“I thought they’d reported that most of the injuries the men sustained were minor,” Camille said.
“They were. And his are, too. Some lacerations and a few broken ribs.”
“Seems like he’ll heal.” Of course, she didn’t want the man to be in pain, but these injuries were relatively insubstantial. She was well aware Foster had inflicted worse so many years ago.
Her husband had been looking at the table, as if memorizing the scars and knots in the wood. But at that moment he lifted his eyes to hers, and she saw something in them that she’d never seen before. “He has cancer, Camille.”
“Oh.” That was sad news. Of course, it was. But Camille wondered if she had learned of it apart from this harrowing rescue and all the drama surrounding it, if it would have the same sting. After all, from what Camille knew, Foster still hated the man. Hated him for all the pain he’d caused in others’ lives. Hated him for how careless he’d been with the people Foster loved most. Hated Jim enough to end up behind bars for letting that hate get the better of him.
“He needs a liver.”
“He has liver cancer?”
Foster just lifted his head in a single nod.
She wondered if all the years of substance abuse was to blame. Either way, it wasn’t any of her business.
“He needsmyliver,” Foster clarified, his voice completely monotone.
“Don’tyouneed your liver?”
“I need part of my liver.” He just shrugged. “He needs the other part.”
“Are you even a match?”
“That’s what they were calling about. They want to run tests to see if I am.”
“Do you even have a choice in that?”
Foster pulled his hand out of Camille’s and speared his fingers through his silver hair, gripping the ends of the strands in frustration. “Of course, I have a choice. That’s the entire problem.”
“Because you don’t know what to choose.”
“I don’t know what to choose.” There was a sorrow in her husband’s eyes unlike anything she’d ever glimpsed. A turmoil brewing much like that storm hovering over the seas. Dark, building. Uncontrolled.
“You can say no.”
“Can I, though?”
She reached for him. “Of course, you can say no. If the roles were reversed, I guarantee that man wouldn’t so much as donate a dollar to you, let alone a vital organ.”
“But the roles aren’t reversed, and now I’m faced with a decision that will not only affect his life, but the lives of those I care about.”
Camille chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. “Do you think you should talk to the kids about this? Ask them what they think?”
“I could.” He cleared his throat. Shifted in his seat. “But I think they’ll say the same thing. That it’s my decision. That they support me no matter what.” Like he couldn’t take a full breath, Foster pressed his spine to the back of his chair and his palms to his thighs, drawing in the largest inhale. “God, Camille. I thought I was done paying for my sins.”
That made her own breathing stutter. “Foster. You do not owe Jim anything. You understand that, right?”
“How can I live with myself, though? How can I hold my head high as a man, knowing I could have helped out my brother and chose not to.”
“You might not even be a match.”
“But if I am?”
“One step at a time. Do the tests or whatever it is to see if you’re compatible. Then we can cross that bridge when we know what we’re dealing with.”
Foster’s strong jaw worked, that ball of muscle clenching. “So many years ago, I prayed for this.”
