Grievous Sin

“She’s holding, but she’s lost some blood, Mr. Decker. We already gave her a pint of her own blood. She was smart enough to donate autologously before she went into labor. But she’s going to need more—another couple of pints. Before we start with the banks, we were hoping she might have a blood relative who can donate. Matched relatives are always your best bet for good takes on transfusions.”

“Her parents are here.”

“Then let’s go test them.”

Decker started to walk, but stumbled. This time it was Dr. Wallace who caught his arm. “Do you need to sit?”

“No.” Decker cursed his weakness and commanded his legs to be steady. “She has her sons out there. I don’t want to scare them.”

“Frankly, this could scare them.”

“It’s bad?”

“Don’t panic, Mr. Decker, I just don’t have anything definitive to tell you right now. Uncertainty is very scary for little kids. For you, too. But Dr. Hendricks is the best. And he’s as cool as a cucumber, in total control.”

Decker felt his throat clog. He picked up his pace, trying to keep step with Dr. Wallace. “What should I do about my boys? They’re perceptive.”

“How about if I talk to the parents, and you occupy your boys?”

“They’re going to want to know what’s going on. What do I say?” Decker ran his hands over his face. “God, I can’t believe …”

“She’s in very good hands.”

“If I hear that one more time, I’m going to throw up! How serious is her condition?”

“It’s serious.”

“Life-threatening?”

“It’s serious. Let’s leave it at that for now.”

“God, this is just a nightmare.” He heard his voice crack. “Is this unusual?”

“Not as unusual as you might think.”

They had reached the lobby. As luck would have it, the group was all there. Stefan had returned with the boys from the gift shop. Cindy and Magda were deep in conversation. Marge was leaning against the wall next to the complimentary coffeepot. She was the first to notice and pointed the others in his direction. Again he was met with expectant faces. But this time there were no smiles. Decker took Dr. Wallace over to the group.

“She need …” Again his throat swelled. “She could use some blood from a relative.”

Slowly, Rina’s parents rose. “Where do we go?” Stefan asked calmly.

“Come, I’ll take you,” Dr. Wallace said.

Sammy spoke up. “I want to come.”

Dr. Wallace said, “You have to be seventeen to donate blood.”

“I am seventeen,” Sammy persisted. “I’m small for my age. I already have a complex. Don’t make it worse.”

“I want to come, too,” Jake piped in.

“Boys, just stay here,” Decker said weakly.

Sammy yelled, “I want to help my mother, damn it!”

Decker was taken aback by the force of Sammy’s voice. Magda took him under the crook of her arm. “He can come with us, no?”

Dr. Wallace sighed. “You seem big enough. Won’t hurt to give you a pinprick.” She looked at Cindy.

Decker said, “She’s my daughter … Rina’s stepdaughter … not a blood relative.”

Dr. Wallace said, “So you’ll watch your pop for me?”

Cindy nodded.

“Come along. Let’s go help your mom.” Dr. Wallace started her speed walk. In the distance, Decker heard her ask what the boys’ names were. He couldn’t hear if they answered her. Either they were too far away or their voices were too weak.

Slowly, Decker lowered himself onto the couch. Marge sat at his right, Cindy at his left. She held his arm and kissed his bicep. Decker turned to her and tried out a smile.

“It’ll be okay, Dad,” she said. “Do you need anything?”

His initial reaction was nothing, but then he gave the matter some thought. “Princess, would you mind getting me something to eat? I think there’s a vending machine with fruit on the first floor. How about an apple and a banana?”

“Got it.” Cindy stood. “Do you want anything, Marge?”

“An apple sounds great.”

“On the double.”

Cindy did a jog to the elevator. When she was out of sight, Decker slumped back on the couch and closed his eyes.

“Do you want some coffee, Pete?” Marge asked.

“Nothing, thanks.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“It’s serious, Margie … I’m scared.”

He swabbed his wet cheeks with his fingers. She hugged his shoulder but didn’t speak. Decker was grateful for the silence.

3 (#ulink_0baad212-5113-5463-a104-ca3b7b6c8af9)

It wasn’t as if she was narcissistic or anything as psychologically disturbed as that. It was just that hers was a body worth looking at. Like admiring a work of art.

Because that was what she was—a work of art.

Stripped down naked, sweat glistening from smooth, bronzed skin, she regarded herself in the mirror. Perfect round, pronounced breasts because of the developed pecs underneath. The just rewards of really hard work. She’d gained shape without gaining an ounce of fat. She patted her flat abdomen, did a couple of arm rolls, then ran through a couple of poses—all sleek, defined muscle.