When Angels Cry

  “Kaylee? Wake up, darling.”

  At the sound of her name, Kaylee’s eyelids fluttered open. She peered around the room, her eyes narrowing in confusion. Then her gaze turned into complete surprise as she focused on her mother.

  “How did you know I was here?” she whispered, raising one hand to pat her hair, checking to see just how much of a mess it was.

  “One of the nurses called me just a few minutes ago.” Denna squeezed her other hand.

  Kaylee looked past her mother to the window where fine frost settled on the glass. “I didn’t give them your number. How did they...”

  Denna shifted uncomfortably. “Your… friend… Bastian gave it to them.”

  “Damn him. Damn him to hell,” she seethed, closing her eyes and trying not to think about the headache still throbbing behind her eyelids. She lifted her hand to her temple and rubbed it, trying to erase the pain with her fingers.

  “I have several times, don’t worry,” Denna replied dryly. “Still, he keeps coming back.”

  “Damn, damn, damn.” Kaylee rubbed harder. She sat up. The last thing she wanted her mother to see was her lying with all these wires attached to her body. She didn’t even want to see that.

  “Are you insinuating you’d rather I not be here? Don’t you want me with you?” Denna folded her arms across her chest.

  “Of course, Mother.” All she really wanted was to leave this place and never return. She glanced around the room. Where were her clothes?

  Denna touched one of the wires. “Why do they have these things attached to your head? It makes you look, well, sick. It’s clear you’ve exhausted yourself trying to run everything. Perhaps your art school isn’t such a good idea. I mean, all the time you’ll have to spend to make sure that Mr. Connelly is competent will make things difficult.”

  Kaylee glared at her mother. “I don’t have to guess at Bastian’s ability to teach. I’ve seen his work. And the art school is a great idea. You dislike it because of Bastian, and you figure if you run it, you’ll get rid of him. I know where this is going, and I’m not playing along.”

  “He’s insufferable.” Denna peered out the window.

  Kaylee laughed loudly. “Why? Because he refuses to worship you?”

  “That was rude.” Denna set her purse on the table next to the bed.

  “Was it?”

  “You know what he told me?” Denna wagged a finger at Kaylee. “He said I didn’t know my own daughter. Imagine that.”

  “He’s right. You don’t. You haven’t for years.”

  Denna’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s not true. You’ve just grown up. That’s all.”

  I’m not going to have this argument with her, Kaylee thought. “Did Bastian tell you anything else?”

  Denna laughed this time and uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. “Just gibberish.”

  “Such as?” Kaylee touched the blanket covering her body and plucked at the hospital tag sewn onto it.

  “Let’s see.” She brought her index finger to her lips and tapped against them as though she actually had to think about Kaylee’s question. “That I should say I love you—as if he has the right to speak on that matter. But that’s beside the point. You’ve not told me why you are here, and the doctor refuses to answer my questions.” Denna returned her attention to the wires.

  Kaylee took and looked out the window. As another winter storm had hit, water had condensed on the pane. Her throat constricted, and each breath seemed quicker.

  “I’m sick. Really sick. There’s a–”

  ”I’ll call Frank Josephs. He’s competent to handle whatever problem you have,” Denna said, walking toward her.

  “I’ve already seen a specialist. More than one.”

  “Not Frank.”

  Kaylee glared at her mother. “To hell with Frank. Will you listen? For once. I know you’re out of practice, but this is important.”

  Denna started to argue but then simply said, “I’m listening.”

  Kaylee touched her temple. “I have a tumor in my brain.”

  “What are you saying?” Denna flinched, her eyes widening.

  “That I have cancer, Mother. I’m saying no more damned doctors. No more specialists. No miracle medicine.” She looked out the window to see new snow falling.

  “How do they fix it?” Denna shuddered. She couldn’t stop shaking, so she folded her arms across her chest.

  Kaylee closed her eyes. Take a deep breath. You can do this, she thought. “They don’t. They let it run its course,” she replied in a hoarse whisper as she set her hand on the window sill.

  “No. I’ll speak to the ‘good doctor’ at once about this.” Denna snapped. Her heels clattered against the floor as she stalked to the door.

  “Good. Fine. You do that.” Kaylee closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep until she heard her mother’s shoes smacking the linoleum as she returned with Smith.

  “Why are you being so damned stubborn?” Denna demanded as they walked into Kaylee’s room.

  Smith ignored Denna and looked straight at Kaylee. “I’ve told your mother that I cannot discuss your case without your approval.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “I told you.” Denna scooted in front of him and pointed an accusing finger at him.

  Smith glared at her and batted her hand away. “Mrs. Renard, you’ve told me a lot of things, most of which I ignored because I am a professional and it was in your best interest to do so.”

  Denna planted her hands on her hips. “I want to know what you plan to do to help my daughter through this.”

  Smith pointed at Kaylee. “For starters, we could talk to her, not about her, since she’s sitting right there, listening to every word.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” Denna fumed. “Tell me what you can do.”

  Smith folded his arms across his chest. “Kaylee has asked us to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as possible. She doesn’t want to change her routine and wants to live a normal life for as long as possible.”

  “That’s no way to cure my daughter.” Denna paced around the room.

  “There is no cure, Mother,” Kaylee said, shifting under the covers. “There is no way to miraculously fix me.”

  Denna stopped walking and turned. “Dear God, what are you saying?” she whispered.

  Smith licked his lips. “The cancer is terminal, Mrs. Renard. While I cannot be sure, the best estimate I can give is one to two months.”

  The color drained from Denna’s face, and her shoulders slumped. One of her knees buckled, and she almost fell, but Smith grabbed her arm.

  “Perhaps you should sit,” he suggested, leading her to the chair beside the bed.

  Denna sank into it and peered wordlessly at the floor as Smith slipped out into the hall, leaving Kaylee with her mother. “How long have you known?”

  “Nine months.”

  “And yet you never told me? Not until now, when you had to? Why? Did you think I wouldn’t have cared?” Denna brushed her hands up and down her skirt. She smoothed the fabric more and more quickly until all Kaylee could hear was the sound of skin on fabric.

  “Would it have mattered? Really?”

  “Of course it would have. I would have stayed here with you. I would have gone to the doctor with you. I would’ve—”

  ”Yes, you would have,” Kaylee agreed, touching her mother’s hand, patting softly, reassuringly. “But not for the right reasons.”

  “What do you mean?” Denna asked incredulously. “I’ve never not given you something you needed.”

  “In all my teenage years, you spent more time abroad than here with me.” Kaylee squeezed her mother’s hand. “I never asked you to come home because I figured whatever kept you there must’ve been important, and I didn’t want this to be different. I know you love me, but there are so many times when I can’t feel it, and I didn’t want you to try to change things because I was dying. How could I ask you to stay with me now when bef
ore you never had the time? You had a life I wasn’t a part of. How could I ask you to accept the fact I was dying when you knew so little about I’ve lived?”

  “God, how could you?” Denna pulled away from her and folded her trembling hands in her lap. Her skin appeared an ash white except for the perfect trace of lipstick. She rose from the chair and darted out the door, leaving Kaylee to stare at the walls and ceiling.

  “How could I die?” Kaylee mused, finishing her mother’s question aloud. “How could I be so damned truthful? Or how could I keep such a secret from you, Mother? Which thing was it that upset you?”

  Tears stung her eyes and her vision blurred. “I never thought it would be like this,” she whispered and lowered herself to a completely prone position as exhaustion worked on her. As she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, the last thought that came to her was where Bastian had gone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bastian trudged down the corridor, wondering whether Denna had left. He wasn’t prepared to see her come flying out of Kaylee’s room as she did, moving so quickly her purse flew behind her—nor was he expecting to change his path and almost run into her.

  “Are you all right?” Against his better judgment, he tentatively touched her arm.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Now get out of my way.” Tears thickened her voice, spilling down her face. Not surprisingly, she jerked from him with the strength of a child who’d thrown a temper fit but exhausted herself.

  Bastian stepped out of the way and watched her storm down the hall, hearing the unevenness in her stride. It was a regretful stride, one he knew all too well. For whatever it’s worth, I am sorry, lady. God, I’m sorry.

  He turned back to Kaylee’s room and stepped inside to find her sleeping. One hand lay on her chest and the other at her side. He shuffled across the floor and finally sat watched as Christmas lights flickered outside the hospital window.

  He tried not to see the flash of red and green blinking in rhythmic spasms but couldn’t help it, He remembered standing at the foot of the stairs next to a Christmas tree years ago. He darted up them and finally into his mother’s bedroom, where she lay beneath the sheets so oddly still and silent even Bastian couldn’t wake her.

  He’d always hated Christmas, but he knew Kaylee loved it. She loved everything about this life. He blinked and tried to vanquish the memory, but even closing his eyes didn’t shut down the movie playing in his mind. He’d tried to save her, but she was already past that. She’d called to him only a few moments before, but he’d been too busy to answer—too busy playing with his new Legos. And so he’d lived with her death, and since wanted nothing money could buy.

  “Bastian?”

  “I’m here,” he whispered, brushing the tears from his face and turning to face Kaylee, staring at the groggy smile on her lips. Bending, he kissed her forehead.

  “What time is it?” Kaylee’s mouth felt dry, and she licked her lips.

  He glanced at his watch. “Seven-thirty.”

  Kaylee rubbed her face and suddenly her eyes widened. “Oh no. There’s something I need to take care of.” She struggled to throw off the covers and climb out of bed, but Bastian quickly grabbed her arm and forced her to lie back in bed.

  “Hold up there, hotshot.” He adjusted the pillow behind her head. “You’re in the hospital for a reason.”

  “I know I’m here for a reason,” she admitted, trying to pry his hand away. “But I have to take care of something. A friend came to visit me, and I need to talk to her.” Kaylee struggled to free her arm and found his palm flat on her chest, pushing her down.

  Bastian stiffened. “Angie’s fine. I dropped her off at the house, and she’ll be staying there for a few days.” As the words came out, he could feel Kaylee’s body relax.

  Kaylee latched onto Bastian’s hand. “I guess we’re even. I called Angie, and you called my mother.”

  “Actually, I got the better deal. Let’s just leave it at that, and I won’t say all the nasty things your mother inspires. I didn’t tell her about...the reason you’re here. I just told the doctor to call her.” Satisfied that Kaylee wasn’t about to jump out of bed, he leaned back in the chair and brushed his fingers through his hair. He peered at Kaylee’s face and frowned at her pallid complexion.

  Kaylee reached out and grabbed his hand. “I didn’t tell Angie everything, either. I figured you had to be the one, not me. Are you angry?”

  “At first I was,” he admitted, scooting down in the chair to get comfortable. “But not now. Are you?” As he stared at her tired face and the body thinned by time and illness, he knew he didn’t have time for anger.

  She squeezed his hand and closed her eyes. “Anger is pointless, Bastian.”

  The door slowly opened, admitting Dr. David Smith and his clipboard. He flipped through her chart and asked, “How are you feeling, Kaylee?”

  “Like a Mack truck has landed on my head.” She peered at him through thin slits.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. Scribbling a short note on the chart, he said, “I’ll get you something for the pain.”

  “No drugs. I want to go home.” Despite the dizziness, Kaylee forced herself to sit up. Shivering, she folded her arms across her chest and tried to brush the goose bumps from her skin. The coldness wouldn’t leave her.

  “There’s a few more tests I’d–”

  “To what end?” Kaylee snapped. “I don’t want any more treatments. I don’t want to know how big it is or what comes next. I just want to go home.”

  The doctor stared at the clipboard, but Kaylee knew from the tightening of his jaw he’d heard her. “I think you’re better off here,” he argued.

  “I don’t,” she said. She waved her hand around the room. “Maybe I am dying just like all these machines say, but I’m not going to do it here. Not like this.” She blinked quickly and her bottom lip quivered slightly as she forced a neutral expression.

  Smith frowned. His shoulders sagged and he swallowed hard as he finally nodded. “I’ll bring the paperwork for you to sign.” He headed to the door and left.

  “Don’t do this, Kaylee. Please don’t do this.”

  Bastian frantically paced around the room. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and with every breath it seemed quicker.

  “Don’t do what?” Kaylee swung her legs over the side of the bed. She folded her arms across her chest as a chill spread through her.

  Bastian whirled to face her. “Goddamn it. Don’t you give up.”

  “I’m not.” She looked at her feet.

  “The hell you aren’t.” Bastian stepped in front of her, placed his hand beneath her chin, and lifted her head to face him.

  “I’ve tried their drugs, their treatments, their diets. Nothing about the tumor changed except that it got worse. So I changed,” she said in a whisper-fine voice. “I accepted the fact I’m dying.” Kaylee took his hand in both of hers. She brushed her fingers across his wrist and patted the bed next to her. Bastian sat. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kaylee placed her hand over her mouth.

  “I’m not afraid to die, Bastian. But I want it to be on my terms, not some doctor’s.”

  “I don’t want you to die.” Bastian squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to hear the loud thump of his heart, but it filled him, just the same, just like the day he’d found his mother.

  “Everyone dies.” Kaylee brushed her fingers through his hair. “I’ve had nine months to realize this. Nine months. You used to wonder why I didn’t lock my doors or why I took crazy chances.” Her fingers caressed his cheek. “They were the only ones that were mine to take. This tumor is killing me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fight back every day in my own way.”

  Bastian grabbed her hand and pressed his cheek against it. “Let the doctors fight it.”

  Kaylee shook her head and leaned against him. “They can’t fight it any better than I can, but they aren’t the ones who are going to die from it. They can’t give me
back all the things this disease has taken from me, and I don’t get a choice in this, Bastian. Not even the best doctors in the world can give me that.”

  Bastian felt the world spinning. He opened his mouth, trying to get enough air to fill his lungs, but still he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “How do I do this, Kaylee?”

  She snuggled closer to him. “The best way you can, just like me.”

  The door opened slowly, admitting Smith with a different clipboard. “I disagree with your choice, Ms. Renard. I think you’d be better off here at the hospital where we can help.”

  Bastian felt Kaylee’s body stiffen. “Your objection is duly noted.” She held out a trembling hand for the clipboard. “Now where do I sign to get out of this place?”

  The doctor placed the clipboard in her hand and pointed at two different lines where Kaylee signed her name, officially removing the liability from the hospital. Smith withdrew the clipboard, shaking his head as a nurse entered. She walked over to Kaylee.

  “I’m just going to pull out that IV.” She tugged the tape loose and pulled the catheter out. Then she applied gauze to the small spot where blood seeped and taped it down. “There. You’re all done.” She gathered up the trash and slipped out the door.

  Kaylee turned to Bastian and whispered, “Please take me home. I hate hospitals.” The doctor walked to the door, yanked it open, and strode out. “It would appear that he didn’t like my choice all that much,” she mused softly.

  Bastian leaned closer to her. “I don’t blame him; I’m not crazy about it, either.”

  “This is my life, and I don’t want to live the rest of it behind hospital walls.” Kaylee climbed off the bed. She walked to the cabinet where she knew she’d find her clothes, opened the door, and plucked them from where they had been neatly stacked on a shelf.

  “It’s my life, too, Kaylee. You can’t love someone without making them a part of your life,” Bastian replied quietly as he cradled his head in his hands and focused on breathing, trying to reduce all the things he felt into simple words that had no meanings. He watched her shed the hospital gown and stared at the skin of her back he’d memorized by touch, the swell of her hips, the thin, graceful line of her neck, the smooth flatness of her stomach. He’d traced them all a thousand times, and he knew them. He watched until the clothes had re-covered her body, and he knew he would never forget her. Fifty years from now, he would still be able to close his eyes and see the image of her face burned into his mind.