It wasn’t till ten that night that the surgeon remembered to contact Bethany. Bethany was in her bedroom with Rod,watching a series and waiting. She answered it with panic in her voice. The surgeon—whose name was Dr. Scott—laughed at her.
“You’re always thinking about work, aren’t you?”
Bethany scowled. “How did it go?”
“It went really well. We had a bit of a hiccup during the retrieval from Matteo, but we were able to mend things easily, and he’s already awake and eager to get out of here as soon as he can.”
“And Helena?” Bethany demanded.
“Her vitals are good so far. We’re closely monitoring her, of course. But all told, it was successful.”
That “so far” rang in Bethany’s ears. But she knew that this was how transplants always went. There was so much they wouldn’t know about Helena’s health until a year from now. The liver could reject her. The new liver could end her life sooner than the old one would have.
Bethany shivered. She thanked Dr. Scott, then got off the line and cuddled with her husband, praying for the relief that would come in the morning, when she’d visit Helena and Matteo at the hospital for the first time.
On Thanksgiving morning,Rod drove Bethany to the hospital. They walked the hallways, fielding a string of text messages from Rebecca and Esme, who’d encountered a minor Thanksgiving dinner disaster and were trying to figure out how best to salvage the food before everyone met to eat.
“What could have happened?” Rod asked, laughing.
“No idea.” Bethany grinned, surprised. Usually, Rebecca was always on top of it when it came to food. Maybe Rebecca, their mother, and Valerie had gotten lost in laughter and gossip andforgotten something. Maybe the oven had been too hot, or they’d forgotten an ingredient. Or maybe they were making a big fuss about nothing. She texted them.
BETHANY: Hope the house isn’t burned down when we get there!
They texted back a photo of a pecan pie and said at least they had dessert.
Rod and Bethany split up, with Rod going to see Matteo first and Bethany going to see Helena. Their rooms were only a few away from each other, and Bethany made a mental note to see if they could share one. It seemed fitting. That man loved that woman so much that he’d agreed to being cut open. They needed to see one another. They needed to sleep side by side.
Helena glowed in the sunshine that came in through the window by her bed. Her eyes were slits, as though she were somewhere between dreaming and real life. Bethany sat in the chair beside her, hands on her pregnant stomach. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull Helena the rest of the way into consciousness. She needed sleep above all.
But then, Helena said, her voice very small and weak, “You’re here!”
Bethany smiled. “You’re here, too. How are you feeling?”
Helena seemed woozy but happy. “They have me on some pretty good medication. I can’t feel much of anything right now.”
Bethany reached for her friend’s hand. “Dr. Scott said it went really well.”
“How is Matteo?” Helena asked, seeming not to care about her own health, not when there was Matteo to worry about.
“Rod’s with him now. But Dr. Scott said everything went well for him, too.”
Helena managed a bigger smile. Bethany had been at the bedside of so many patients by now—thousands. She’d spoken to them at length about their procedures and next steps. But it was rare for Bethany to have an emotional connection to the person in the hospital bed.
“I’m going to ask if they can move Matteo’s bed into your room,” Bethany said gently.
Helena brightened. “Is that allowed?”
Bethany laughed. “Of course. If you request something like that, you can usually make it happen. You’re together. Everyone knows that.”
“We’re not legally married or anything.”
“People get married less and less these days,” Bethany said.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Helena said. “Get married again, I mean. I always believed in marriage. My wedding to Elliott was one of the happiest days of my life. I can still say that. We had almost no money. We had a shoestring budget. But you should see our smiles in those photographs.”
Bethany smiled, imagining a much younger, healthier version of Helena. “You’ll have to show me the pictures sometime.”
“I will! But you have to show me photos of your first wedding, too. And your second.” Helena’s eyes fluttered closed, drawing her back into sleep again.