But then she’d have to confront the reality of her situation every time she looked into her friends’ or family’s eyes, and she wasn’t ready. She kept coming back to that, to putting off the moment of truth so she wouldn’t have to deal with other people’s emotions while struggling with her own. Maybe it’d be different if she had any chance of finding a live donor. With live-donor transplants doctors took a portion of a living person’s healthy liver and put it inside someone like her. Both pieces regenerated, which made the procedure sound very attractive. But it wasn’t quite that simple. Only a small number of these operations were performed and it was usually done between family members. As an only child, she wasn’t likely to find a match. Her mother had multiple sclerosis and required a wheelchair to get around, and her father had type 2 diabetes, which ruled them out.
Briefly, she thought of Levi’s comforting presence last night and wished she’d brought him with her today. Very soon he’d be out of her life. What would it matter if he knew the truth?
That was what her head told her. But her heart said something else. Maybe he’d be moving on come the weekend, but while he was staying at her place she didn’t want him to know she was critically ill. She found him attractive. That made her hope to be attractive to him, too. And she couldn’t imagine it would be remotely appealing to hear that she had non-alcoholic fatty liver disease, even if it was, as her doctor said, idiopathic, meaning no one could say why her liver had suddenly stopped functioning properly. She didn’t have hepatitis or anything, wasn’t contagious.
“So?” Breaking a silence that had felt stifling, she wiped her sweaty palms on her sundress. “What do the latest tests reveal?”
The doctor was sitting on a rolling stool, studying her chart. After everything she’d been through, she couldn’t believe she still found it difficult to wait for the latest results. While being evaluated by the center’s transplant team, she’d undergone a biopsy to confirm her diagnosis and a computed tomography to determine the size and shape of her liver. She’d also had an echocardiogram to check her heart, numerous blood tests to search for infection and determine her clotting ability, an upper endoscopy to examine the state of the veins in her abdominal wall, some pulmonary function studies to ensure that her lungs were exchanging oxygen and carbon dioxide properly and several ultrasounds. She’d been at this center so often over the past two months it sometimes felt as if she lived there. That was another reason she’d decided to entrust her photography business to her assistant. She couldn’t do certain shoots. Even if she felt well enough to work, there were days when she had to be gone. What would she have said every time she had to run to Sacramento for new tests?
“Well...” Her doctor set her chart aside. “Unfortunately, I see some degradation of your condition.”
After feeling so terrible last night, she’d prepared herself for this. But how much degradation? Would he classify her as status one? Status one meant she’d be given the highest priority for a new liver. It also meant she wasn’t expected to live longer than a week.
A week!
Maybe she’d be gone before Levi....
She swallowed. “How bad is it?”
“It’s affected your MELD score by a fairly significant margin.”
The Model for End-stage Liver Disease or MELD score was how the United Network for Organ Sharing determined where she belonged on the national donor list. A computer-generated number between six and forty, based on blood tests, indicated how likely she was to die in the next ninety days without a transplant. The higher the number, the more serious her condition.
“How much of a margin?”
“Three points. You were at seventeen. Now you’re twenty because your bilirubin count is up. The good news is that your international normalized ratio and creatinine—”
“Creatinine?” She’d forgotten what that was. She knew bilirubin measured the amount of bile pigment in her blood, and the PT-INR measured her blood’s clotting ability, which came from proteins secreted by the liver. But what was the creatinine?
“It measures renal function,” he explained.
“You mean kidney function.”
“Right. Along with your PT-INR, your creatinine levels are not too alarming.”
When liver failure became acute, a patient also had severe kidney problems and could wind up on dialysis. She was hoping to receive a transplant before that.
“So it’s the bilirubin that concerns me the most,” he was saying. “Are you being careful about what you eat?”
“Very. I haven’t had
any
alcohol. No salt. Plenty of fruit and vegetables. Whole grains. Lean protein.” If she ate at all... It was almost easier
not
to eat. But she needed the strength.
“Glad to hear it. I’ll update your standing on the donor list and we’ll pray for a match.”
Pray. Weren’t doctor’s supposed to act as if
they
were in control?
She was actually glad Dr. Yee didn’t pretend. She preferred to face the truth—that he was just a man and could not ultimately decide her fate.
He stood to smile and shake her hand but, for some reason, this appointment was more difficult than the others here at the center. Her chest constricted and her eyes filled with tears—and the weird thing was that she felt it had something to do with wearing the pretty sundress she’d chosen for today and the look in Levi’s eyes when he told her he liked it.
9
C
allie wasn’t sure how Levi would react when she returned home with new clothes for him. She doubted he’d be pleased. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want her to do him any more favors. If she cooked, he insisted on doing the dishes or fixing something around the house—like the screen door in back that had been sticking for ages—in exchange for his meal. This morning, he did the cooking himself. He also joined her when she’d gone out to weed the garden and, with his help, she made much quicker work of it than she would have otherwise. He felt as if he was already in her debt and, technically, he was. She’d spent two hundred and eighty dollars on his motorcycle. But it would’ve cost her a lot more to have the barn fixed and painted, so she figured she was getting a bargain.
Regardless, he wouldn’t want her spending any extra money on him. But thinking about someone she liked as much as she liked him counteracted—just a little—the bad news of her MELD score. She
enjoyed
having him in her life. She wasn’t sure why. She’d never felt quite the same about any other man.
But she’d never been dying of liver disease before, either. She had to admit that changed her perspective.
“Can I help you?”
She turned to see a sales associate. She’d driven to Arden Fair Mall so she’d have a selection. “I need a shirt and a pair of jeans for a man who’s maybe six foot two and one hundred and ninety pounds.”
“You want something casual, for summer?”
She nodded. Levi wasn’t the type to dress up. He looked perfect in a plain white tee and worn blue jeans. But she hadn’t managed to get the shirt clean that he’d been wearing when he was attacked, and the jeans he’d had on were torn well beyond what was stylish.
“How about this?” The woman held out a stonewashed, reddish shirt, basically a V-neck tee. It was rugged, simple. Callie could easily imagine how good Levi’s well-defined chest would look in that and thought it was just masculine enough that he might like it.
“Great. I’ll take a large.”
The saleswoman brought the shirt to the register, then beckoned her over to a large display of jeans. “Are you interested in dark or light denim?”
“Dark.” She might as well get him something slightly dressier than the ones he had.
“What about these? They’re a loose fit.”
She considered them but ultimately decided they weren’t right. “With his build he could afford to go a little tighter.”
“Gotcha.” Lips curved into a conspirator’s smile, the woman plucked up a different pair. “These?”
“Definitely.” They weren’t “skinny” jeans, nothing metrosexual or too trendy, but they’d make the most of his physique.
“What size?”
“I’m guessing...thirty-two by thirty-six?”
“You’re in luck. We have one pair left.” She pulled some jeans from the bottom of the stack.
Callie had paid for her purchases and was walking out of the mall, carrying the sack, when her phone rang. It was her neighbor Godfrey. She’d forgotten that he’d tried to reach her earlier, when she was at the transplant clinic.
“Hello?”
“Callie?”
An older gentleman held the door so she could walk out into the bright afternoon sunshine. “What’s up, G.? Do you have an update for me on those pit bulls?”
“I’m afraid the situation’s not good. I could have them euthanized. That’s the only way to ensure they won’t hurt someone else. But if I do, the owners are claiming they’ll sue the city.”
She hated the idea of killing any animal but, under the circumstances, she didn’t think they had a choice. “If you
don’t,
and someone else gets attacked, the victim or the victim’s family will also have cause to sue, because now we all know those dogs are dangerous.”
“The details are...kind of murky.”
She waited for a break in the traffic so she could cross to her car. He hadn’t thought they were murky when he stitched up Levi’s wounds. “Because...”
“Because we weren’t around when it happened. We don’t know exactly what occurred.”
“Levi told us what occurred.”
“But is it the truth? Even if it is, he’s a drifter. He won’t be around to testify if or when this goes to court.”
She was winded just from the exertion of walking to and from the mall. The fatigue was almost the worst of what she was going through. “So? He deserves the same consideration as any other citizen. Drifting isn’t against the law.” She put her bag in the backseat of her BMW X3. “So what’s happening?”
“The dogs are currently at the shelter. I wanted to see how convinced you are about what should be done before I go any further.”
She sighed. If these pit bulls were dangerous, she couldn’t allow her love of animals to come before human safety. What if they attacked a child?
She didn’t want to be responsible for that. And after meeting Denny and Powell, and seeing how they behaved, she doubted they’d take the situation seriously enough to put a stop to the threat.
“I believe Levi,” she said. “You saw what those dogs did.”
“But did he trespass? Egg them on in some way?”
She could’ve reminded him about the lack of blood in the garage where Denny was staying, or the placement of Levi’s bike, but she knew it came down to credibility. She and G. had credibility in Whiskey Creek. They’d lived here all their lives, knew everyone. Levi and the renters did not.
“Like I said, I believe Levi.”
“Okay,” he said, as if that decided it. “Consider this handled, but...”
“But?” she repeated.
“There’s one other reason I’ve been dragging my feet.”
“And that is...”
“I don’t trust Denny Seamans or Powell Barney. I’m afraid of how they might respond, afraid they might blame you instead of me.”
“They shouldn’t blame anyone, except their dogs—or, more to the point, themselves, if they didn’t train those dogs properly.”
“They aren’t the type to accept responsibility. They’ve been trying to place the blame elsewhere ever since this happened. So...you should be careful. I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t some sort of...backlash.”
Denny and Powell had already stopped by, but no one seemed to know that. Apparently, they weren’t telling—probably because coming to her house and getting into an altercation would only make them look as combative as their dogs. Also, Callie believed a guy who prided himself on his size wouldn’t want to admit that he’d been so easily taken by a drifter weighing fifty pounds less.
“I’ll be careful.” She tried to sound confident, but in her current condition, she wouldn’t be able to put up much of a defense once Levi left.
* * *
It was close to seven when Levi saw Callie’s SUV turn down the drive. He’d finished working for the day, had just showered in the small, makeshift bathroom in the barn and was playing a game of fetch with Rifle. Fortunately, now that she was back he wouldn’t have to figure out how to occupy himself next. He was hungry, but he hesitated to invade her privacy by going inside her house while she was gone, even though she’d told him he could make himself at home.
He stood to one side as she parked.
“Hey,” she said as she got out. Her smile suggested she was happy to see him. It was so infectious he couldn’t help smiling back.
“Hey yourself. That took all day.”
“I had lots to do.”
“Get it done?”
“I think so.” She leaned in for a small paper sack that was sitting on the console. “Found the nails you wanted, but it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
After taking the bag, he compared what she’d bought with one of the nails still in his pocket. “You did great.”
She crouched to say hello to her dog, who was so excited to have her home his whole hind end was wagging. “There’s my baby. How are you today?” she cooed, scratching and patting and hugging him. Then she squinted up at Levi. “Looks as if you two have been getting along.”
“Rifle’s a good dog.”
“You hear that? He likes you.” With a final pat, she straightened and collected the bags piled in her backseat. “I don’t want you to get mad at me for this, but I bought you a couple of things at the mall.”
“Me?”
he said in surprise.
“I thought you could use them.”
He cocked his head to see around her, at what she was digging out of her SUV. “What’d you get?”
“A pair of jeans and a shirt.” She shoved a Macy’s bag at him. “Go try them on.”
Reluctantly, he accepted her offering, but he scowled to let her know he wasn’t pleased. “Callie—”
“Oh, stop,” she said with an impatient wave. “You’re going to end up doing a lot more work than what I’ve paid you for. I’ll owe you—and Lord knows you could use a change of clothes, so...do we have to make a big deal out of this?”