Maryse reached for Sabine’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Sabine closed her eyes and focused on breathing. Any moment, Dr. Breaux would walk through his office door, sit down at the desk across from them, and give her the news. After Helena’s appearance at her shop, Sabine hoped she was ready for what Dr. Breaux would say.
When the abnormalities had appeared four times before, Dr. Breaux had always called her with the good news. The fact that he’d asked her to see him in person coupled with her new ability to hear Helena Henry had the acid in her stomach working overtime. If more people could see or hear the shameless specter, antacid company profits—or alcohol sales, depending on preference—would shoot through the roof.
Sabine hadn’t even thought about Helena being the Angel of Death, until Maryse had pointed out the timing of Helena’s appearance and Maryse’s run for her life. Even though Sabine had always wanted to have a paranormal experience, if Helena Henry was the only option, she’d just pass altogether. A nice, boring job at the bank posting deposits and counting pennies would be preferable.
“It’s going to be fine,” Maryse said, and Sabine knew her friend was trying as hard to convince herself as she was Sabine.
“Uh huh.” Sabine opened her eyes and took a deep breath, not at all convinced. “And what about the Helena factor?”
“It’s just a coincidence…a fluke. Luc hasn’t been able to see or hear her since that night she sent him to save me.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“We didn’t know it, either, until she showed up at the café this morning while we were having breakfast and Luc never noticed her, not even when I pointed her out. Probably you’ll never hear her again, much less ever see her.”
“And if I do?”
Maryse sighed. “I’ll pray for you. I mean really pray…down on my knees, begging for mercy sort of praying. I’ll even do it in church and wear a dress.”
Sabine smiled. She would almost pay to see the very skeptical and comfort-loving Maryse begging God for relief, wearing a dress and heels—if it didn’t require Helena Henry appearing to prompt the action.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Sabine said.
Maryse was about to reply when Dr. Breaux walked into the office. He gave both of them a nod and took a seat behind his desk. “I wanted this meeting with you to discuss the results of your latest tests.” He looked at Maryse, then back at Sabine. “I’m afraid the news is not good.”
Sabine sucked in a breath, unable to ask the question that raced through her mind.
“I’m so sorry to tell you, Sabine…you have acute myeloid leukemia. Now, as far as leukemia goes, this is the best one to have. Seventy percent or more of patients go into remission after treatment, and unless the leukemia returns, they go on to have long, productive lives.”
Sabine blew out the breath she’d been holding, and her eyes blurred as she was overcome with dizziness. This can’t be happening. She leaned all the way forward, trying to breathe, as the room began to spin. She felt Maryse’s hand on her back, but somehow the touch seemed surreal, as if in a dream. It’s astral projection. I don’t have a paranormal ounce of blood in my veins and yet today I’ve heard a ghost and projected my spirit out of my body. She dragged in a deep breath and tried to focus. You’re losing it, Sabine.
“Sabine,” Maryse’s voice cut into her labored breathing. “Do you need me to get you something…a cup of water…?”
Sabine lifted back up to a reasonable position, her head still spinning. “No, I’ll be fine. At least, I think I will.”
“Of course you will!” Maryse’s hand tightened on hers and her friend leaned forward in her chair, an intent look on her face. “Do we know what caused this?”
Dr. Breaux shook his head. “I don’t have any way of knowing for sure. It could be a result of the chemical dumping you discovered going on in the bayou, or it could be completely unrelated.”
Unbelievable. Sabine wanted to scream with the injustice of it all. All her life, she’d been so careful—no coffee, no substitute sweeteners, no diet sodas, no smoking…all the things that might cause cancer. Aside from her occasional glass of wine, she didn’t have any vices to speak of. And now there was a chance she’d contracted the horrible disease from picking flowers on the bayou.
Sabine looked over at Maryse and saw the fright on her friend’s face, plain as day. Oh, she was trying to hide it, but Sabine knew better. Inside, Maryse was on the verge of a heart attack. Sabine drew in a deep breath and looked at Dr. Breaux. “And the treatment?”
Dr. Breaux sat back in his chair and sighed. “Begins with chemotherapy. If we don’t achieve the desired effect, we add radiation therapy to prevent the disease from moving into the brain and central nervous system.”
“That sounds harsh,” Sabine said.
“You’re only twenty-eight and in good health. I’m not saying the treatments will be easy, but you are in the best of possible shape to handle them.”
Sabine swallowed. “And if that doesn’t work?”
“A bone marrow transplant is always an option,” Dr. Breaux said and gave them a pained look. “Unfortunately, the most successful match for a treatment like this is a close relative.”
Sabine clutched the arms of her chair until her fingers ached. A relative? Could this situation get any worse? Sabine’s parents had died in a car accident when she was just an infant. A distant great-aunt on her mother’s side of the family had raised her, but no amount of searching, either through earthly channels or paranormal, had yielded any information at all about Sabine’s father or any other relatives of Sabine’s mother. She might as well be searching for the fountain of youth.
Dr. Breaux cleared his throat. “I know your greataunt is dead, Sabine, but I looked into things, hoping to find another relative—at least on your mom’s side.”
Sabine shook her head. “I’ve already looked, Dr. Breaux. You know I’ve exhausted every channel.”
Dr. Breaux nodded. “I know you’ve exhausted all of your available channels, but sometimes if one is, um, creative, one might find information by matching medical records.”
Sabine stared at Dr. Breaux. “So did you find someone?”
“Yes,” Dr. Breaux said. “Your aunt had a nephew.”
Sabine straightened in her chair. “A nephew? How is that possible? I asked, over and over again, and she always denied having any family at all.”
Dr. Breaux looked down at his desk for a moment, then back up at Sabine. “My guess is she didn’t want people to know.”
“Who is it?” Sabine asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Dr. Breaux sighed. “Harold Henry.”
“Jesus H. Christ!” Maryse jumped up from her chair. “Harold Henry? Are you kidding me?”
“I’m afraid not,” Dr. Breaux replied.
“I’m related to Harold Henry?” Sabine asked in dismay.
Maryse slumped back into her chair. “Not that it matters. Harold won’t work. Even if he wasn’t in jail and he agreed to do it—which would never happen—he’s old and has fifty million things wrong with him. High blood pressure, heart problems, and God knows what else.”
“I agree,” Dr. Breaux said. “Harold wouldn’t be a very good choice, even if he was a match.” He hesitated for a moment, obviously not wanting to say the next thing on his mind. “But Hank might be. You’re the same blood type, anyway, so that’s a start.”
Maryse groaned and covered her head with her hands. Harold and Helena’s son, Hank Henry, her ex-and always-disappearing husband, made professional illusionists look like amateurs with his ability to vanish into thin air.
“And there’s no other way?” Sabine asked, starting to feel more than a little desperate. “Can’t we look for another match, outside of my family?”
“Of course we can look,” Dr. Breaux said. “I’ve already started the process, but I don’t have to tell you the odds of finding a perfect match outside of a family member or the odds of success with anything less than a perfect match. I want the best possible odds.”
Sabine nodded. “I understand. So what do we need to do now?”
Dr. Breaux picked up her file. “We’ll start the chemo right away. There’s an opening next week if you can arrange it. If there’s any chance you can locate another family member…just in case…”
Sabine sighed. “I’ve been searching for my family since I was old enough to read, Dr. Breaux. Unless there’s a miracle, I don’t see it happening now when it hasn’t all these years.”
Dr. Breaux gave her a sad nod. “I understand, Sabine.”
“But we’ll be happy to try again,” Maryse said. “Hank can’t hide forever, and maybe it’s time to try less traditional methods.” Maryse stared at Sabine, obviously trying to communicate more than her words. “Who knows, something might appear now that didn’t before.”
Helena! Well, it was certainly a less than traditional route, and God help them both—it was the best idea Sabine had heard in years.