Shirley, Goodness and Mercy (Angels Everywhere #4)(17)

“I’ll need that,” the nurse said as Greg shuffled past.

He gave her the clipboard and walked down the corridor, along with the others.

“Before we go any farther,” Edward said, “I want to personally thank each of you for your generous response to the recent newspaper article. We didn’t have this many volunteers in the entire month of November. I’d like to think the Christmas spirit has touched us all. Does anyone have any questions?”

A man with prematurely white hair raised his hand. “What will happen if we’re a match?”

While Edward talked about obscure-sounding medical procedures, Greg leaned toward the woman standing ahead of him. “A match for what?”

“Bone marrow,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, then turned to eye him. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be here?”

If ever a question needed answering, this was it.

“No,” he said more to himself than to her. He wasn’t sure of anything. Curiosity had brought him to the hospital. A curiosity so deep it had consumed him for days. After thirty-five years of not knowing, not caring, he now felt an overwhelming desire to see his son.

“Who’d like to go first?”

Before Greg could stop himself, he shot his hand into the air.

“Great. Follow me.” Greg stepped out of the line and followed his son down the corridor to a cubicle.

“The nurse will be right in to draw blood.”

“Aren’t you going to take it yourself?” Greg asked. Already he could feel his panic level rise.

Edward shrugged lightly. “Well…the nurse usually does this.”

“I’d prefer if you did it yourself. In fact, I insist on it.”

Surprise showing in his eyes, Edward turned to face him. It seemed he was about to refuse, but for reasons Greg wouldn’t question, silently led him to a chair and instructed him to sit down.

Greg sat, unbuttoned his shirtsleeve and rolled it up.

“Do I know you?” Edward asked, studying him carefully.

“No,” Greg responded. “Do I remind you of anyone?” He was well aware that this was an unfair question.

“No, but I thought you might be a friend of my father’s, Dr. Larry Thorpe.”

“No, I’ve never met him.”

Edward took a short piece of what looked like rubber tubing and tied it around Greg’s upper arm. Next he gingerly tested the skin. “Nice blood vessels. We shouldn’t have any problem.”

“Good.” Greg’s mouth went dry at the sight of the needle, and closing his eyes, he looked away. This was even worse than the last time he’d had blood tests. He felt the needle against his skin and braced himself for the small prick of pain. As a kid he’d fainted in the doctor’s office every time he received a shot or had blood drawn; he wasn’t keen to relive the experience. That was years ago, but even now, as an adult, he generally avoided annual checkups if he could and—The needle was the last thing he noticed until he heard Edward’s voice, which seemed to boom at him like a foghorn.

“Are you awake?”

Greg blinked and realized he was lying on the floor. Edward knelt beside him.

Their eyes met, and embarrassed, Greg glanced away. “What happened?” he asked, still in a daze.

“You passed out.”

“I did?” Abruptly Greg sat upright. He would have fled, but the room had started to swim in the most disturbing fashion.

“Take it slowly,” Edward advised, then helped him stand up. “I’ve asked one of the nurses to take your blood pressure. Tell me, when was the last time you had anything to eat?”

“I’m fine. I had breakfast this morning.” It was a lie. He wasn’t fine and he hadn’t eaten breakfast. “I just don’t happen to like needles.”

“Then it’s a brave thing you did, coming in here like this.”

“Brave?” Greg repeated with a short laugh. “I’m the biggest coward who ever lived.”

Seven

On Monday morning Greg recognized that he had no other options left to him. It wouldn’t be easy to apply for a loan at Pacific Union Bank, but he had nowhere else to go. He’d never been a person to beg. Never needed to beg until now, but if begging would help him hold on to Bennett Wines, he’d do that and more.

The worst of it was that he’d have to go begging to his own brother. Phil, who’d like nothing better than to call him a failure. He wouldn’t be far from wrong; Greg felt like a failure.

Despite his mood, Greg prepared carefully for the interview, wearing his best suit. He was about to head out the door when his phone rang. Caller ID told him it wasn’t a creditor.

“Hello,” he snapped.

“Hello, Greg.”

It was Tess, his almost ex-wife. Ex-wife number three. “What’s the matter? Are you after another pound of flesh?” he sneered. The last thing he needed right now was to deal with spoiled selfish Tess.

“I heard about your money problems.”

“I’ll bet you’re gloating, too.”

He heard her intake of breath. “I don’t wish you ill, Greg.”

He didn’t believe her for a moment. “What do you want?” He was facing an unpleasant task that demanded all his attention, and he didn’t want to be waylaid by an even more unpleasant one.