Valerie sat in silence for the rest of the trip.
"
Fletcher parked in the emergency lot and ushered Valerie past the handful of reporters staking out the area. The pair rushed up to the infant ICU before anyone had time to react. Valerie stared through the glass at the plastic box around which two nurses and a doctor hovered, gowned and masked.
"How is she?" Evelyn shouted when she saw Dr. DuQuette down the hall. DuQuette, a large, grey-bearded, pleasant-looking man, gazed at his former peer. "Platelets at twenty thousand, but only because of transfusions. Almost no white. Red being sus-tained-"
"I want another transplant. I'll get her prepped."
"I can't let you do that," DuQuette said. "Lawrence would yank me out of here, and then where would we be?"
"To hell with Lawrence," Fletcher snapped. "That baby-"
"I can handle a marrow job. You'll just have to watch out here." He gave Valerie the once-over.
"Ready?"
"Yes," Valerie said, preparing to unbutton her blouse.
"No!" Czernek's footsteps resounded in the hallway. Behind him ran Johnson and the Chandlers, catching up at the obser-vation window. Karen and David immediately looked inside, trying to get some glimpse of Renata.
Ron's eyes flashed with fierce inspiration. "We're all here. I've decided that we can come to an agreement. Out of court."
The Chandlers turned to listen, stunned apprehension grow-ing within them. Johnson spoke with caution. "Let's hear it."
Czernek took a deep breath. The sprint had been more than he had anticipated. "Either the Chandlers agree that Valerie is the legal mother and they grant us permanent, uncontested custody, or we refuse to provide the transplant. If you really want to play hardball, I called my office from the car, and they're preparing an application for a restraining order until the suit is settled. Take your pick." He smiled triumphantly at Valerie and reached out to draw her near.
Shock and agony raced through her. His words slashed at her with a blade that carved into her soul. Squirming to break free of his embrace, she stared at him in horror.
"No!" she cried. Pain and revulsion contorted her face. "That's my baby in there! She's not a hostage. I can't threaten her life that way."
"Val, I only-"
She slapped his arm away with stinging force, then turned to Dr. Fletcher.
"I paid you to kill her once and you saved her. I won't en-danger her again." Ron took another deep breath, this time to calm his own rage. "Then let me get-"
"No!" She turned her back on Ron to grasp Fletcher's arms. "When I went to you for an abortion, I signed my child's life away. You and Karen saved her. I should have given you noth-ing but thanks, and instead I tried to ruin your lives. I'm sorry." She turned to Karen and David.
"There is no lawsuit. Renata is your daughter."
"You can't do that!"
All eyes turned toward Czernek. He was not the source of the outburst, though. He was staring in silent bafflement at Johnson.
Black eyes flashing with anger, his hair disheveled, Terry looked like a madman.
"You can't give up the lawsuit," he cried, desperation sear-ing a violent edge into his voice. Fletcher and the Chandlers exchanged puzzled glances. Dr. DuQuette spoke firmly. "We've got to get her prepped."
Johnson followed Valerie and Fletcher down the hallway, the others behind him.
"If you drop this suit," he said, "there'll be no judicial deci-sion. No precedent to use in subsequent cases. We've got the chance to set that precedent. Both sides agree on what the outcome of this suit should be. Can we hope that a future land-mark case would be settled as easily?"
"Just a minute," Czernek said loudly. "Do you expect-"
"You mean you want them to proceed with the lawsuit?" Fletcher asked. "What if we lose?"
"We can't." Johnson nodded at Valerie. She stopped in the doorway to the dressing room, staring back at him. "Not if the plaintiff is on our side."
Ron reached out to turn Valerie toward him. Her cold eyes were no longer fathomable to him. He released her.
"I guess you won't be needing counsel for the rest of this." He turned to leave, then stopped. Over his shoulder, he said, "I'll wait to drive you home."
"Don't bother." Her voice held no emotion, just the flat state-ment of a fact.
XX
Evelyn watched through the observation window. Dr. DuQuette hovered over Valerie while an intent young resi-dent transferred syringes back and forth. A small team of four nurses and technologists kept their attention on the bank of monitors.
She was lucky even to be watching. Dr. Lawrence had only grudgingly allowed Fletcher into the ICU
as a personal cour-tesy to DuQuette. Lon mentioned to her, sotto voce, that he outranked Lawrence "at the lodge." It apparently had some utility at the hospital, too.
So she sat watching DuQuette aspirate the marrow from Valerie while the resident gently shoved the viscous fluid into Renata's IV tubing. Fletcher's hands unconsciously moved now and then, as if her motions could assist in the operation. She saw nothing wrong in their coordinated movements, but she felt she had the right and obligation to be in there doing it herself.
Beside her sat Karen and David, their arms, hands, and fin-gers intertwined in a clutch of fear and support. Karen flinched the first few times the thick needle rammed into Valerie's chest. After the tenth time or so, she grew accustomed to the way the doctor would raise his arm, press the aspirator against her flesh, and shove hard with a quick, powerful motion.
David observed the others at their stations in front of the monitors. He watched for some evidence in their eyes that everything was all right or getting better. What he feared most was to see a look of alarm on one of them, followed by a flurry of activity. The vignette would play over and over in his mind until he knew for certain what it would look like and what it would portend.
They stood there, though, gazing at their equipment with steady eyes. Occasionally, one's lips would move, or another would turn to call out information. DuQuette and the resident nodded, muttered back instructions. Whenever the doctor had accumulated enough marrow, the resident transferred the sy-ringe to Renata's IV tube and pushed firmly. The tubing blushed pink and then deep red. Fletcher whispered to the Chandlers, "They were finally able to get hold of some GM-CSF. That ought to speed her recovery this time around."
"How long will this take?" David asked.
"Another ten minutes or so. Renata doesn't have room for much marrow. But she can use as much as we can give her."
Karen tried to catch a glimpse of Renata. "When will we know if it works?"
"It might be another two to four weeks for the new cells to start up. Or the cells already in her may get a boost and start producing right away. We won't know." She put an arm around Karen. "It's a waiting process more than anything else. We were able to stabilize her temperature for the transplant. I mean, they were."
Renata was not her patient anymore. Sitting there behind a glass wall, unable to participate or even to hear, she could only use her knowledge of medicine to determine that all was going well. She used that knowledge to keep Karen and David informed. It was the best that she could do. It was something.
"
Valerie dreamt. Images raced past her. Or was she running past images of children? A lost legion of children staring mutely, captured in some halfway state between life and death. Crys-tallized, frozen in time.
The lines and ranks of them spread forever, their weight threatening to crush the earth. At the same time, Valerie felt that their tiny shoulders could support the world, their young arms could lift it to new heights. She couldn't decide which it was to be. She only knew that they could not stand immobile forever. And she couldn't run forever.