back in Oklahoma City felt surreal. The plane ride and the composure of the man beside her had helped lessen some of the fear she’d felt at Griffin Devaney’s appearance, but not the apprehension or the uncertainty. As a result, conversation had been sparse.
During the drive to OU Medical Center, she was jumpy. What if Vin somehow learned she had surfaced? What if despite his need, her father didn’t want to see her?
She flattened a hand on her stomach, trying to still the flutters there. They weren’t all due strictly to anxiety. Devaney set off surprising flutters of his own.
She slid a look at the solidly built man behind the steering wheel. Occasionally, light from the streetlamps slanted across him, the shadows doing nothing to soften the carved-rock line of his jaw.
What was his story? Beneath the nerves, the uncertainty and wariness, she was intrigued by the man who’d found her. More curious about him than she’d been about any man in a long time.
Uncomfortable with the realization, Laura forced herself to focus on the reason she was here, not the grimly handsome man beside her.
What had happened between her and her dad had been just as much his fault as Laura’s, but she didn’t know if Nolan Prentiss would see it that way. And it didn’t matter. She had forgiven him and hoped he could do the same.
Not much had changed in the months since she’d been away from Oklahoma City. Though she didn’t see anything new on the drive from the airpark, she was unexpectedly nostalgic at the sight of the illuminated dome of the state capitol as they traveled I-235 South.
Farther south and east than their destination was Bricktown, a bustling area of downtown that boasted restaurants, a ballpark and the arena for Oklahoma City’s NBA team, the Thunder.
Everything might look mostly the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Thirty minutes after leaving Sundance Airpark, she found herself at OU Medical Center. Griffin whipped his SUV into a parking spot in the lot of the hospital where her father had been admitted.
The temperature here was about the same as it had been in Pueblo and Laura snuggled her face into the collar of her heavy coat. Neither she nor her companion spoke as they rode the elevator to the seventh-floor oncology ward. Even though she didn’t know Griffin, Laura was glad not to be alone. His quiet steadiness helped settle her somewhat.
They got off the elevator and turned left, passing an open family waiting area. Another bank of elevators sat at the opposite end of the long hallway. A second nurse’s station served visitors in that area. Several yards away, Laura hesitated and Griffin stopped beside her.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“I— Yes.” She hadn’t faced her father in years. Though she intended to see him—she had come out of WitSec for this—she had no idea what kind of reception she would get.
The area was quiet, the only sounds the occasional beep of machines and the heave of a heater. After asking about Nolan Prentiss’s location, she explained she was a family friend who had been asked to come. In answer, the pretty red-haired nurse at the desk gestured down the hall toward a patient room.
“Mr. Prentiss has already started his conditioning,” the woman explained. “Before you go in, you’ll need to put on this mask and gown.”
“Conditioning?” Laura asked.
“He’s undergoing chemo to kill his bad cells.”
The tap-tap of a pair of heels interrupted them. Laura turned to see her aunt coming down the hall, shedding a mask and gown.
Looking smart in a pink sweater and dark slacks, the older woman rushed toward her and grabbed her in a big hug.
“Thanks for coming,” Joy said thickly, her blue eyes bright with emotion. She lowered her voice. “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.”
Laura had wondered, too. Tears burned her throat and she returned the embrace.
Joy stepped back. “You look beautiful. Your hair’s grown.”
She put an arm around Laura’s shoulders. “You can see Nolan if you’d like, but he’s heavily drugged and unresponsive.”
“I won’t go inside, but I would like to look in on him.” She peeked inside the room, taking in the hospital bed flanked by an IV bag and a blood-pressure-and-heart monitor. Her gaze went to the man lying motionless under a light blanket.
Her breath caught. Nolan Prentiss, always trim and fit, looked emaciated. His normally ruddy coloring was gray, his blue eyes closed, his brow furrowed as if in pain. He didn’t stir.
Laura sent a questioning glance to her aunt.
“He’s on morphine for pain. He hasn’t been conscious since we arrived earlier, but it’s for the best.”
“What pain?”
“In his back and stomach. His back started hurting about two weeks ago and his oncologist confirmed it was a relapse of the lymphoma. Nolan called me today when the pain became so severe he couldn’t even stand up. I brought him straight here and they admitted him.”
Laura swallowed hard, keeping her voice quiet. “Mr. Devaney said Dad was diagnosed nine months ago for non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”
“Yes, a type called diffuse large B-cell.”
She had no idea what it was, but it sounded bad. Laura’s stomach knotted. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her father like this. She wanted him to open his eyes and look at her even though her emotions were a mix of love, regret and shame.
Torn between going in or leaving her father in peace, Laura shifted beside her aunt. Nolan’s raven hair had turned completely white. He was frail. For the first time in her life, she thought of her father as something other than strong and unyielding. Life had taken its toll on him, just as it had on her.
“Let’s come back later.” Her aunt closed the door and steered her away.
Devaney fell into step on Joy’s other side. The older woman gave him a quick hug. “Thank you for bringing Laura.”
Griffin smiled, his hard features softening, his blue-green eyes warming.
The change in his face made Laura a little weak in the knees, which completely shocked her. She jerked her gaze away. Oh, please. She was tired. That was why she’d felt that little wobble.
Retracing their steps, they made their way to the waiting area they’d seen when they stepped off the elevator. Among the groupings of chairs, there was a television on the wall. One section of chairs was broken up with a small table and phone in the middle. A long couch sat on the adjacent wall.
People clustered in groups of two or three along the near wall. Laura walked across to the less populated side of the room with her aunt and took a chair. Griffin eased down onto the gray sofa.
Joy dabbed at her damp eyes, lowering her voice. “The person who originally volunteered to be Nolan’s donor is ill. Thank goodness your blood sample was on file with the register. I was tested, too. Siblings have the best chance of having the same HLA molecules, but I wasn’t a match at all.”
“HLA molecules?”
“Antibodies that are proteins in the blood and could interfere with the success of the transplant. There’s only a twenty-five percent chance that I would be a perfect match. The chances are even more slim that the parents or children of a patient will match.”
Laura frowned. “But I’m a match?”
“Yes, praise the Lord.” A determined look crossed Joy’s face. “I’ve been praying that you would be able to help your father and now you are. God doesn’t pay attention to percentages.”
Still shaken by seeing her larger-than-life father in such a feeble state, Laura was hit with a sense of urgency. “What do I need to do? Shouldn’t we get started?”