Reclaiming Lily (29 page)

“Huh-uh. He just told me to help you out.”

“I would like you to schedule an appointment for a patient.”

“Have you got the preliminaries?”

“The patient arrives in forty-eight hours.” Kai flipped open her Day-Timer.

“Normally we wait until prelims are in.”

“We do as well.” Kai smoothed into the next part. “This time we would like to make an exception.”

The sound of a bell dinging crept into the silence. Mass General’s Transplant Unit surely pulsated with dramas that beat with the lifeblood of this great city. If all went according to plan, Kai’s movements would integrate with the work, the sacrifice of others . . . and help her sister.

“What’s the patient’s name?” huffed Jeanette, suddenly blowing full-fledged attitude over the phone.

“Joy Powell.” Kai pressed her lips together.
This one makes it clear she is doing a favor. The first of many I will need.
“I would like to request one more appointment.” She kept her tone businesslike.

“Say what?” shrieked Jeanette.

“One more appointment. This one for donor consideration.”

“A donor appointment? Without an official patient?” Suspicion crept into Jeanette’s voice. “Dr. Duncan knows about this?”

Kai loudly riffled the pages of the handbook for Jeanette’s benefit. “I have the TU procedures manual here. There is no limitation on an unsolicited donor—”

“Provided he or she completes the extensive psychological and physical screening and genetic marking work-up,” Jeanette finished for her.
An efficient one. Not necessarily compassionate. Often a bad combination.

“Which we will have the donor do. To save precious time, we would like to schedule an appointment. In the event a . . . donor is needed—”

“And all the prerequisites are completed . . .”

“Exactly.” Kai battled irritation. She disdained the American habit of chasing another’s words and brushing past them. Still, she was the one who needed a favor.

“So you want an appointment,” snapped Jeanette. “Actually, two of them.”

“Also for Friday. Or earlier.”

“Well, I can tell ya, earlier ain’t gonna happen.”

“Fine. We will settle for Friday.”

“Let me get this straight.” Attitude blew out what little reserve Jeanette had retained. “You want something put on hold, like at Kmart. Blue-light special, maybe?”

Kai pressed her lips together. Another dislike: American fondness for sarcasm. In the Chinese way, she waited. Jeanette had a choice: irritate an MRA associate or cut a corner. Nothing unethical or immoral. Just a favor. For someone special. Like Joy.

“I suppose it’s all right,” the woman finally snarled.

An abrupt click returned jazz to Kai’s ear. She sketched their banyan tree, the hill near her village—and stared at the paper. She had not drawn the banyan in years.

“Friday. At eight o’clock sharp. Take it or leave it.” It was Jeanette, brasher than ever.
Ready to be done with me
.
I am ready to be done with her as well.

Kai carefully copied the information onto her calendar, repeated it, and thanked Jeanette.

“The donor’s name?” Jeanette spoke as if Kai were inefficient, stupid, or both.

“Chang Kaiping.”

“Chang . . . Kai . . . ping?”

“Would you like for me to spell it?” Kai could not help but smile at Jeanette’s spluttering. One day they would meet, and she would win this woman over. It would prove difficult, but she had forged other initially reluctant alliances.

“Yes . . .”

Kai complied. “Again, thank you, Jeanette.”

“Wait a minute. You said Kai. Aren’t you Kai? Are you Chang as well?”

“Yes.”

“Is that one of those things, like, you know, Debbie Smith?”

“With over one billion people in China, there are many common names. In this case, Dr. Chang Kai of MRA and Dr. Chang Kai the potential donor are one and the same.” With a third thank-you and a last smile, Kai hung up the phone.

20

Magnolia trees ringed a sleek glass-and-steel building that reflected orange blurs of cabs, the greens of those trees, and most of all, the glorious sun.
If only it would warm my ice-cold hands!

Glass doors to Kai’s medical building slid open noiselessly. Gloria, walking ahead of Andrew and Joy, craned her neck, felt her eyes widen with wonder. The sky-lit ceiling of a two-story atrium anchored huge hanging baskets of massive spider plants and Swedish ivy. Tendrils tumbled and swayed in a soothing rhythm that slowed her breathing, her racing mind. This was a doctors’ office? In Texas, they’d add shops and call it a mall.

A familiar dark-haired woman wearing scrubs rose from a stone bench centering the atrium.
It’s her!
As the three of them hightailed it to Kai, Gloria heaved a grateful breath. To have jealousy and fear purged was as miraculous as finding magnolias up north.

Joy bear-hugged Kai. Another man, dressed in the same blue scrubs as Kai, stepped toward her and Andrew. “Reverend and Mrs. Powell?” The man had an athletic build and a deep tan. “I’m Paul Duncan, Kai’s associate. Glad you’re seeing Boston in the springtime.” She and Andrew shook Paul’s hand. “Our team here at MRA will provide Joy with whatever she needs.” As Gloria savored the gravelly, guttural dialect first heard in Boston cabs and their hotel, surprise welled up. She’d expected courtesy from Kai, certainly warmth toward Joy, but never celebrity treatment for Texas hicks.

Joy’s enthusiasm—and a tight grip—dragged Kai close to Gloria and Andrew. “It’s just, like, wow! They’ve got Freedom Trail footsteps painted right on the street!”

Gloria beamed with pride at the day’s new mercies, like Joy growing up. Then she remembered why they were here.
God, surely you won’t take her . . . as you took . . . our baby.

A fresh wave of grief hit, but Gloria drank in Joy’s laughter as a tonic essential for her health and clung to Andrew. She’d get by. New mercies every day.

Kai and Dr. Duncan led them into a spacious lounge where they were greeted by half a dozen folks, wearing the same blue scrubs with the MRA emblem. Gloria took in walls softened by watercolor paintings of lilies and trees bursting with hot pink blooms before they were led by a smiling nurse into Kai’s private office. Chairs and a small table offered a window view. Under the watchful gaze of those magnolias she’d marveled over earlier, Gloria and Andrew filled out enough forms—insurance information, background questions, release statements—to bulge a new file. Tiny print faded in and out, reminding her of other forms connected with her baby . . . and Dr. Davies’ words at her checkup post-miscarriage.

“I know how badly you wanted this, Gloria. I’m sorry.”
Dr. Davies had drummed her fingers against the folder, which held clinical details of her little one’s life and death, then fixed Gloria with a compassionate gaze.
“There’s a good chance it’ll happen again.”
Dr. Davies shut the folder.
“A guy in Houston is doing wonders with high-risk pregnancies. Problem is, insurance doesn’t often cover it—”

“Mom!” Right as tears threatened, Joy burst into the room, Kai trailing. Joy beamed as if she were strolling on the Freedom Trail instead of being tested for a disease. “I’m going back now.”

Joy’s and Kai’s resemblance tugged at Gloria . . . and reminded her that she had no siblings, no one who shared her DNA, except her parents. She shoved up her sleeves, begging the thoughts to leave. “You’ll do great, dear,” she managed.

Kai smiled brightly. “The CT scans, the blood work, the complete physical will take most of the afternoon. Dr. Duncan estimates we’ll be done by five. Four thirty, if this one cooperates.” She playfully boxed Joy’s arm. “In the meantime, you are welcome to stay in here. You did say you had eaten lunch, correct?”

Gloria nodded.

“Please.” Kai swept her hand as if showing off her slice of the kidney kingdom. Her hospitality dimmed Gloria’s memories. “Make yourself at home. Use the computer. The phone. The receptionist—Betsy—can help with anything you might need.”

Andrew shook his head, surely in disbelief at the warm reception . . . or remembering the cold shoulder Gloria had offered Kai in Fort Worth. Oh, that she could rewind and replay those scenes!

“We can’t thank you enough.”

“It is no problem, Reverend Powell. I am honored to be of service.”

“Um, Mom? Dad?”

Joy wants something. She’ll more likely get it, with this smile and twinkly eyes instead of that old huff and frown.

“Can I . . . stay with Kai? Just tonight? She lives on the Back Bay, not far from here at all. She said tomorrow we could do that Freedom Trail. Then lunch.” The gleam of sisterhood dazzled those gorgeous almond eyes.

Andrew caught Gloria’s gaze, then studied his hands, clearly giving her the veto power. Affection, respect . . . her husband nailed his role in every way. Gloria shivered with desire. It had been too long since she’d showed him what he meant to her.

“Your parents have just gotten settled.” Kai placed a restraining hand on Joy’s shoulder, displaying the woman’s admirable ability to mask emotions.
Surely she craves time with her long-lost sister, but she’s putting me first. Or so she thinks!
“Perhaps another day, Joy,” Kai continued.

“Why not now?” Gloria blurted, thinking of the sisters, thinking of her Andrew,
thinking of me.
“That . . . that is, if you don’t mind, Kai.”

The mask finally disappeared. Kai beamed. “It would be a . . . great joy.”

They all laughed. Then she and Andrew huddled with Joy for a three-way hug, suddenly in vogue.
Lord, may it never go out of style!

Dr. Duncan entered the office and touched Kai’s shoulder. “Hey! Do I need to call a posse?” His eyes radiated compassion . . . for Kai, Joy, or both? Gloria studied the man’s craggy handsomeness. Did Kai have a love interest, or was this part of MRA’s VIP care?

After the sisters left, Andrew pulled Gloria into an embrace. “That was nice.”

She studied his face. “What do you mean?”

“Giving them time together.” Andrew began to nuzzle her neck.

Speaking of time.

Gloria gave Andrew a lingering kiss. “I didn’t do it for them. I did it for us.”

Andrew’s breath quickened. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m thinking that king-sized hotel bed.” She grabbed hold of Andrew’s belt loops and pulled him form-fittingly close. “And much, much more.”

Kai tilted her face as sunbeams eased the early-morning chill. PKD would not ruin this time gifted by the Powells and the associate who had seen to her patients. A tremor shook Kai’s hand. Time gifted by the Christian God? As Cheryl had prayed last night, had such a being truly brought Joy to their brownstone? To Boston?
To me?

Joy ripped off a hunk of “the works” bagel, freckled with sesame and pepper and garlic, and slathered it with thick cream cheese. “This is amazing!”

Kai sipped what Bostonians called tea and grimaced. A café near the site of the famous Tea Party should do better. She pulled out their walking guide and tried to forget that David had introduced her to the Independence Trail . . . and to romance.

“There’s our first stop!” Her words garbled by a mouthful of bagel, Joy scooted her chair close to see the map. “We’ll start at the beginning and see where that line takes us.” The very thing David had said. When would he stop barging into her life?

“Ooh!” Joy wiped her mouth and swallowed the last of her juice. “Like, let’s go!”

It was First Daughter’s spirit that enabled Kai to leave David in the marketplace of Faneuil Hall.
If only he’ll stay here.

“It’s so cool!” Her hands extended like a tightrope artist, Joy minced along the two-brick-wide line to the Granary Burial Ground. Joy looked every bit the all-American girl, wearing faded blue jeans and a USA T-shirt . . .
if I ignore the purple hair.
Huffing to keep up, Kai followed Joy and camera-toting tourists into the fenced-off grassy cemetery.

Kai squinted to read
1652–1730
on a grave marker. She peeked over Joy’s shoulder, curious about this Sewall, an unfamiliar name; one overshadowed by Franklin, Revere, and Hancock.