The Pleasure's All Mine (46 page)

Eric raised the gun and aimed it carefully at Simeon.

“Eric!”

The young man pulled back. “Pierce?”

“Yes, Eric. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Eric lowered the gun, clicked the safety, and tossed it on the floor at Pierce’s feet.

Pierce’s relief was short lived.

Eric froze, his eyes rolled back, and he began to shake in a full-blown seizure. Pierce grabbed him, trying to keep him still. “Eric, talk to me. Oh, shit!”

Pierce ran to grab the phone beside Simeon’s bed and dialed 911. “I need an ambulance right away. A seventeen-year-old with brain tumors is having a seizure.” Then against his better judgment, he added, “And you need to send help for another unconscious man.”

“You’re at,” the dispatcher rattled off the address, “the residence of Simeon Cahill?”

“That’s right.”

“We’ll send the ambulances right away.”

The seizure stopped. Eric opened his eyes. “Pierce?”

Pierce ran over to Eric, scooped him up from the floor, and carried him to the stairs. He could already be at the gate when they arrived. “Help’s coming, Eric. Hang in there.”

“Tell Marie I love her. Tell Mama I love her, too. And Aunt Avie. And you, too.”

Pierce kept his emotions at bay as he hurried up the brick-lined path. “Stop talking like that. You’re going to be fine.”

“I’ve never had one of those, Pierce,” he whispered hoarsely. “This feels bad. Real bad. My eyesight’s going in and out. I’m dying, Pierce.”

“They’re going to take you to the hospital.” Pierce navigated the stairs carefully. “No more talk of dying right now. You can’t die today. Not on my watch. Your mother will kill me!”

Eric gave him a weak smile. “Love my mother…Pierce. Take care of her.”

“I will.”

Then Eric’s lips twitched and he half-sobbed, “I want to see my child.”

“You will. Just hang on!” Pierce whispered, his heart beating faster than he knew possible. “If there’s a chance they can do the—”

“Anything, Pierce, as long as they…don’t slice me…in half to get…the job done.”

Pierce fumbled with the controls to get the gate open. The paramedics sped up the path. They scrambled out the back of the ambulance with a stretcher, wheeling it up to meet him.

Another ambulance trailed the first one. Pierce flagged it down and told the driver, “He’s upstairs in the bedroom in the east wing. Eight doors down from the landing.”

Pierce followed the first paramedics into the back of the ambulance.

Eric closed his eyes. Unresponsive.

Raven’s words, “Save my baby,” echoed in Pierce’s mind. She hadn’t asked for much, but in this one thing Pierce might fail. Eric was in God’s hands now.

“Pierce.” Eric jerked up, gripped his jacket. “Call my doctor in Chicago. Have them send…my latest…scans, records…everything…to the hospital.”

Even damn near dying the boy was still trying to direct traffic. Pierce whipped out his cell.

“Sir, you can’t use that in here.”

Pierce groaned as he shut it off. “Can you radio ahead and ask someone to call—”

“Dr. Julie Taylor…in Chicago,” Eric supplied.

“And have his latest records sent to the hospital you’re taking him to.”

Eric recited the number.

Pierce opened his mouth, but the paramedic cut him off. “I heard him.”

“Eric, stop thinking. Give your brain a rest.”

“I’ll rest when my brain’s no longer working. Call Marie.”

Pierce closed his eyes hard to try and keep his volcanic emotions controlled. “I will as soon as we get to the hospital.”

“Who’s with my mother?”

“Ava and Steve.”

“She’s really going to be okay?”

Pain slashed across Pierce’s heart. From what the doctor said, Raven was far from okay. The thought of losing her, not loving her, not holding her, was unfathomable, but he couldn’t tell Eric the truth—at least not before he was stabilized.

“She’s going to be just fine.”

“You’re lying, Pierce,” Eric croaked.

“No, son.”

“You’re crying.” Eric gestured toward Pierce’s tear-stained face, and wiped at the moisture.

Pierce hadn’t even realized tears were streaming down his face. Two of the most important people in his life, both on the brink of death—and why? Why hadn’t Raven trusted him? Right now, he’d move to the North Pole if it meant having her alive.
“She’s strong. She’s going to be all right,” he said. “You, on the other hand, are trying to check me the hell up out of here!”

The paramedics put Eric in a head brace to keep him still.

Eric gripped Pierce’s hand.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” As much as it pained him to stay away from Raven, her words—
save my baby
—dictated his actions.

How had he gone from having practically no family to having more family than he could handle?

❤ ❤ ❤

Pierce finally managed to reach Marie after they’d arrived at Southampton Hospital.

“Oh my God! I’m freaking out here!” she shrieked. “What happened to Eric!”

“Marie, calm down. Try to get here as soon as possible. They can’t treat him until you do.”

“Let me talk to him.”

Pierce turned back and looked through the window at Eric. “He’s not in a position to talk right now.”

Behind him, a nurse came. “Sir? Sir? We need to ask you some questions.”

“Marie, I’ll call you back.”

“Don’t let him die, Pierce!”

“I’ll call you back, Marie.” He followed the nurse to Eric’s room and stood at his bedside.

Dr. Kotis, an olive-skinned man with a slight build and grey eyes, turned away from Eric to focus on the older man. “Are you his father?”

Pierce was stunned by the question.

“Sir?”

Eric was awake, but barely coherent. “Dad, Mom, Marie, Avie. God. God.” Eric pointed to Pierce, grasped his hand. “Dad. Dad.”

“He pointed toward the door, asking for you,” said Dr. Kotis.

The nurse leaned toward Eric. “Does your father have permission to consent to treatment?”

Eric tightened his grip on Pierce’s hand. “Dad Pierce. Dad Pierce.”

Pierce took Eric’s hand. He felt the slight pressure as Eric tried to convey his message.

“We wasted all this time waiting for someone else? Why didn’t you say you were his father?”

“Yes. Dad. Dad!” Eric shrieked. “God, Marie, Mom, Dad, Pierce, Avie. Love,” Eric chanted.

“Okay, Eric, I get it.” Then to the nurse, he said, “Yes, I’m his father.”

Dr. Kotis continued, “There’s a procedure we could use on your son. It hasn’t been done here, but if we can’t do a craniotomy, it’s his only chance. The presenters, Drs. Kassam and Snyderman, are at a hospital about twenty-four miles away lecturing on the procedure. I was there when they paged me for this.”

The nurse handed Pierce a form attached to a clipboard.

“Somebody explain what it is they’re going to do,” he said, flicking a gaze over the documents. “What am I agreeing to?”

“The endonasal approach,” the doctor said. “We go through his nose to get to the tumors.”

Pierce swallowed hard, ran a hand over his bare head. “How is it different from a craniotomy?”

“A craniotomy is the more traditional approach—probably the most preferred in this case. A craniotomy can involve external incisions in the face with removal of the bony facial elements and portions of the skull.”

“He doesn’t want that.”

“We understand that, Mr. Randall,” Dr. Kotis said in a dry tone. “The endonasal approach is a revolutionary surgical technique that uses the nose and nasal sinuses to gain access to the most critical areas of the brain by threading narrow scopes and miniature surgical tools into the soft tissue of the nasal opening. Without taking off large segments of the skull or facial bones, we can take out baseball-sized growths bit by bit without pulling on the brain or touching the normal tissue.” Dr. Kotis referred to an illuminated image to make his point. “Patients are often discharged within several days, leaving the hospital with no incisions or scars and few, if any, lingering side effects.”

Pierce scratched his head. “Has it been tried on anyone else or will you all be testing it out on…my son?”

“It was refined at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center by the very doctors who are presenting the seminar.”

“Can we bring them here?”

“We already have a call in to interrupt the session. They’ll be up to it, especially if we allow them to bring the seminar participants here as well, and they do it in the cathedral.”

Pierce frowned. “Cathedral?”

The doctor gave him a thin smile. “It’s a place where students and other doctors can observe the procedure. If they agree, we’ll get him prepped for the OR, and by the time they arrive, it’ll be show time.”

Pierce looked over the form and tried to remember all of the things Eric had said he didn’t want with regards to his treatment. He peered around the room, taking in all the tubes hooked up to the young man, feeling the enormity of the decision weighing on him. “What else can you tell me about the procedure?”

“We put a head and neck surgeon and a brain surgeon on the same team, performing the operation simultaneously.” He pointed to a whiteboard where names had been written in erasable marker. “Our people have already been called in. This has to be done jointly by an endocrinologist, a hormone specialist, and a neurosurgeon, although an eye or ENT specialist might also need to be on hand since Eric’s experiencing some bouts of blindness.”

Pierce still hesitated to sign.
What if Eric dies because I had them do this procedure and not the craniotomy, which would be easier for the doctors?
Pierce looked up from the form.

“If we can get to it in time, he’ll have an excellent chance of successful treatment and a full recovery.

“What are the major risks here?”

“Cerebral fluid leakage. Also, because of the smaller access point, we may have to perform additional endoscopic surgeries to remove some larger tumors in sections or stages. But the benefits far outweigh the risks. The primary goal is to preserve neurological function. Trust me, we’ll do everything we can to make sure that your son walks out of here alive and well.”

Pierce looked at Eric. “You’re sure there isn’t another alternative?”

“We could do a transcranial hypophysectomy, but it also involves opening the skull. That operation must be reported to the Department of Motor Vehicles, which will probably suspend his driver’s license for at least a year because of a small risk of residual epilepsy.”

“No, he definitely doesn’t want that either.”

The doctor nodded. “The last alternative is a transsphenoidal to approach the gland from below, as only a thin plate of bone lies between the back of the nose and the gland. It’s a simpler procedure than the transcranial surgery, and it’s performed for small tumors. It’s usually a safe procedure.” The doctor scanned the films on the lighted board across from Eric’s bed. “Unfortunately, Eric is well past that stage.”

“Are there any other risks to consider?”

“Bleeding after the operation may require a return to the operating room to stop it. He’ll be given pills to replace vital hormones for a few weeks after the operation. Tests will be done to see if the medication can be stopped, or if it needs to be taken indefinitely. Radiotherapy may be needed afterward, too.”

“Radiotherapy?” Pierce blinked, trying to remember an article he had read about it after that conversation with Ava. “Kills the brain cells, causes…forgetfulness.”

Dr. Kotis blinked in surprise. “You’re right, but at least he’ll still be alive to fight that battle on his own.”

A tall, leggy nurse walked up to Dr. Kotis, saying, “I hate to interrupt, but they’re all on their way.”

Dr. Kotis signed a form she held out, then asked Pierce, “Can we put them in the cathedral?”

“Yes, with so many people watching, they’re bound to want this to be successful. Won’t look good if the patient dies on them, will it?”

Dr. Kotis frowned, bristling at what Pierce had implied. “Doctors give it one hundred-fifty percent regardless.”

“I’d feel better with two hundred percent. He’s an otherwise healthy young man.” Pierce signed the forms. “I don’t want anyone to think he’s worth more in parts.”

Four hours later, Pierce walked to the chapel, sat in one of the middle pews, and took stock of the place—stained-glass windows, bright wooden pews, plush red carpet. He hadn’t set foot in a church, or anything like it, since Jaylon Ripley’s funeral and before that, it was for his own parents’ funeral. Though his father had taught him from the bible, his parents weren’t too keen on organized religion, thanks to his mother’s father, a minister who had been the driving force in letting his pedophile brother remain in the family circle

Pierce leaned forward on the bench, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. “God, I haven’t really spoken to you since my parents died, so I’m just going to speak from the heart. My parents were everything to me. And I couldn’t understand why, with all the bad people in the world, including the drunk driver that killed them, you would pluck two of the most beautiful flowers in the garden.”

Pierce stilled himself against the pain that penetrated his heart.

“And now, the lives of two people I love so very much are hanging in the balance. I’m not going to make promises about going to church every Sunday, but I will promise that every single morning from here on out, I’ll acknowledge Your power, presence, and guiding hand in my life—with some type of prayer or affirmation.”

Pierce closed his eyes as mental pictures of Eric, then Raven, flashed before him. “I know that everyone has a path they must travel in this life. I’m not asking to interfere with that. I’m praying for a speedy healing and recovery if it’s in the master plan, and a…painless transition if that’s…”

Pierce closed his eyes against the pain that rippled through his chest.
Oh, God, his Raven. Eric.

“I need her. She needs him. I need him. He called me…Dad.” His voice broke then, tears blinded his vision. “He put major decisions about his life into
my
hands, power that belongs in
Your
hands.” Pierce gathered his thoughts, trying to push away the pain. “I never thought I’d experience love, and then Raven dropped in.”