When Angels Cry

  “Prolong things?” Bastian glared at the folder without touching it. “It’s her life, not just any goddamned thing.”

  “I know you’re upset. You have every right to be, but I’m not the enemy. What would you have me do?” Smith withdrew the folder.

  Bastian glared at him. “Save her.”

  The doctor shook his head. “The tumor is out of control, Bastian.”

  Bastian rubbed his temples. “Great, what’s her new due date?”

  Smith shook his head and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

  “How long does she have?” Bastian growled.

  The doctor opened the file and peered inside even though he already knew the answer. “A month, maybe two at most.”

  Bastian sank into one of the chairs that had been set outside a patient’s room. “So it’s okay to say, ‘Fuck you, it’s not what she wanted?’” The tears that burned his throat filled his eyes so quickly he couldn’t blink them away, and they spilled down his face. He looked at the doctor.

  “Bastian?” Smith tried to interrupt him, but Bastian waved him silent.

  “Do you know what it’s like to love someone so much that you don’t think you can make it even one day without seeing her smile? God, have you even seen her smile? Have you been that lucky? Everything I see reminds me of her. She’s in everything I touch. There’s not even a color on this goddamned earth that she hasn’t worn. I know I’m asking for a miracle. I know I’m asking for something maybe I’ll never deserve, but God, can’t you respect my wishes and help her live?” Tears streamed down his face, and his eyes glittered with them. “Please,” he begged in a ragged voice that he’d never used before.

  “I’m sorry.” Smith reached out and took Bastian’s hands, squeezing them, and in the doctor’s face, Bastian saw his own pain reflected. He started to walk down the hall.

  “Where are Kaylee’s things?” Bastian asked.

  Smith pointed to the triage desk. “At the nurses’ station. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Her purse,” Bastian finally managed. “Her mother would want to know she’s here, and I don’t have the number.”

  Smith nodded. “I’ll send a nurse down with it. Again, I’m sorry.” He turned and walked away, leaving Bastian hunched over the seat, his vision still blurred with pain; he tried to close his eyes to keep the world from seeing him cry, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

  “I’ll just bet you are. It’s easy to be sorry when you know you’re going to strip away your scrubs, go home, and eat a good meal with your healthy wife. I’d give anything to have a life with her. Anything.” Bastian shook his head and savagely wiped his eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Angie standing next to him. Her eyes were also red, as though she’d been crying.

  “I’m sorry, Bastian. I am so sorry.”

  Ducking from her caress, he straightened in the chair and rubbed his face. “You’re sorry? For what?”

  Her hand remained in mid-air for a few seconds before she dropped it to her side. “For Kaylee and the way things are. For whatever you want, Bastian. I’m just sorry.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you.” Bastian stood and brushed past her to the nurse who offered him Kaylee’s black leather purse. He took it and sorted through the contents until he’d found her address book. Flipping through the pages, he finally discovered Denna’s number and he showed it to the nurse.

  “Please call Denna Renard at this number. I think she’d want to know her daughter is ill.”

  Handing Kaylee’s purse back to the nurse, Bastian started back toward Kaylee’s room, trying his damnedest to ignore Angie, even though she caught his arm, forcing him to stop and face her.

  “Wait a minute, Bastian. I just want to talk to you.” He stared at her and saw, for the first time, the faintest lines that time had pressed into the skin around her eyes.

  “Still here, eh?” he snorted. “Haven’t seen enough to report back to the Old Man? Well, I’ll make it real easy for you. I’m the zero he always thought I’d become. That’s what I’m sure you wanted to know so you can go back and tell him the good news. He was right all along. That should make it easy for you to leave.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “Goddamn it, Bastian. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “The hell it isn’t.” He kept walking. She followed. He could tell by the clack of her heels on the floor.

  “You don’t need me to come here and judge you, Bastian. You do the job well enough on your own.”

  “Meaning?” Bastian stopped mid-stride.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “God forbid someone like me comes to say she misses you—that she loves you. But I do. I always have.” Her voice thickened as tears spilled down her face. Her whole body shook, and her trembling lips parted. She lifted her shaking hand to her face and wiped her cheeks, trying to erase the vulnerability.

  “That’s bullshit,” Bastian snapped.

  “Why? Because maybe you enjoy your self-deprecation? You’ve always hated yourself more than anyone else could have. Tell Kaylee thank you for at least trying.”

  He stared as she walked away. “So why did you come?”

  She slowly turned and peered at him, frowning. “Because you’re here, Bastian. I came for you. That’s it. There’s no other motive.”

  “Angie, look at me. Look at what I’ve become. Tell me it doesn’t matter I’m a failure and you didn’t come here to find this.” He averted his gaze as he felt fresh tears singe through him.

  “It doesn’t matter to me,” Angie whispered. “I’ll take you the way you are. You’re my brother, the only one I’ve got.” She showed him the picture Kaylee had given her. “Besides, looking at you is better than looking at this picture.”

  “I’m a failure.” Bastian took the picture of himself, one she’d taken one late afternoon when Bastian sat at the kitchen table. He handed the picture back.

  She took it and put it in her wallet. Angie turned her gaze toward where Kaylee slept. “No, you’re not. Maybe you’ve just been trying too hard at all the things that don’t really matter, and maybe you’ve finally stumbled across the one thing that does.”

  “You mean Kaylee, don’t you?” Bastian’s gaze followed hers.

  Nodding, Angie stepped toward him, trying to touch his shoulder, but Bastian shuffled backward. “Don’t,” he warned.

  “What’s wrong with Kaylee?” She laced her fingers together to keep from touching him and looked toward the room.

  He cringed. “It’s cancer–a brain tumor. She’s dying,” he finally managed. Bastian sank into a chair and thrust his head into his hands, preferring to stare at the floor instead of Angie’s face.

  “And taking a part of you with her. I wish I knew what to say.” Angie sat in the chair next to him and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at him, unable to see him.

  “There is nothing to say.”

  Angie touched his back. “Don’t shut me out,” she whispered.

  “Goddamn it, I never invited you in,” he snarled, glaring at her. “That was Kaylee’s doing.”

  “Bullshit. There were several times I know you called. Maybe you never said anything, but I know it was you. I could feel it.”

  “I never called,” he snapped.

  “You’re lying.” She held out her hand, forcing Bastian to look at it. “Remember this scar?” He shook his head and averted his gaze. “No? I’ll refresh your memory. You were playing catch with me in the house. You threw the ball too hard, and it flew past me and broke Mom’s favorite vase. I tried to pick up the pieces. When I touched one, I gouged my hand and started to cry. You said it would be okay and plucked out the glass.”

  She paused, waiting for Bastian to say something, but he was as silent as a stone, so she touched his hand, tracing the line of the scar with her forefinger. “How about his scar? Do you remember this one?” He looked at his hand. “No? Well, let me tell you about it. Right after you pulled out the g
lass, you purposely cut your hand and rubbed it against mine. You said, ‘Now you’re not only my sister, but you’re in my blood and I’m in yours. You don’t have to be afraid.’” The words tumbled out in a breathless tone, as though she couldn’t stop.

  “That was a lifetime ago, Angie,” he finally managed. “We're different.” Bastian stared at his scar. His hand began to shake so he balled it into a fist.

  Angie grabbed his hand. “It doesn’t matter how much time passes. What is between us doesn’t diminish with time or distance. For years after you left, I thought of you telling me not to be afraid, and I wasn’t. Because of you. I believed that no matter where you went you could never stop loving me. Now you tell me I’m wrong. You say you never invited me in. Which is it?”

  Bastian pulled away. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

  “Do what?” she asked. “Accept the fact that I made up my mind about you long before you and Daddy began fighting? That I loved you regardless of anything he might have said? He can’t change how I feel, and neither can you.” She got up and walked around to face him. “I’ve got news for you. Kaylee loves you, too. Even if you don’t give a damn about you, we do.”

  “It doesn’t matter how she feels about me. There’s someone else who reminds her of all the things I will never be.” Bastian looked up at his sister, at the stubborn set of her jaw that hadn’t changed with time.

  “Where is she?” An abrasively familiar voice snapped. “I want to see my daughter.”

  Bastian stiffened and muttered under his breath, “The Wicked Witch of the West has arrived.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Bastian shook his head. He peered down the hallway to see Dr. Smith followed closely by Denna Renard. Her heels tapped furiously against the linoleum. She stalked in front of the doctor, cutting off his path.

  “I want to know what is going on with my daughter. I expect you people to do your job.” She folded her arms across her chest, “Or I’ll have my lawyers revoke your medical license.”

  Smith glowered at her. “Oh, really. Well, at the moment, you’re the one preventing me from doing my job. Get out of my way.” Nonplussed, he brushed past.

  “I demand an explanation.”

  “Then maybe you should ask Kaylee. I have an emergency in the ER.” Smith stopped and pointed to Bastian. “Perhaps Mr. Connelly might be so kind as to show you to your daughter’s room.”

  “What are you doing here? This a family matter, and I don’t know why anyone would bother asking you to come.” Denna drew her purse more tightly to her body.

  Bastian’s cheeks turned bright red, and he balled his fingers into fists to keep from grabbing her and shaking some sense into her. Dr. Smith’s mouth flew open in shock.

  “You are joking, right?” he asked, stepping back toward Bastian. “If this man hadn’t told us to contact you, you wouldn’t even be here.” He snapped the clipboard he carried against his palm.

  “Fine. So now you’ve done the proper thing. You can leave just like you should have a long time ago.” Denna clasped her hands together and held them at the abdomen.

  “According to whom, Mrs. Renard? Kaylee asked for him more than once, and perhaps that might tell you more about the definition of family. I mean, he was here before you, and he must have thought you important enough to call—not that you would have stooped to do such an act of kindness for him.” He looked at her for the first time, at her expensive clothes and finely coiffed hair.

  “Did I request your opinion?” Denna snapped, tapping her foot impatiently. “No, I didn’t. I asked you to take me to my daughter.

  Smith laughed loudly. “Right. Actually, you didn’t ask anything and expected everything. The rooms are clearly marked so someone of your education and breeding should be able to find them. Should you need further assistance, perhaps a polite request to Mr. Connelly might do wonders. Excuse me. I’m late in the ER.”

  Without waiting for an answer, the doctor strode away, leaving the three of them eyeing each other. Denna glared at Bastian and then at Angie before stalking away, muttering, “Goddamn doctor. Thinks he’s God.”

  Bastian followed, despite the fact that his sister whispered, “Are you nuts? You don’t go chasing a rabid dog.”

  That’s for sure, he thought, keeping pace. “Yeah, well, with all your money, Mrs. Renard, I wish you could make him God.”

  She stopped and whirled. “Stop talking nonsense and take me to my daughter’s room.

  Bastian tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “Gladly. But first I’d like a moment of your precious time. Just a moment.”

  “What do you want?” Denna shifted her purse from one shoulder to the other. Bastian stared at the crow’s feet almost hidden beneath a rich layer of make-up, surrounding the angry flash of her green eyes. He took in the Gucci purse and Armani silk blouse.

  “I want to know if all the time you spent earning your money has made you happy. Was it worth it, considering how much time you’ve lost with Kaylee?”

  Denna inhaled sharply and touched her hair, checking for out-of-place strands. “My relationship with my daughter isn’t your concern.”

  “You keep saying ‘my daughter.’ Can’t you call her Kaylee just once?”

  “You are an insufferable fool. I named her.” She took a threatening step toward him and leaned close to his face.

  As she tried to step around him, Bastian mimicked her movements and blocked her path. “Perhaps I am a fool, but Shakespeare thought fools wiser than most.” She stepped to the other side, hoping to get around him, but he met her there, too. “They knew things other people didn’t, just like I know something you don’t. I want to hear you say her name just once, and then I’ll tell you that little secret.”

  “Get out of my way,” she snapped, brushing past him. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “Kaylee was right. You don’t know her.” He shook his head disbelievingly. “God, you really don’t.” Bastian’s hands fell to his sides and a pallor filled his cheeks as he finally stared at the floor.

  “I’ll find her room without your help.” She clomped down the hall.

  “And what will you say when you get there? That Bastian is no good? That she looks ill? When was the last time you told her you loved her?” Bastian followed.

  Denna whirled around and her skirt billowed in the sharp breeze. “Shut up. My affairs with my daughter are none of your concern.”

  Bastian grabbed her arm. “That’s what I’m about to do, lady. The less I have to say to you, the better. You see, all this time I’ve been worrying about Kaylee’s head when I should have been worrying about her heart. I thought one wound was so much greater than the other. Now I see. Goddamn it, be human enough to tell her you love her. Just once.” He looked at Denna’s face as she stared at his fingertips; he loosened his grip.

  “Who do you think you are to tell me what to say to my daughter?” She glared at his hand.

  Bastian stepped backward, bumping into a nurse as she made her way down the hall. “I’m a nobody,” he replied. “But I became the happiest man alive the day Kaylee walked into my life. Maybe you can’t tell her you love her, but I don’t have that problem. I’m not even afraid to tell you I love her.”

  Denna opened her mouth, but Bastian waved her to silence. “Not for the reasons you think, that she’s rich. I don’t care what assets the two of you hold. It’s what you don’t have–your daughter. You can fly to Paris all you want. She’s worth more than all of France, and there’s no one else like her. More’s the pity you don’t even know what you’re losing.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head.

  He raked his fingers through his hair and walked down the hall to Kaylee’s room, leaving Angie staring at Denna with eyes narrowed to slits.

  “What are you looking at?” Denna returned the heated gaze.

  “You,” Angie spat. Her chest rose and fell quickly as her breathing sped to an angry pace.

  Denna waved toward the
exit. “This isn’t a tourist trap. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  “Not at present, unfortunately for you. Where do you get off treating my brother like that?” She stepped toward Denna and tapped her foot impatiently.

  “Your brother? I should have figured as much by your lack of manners.” Denna arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows.

  “You’re one to talk,” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. “He didn’t have to call you at all, and this is how you tell him thank you? What gives you the right to treat him like dirt?”

  “If the shoe fits....” Denna spotted a stray hair clinging to her coat and plucked it away.

  “God, Kaylee is nothing like you,” Angie seethed. “She’s actually a decent human being who survived having you for a mother.”

  “Why don’t you take your brother elsewhere to dig for money? It might work better. After all, there is nothing to be had here. I’ll make certain of that.” One of the fluorescent bulbs blinked over their heads, catching Denna’s attention.

  Angie twisted her lips into a smirk. “I don’t want or need your damned money, and neither does Bastian. Our family owns Connelly Oil, a company I’m sure someone of your…breeding…must be familiar with—or are you not as prominent as you appear?”

  “I don’t have time for this,” Denna snapped, stalking down the hall until she’d finally found Kaylee’s room. Although the door was open only halfway, she could see Bastian sitting in the chair beside the bed, his head cradled in both hands.

  Nudging the door open, she stepped into the room. As Bastian heard the tapping of her heels, he looked up and quickly rose. “Perhaps I should leave the two of you alone,” he muttered and quickly strode out, leaving Denna to look at her sleeping daughter and all the lines connected to her body. An IV dripped fluid into her body via a tube connected to her hand, and a cardiac monitor displayed the journey of her heart, a reassuringly regular pattern of peaks and valleys. Despite that pattern, Denna frowned, wondering what had happened.

  Once Bastian had slipped out the door, Denna took his place in the chair. Despite the heater warming the room, Denna felt a cold chill creep down her spine. She clasped one of Kaylee’s hands in her own.