The Drake Unwound Complete Collection (The Drake Series Book 9)(45)
“Which won’t be until he’s eighteen,” Chris said, interrupting me. “Thirteen years from now.”
“I won’t try to contact him until then but you could always tell him about his family—“
“He’s already met his family,” Maureen said, her voice shaking. “Chris’s family. My family. You’re no part of it. You haven’t been and you won’t be. This donation changes nothing. You agreed to be an anonymous donor.”
“Maureen, he’ll figure it out eventually. If he learns his blood type, he’ll figure out that he’s not Chris’s son. I’m A positive, you’re A positive, and Chris is B. That alone will prove that he’s not Chris's.”
“Why would he ever have to learn his blood type?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know but they learn about blood type in science class in school.”
“We’ll deal with it when we have to. Right now, I want you to just let this go. Don’t try to see him again, okay? He’s too sick for anything too disrupting. Surely you can understand that.”
I nodded, angered but not wanting to be insensitive.
“I’ll take this, Drake,” she said and took the envelope. “Maybe I’ll consider giving it to him when he’s eighteen but if you try to push things, I’ll go to court to get a restraining order to stop you, so don’t push me.”
We parted company and when they went to get dinner at the hospital cafeteria, I went to my office, needing to calm down a bit before I went back to Kate. On my way to the office wing, I saw a man pushing a small boy in a wheelchair and thought about Liam. In that moment, I made a decision that I knew I’d probably regret but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t imagine not seeing Liam again so I went back to the children’s ward and popped back into Liam’s room after suiting up in a gown and mask. He was still asleep, as the oxygen hissed and the monitors hummed behind his bed. The light was low, and he looked so pale. So fragile.
It was my brother all over again, except this time, I’d get to witness it.
He woke briefly and sat up, looking a little bit better.
“Are you a doctor?”
I nodded and took his wrist to feel his pulse. “I’m Doctor Morgan. How are you doing, young man?”
“Okay I guess. Where’s my mom?”
“She and your father are down at the cafeteria for supper. They’ll be back soon.”
He said nothing and looked up at me.
“Are you happy about finding a donor?” I asked, wanting to keep him talking.
He nodded, his face grim. “We were lucky. My mom said that the man was our only hope. I’m going to get radiation to kill all my bone marrow and then they’ll give me new cells. Then I won’t have cancer.”
I nodded and we discussed the procedure for a few moments.
He was very brave, talking so matter of fact about the whole procedure, but children with cancer had to grow up so fast.
He yawned and I checked the clock on the wall. I’d already been in for ten minutes and didn’t want to stay any longer.
“I’m sure glad you’re getting your transplant,” I said and squeezed his hand briefly. “You’ll be feeling better in no time.”
“Me, too,” he said and nodded.
I left the room, my throat choked about not seeing him again. I went into the soiled linens room and removed my scrubs, and was just on my way out when I saw Chris coming down the hall toward me. I thought he and Maureen would be gone for a good half an hour but he must have come back for something.
“What the f*ck…” Chris said when he saw me. “What were you doing in there?”
“I just wanted to see him one last time. Let it go.”
I went out the door and down the stairs to the rotunda, hoping to escape a confrontation but no luck. Chris followed me, obviously not willing to let it go. He stopped me, grabbing onto my shoulder.
“Do we have to get a restraining order?”
I pulled away. “You’re being unreasonable.”
“Liam has enough to worry about without learning that the father he loves is not his biological father.”
“It’s the truth.”
“The truth is,” Chris said and stepped closer to me, “you’re not the kind of father he should know about until he’s old enough to handle the truth.”
“What the f*ck does that mean? I’m a neurosurgeon, a member of the faculty at the Columbia College of Medicine. I’m the head of the Liam Morgan Memorial Foundation. I’m Chairman—“
“We all know what you are,” Chris said, his voice raised. “We also know about your involvement in less savory pursuits. I’m sure your employer would be interested to know it, too.”
“Is that a threat?” I said, my face hot.
He moved even closer to me as if to intimidate me. “If you dare go back and see him again, it’s a promise.”
“Back off,” I said and stepped away.
“No,” he said and stepped closer. “You have to realize you won’t ever be part of Liam’s life. If we have to go to a lawyer to extinguish any parental rights, we will. We won’t hesitate to bring up your S&M practices.”
“I’m not into S&M,” I said and clenched my fists.