set them on the tiled counter. Struggling to maintain a professional appearance, she turned back to face him and tried not to let his closeness affect her nursing abilities. “Okay, Noah. Let me see the cut, please.”

Reluctantly, Noah held out his hand.

Very gently, Ruth pried his fingers back and exposed the thin, red line bisecting his palm. Blood had started to coagulate along the edge. Good. She traced the calluses accumulated over the years of hard work, yet she remembered his tenderness when dealing with Houston, her kids at the hospital and even her.

“See? It only needs a bandage.” Noah’s voice seeped into the stillness of the room.

After turning on the faucet, she tugged his strong, capable hand under the stream of water to clean out the wound. Relief filled her sigh. Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. Still, she opened the bottle of peroxide and poured a little over the cut and watched it bubble and turn white. “When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

Noah stiffened. “I don’t remember.”

“I think you should get one as a precaution.” She put a little pressure on the spot with a clean, fresh towel she’d pulled from under the sink to stop any residual bleeding.

Taking care of Noah reminded her of what she’d always wanted in a relationship. Companionship, conversation, with some friendship on the side. Something that probably only existed in the fairy tales she didn’t believe in yet desperately wanted to today.

“I’ll think about it.” Noah shifted away from her.

Striving to maintain a more businesslike atmosphere, Ruth focused on her task. “It’s not something you should just think about. I’ve seen what happens when a person gets blood poisoning. It isn’t pretty.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen a lot.” Noah took the towel from her and dabbed the remaining moisture from his palm. “See? Not bad at all.”

“No. Mostly superficial. We’re lucky.” Ruth gave him a ghost of a smile and opened the cabinet door. She rummaged through various boxes and pulled out a piece of gauze and some tape. “Since your cut is long, I’m going to cover it with this. Try to keep it dry, okay?”

As she softly wrapped the bandaging around his hand, she eyed Noah from beneath her lashes. Even with a slightly crooked nose, the man was too good-looking for her
comfort. His cropped hair suited him, his crow’s feet made him distinguished and the blueness of his eyes made her want to dive right in. “So, how did you break your nose?”

A slow blush crept across his features. “Brad did it.”

“What? Why?” Ruth stopped wrapping his hand.

“He wasn’t too happy I decided to date his cousin even though he’d been the one to introduce us. He didn’t think I was good enough for Michelle.”

“Brad said that?” An incredulous Ruth stared at the man in front her.

Noah took a moment to respond. “Not in those words exactly, but he came around after I married Michelle. We’d been friends too long to let something like that come between us.”

Michelle. His late wife. More regret slid across her shoulders as she suddenly imagined all the lonely, bleak years stretching out ahead of her.

Even though she knew she should concentrate on wrapping his hand, her gaze remained on him. He fit into her home, on her porch and anywhere else she could imagine. Against her better judgment, she’d begun to let him into her heart.

Noah rested against the countertop as Ruth placed the tape on the gauze. Noah didn’t know which hurt worse: the sting of the peroxide or the expression on Ruth’s face when he’d mentioned Michelle. Letting go wasn’t as easy as thinking about it, and he’d unwillingly hurt the woman he considered a friend. If only he could cram those words back into his mouth and start the whole conversation over.

Or better yet, ask the question that had brought him here in the first place.

Almost instinctively, Noah bowed his head. Ruth was
wearing off on him, but he caught himself before he uttered a useless prayer. God wouldn’t listen anyway, would He?

Not to someone who abandoned Him.

No. He abandoned Noah, too, so Noah would face this alone. Sweat trickled down Noah’s forehead and gathered under his arms. Would understanding the process of the organ donation that Hannah faced allow him to finally accept his son’s death so he could have peace? Would it allow him to move on? To love again? Or would it only allow the black shadow surrounding him to triumph over his last bit of sanity?

A glimmer of light and hope burst through his thoughts. Anything would be better than this limbo. His question wasn’t going to get any easier the longer he stalled. He spoke quickly, finally able to wrap his tongue around the words he’d never been able to vocalize. “Can you explain the process of organ donation?”

The weight he’d carried around on his shoulders decreased.

Noah had been too distraught when Jeremy had been declared brain-dead to ask the questions then, and afterward, bitterness, guilt and pride kept him from researching the answers. Until he met Ruth and started flying the medical personnel around, he’d obliterated the whole concept from his mind, but not anymore.

“I want to understand. I need to understand. What happens?”

Ruth quit wrapping the first aid tape around his hand. She took so long to answer that he wondered if she’d heard him at all. Noah squeezed his eyes shut to clamp down on the emotions swirling around him.

“What would you like to know?” Ruth cut the tape and
set down the supplies before she placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Everything,” Noah ground out.

“Okay then. Please stop me if this gets to be too much, okay?”

Noah nodded and opened his eyes. He was ready.

“I get called in after a family services coordinator gets family consent to donate.” Ruth’s soft voice cocooned him in warmth. Her hand remained on his arm, reminding him everyone needed human contact.

“To coordinate the actual donation.” Comprehension seeped into his pores and chased away some guilt. Noah finally recognized the difference between the garish woman who’d handed him the clipboard to sign for Jeremy’s organs and the woman who stood next to him. A chunk of anger fell away though he still questioned why He had taken his wife and son.

“That other day for instance. The coordination in Rio Salado City. When I arrived at the hospital, I took over the care of the patient. I went through his chart, filled out paperwork and then offered his organs via DonorNet, which matches donors with recipients. That’s why I always carry a laptop with me.”

“That makes sense.” More guilt dissipated, and he wanted to know more. “So what happens then?”

“Well, in that particular case I had three offers from different hospitals with waiting recipients and coordinated the arrival of the teams coming to retrieve them.”

“What would happen in Hannah’s instance?” Noah placed his hand on top of hers, which still rested on his arm, and squeezed.

“Hannah’s on a waiting list. Her information is listed and when an organ becomes available, they’ll check for
blood type and other factors. Then calls will go out to people on the list that match the criteria. If Hannah isn’t healthy enough to do the transplant, or can’t get to the hospital in time, the organ will go to someone who can.”