The Plan (52 page)

“What about entire legs? Arms?”

“So far, we've only been able to regenerate smaller limbs, but we're working on the process of larger ones.”

“How old were all of your participants?”

“That's a good question,” Maggie said. “They've all been quite young. In their twenties or younger.”

“Why is that?” a resident in the back piped up.

“Well, first of all, we had to start somewhere. Since we're rewinding the cells back to an embryonic-like state, it seemed most practical to begin at an age where the cells didn't have to travel back so far.”

“Have you tried it on older amputees?”

“Not yet,” Maggie said, her voice softer than before. “But we will.”

She turned away from the group. The last couple of questions had hit a nerve, though of course, none of the young doctors would know that.
How could they?

None of them knew the reason she'd set out on this path. The one person she'd hoped to help—to heal.

The years had gone by so quickly. Maggie was constantly praised, by colleagues and medical journals, alike, for her magnificent forward- thinking. She'd advanced medicine light-years in her own, so far short, life. And yet, none of it had come fast enough—not the knowledge, not the ideas, not the studies, not the results.

None of it had come in time to help her dad.

She loved her patients—all the participants she worked with. Each new limb was a blessing. Each one symbolized a new life, for the amputee and those he or she loved. But she'd wanted that blessing in her own life—in her dad's life.

Each time she saw a patient wrap his new fingers around his child's
hand, she felt a pang of jealousy. Every time she saw an amputee stand on his own regenerated feet, she wished she could've given her dad that same gift.

She'd come to recognize, though, some things were not in the cards. He was too old. His missing limbs were longer than they could yet regenerate.

Someday they'd get there—science and Maggie. But they weren't there yet. And, Maggie wondered if Callum would still be alive to see it when they did.

“No dad has ever been prouder of his daughter than I am of you,” Callum had told Maggie, thousands and thousands of times, as she grew up, but never more emphatically than when she'd brought him to their lab and shown him what the team—what
she
—had accomplished.

“He grew a new
hand?”
Callum had said, completely floored after meeting one of Maggie's very first patients. “An actual, real
hand?”

Maggie had laughed, half wondering if her dad was about to fall out of his chair from shock.

“Yes, Papa, he grew a hand. With some help from us, of course.”

“You mean, from
you,”
Callum said.
“You
helped that man grow a brand-new hand.”

“Yes, Papa.” Maggie giggled. “I, your little Maggie Claire, helped that man grow a brand-new hand.”

Callum had just shook his head in amazement. His eyes shone brightly with pride for his little girl and all she'd accomplished.

“But it's not enough,” Maggie had said to him, when they were alone that night.

“What do you mean it's not enough?” Callum said in disbelief. “How could growing a whole new appendage possibly be
not enough?”

Maggie hadn't said anything then. Just stared at where her dad's legs, had he been born with any, should've been.

“Oh, my Maggie girl. You wanted me to get some of those new limbs, too.”

Maggie had nodded. If words escaped her, so would the tears.

“Come here,” he said to her, calling her over to the couch where he sat. She cuddled up next to him as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

“I've never believed, for one second, the plan for my life included getting a new set of legs and one extra arm. Never.”

“But,” Maggie said. “Science has come so far. I've come so far.”

“And you'll go further yet, love. Someday, they'll name an entire solar system after you, that's as far as you'll have come. But we both know, you won't get there while I'm still here.”

“But, Papa.”

“Maggie Claire, you have discovered how to help human beings—people like me, who've lost or been born without limbs—regrow them! What could there possibly be to cry about?”

“But I wanted you to grow them,” Maggie said, knowing she sounded like a little girl not getting her way. “I wanted you to be the one to get the legs.”

“It wasn't a part of the plan,” Callum said.

“You and your
plan,”
Maggie replied, in frustrated exasperation.

“Oh, no, my sweet girl. You're not about to roll your eyes at me. We are all a part of a much larger plan. You know that. We
both
know it.”

Maggie nodded her head, but wouldn't look up at Callum.

“But, just because I won't be the one jumping around on my own legs, doesn't mean that I'm any less thrilled for the men and women who will someday be doing that for the very first time. And all because of you.
You.
To me, knowing you've helped all those people is so much better than you being able to help just me.”

“If I could have only helped one person, it would've been you.”

“I know, love,” Callum said, holding her closer. “I know.”

“You would have looked great in a new set of legs,” Maggie said.

“You think? I'm not so sure. I don't think I would've known what to do with them. All those extra limbs? I think they would've gotten in the way.”

Maggie laughed as Callum had kissed her. No one was ever more proud of their child than Callum was of her.

“I don't know how to thank you, Dr. Fitzgerald.”

Maggie looked up quickly. She'd been so lost in her thoughts she'd nearly forgotten where she was.

“Oh, Sergeant Rodriguez. There's no need for thanks,” Maggie said hurriedly.

“How can you say such a thing? Do you understand what you've done? How you've changed my life forever?”

“I think I do,” Maggie said, smiling at him. “My dad is a congenital trilateral amputee. There's no telling what a break-through like this would have done for his life if it had happened when he was younger.”

“I'm a scientist,” one of the residents said, “and I don't tend to believe in miracles, but this…if this isn't one, I don't know what is.”

“But isn't that what science is?” Maggie turned, posing the question. “One miracle after another?”

“And you're the miracle maker,” Sergeant Rodriguez's wife said, as she held on to her husband.

“Oh, no,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “I'm just a part of a much larger picture.”

“Part of a bigger plan?” Sergeant Rodriguze asked with a knowing grin.

Maggie paused and looked at this tall young man in front of her, so full of hope and dreams. Dreams he'd now reach because of Maggie.

She smiled as she reached out to grasp his hand.

“Exactly,” she said. And then, because she knew it was true, she said it again. “Part of a much bigger plan.”

•  •  •

Callum knocked at the door. He was nervous. His palm was sweating. He wiped it on his pants' leg. He couldn't remember the last time he was this anxious and yet, also excited, all at once.

Gia opened the door and smiled at him, broadly.

“Ready for the big day?” she asked him.

He nodded, not trusting his voice. He felt like a teenaged boy, worrying it might crack.

Gia looked beautiful. Her hair was pulled back into a chignon. She wore a long, slate-gray, one-shoulder gown with applique along the neck. Covering her shoulders was a sheer, mid-length-sleeve bolero jacket.

She looked ever the role of mother-of-the bride.

Except, of course, she wasn't.

“Close your eyes, Papa,” Maggie said, from behind Gia. “I want you to be surprised.”

Callum did as he was told and sensed Gia stepping out of the way so he'd have a clear view of his little girl.

“Okay, you can open them!” Maggie said.

Callum had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Not even Claire, and he wasn't ashamed to say that. He knew Claire, as stunning as she was, would have taken such pride in knowing their daughter was even more striking. Callum had never thought that possible until he saw the beauty Maggie became as she grew.

She had the best parts of both of them. Callum's dark, curly hair, though she'd never let hers become the wild mess his often was. She'd always taken great care in her appearance, fixing and braiding her own hair at an early age, perhaps sensing her dad had difficulty doing it for her, not only because he was lacking an arm, but also because he was a man.

She was tall and thin, but curvy in all the right places. Callum had often wanted to hit the boys with his prosthetic leg when he'd seen
the way they'd admired her. Didn't they know they were ogling his
baby?

She'd inherited her mother's musical ability, too, though she much preferred playing the guitar with a group of friends to performing on the stage. She had both Callum's and Claire's love of travel and the world. But then, how could she not? Ever since she was a little baby, she'd visited all corners of the world with Callum and the team. She was raised on Wyatt's shoulders, in Alison's arms, and on Frank's lap as he let her bang along on the keyboard. They'd all loved her and raised her together.

Callum had hired a nanny to travel with them, too, so the team could get their work done. Polly had been a widow who'd retired and had loved the opportunity to have a second career, her first one being an elementary school teacher. It had been great fun to have Polly with them. She passed away a few years back and Maggie had mourned her as she did her own grandparents. Both Nora and Patrick had died when Maggie was in her late twenties. Losing them had been difficult on both Maggie and Callum. Maggie had spent many a summer and Christmas break in Ireland with her grandparents, sometimes with Callum and sometimes on her own. Callum's entire Irish clan had doted on Maggie and she'd lapped up all the attention like a puppy does his milk.

Maggie was smart. Wicked smart. Callum had realized that when she was able to read full books at the age of four, before even beginning kindergarten. He wasn't sure where her genius mind had come from. Neither he nor Claire had been dummies, but they were no prodigies, either. Their daughter, however, was.

She'd finished high school by the age of sixteen and college by the age of twenty. Maggie had breezed through medical school as if she was doing nothing more than taking a summer poetry class. Callum had almost felt sorry for all of her classmates who, certainly, must have hated her and the ease with which she ingested knowledge.

But, of course, no one could hate Maggie. She was as kind as she was smart. Her level of empathy astounded Callum. Though, how could she not be empathetic when she'd been raised by a man with only one limb? She'd grown up understanding what is inside a person is much more important than any outward appearance.

He'd hoped, from the moment she was born, she wouldn't be teased because of him. That, sadly, could not be avoided. Kids were mean. Always had been, always would be. Maggie had come home one day in first grade, in tears, running straight to her room. Callum had had to bang on her locked door for close to an hour before she'd open it for him. And, when she finally did, it'd taken him another hour to pry out of her what had happened.

A boy had made fun of Callum while the class was on the playground, saying mean and hurtful things. Maggie had taken them to heart. Not before she'd punched the boy in the mouth, though, knocking out one of his front teeth.

Thank heavens it hadn't been a permanent one!

Once the crying was over, Maggie had handed Callum the letter from the principal, saying he was required to show up in the office, with Maggie, the next morning.

He'd scolded Maggie, properly, and punished her at home, as was expected. And hand in hand they'd walked—well, he'd rolled—into the office where she took her school punishment with her chin raised high. She'd have to eat in the classroom, away from the other kids, for two weeks and write an apology letter to the boy and his parents.

Though Callum did not condone violence, he'd been secretly proud of Maggie. Not because she stood up for him, but because she'd stood up for herself.

Maggie never lost that feisty nature. She was fearless and stubborn, both traits she got from her mam. She knew what she wanted and would do anything to get it. She let nothing stand in her way. And, thus far, nothing had.

He hoped the man she was about to marry was ready for Hurricane Maggie. She'd certainly turned Callum's world upside down with her arrival, but looking back, even with all the struggles and challenges raising her had brought, he wouldn't have changed a thing.

Other than wishing Claire had been there to experience it, too.

Now, here Maggie stood before him, a bride. How could that be? Where had the years gone? It seemed just yesterday she was clapping with glee as the two of them sped around parking lots in his chair.

“Faster, Papa. Faster!”

She took his breath away. All little girl and grown woman rolled into one.

“How do I look?” she asked.

How did one answer such a question?

“You look like your mother,” was all Callum could say. “And she'd be so very proud of you.”

Maggie smiled that gentle smile, the one that reminded him of Claire and the one Maggie had always given him whenever he mentioned Claire's name.

“You didn't have to wear your legs,” she said, eyeing him in his dark-blue linen suit.

“I never miss a chance to walk beside a beautiful woman.”