Prologue II
Don’t kiss me if you’re afraid of thunder. My life is an emotional storm.
—Contance’s secret thoughts
Constance
Wendy smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes anymore.
My heart literally ached as I pulled the covers up to her chin and swept the hair back from her face. “I love you lotsa.”
“I love you lotsa and lotsa,” she replied sleepily.
And, even though it wasn’t nap time, and she’d gotten up for the day only two and a half hours ago, she was headed right back to sleep.
She’d take several of these naps a day, and still not feel any relief from her exhaustion.
That was just how her life was now.
One moment, we’d gone from being super happy and carefree, ruling the kindergarten halls and taking selfies in the mirror with zero cares in the world.
Then everything changed.
One day, she’d woken up, spent the day with her Aunt Essie in the garden while I’d worked at the Raptor and Wildlife Rehab Center and gradually deteriorated. By the end of the day everything that was my little Wendy was gone.
In her place was a shell of a girl.
We’d gone to the hospital immediately, and I’d found out a few things that day about my special little girl.
One, she had a rare genetic disorder called beta thalassemia intermedia that resulted in slower production of beta-globin chain production. Thankfully, in Wendy’s case, she wasn’t making zero. Just a lot lower than was typically normal for a healthy individual.
So not as bad as it could be, but still very bad.
She required regular blood transfusions every three to four months.
Which led to the second problem related to Wendy’s disease.
Wendy had Rh-null blood, otherwise known as ‘golden blood.’ A complete lack of antigen in the blood.
It was the rarest blood type in the world, and there were less than fifty people who had it.
Even worse, there was a desperate need for it and my girl needed regular transfusions of it.
Which was just not possible.
We were able to get some, but not what she needed.
Not anywhere near what she needed due to the utter lack of supply.
My stomach in its usual knots, I sat down at my computer and stared at the blank screen for a few long seconds before I blew out a breath.
Like I always did when I had free time during Wendy’s naps, I scoured the internet for answers.
But, like always, my answers always led me to one man.
A dead man.
I stared at that dead man’s face and glared.
How could he do what he’d done?
He’d shot the governor, for Christ’s sake. Knowing damn well what the outcome would be when he did.
Meanwhile, he’d taken away his expertise from the world. Just snuffed out his unique brain that had a knack for solving the unsolvable.
Just poof, he was gone. And no one else in the world could replace him.
And, more importantly, this man was a regular donor of his golden blood.
But, of course, he’d died.
One less person in the world with those perfect lifesaving capabilities.
Once again, I clicked on the email for his practice and sent him an email.
It was stupid, I knew.
And likely, no one would ever see it.
But that didn’t halt the anger that I felt in my veins.
I had no right to be mad at him.
But, I was.
I sent the email, then covered my face with my hands.
This was such a mess.
A huge, massive mess that I didn’t think I’d be able to fix.
I stared at the email chain that I had with this man so long that the sound of an incoming email startled me.
I stared. Then clicked on it.
The subject line said one thing—Montana.
When I opened the email, my heart tripped.
Move to Montana. I have a line on some golden blood. But under no uncertain terms can you share this information with anyone else. I mean it. You move here quietly. You don’t say a word about where you get it. And you live your life. That’s it.
My family and I moved our entire facility to Bear Pass, Montana, the very next day.
Two months later
“How long is this going to take?” Wendy groaned.
Dr. Pendelton smiled. “It’s going to take a while, deary. Which I think you know.”
Dr. Pendelton was a great doctor, and good with Wendy.
Wendy liked him a lot and I was glad that I wouldn’t have to worry about this on top of everything else.
A knock at the door sounded the moment Dr. Pendelton got Wendy situated in the chair she would be occupying for the next couple of hours.
Dr. Pendelton got up and walked to the door, opening it only wide enough to speak to whoever was on the other side.
A bag of blood was handed in through the gap by a very muscular arm, and a few deep words were shared by whoever was on the other side of the door.
My heart shivered, and I wondered if the man who’d spoken was as attractive as his voice sounded.
Probably not.
Dr. Pendelton chuckled at whatever was said, and then he backed up and closed the door behind him.
He was hanging the bag of blood that he’d just started transfusing into Wendy when there was another knock at the door.
This one was less forceful than the first.
“That’s my son.” Dr. Pendelton looked warily at the door. “I’ll go out there and talk to him.”
I waved him on and then took his vacated spot next to Wendy when he left, leaving the door open a crack as he did.
“You okay?” I asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“I’m good.” She smiled. “I feel good, Mother. I promise.”
I rolled my eyes. “I love you, kid.”
“Do you think that I could sit on that beanbag right there instead of this hard chair?”
Raised voices sounded in the hall, and I couldn’t help but walk to the door and open it to make sure everything was okay.
When I did, I saw the back of a man’s head and Dr. Pendelton throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. “Seriously, Eustace. This is getting out of hand. You can’t bring that stupid snake into my office!”
I cleared my throat, and Dr. Pendelton looked at me.
His son did not.
He stiffened and left.
Dr. Pendelton sighed and watched him go before coming into the room again.
“Wendy was wondering if she could sit in the beanbag chair,” I said carefully.
Dr. Pendelton looked angry as hell.
“That’s fine,” he grumbled. “Just be careful not to move that arm, okay, darling?”
Wendy smiled and moved very carefully, getting comfortable on the beanbag before pulling out her book.
When she was settled, I focused back on the doctor. “Everything okay?”
He snorted out a laugh. “If you could give me a cure for teenageritis, that’d be great.”
I winced. “Sorry, but I can’t. I can barely handle this age.”
Dr. Pendelton chuckled. “He asked for a snake. I said no. His mother said yes. He got a snake. He asked to homeschool. I said no, his mother said yes. He now homeschools. He asks to go to parties with his friends, I say no, his mother says no. He sneaks out. I swear I’m getting gray hairs by the second. ”
“Sounds frustrating,” I admitted.
“You should take his car away. That’s what Mommy does with me. It always works.” Wendy added her two cents.
I laughed. “Yeah, Dr. Pendelton. Just start taking away his stuff. Eventually he’ll cave.”
He shuddered. “I already had to rehome his dog. He was angry. But we found out that his mother was allergic to it. Hence the snake. We tried to make it up to him, but now he just uses it to terrify his mother. He thinks it’s funny.”
I shuddered too.
“One day it’ll be better, and you’ll look back at these days and smile.” I paused. “At least that’s what my mother always says when she catches me having a bad parenting day.”
Dr. Pendelton groaned. “I sure hope so.”