A Dad of His Own (14 page)

He drew her closer. “Really?”

She nodded. “You’ve been my light in the dark tunnel these past months. I let go of my own inability to accept help. I’ve learned that sharing a problem is greater than being the sole owner. I know you love Cooper. It shows. You didn’t have to tell me.”

“And you?”

She lowered her eyes. “I believe you care for me, too.”

“In a special way.” He’d said it. Not love. Not yet, but a deep caring that would be love very soon.

“Yes, in a special way.” Her body relaxed in his arms.

“Can we call today a turning point, Lexie? Can we see where this relationship can go?”

She tilted her head upward, her heavy-lidded eyes gazing into his. He lowered his mouth to hers. This was all the answer he needed.

L
exie looked up when she heard someone enter Cooper’s hospital room. Ethan swung through the door, struggling with a feeble attempt to appear upbeat. “How’s it going?

“Cooper, look who’s here.”

He gazed at Ethan as a smile blossomed on his face, and he wiggled his fingers for a wave.

“Look what I brought along.” Ethan lifted his laptop and set it on the edge of the bed, then bent over to hug him. “I thought you’d like to see the photographs you took at the Grand Canyon.”

“My pictures? Good.” Cooper used his elbows to scoot upright in bed.

Lexie stepped to his side and fluffed the pillow before cranking the head of his bed to a sitting position. “Is that comfortable?”

Cooper nodded, his eyes following the laptop.

She gave Ethan a thank-you nod. She’d totally forgotten about the photos, and they were a wonderful way to distract Cooper. He’d been through so much—rounds of chemotherapy that had drained him. Lexie wondered how much more he could take it. She didn’t know how much longer she could endure this, but she’d begun to read the Bible Ethan had
given her when they returned from the Grand Canyon, and she’d learned that God does not give more than He thinks a person can handle. She understood that God was all-knowing, but she questioned how well He knew her. Her resolution had lost its spark. Disappointment had overwhelmed her when Cooper’s leukemia returned once again. This time she’d been more than hopeful.

She stood behind Ethan, looking over his shoulder, while Cooper studied the photographs. His pale face brightened with excitement when he saw some of the excellent shots he’d taken. “You’re almost a professional, Coop.”

“I am.” He grinned at her, but it faded too quickly.

“Are you okay?”

He gave a faint nod, and she didn’t push. Being positive provided the best chance of surviving any horrendous disease. She’d learned that over the years.

Ethan had set up a slide show, and the lovely pictures appeared, then disappeared in an amazing display. The closeups of flowers and plants, the brilliant colors of the canyon, the vivid hues of a sunset, their smiles, the mule deer and the chipmunk swirled to the screen and zoomed off again.

“You have a real talent, Coop.” Ethan folded the laptop when they were done and set it on a chair. He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m really proud of you.”

Cooper nodded, his eyelids heavy with dark circles beneath.

“When you’re better, we can decide on which of these photos you want to make enlargements and you can keep them in a scrapbook.” He ran his hand over Cooper’s hair. “You know what that’s called?”

“An album?”

Ethan chuckled. “It’s an album all right, but it’s also called a portfolio. Every artist has one. It shows off their best work.”

Cooper nodded.

Ethan rose from the mattress, removed his laptop from the chair and sat beside Lexie. “Any news?”

Her pulse jumped. She nodded.

“Good news?”

She shook her head. “Not a match.”

His heart slipped. He clutched her hand in his and held it tight. “I’m sorry.” His head wagged as he spoke. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“So am I.” A breath rattled through her lungs. “Maybe this is one of God’s ways to say no.”

Ethan shook his head. “Perseverance.” His focus turned to Cooper. “He’s sleeping.”

“He does that a lot.” It broke her heart.

“I’ve been thinking about the procedure.” He glanced again at Cooper. “Can I talk here?”

She frowned and shook her head. “We can take a walk to the cafeteria. If he wakes, he’ll know I’m still here. When I leave for the night, I always say goodbye.” She grabbed her bag and stood.

Ethan followed her into the hallway and slipped his arm around her shoulders. She led the way, distracted by her heavy thoughts.

Ethan ran his hands along her arm, and comfort eased through her body. The past weeks had been stressful, but Ethan had been there for her, and so had a sense that God had wrapped His arms around her, too. But her feelings didn’t help Ethan. His face showed the strain of Cooper’s illness, and she’d been so tied up at the hospital she hadn’t given him time to talk. Time to talk. Tomorrow MOSK would vote on allowing men to join the group. The name Mothers of Special Kids wouldn’t fit anymore if the women said yes. She doubted they would. Even she’d struggled with the concept.

Yet now that she’d listened to Ethan as he coped with
Cooper’s leukemia, she’d begun to question her own thinking. Maybe some men needed to talk, needed to express their feelings, needed an outlet for their emotions.

In the cafeteria, Ethan offered her food, and though she was tempted by a cinnamon bun, she decided to forgo it. Coffee would satisfy her. Ethan guided her to a table near a window where the summer sun glinted on the water shooting from a lawn sprinkler. She’d missed time outside. She spent her days and some nights here, often trying to catch up on work on her laptop.

She turned from the window and faced Ethan, sitting across from her, his face serious. “What’s your idea about the procedure?”

He sipped from the cup and set it down, his hand reaching for hers. She grasped his strong fingers sending warmth through her.

“I’ve been thinking about what you might do if your bone marrow didn’t match.”

That wasn’t what she expected. “Cooper’s already been added to the donor list.”

“But that can be a long wait. And you told me, a parent or sibling has a better chance to match.”

“Yes, but I’m the only parent Cooper has.” She froze, spotting the look in Ethan’s eyes. “No.”

He drew back, his eyes widening. “No? But if you can find Hartley, his bone marrow might—”

Her heart sank seeing the disappointment in his eyes. “Ethan, the day that Hart walked away that was it. I never asked for a thing from him, and he never offered. I took care of myself. I managed. I’m not going to crawl on my hands and knees now. He doesn’t care about Cooper.”

“But he doesn’t know Cooper. He’d be proud of his son.”

She shook her head. “We’ll wait and see what they come up with on the donor list.”

“I’ll take the test. Maybe the Lord will—”

“I don’t want you to be tested for nothing.”

“I’d be honored to give my marrow for Cooper.” Tears rimmed his eyes. “Lexie, I can’t bear the thought of—”

“I know.” He’d give her son his life if need be. She had no doubt. She gazed into the coffee cup, longing for tea leaves that she could read her fortune with, but that was hokey. Right now she’d begun to grasp for anything. She lifted the cup and took a sip. “Let’s drop it for now, Ethan. Pray the hospital finds a matching donor soon. I’ll pray, too.”

His eyes said it all. They were filled with love and concern, nothing she’d experienced since she was a child.

Ethan left his morning appointment, discouraged. His fault, not the client’s. He’d had a difficult time concentrating on their construction blueprints while his mind stayed connected to Cooper’s dire situation. He’d made a commitment, not to Lexie yet, but to himself. Having the joy of Lexie as a wife and Cooper as a son towered over any earthly loyalty he could envision.

He settled in the SUV and set the prints on the passenger seat. He’d lost the battle trying to work today. Maybe he could handle paperwork in the office. He didn’t need to sound competent or articulate. Slipping on sunglasses to block the rays, he pulled away from the client’s house and headed for work.

Why Lexie refused to consider locating Hartley Kurtz struck him as unthinking. Yes, she had prided herself in not asking for anything from the man who abandoned her when she was in need, but most important it could mean life and death to her son. She wasn’t using common sense. Maybe tomorrow after thinking it over, she would change her mind.
To him, it was the best solution to the awful problem. He’d do anything to return Cooper to good health. Maybe remission forever. It happened with bone morrow transplants.

He pulled into the Pelham Homes parking lot and made his way to his office. Grateful no one stopped to talk or ask a question, he settled behind his desk, his face in his hands. His mind reeled with every question possible, and his heart joined in with a whirl of emotions. When he thought back, Ethan wondered if he’d handled Laine’s cancer better than Cooper’s. Probably time had eased the memory, but today Cooper’s illness was fresh and he ached.

Ethan rubbed his eyes and raised his head. Even though Lexie wouldn’t agree to his idea, he could be prepared in case she changed her mind. He flipped open his laptop and hit the power button. When it came to life, he pulled up a search engine and typed in Hartley Kurtz, Michigan. A list of links ran down the page. Hartley Kurtz wasn’t a common name so he held his breath and hit the first link.

He’d found the man, but nothing current. Reference to his connection with Wayne State University and Marygrove College provided little information. One link after another gave details about his research and study papers, university events that he was involved in, but nothing personal. Nothing to give Ethan a hint where the man lived or how to contact him.

He lowered his head and prayed, asking God to provide a donor. His next petition rose.

Lord, if no donor is found, open Lexie’s eyes to the need to find Cooper’s father and help us locate him.

The prayer mingled with his thoughts, but he figured the Lord knew his heart and could sort out his words.

When his cell phone rang, Ethan’s fingers bumped the
laptop keys and an advertisement for toothpaste blasted onto the screen. He lowered the volume and slipped the phone from his pocket. Lexie. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m not at the hospital, but he was sleeping when I called today so I decided to stop by the MOSK meeting. I’m leaving for the hospital now.”

“Keep me posted. I can’t think about anything but Cooper.” He clicked off the ad and lowered the laptop. Looking at the list of links he’d been studying tempted him to admit what he was researching.

“You know I will. Why I called was to tell you that MOSK voted today on allowing men to join the group.”

“Really?”

“It didn’t pass.”

“It didn’t?” Her news didn’t startle him. Lexie had made it clear she didn’t like the idea.

“I was surprised. So you might want to tell your friend. What’s his name? Ross?”

“Ross Salburg. I’m at the office so I’ll let him know.” The question niggled him. “Was it unanimous?”

Silence filled the line for a moment. “No. I changed my mind. I voted yes. But tell Ross I’ll give him a list of other groups that might work. Ones that are for families.”

His chest constricted. “Thanks for trying. I’ll head down and tell Ross now. I know he’ll be disappointed, but thanks for the list. That will give him some hope.” He rolled back and rose. “Will you be home later tonight?”

“If everything goes well. Visiting hours end at eight.”

“I’ll drop by if that’s okay, and how about if I bring you some dinner?”

“No dinner for me. I’ll catch a bite at the hospital, but you know what I would like?” He waited.

“You know the bakery that has the wonderful cinnamon buns? Would you bring one home for me? I’ll make coffee.”

“I’d love to.” He said goodbye, a smile growing on his face. Lexie and her cinnamon buns. She’d given him the only lighthearted moment he’d had all day.

Ethan sat at the kitchen island, a steaming cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun in front of him. His heart weighted with sadness. “No donor match yet. That’s not good news.”

“Finding a donor takes time. We have to have patience.” She broke off a piece of bun and licked her fingers. “This is pretty good.”

“You look exhausted.” Her eyes looked glazed with a dark tinge beneath her lashes.

“I am.” She slipped the sugary bun onto a plate and shook her head. “I hate to leave Cooper there alone. I try to spend time with him especially during chemotherapy, but I’m getting behind on my project for work.” She shook her head and captured his gaze. “I’ve thought about asking my mother and dad if they’d be tested.” She lowered her eyes. “That’s desperate.”

“If there’s a good chance they will match, you should. They can have the results sent here, can’t they?”

She nodded. “But I think they’ll refuse. They’ll come up with a million reasons it’s impossible. And I can’t take any more rejection, Ethan.” Tears formed in her eyes.

Ethan wiped his fingers on a napkin before rising and hurrying to her side. He stood beside her, pressing her head against his shoulder. Frustration rattled him, but he remained silent on the issue until she calmed. He kissed the top of her head and massaged her neck until it relaxed.

She tilted her head upward and kissed his lips, a quick but tender moment that made his pulse race.

“I’m fine.” She straightened her back. “Once in a while it all gets too heavy to carry.”

He grasped her hand. “Would you listen to me, please?”

“If it’s about Hart—”

“Yes, it’s about Hart.” He swallowed. “I did some research.” He flexed his palm to silence her. “Just in case. I got the brilliant idea, after an hour of getting nowhere, to check the white pages.”

She stiffened. “Did you find him?”

His throat constricted. “I think so. I found a Hartley Kurtz living in Bloomfield Hills.”

She nodded. “It could be him, but Ethan, I—”

“We’re talking about Cooper’s life. You can wait, but the longer you wait the weaker he’ll get. I know the transplant will drain him, and if he’s already in bad condition…” The rest of the sentence died in his throat. He couldn’t think, let alone say, the alternative.

Lexie lowered her face in her hands, shaking her head. “It’s been on my mind since you mentioned it. I couldn’t sleep last night.”

He ran his hand across her back. “I’m sorry, but the idea gave me hope.”

“I’m being selfish.” She raised her eyes to his. “For the sake of pride, I’m not doing what’s best for my son.” A desperate look covered her beautiful face.

Ethan’s heart squeezed against his breastbone as if it had no room. “Will you give it some serious thought? I’ll make the call. If it’s him, then…I’ll tell him or give the phone to you. Whichever you want.”