He looked down at the bandaged arm held closely to his side with a sling. “Can’t feel it, so I suppose that’s a good thing. And you can call me Jim.”
“Can’t feel your arm?” She came closer. “Or can’t feel the pain?”
“To be completely candid, can’t feel much of anything. But I don’t think that’s all physical.”
The poor man had been through it. Lost at sea. Caught in a storm. Given a diagnosis that no one ever deserves to hear. All within the span of a few days. It was a lot to take in and enough to make anyone numb.
“I know that Dr. Clement has been in to talk with you, but I wanted to check in to see how you were doing with everything. And to ask a few questions.”
“She already did, and yes, I’ve got family. But none that would want to help me out in this scenario.”
Family was complicated. Tabitha understood that. But sometimes facing mortality changed things. Sometimes burned bridges could be rebuilt. Cut ties re-bound.
“What family do you have around, Jim?”
“A brother, but he’s not really what I’d call around.”
“I think it would be worth reaching out. Did Dr. Clement talk to you about living liver transplants? They can be incredibly successful, with five-year survival rates close to eighty percent.”
He winced. Tabitha didn’t believe it was from pain, though.
“I’ll just have to take my chances that I can beat this without a transplant.”
Tabitha pulled in a breath. “Can I speak to you openly for a moment, Jim? I’m a trauma surgeon, so I’ll leave the specifics to Dr. Clement, our head of oncology. But I do know that if you plan to wait around for a liver, it could be a very, very long time before you make it to the top of the list. To put it frankly, you’re just not sick enough yet. But if you can find a living match that is willing to donate a section of their liver to you, your odds are going to increase exponentially,” she explained, pointblank. “Don’t you think it’s worth a phone call? When was the last time you saw your brother?”
Jim had been looking out the window, but the moment Tabitha asked the question, he cut his eyes back to hers. “When he was trying to kill me. Right before he was thrown in jail.”
Tabitha couldn’t do this.
She looked at the text again, guilt swimming through her stomach.
It was nice of Camille to invite her and Ben over for dinner, but there was no way she could comfortably sit at a table across from Foster, not when she had news that could completely upend his entire life.
She usually didn’t have trouble keeping her patients’ identities to herself. Most of the time, she didn’t know them personally. And while she didn’t truly know Jim, she certainly knew of the man.
The way he’d ruined so much of Foster’s life. How he’d fallen into drugs, fallen in love with Foster’s wife, and intentionally placed Foster’s children in harm’s way.
From what Tabitha could make of it, Jim had cleaned up his act over the years. Obviously, he’d come into money in some way, since he was able to join an expensive fishing expedition that only a man with some sort of wealth could participate in.
But this brother was the sole reason Foster found himself imprisoned as a younger man, and those demons were ones Foster still battled. His anger. His response to that anger. Tabitha knew it all stemmed from that fateful day when Foster took things—and Jim—into his own hands.
Was there any way Foster could overlook all of that now? This was a big ask. Ahugeask. It was one thing to donate an organ to a loved one. Another thing entirely to undergo surgery, recovery, and everything that went along with it for someone you hated. Someone you very nearly attempted to kill.
Tabitha knew forgiveness was a powerful force, but was Foster even there?
Probably not.
She punched out a text reply, declining the invite to dinner but thanking her sister all the same.
Tabitha arrived at Ben’s apartment later than planned, the typically quick commute made longer due to the disagreeable weather. Continuous rain made the streets slick and drivers more cautious, and it made Tabitha’s mind run a mile a minute as she tried to work through this scenario in her head. Because that’s where it would have to stay. Tucked away in her own brain to deal with. She wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone about it, and that was a cross she typically bore with ease.
But not when it involved the people she loved.
She let herself into Ben’s apartment with the key he’d given her for emergencies a while back, and only recently she found herself using it much more casually.
“I’ve already got a glass of wine ready for you.” Ben met her in his kitchen, zinfandel in hand. He obviously picked upon something on her face because he halted the moment she stepped into the room. “But it looks like maybe you could use the full bottle? More of that drama with the assemblyman?”
She could pretend that was it. It was all over the media. But truth be told, she hadn’t given Assemblyman Taylor a second thought since her conversation with Jim that afternoon.
