Monday, July 24, 4:00 p.m.
On the drive back to the rectory, Dr. Taylor called again.
“Jake, I spoke with my brother at the Cleveland Clinic and he pulled some strings with an oncology friend. Your sister will be admitted to their isolation unit at the end of next week in preparation for her bone marrow transplant.”
“Thank you so much.” And dear Lord, thank you! “Watching Justine’s leukemia devour her a little each day has been torture. I’m in your debt.”
“Nonsense, my boy. You’re a valued colleague. In fact, I’d like you to join the Ethics Committee that I chair. Who better than someone with both medical and spiritual training?”
Damn, another commitment! My life had become one of tasks and obligations. No one ever hesitated to request help from a priest or a doctor. Between the church, medicine, and my family, I was struggling to manage all of my responsibilities.
But I owed Taylor.
“I’d be honored to join your committee, Marcus.” Hoping he would forget that he’d asked, I changed the subject. “How in the world did you find a decent donor match? With Justine’s rare blood type, it was such a long shot.”
“Didn’t my nurse call you? Sorry, Jake. There was just one match—you. Not perfect, but you’re the best chance she’s got. If we wait for a better candidate, we’ll probably lose her. Let me know if you locate your father and we’ll test him. Until then, you’re it. Are you still okay with donating your marrow?”
“Okay? I’m raring and ready to go. You couldn’t stop me if you tried.”
“Great, I’ll set it up and call you with the details. Take care.”
Given Justine’s deteriorating condition, nearly two weeks was a long time to wait for her admission, and I fretted about the threat that each passing day posed to her on the drive back to Oberlin. After I parked the car at the rectory and stepped out, my cellphone played the theme song from the old police drama, Dragnet. Chief Tremont Macon’s image appeared on the screen, looking a lot like Michael Jordan’s older brother.
“Calling me back so soon, Tree? Did you miss the sound of my voice?”
“Don’t be a smartass, Jake. You asked me to track down your father, and I wanted to give you an update. We finally got a hit. I was beginning to think he was a ghost. Your dad was arrested a year ago on a drunk and disorderly in Louisiana. There’s an outstanding warrant out on him, but the Shreveport P.D. tells me they got no idea where he is. Your father’s a minnow in the legal system, and the cops there have bigger fish to fry, so we’re on our own. At least we have a place to start the hunt.”
Exactly what I’d expected. Nevertheless, I was disappointed. I was not having second thoughts about donating my bone marrow to Justine. But she was my half-sister. Justine’s mother was dead and statistically dear old Dad would be a much closer match for her transplant, giving her a better chance of survival.
Not that I ever wanted to see the dirt-bag who had deserted my mother and me when I was a child. Never would be soon enough. My mentor in seminary had pointed out that I was too quick to judge and too slow to forgive. Although I now dispensed absolution for a living and had worked hard on my character flaws, no matter how I tried I’d never been able to forgive my old man for what he had done. To me, he would always be the Devil but with a lot less charm.
“Jake? You still there?”
“I’m here.” I banished my father’s image from my mind and told Tree about my sister’s pending admission. “I appreciate all the effort, Tree, but don’t give up yet. He is Justine’s best chance, so please keep searching for him. Sorry to add to your workload, buddy.”
“No sweat. Just another day in the life of a public servant.” He chuckled. “Hell, that’s what friends do. After your help stopping that crazy bastard, Burke, I owe you big time.”
I had recently played Dr. Watson to Tree’s Sherlock Holmes. Even hearing the killer’s name made the healing fractures of my right ribs and collarbone ache. I’d completed my leave of absence from the parish while recovering and was scheduled to return to work at the hospital in a week.
“Anyway, that’s it. Gotta go, Jake. I’ll keep you posted.”
I hung up and sidestepped a pothole in the rectory driveway. My emotions were jumbled. Dr. Taylor’s call had filled me with the lightness of possibility and lifted my spirits; Tree Macon’s had popped my balloon and sent me plummeting back to earth. Barring a miraculous reappearance of my old man, I was my sister’s only hope. And by the look of her, she definitely needed a miracle.