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Chapter 43: Family
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Diagnosis: Love Chapter 44: Memories
DEACONThe screen door behind us screeched as it opened. Gram came out followed by Emma, who was holding an old leather album, grinning at me with a teasing light in her eyes. "You were such an adorable little boy, Deacon." She dropped into the chair next to mine and opened the book. "Look at you in your little overalls!" "Gram," I groaned. "What have we talked about? These pictures were supposed to be burned." "As if I'd ever do that." Gram patted Pop's shoulder. "Move your arms, Jimmy, so I can sit down." He obliged, making room for my grandmother to get settled on his lap. I was used to the easy affection between my grandparents-they were never shy about kissing or appropriate touching in front of me-but it still warmed my heart to know that after almost sixty years of marriage, the two were still in love.Next to me, Emma was flipping through pages. "I love this picture, too." She glanced up at me, compassion and empathy all over her face as she tapped a photo of my
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 45: Joy ride
EMMA"Thank you." As he slowly navigated the dirt drive that led from his grandparents' home to the road, Deacon cast me a questioning sideways glance."For . . .?""For bringing me to the farm. For introducing me to your grandparents. They're wonderful." He smiled. "Yeah, I kind of like them. They've been . . ." He paused as though searching for the right words. "Stalwart and steady support as long as I can remember. I never felt a moment of insecurity growing up, even with one parent dead and the other constantly MIA. Gram and Pop had my back, no matter what." "I got that sense from them. As my mom would say, they're good people." He nodded but didn't say anything else as he turned onto the paved road. The car picked up speed, and I let my head fall back against the seat, the wind rushing through my hair and filling my ears. It had been an almost perfect day. I'd loved spending time with Deacon's grandmother, who was funny, irreverent and shrewd. She had made me
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 46: Want it now
EMMAHis lips came down to cover mine, probing and insistent. I opened to him, so ready for his touch, so eager for his kiss. Arching my back, I waited for his hand to wander down my body, dying for him to stroke my breasts and play with my nipples. But he didn't move beyond the kiss, and while I was enjoying the hell out of that, I was impatient for more. Since I'd never been a woman to simply sit back and wait for what I wanted, I decided that being bold was my best bet. Circling his body with my arms, I ran my hands down his back and slipped my fingers under the waistband of his shorts. "Emma." Deacon groaned my name. "Hold on a minute, woman."I tipped my head back to study him. "I'm sorry. Am I moving too fast for you? I thought usually, when a guy brings a girl out to his favorite make-out spot, it implies that there will be some making out. But maybe I misread your intent." "Not exactly." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "But I'm damned tired of kissing you
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 47: Feels like more
EMMABefore today, I'd had a vague idea of where Deacon lived-somewhere in town, I knew, and for some reason, I'd pictured him in one of those soulless townhouses with beige walls, beige carpet, stainless steel appliances and nondescript furniture. Not that I imagined Deacon in those terms at all-quite the opposite-but he was so much a part of the hospital that it seemed to be his natural landscape. Somehow, I'd thought of his home just as the place where he slept between shifts. But I was wrong, because the house we pulled into was the farthest thing from ordinary. It was small, yes, but in a cozy way. The outside was turquoise, which was utterly unexpected and yet absolutely perfect. I spotted a porch tucked into the front of the house before Deacon eased the car into the garage next to his truck.I was curious about the inside, but I didn't get to see much of it right away, since Deacon dragged me out of the car through the door that led from the garage into the house and the
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 48: Bedroom
EMMADeacon dropped me onto his bed. "That's true. You really are quite a temptress, Emma Carson. I mean, I took you to meet my grandparents today. How much more wholesome could anything be? And then I fully intended to drive you back home, like a gentleman should, but instead, you demanded a joyride." He wagged his head, sighing as he let his shorts fall to the ground and kicked them away. As I watched with greedy eyes, he reached back to grab the collar of his shirt to drag it over his head. "And now . . . look where we are." I pushed up on my elbows to watch him, enjoying the view. God, he was built. And perfect. I licked my lips. "Lose the boxers, too, baby. I want my real joyride right now." Sitting up, I unzipped my dress and wriggled it the rest of the way off, tossing both it and my panties onto the floor. "My God, Emma. Just look at you." Deacon stared. He didn't break his gaze for a minute, even when he managed to get his underwear off. "I'd rather you stop look
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 49: A bad turn
DEACON"Welcome back to the floor, Donnie." I grinned at Mr. Crew as I strolled into his room. Two weeks after his transfer to ICU, he was back in the oncology ward, dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt as he sat in a chair watching television. He was a little thinner, maybe a bit pale, but overall, he didn't look bad. "Thanks, doc." His smile was open and relaxed, completely different than the expression of hopelessness I'd seen on his face a few weeks ago. "I can't believe I made it through, but here I am." "You're strong, and you fought the good fight." I leaned against a table. "I'm not saying that won't have any more surprises along the way, but recovering from pneumonia and coming out the other side as well as you did is definitely a positive indication." I tapped on the tablet. "We're going to give another week to fully recover, and then we'll start talking about your transplant. How does that sound?" "It sounds like a winner of a plan, Deacon." Donnie nodded. He hesi
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 50: Helpless
DEACONEmma was standing in front of her desk, leaning against it, her arms crossed over her chest. Noah was sprawled on the narrow two-cushion sofa that was wedged into the tiny room. They both looked up as I came in, but I didn't detect any guilt at my arrival. "Hey." I glanced at Emma, frowning. "I was just coming to tell you about Angela being admitted, but I guess you already know that." "Yes." She gave me wide eyes, trying to telegraph something to me. "Noah came down to see me while the nurses were helping Angela settle in. He's very upset because he thinks he did something to derail her recovery. I was just telling him that he couldn't have." She spread her hands. "These things happen, Noah. You knew that rejection was a real possibility from the beginning. We gave Angela some preventative treatment shortly after her transplant, but that isn't always effective. Now . . . we just need to figure out how to address the issue. Right, Deacon?" "Uh, well, we can't rule out
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 51: Rejection
DEACONBy Sunday afternoon, Angela had developed a maculopapular rash on her neck, ears and shoulders, confirming for me what had become increasingly apparent throughout the weekend, with each new test result. Angela was dealing with graft versus host disease, and it was time to step up her treatment. "Let's start her on glucocorticoid and cyclosporine." I stood with Jenny just outside Angela's room. "I think we need to be aggressive." I rubbed a spot in the center of my forehead where a headache had been forming all day. "She's getting worse, not any better." "But we haven't gone full-throttle on her treatment yet. Not really," Jenny pointed out. "Once we get the extra steroids and immunosuppresives on board, she'll probably bounce back pretty quick." I tried to share some of Jenny's optimism. "Let's hope so." I stared at Angela's latest numbers on the tablet in my hand. "She's young. Generally, we don't see acute GVHD as often in patients under forty. Not with a donor who
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