A Heart for Robbie (9 page)

looking.

“Poor Dennis, he’s always the one people want to see least. The

financial and insurance requirements are easy—either you meet them or

you don’t. But families see the psych eval as something far more

subjective. They’re afraid it’s the test they can’t pass, and that adds more stress than they’re already under.”

“Yes, I think that’s it exactly. I can still feel the cold sweat,” Julian admitted as he followed Simon into a small office at the end of the hall.

Filing cabinets lined one wall with sixteen drawers, and an immaculate

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desk sat in front of the wall opposite. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but for a paper pusher, Simon had very little paper. A sleek monitor,

keyboard, and mouse sat on the desk, with cables disappearing into its

wooden surface.

No cups with pens.

“Please,” Simon said, indicating a padded wooden chair opposite the

desk while he walked around and sat in an ergonomic chair behind the

desk. After moving the mouse, he typed something on the keyboard Julian

couldn’t see. Rather than trying to spy on the screen, he simply sat in the chair and waited.

Julian focused on the leafy plant in an enormous pot on the

bookshelf next to Simon’s desk. The entire office, in fact all of the offices, seemed to be designed to make guests feel comfortable: plants, warm

wooden furniture, and innocuous paintings. He didn’t have the heart to tell them they’d fallen ridiculously short. “Your insurance company faxed

over your policy terms, verified coverage, and requested a statement of

medical necessity—all very standard.”

“How can a heart transplant not be necessary? It’s not like it’s

cosmetic. In fact, I think it’s probably the opposite of cosmetic,” Julian scoffed.

“Yes, but they just want their medical staff to concur with the

diagnosis. As long as I’ve been here, we’ve never had a problem. Don’t

worry about that. What I’m looking at right now is your lifetime. You

have a one million dollar cap per year and five-million lifetime. That’s pretty standard. We’re in March now, and depending on if we can get a

heart and when, we may have to look closely at that yearly cap. The

surgery alone runs in the neighborhood of half that. Then you’ll have the medications and follow-up care. If there are any subsequent surgeries,

we’ll have to keep a close eye on that.”

“Okay. Is a five-million-dollar lifetime cap generally an issue in

your experience?” Julian asked. It didn’t matter, really. If Robbie survived the transplant, he’d do whatever it took to keep his son alive. If it drained his reserves, he’d be okay with that, but Julian always had a plan. He

needed to make sure that if the money ran out, he’d still be able to feed himself and his son.

“Not unless a second transplant is needed.”

Julian blanched.

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“No, not another heart. Sometimes in the case of a heart transplant,

they also have to transplant a lung. It’s called a heart-lung block, but that doesn’t appear to be the case with your son. So, barring any unforeseen

medical complications, I don’t think the five million dollar cap is going to hamper you.”

They talked for another hour, filling out forms and discussing all of

the ins and outs of navigating through medical insurance filings. The

hospital would take care of most of it, but Julian needed to be aware of how things worked because his son’s life depended on it. If he lost his

insurance coverage, Robbie would lose his spot on the transplant list. He wouldn’t let that happen.

“Okay, I think that’s it. It was really nice to meet you, Julian. I just wish it were under better circumstances.” Simon held his hand out for

Julian to shake.

Julian felt that same familiar warmth as their skin touched, and his

gaydar, which he’d finely tuned in college, went haywire. But he said

nothing.

“When will Robbie be put on the transplant list?”

“Once all the paperwork goes through and he’s approved as a

candidate, he’ll be listed with the other children in order of priority.”

“What determines the priority? Aren’t they all a priority?”

“You’ll have to speak with a doctor for specifics, but it has to do

with their health, their chance of survival, and size. For example, the heart of a teenager wouldn’t help Robbie because he’s too small.”

Julian closed his eyes and nodded. It was all so clinical. For God’s

sake, he was talking about a little boy, his son. But then, all the kids on the transplant list were someone’s son or daughter. He just wished they’d stop making his son sound like a used Audi waiting for parts.

“No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“I know it sounds awful. I can’t even imagine how hard this is for

you, Julian. But Dr. Dane and our team here know what they’re doing.

Robbie is in good hands.” Simon held out a hand and Julian took it, the

fear making their hands shake more than any conscious effort on his part.

“I’m going to go up and stay with Robbie for a while. If you think of

anything else you need, you have my cell phone number. Thank you for

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everything. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” Julian released Simon’s hand, tried to smile, then turned away from the small office and headed up to the ICU.

He’d been dealing with bureaucracy far too long and needed to

spend some time holding Robbie. The hospital itself was huge, so it took a good fifteen minutes for him to navigate the hallways and two elevators to reach the ICU on the other side of the fourth floor. The nurse waved

through the glass, and he saw his father sitting in one of the rocking chairs holding his son.

Julian stood outside the window, and his heart clenched at the sight.

God, what he wouldn’t give to make Robbie well for his parents. They had dealt with so much just bringing him up—his rebellions in high school,

drinking in college, coming out. Now he’d given them an entirely new

level of worry.

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and he jerked

his head, finding Erin’s long blond hair.

“Hey,” he said, putting his hands over hers around his waist while

his eyes sought his son again. Her comfort soothed him as his father talked to Robbie. Julian wondered what he’d said. Pearls of wisdom an infant

would understand, surely.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, resting her forehead on the

back of his shoulder.

He wanted to tell her he was fine and not to worry, but she’d hear the

lie as clearly as she heard the fatigue. Instead, he sighed.

“I can’t think past today. Tomorrow just seems like too much. Will

he make it through the night? When will he be listed? Will we get a heart in time? I’m sure there will be even more variables as time goes on, more hoops we’ll have to jump through. It’s just so overwhelming.”

“Being a new parent is overwhelming, but this takes things to a

whole new level. You have to deal with the things you can control and

pray for the things you can’t. There isn’t a thing you can do about getting him a heart, so just ask God for help with that. But you can make sure that you lean on the hospital administration to get him on that transplant list and put up as high as he can go. You can follow all of the doctor’s

instructions on how to care for Robbie and keep him as healthy as you can for as long as you can. Those things you can do, Julian.”

Control. He ached for control. It didn’t help, because right now,

everything was out of control.

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His father looked up then, and their eyes met. The older man jerked

his head to the side a little, a clear invitation for Julian to come in with them. Julian nodded and turned in Erin’s arms.

“How are you feeling?”

“Me? I’m fine, just sore. They cut an elephant out of my uterus a few

days ago.”

“Thank God they did. I don’t think he would have survived a vaginal

birth or being underweight.”

“Nope, that’s why everything happens for a reason.”

Julian really hated those five words.

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Chapter 5

THE DRIVE to his parents’ took far longer with the mounting dread in

Simon’s heart. Each passing landmark reminded him how much he didn’t

want to reach his destination. For years, he’d allowed his mother to set up innocuous dinners with her friends’ daughters. If he went, and if he

pretended to be interested, maybe she wouldn’t guess the real reason he

hadn’t married. He thought they’d taper off as he got older and the dating pool decreased, but somehow his mother continued to find eligible women

who apparently didn’t mind being paraded around like a prize heifer at the county fair.

He passed another landmark and a sign along the side of the road for

Books a Million. It reminded him of the book he’d just read, and that

reminded him of the author. Even in the middle of a crisis, Julian Holmes had been personable and even sweet. He’d hated to watch the pain and

fear in the other man’s eyes during the transplant evaluation process.

Jealous though he was of Julian’s easy acceptance of himself and his

homosexuality, he’d sincerely wanted to put Julian’s mind at ease. He

couldn’t imagine being responsible for any child, much less one who

needed that level of medical care.

The sign crept up for Joliet, and he moved to the right lane in

anticipation of his exit. Julian stayed on Simon’s mind through the twists and turns of his parents’ subdivision. He wondered how the man’s parents had taken his coming out. It must have been well if they continued to

support him in his decision to have a baby by himself. Even with his

celebrity and his money, Simon admired Julian’s courage.

Two other cars sat in his parents’ driveway when he pulled up. The

late model Buick he recognized, since his father’s car always stayed in the drive. He didn’t recognize the silver Jetta, though. The other dinner guests 50

JP Barnaby

must have arrived before him, which usually produced those caustic looks from his mother until her first glass of wine.

It took a full thirty seconds for him to steel himself enough to get out of the car and walk up the little path that led to the house where he grew up. Back then, he’d just throw open the door, dodge a noogie from his

brother, and flop down on the couch. Adults didn’t behave in such a

fashion, however, so he opened the screen and knocked on the heavy oak

door. Through the decorative center, he watched the misshapen form get

closer, its edges bending and stretching in the curves of glass.

Then his father’s face took shape.

Thank God.

A retired detective from the Joliet police force, his father, Nathan,

never opened his front door without checking. Even if Simon had called

him from the drive, the door remained locked until he had a visual

confirmation of his guest. It had been that way since his reflexes slowed and he’d retired from the force.

“Hello, son,” his father said as he opened the door, and Simon’s

spirits lifted. He might not be able to tell his old man that he liked guys, but his father would make the evening bearable.

“Hi, Dad. I’m guessing the Jetta means she’s already here?” he

whispered as he took his shoes off in the front hall.

“Yep. And I kind of like this one. She’s got spunk.” The corners of

his father’s mouth raised into a half smile, indicating to Simon that his father had climbed on board his mother’s insistent plan to find him a wife.

He knew then it would be a long night.

“Simon, is that you?” his mother called from the kitchen, coming

into view as she wiped her hands on a spotless apron.

He wasn’t sure who else it would be and hoped she hadn’t invited

one of his brothers to dinner to witness his humiliation. She frowned in clear disapproval at his empty hands. Guests bring gifts: wine, fruit,

something. She’d drilled that into his head from the time he was old

enough to be invited places. He usually did, even coming home to his

parents’ house. However, for her mating expeditions, he felt it best to

leave the wine at home.

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“Hi, Mom,” he said, giving her a little kiss on the cheek. It was more

of an air kiss, but close was good enough for horseshoes and parental

affection.

“Darling, come into the living room and meet our guests.”

Oh, she must really like this one because she never called him

“darling.” He followed her into the living room, a place where he’d once played hide-and-seek with his older sister and trucks with his brothers. He liked to play hide-and-seek better because he grew up smaller than the rest and he could hide in places they’d never think to look, like under the