We stood up, and I hugged her again. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
She smiled. “I love you.”
“I know,” I said, before turning and rushing out the door to hear what the second “Moooooommmmmmeeeeee, I need you!” was all about.
I realized then that I felt almost strangely relieved I would never have to talk about my sperm donor again. I could spend the rest of my life content in the knowledge that my father was my father, and that was all that mattered. In some ways, it was as big a relief as knowing that my final balance was zero.
IT WAS NO BIGsecret Caroline hated doctors’ offices. She hated the germs, the people, the general smell. I swear I didn’t think we would get her through her hospital tour when she had Preston.
Needless to say, she wasn’t the first one volunteering to go to the doctor with Emerson. I, on the other hand, wanted to go, but we weren’t sure what excuse we could use to leave together without Mom wanting to come along. Plus, once Mark saw those bruises on his beloved Emerson, there was no way he was going to miss her appointment.
Mom had taken Grammy to lunch, Taylor was napping, and AJ and I were playing what felt like our hundredth game of Candy Land when Mark’s car appeared in the front driveway.
I grabbed AJ’s hand and Taylor’s monitor and flew down the stairs at top toddler speed to the guesthouse, where we’d all decided to meet after Emerson’s doctor’s appointment. A somber-looking Emerson was leaning against a protective-looking Mark.
“So?” Caroline asked breathlessly.
“So, it’s not great,” Emerson said.
Mark interrupted her. “But we don’t know that for sure yet.”
She shrugged. “OK. True. But he said from my initial blood work and the pattern of my bruising that it looked like it was aplastic anemia.”
The part of me that was sure she was going to say “leukemia” or “cancer” was relieved, but the part of me that wasn’t sure what these scary medical words meant was terrified.
But Caroline knew what they meant. “Do they know why you aren’t producing new red blood cells? I mean, could it be a virus? Autoimmune disease?”
“Back up a minute here,” I said, looking at Caroline in disbelief. “One, how do you know so much about aplastic anemia? Two, what even is that?”
Caroline bit her lip. “Well, when I saw her arm, I did a lot of Googling. It’s like anemia, but on steroids. Basically, your body quits making new red blood cells, which is a problem because, you know, oxygen.”
“So is it treatable?”
Mark interjected. “They aren’t even positive that’s what it is yet.”
“Yeah, right. We got it, Mark,” Caroline said.
He was annoying me too. This was our little sister. He was the brand-new boyfriend. Well, I mean, brand-new if you didn’t count the three years in high school. We would be asking the questions here.
“There are treatments,” Emerson said.
“I don’t even have to ask Sloane,” Caroline said. “Either one of us will give you our bone marrow without a second thought.”
“Of course.” Now I was starting to worry. Bone marrow transplants were not a simple matter, and this was really major if she potentially needed to have a bone marrow transplant.
I could tell Emerson was trying not to cry. “But even still,” she said, “I probably can’t have children.”
Mark pulled her closer into him.
My heart sank for her. I couldn’t imagine that. I had seen what Caroline had gone through trying to have another baby—and she already had Vivi. “I will have a baby for you, Emerson. I have a beautiful uterus.” I cleared my throat. “My doctor’s words, not mine.” We all laughed.
“I know,” she said, nodding. “I know you would do anything you could. I love you both so much.”
She stood up, and Caroline and I both hugged her. “I will have a baby for you if you’re OK with having a hippie LA home birth, but I’m not going back in that hospital.”
I patted Caroline. “It’s OK. I’ve got that one.” I winked at her. “Let’s just hope you’re the better bone marrow match so it’s fair.”
Caroline nodded. “Deal.”
