Page 138 of Before You Can Blink
Daisy rose from her seat, moving to where I stood on the phone with her doctor. The minute she was within arm’s reach, I pulled her to my chest, burying my face in her hair and breathing in her scent.
Dr. Pierce explained, “Despite your valiant efforts to find a living donor, the first match we’ve come across for Daisy comes from a deceased donor. Once the kidney has been removed from the donor, we are racing against the clock to get it transplanted into the recipient.”
“Okay.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “We’ll be right in.”
“See you soon.” The line went dead.
Peeking up at me, Daisy asked, “What did he say?”
I swallowed thickly. “We’ve got ourselves a Christmas miracle, Daze. There’s a kidney coming this way that’s a match.”
The minute those words left my mouth, our family seated at the table erupted in excited shouts and cheers. We’d been waiting for this moment—this call—for so long that there were times when it felt like it might never come. And now that it had, a tidal wave of relief crashed over us.
Daisy’s thumbs stroked over my cheeks. “It’s all going to be okay, baby.”
Confused, I stared down at her. “Huh?”
A smile tipped up on her lips, and when she removed her hand from my face, it came away wet. “You’re leaking.”
Immediately, I moved to cover the proof of my weak moment, but Daisy caught my wrists, halting me.
As tears shone in her own eyes, she whispered, “You don’t need to hide from me. I know this has been hard.”
Pressing my forehead to hers, I dragged in a shaky breath. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“Well, you can put those thoughts away now.” Her lips brushed mine.
I hummed, keeping to myself that there were risks associated with the transplant surgery, and beyond that, there was a chance her body could reject the organ and we’d be back to square one. We didn’t need that negative energy surrounding us tonight.
“So, what’re we doing? Packing everyone up?” Mac’s voice broke through our little bubble.
When we broke apart, Daisy was quick to shut Mac down. “The hospital is no place for the children, and tomorrow is Christmas, so you’re all going to stay here.”
Tripp began to protest, “Mama—”
“No,” she cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. “I won’t hear a single argument.”
Our son’s shoulders sagged as he accepted that her word was final.
“Now.” My wife clapped her hands, drawing the attention of the six little ones. “I’m gonna need the biggest hugs before I go. Make them so tight I can still feel them the whole way to Enid.”
It was nearly a stampede as our grandchildren rushed to embrace her. After their group hug, Daisy gave each one of them a moment of personal attention, making promises of what they would do together after her recovery and reminding them that, for a little while, they’d have to connect via video chat once she returned home due to the anti-rejection meds suppressing her immune system.
Once they dispersed, Aspen approached her mama for a proper goodbye.
Daisy cupped our daughter’s cheeks. “I love you with my whole heart, sweet girl.” Tears crested over Aspen’s lashes as she returned the sentiment. “Take lots of pictures of those happy kids tomorrow morning and remember that I’m missing this Christmas so I can hopefully have a dozen more.”
They clung to each other so tightly, I worried I’d have to peel Aspen away to get Daisy out the door. Already, I was getting antsy that this was taking too long.
“Daze, we’ve gotta go,” I gently urged her.
Dabbing at the corner of her eyes, she nodded. “I know. Just one more.” Holding out her hand, she called to our son, “Tripp, honey, come here.”
At nearly forty, he still had the biggest soft spot for his mama, and I could see the toll that being asked to stay behind was taking on him. There was an anguish written across his face, like obeying her command physically pained him.
Once he was close enough, Daisy grasped his hands. “You’re gonna lean on Penny, you hear?” Tripp’s eyes slammed shut, and he nodded his agreement. “Let her be your comfort, your safe space.” Pausing, she gazed up at our boy, who had grown so tall that doing so forced her to crane her neck. “I know they tease you about it all the time, but you are my baby. You hold a special piece of my heart that no one else can ever touch.”
Tripp buried his face in his mother’s neck, openly weeping. He wasn’t like me; he wore his heart on his sleeve. There were times when I envied how open he was with his emotions. Bottling them up and burying them deep had done me more harm than good, but I’d been doing it so long that I didn’t know how to stop. Chalk it up to an old dog being unable to learn new tricks.
