The Gift Ch. 01-05

Dear readers, remember me?

I'm back after a hiatus, now married and living in the US. The last two-and-a-half years have been a whirlwind, not leaving me with the time or the opportunity for what I love best: writing stories. A lot of you emailed me asking if I was still writing, but I couldn't respond because I briefly lost access to many of my email accounts. I'm sorry about that.

This is my first story set in the US. I wrote this on a whim, because I was itching to get back. The chapters are small— I know many of you aren't fond of 'long' short stories! I hope you enjoy it, and even if you don't...well, at least you know I'm still here!

I hope you're all well.

Love,

~LG

xXx

Chapter 1

It was midnight when Chris's phone rang. He raised his eyes from the laptop, scanning the desk to locate his phone. It wasn't unusual for him to stay awake till late in the night, reading or writing. Over the years, it had become his nightly habit to do some reading or writing before going to bed. As a child, he had seen his dad spend long hours at his desk, reading or writing. To little Chris, it used to seem like the most tedious job in the world, where you had to sit at a desk all day. Growing up in a house in the woods, he wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by nature, fishing, chasing after wild ducks and climbing trees. That was also what he wanted to do as a grown-up.

And now, here he was, sitting at a desk and writing books, just like his dad. There was so much that people still didn't know about animals, and he considered it his responsibility to educate them. Writing wasn't that bad, after all. And being blessed with his father's genes meant all his books were well-received by readers. One of the most prestigious magazines of the country had requested him to write the cover story for their 25th anniversary issue, and Chris had been trying to come up with the right subject for a story.

The phone had been ringing for almost one minute when he finally answered. The female voice on the other end seemed a little panicked.

"I thought you would never answer," she half-scolded him. "You weren't sleeping, were you?"

"It doesn't matter anymore, does it?" he smiled. "What's the matter, Clara?"

"Well, there's a small emergency at the hospital," she said, her voice a mixture of nervousness and hesitation. "I guess we need you to come down here as soon as possible."

"But what's wrong?" he asked, perplexed.

"Will you come here at once, please?" she screeched. "It's urgent."

"Alright." He saved the unfinished document on the laptop and pushed the chair back. "Give me ten minutes. I'll be there."

Clara hung up, sounding a little relieved after his assurance. Chris got out of his pajamas and changed into a pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt—the first clothes he could grab. He slipped into his half-done boots and jacket hanging on the rack in the foyer and grabbed his car keys before leaving the house.

It was almost the end of September, but the sleet on the ground made it seem like the mid of December. As a child, Chris had loved winter. But as a 36-year-old veterinarian, it was only an inconvenience. Someone's dog could die while he was trying to prevent his wheels from skidding on the wet, slippery street.

He reached the animal hospital within a few minutes. It was the biggest veterinary hospital in Chicago, and possibly one of the best in the country. Chris had been working there his entire adult life, first under his mentor, and later as owner and medical director. Although the place remained crowded the whole day, at that time of the night it was mostly vacant and quiet. The few cars in the parking lot belonged to the staff members who worked night shifts. Chris knew every car there, except one—a pink Volkswagen Beetle. He was almost tempted to ask Clara, his vet technician, if she'd got a new car.

But Clara didn't have time to talk. The moment he met her after changing into his smock, the pale blonde girl grabbed him by his arm and almost dragged him to the emergency room.

"Will you please tell me what's happening?" he said, even as he pulled his hair back. "Is there a patient?"

"Of course there's a patient!" she screeched again. "Why do you act like a dumb five-year-old sometimes?"

"I'm only wondering what is going on," he said. Clara pushed open the door of the treatment room, where Chris's team was hunched over a black-and-white cat on the table. They looked up when Chris entered, Clara offering him his mask and gloves.

"This is Cleo," she explained. "She was brought in a while ago because she hasn't eaten in two days. She's also been losing weight and fur at an alarming rate over the last few weeks."

"And you got this information from...?" Chris asked, even as the other technicians moved aside to let him examine the animal.

"Her mom. She's in the waiting room."

"Why is she in the waiting room?"

"Because she seems kind of shaken," Clara said. "She didn't want to interrupt our work."

Chris examined the listless cat on the table, various machines attached to her limbs and neck. The fluids and IVs didn't seem to be doing much. Her heart rate was also faint. It was a Turkish Angora, but fluffier than usual. Even with the loss of fur, there was still plenty left.

"We've sent for blood works," Jane explained before Chris could ask. "The report should be here shortly."

"What do you think is wrong?" Clara asked.

Chris lifted his head and pulled his mask down. "We need an ultrasound," he announced. "Jane, bring her to the exam room, please."

Five minutes later, Jane was shaving the areas to be scanned on the cat, while Chris instructed Clara and the other technicians to perform the scan. He went into the laboratory in the meanwhile to get the report of the blood works. When he was handed the report, Chris only nodded in understanding. It was just what he had suspected.

Back in the exam room, he watched as the transducer was used on the body of the cat to examine the inside of the body. He instructed Jane to scan over the kidneys, liver, pancreas, spleen, stomach, intestines and bladder, while Clara entered the images and measurements into their medical chart. Chris also suggested the use of color doppler to see blood flow to and from the organs. After staring at the monitor for a few minutes, he left the exam room to wander into the waiting room next door, which was unsurprisingly vacant, except for a dark-haired woman near the window, clad in a long black jacket and ankle boots. Chris slowly approached her, careful to not startle her.

When he cleared his throat, the woman turned, her green eyes sparkling. She was about a foot shorter than him, Chris guessed, at around 5'5". Even though he was tempted to stare at her flawless creamy skin and her lustrous brown hair, he was distracted by the tear in the corner of her eye. She quickly lifted a finger to wipe it away.

"Did you bring in the cat?" he finally asked. She nodded.

"I'm Dr. Christopher Benson," he extended a hand and a smile. The woman appeared surprised for a minute, and in the silence that followed, Chris realized she wasn't going to shake his hand.

"You are Dr. Benson?" she asked, her eyebrows upright. He withdrew his hand and nodded, even as her gaze rolled from his head down to his shoes.

"And you are?"

She sighed, her eyes lowering. "Luciana," she said quietly. "Luciana Russo."

She lifted her gaze again to stare at him. "She won't live, right?"

Chris couldn't help his eyes going wide for a moment. Most people wanted them to sugarcoat the truth. Losing a pet was often as painful as losing a parent, and they always tried to break it to the family as gently as possible. But this time, he had a feeling he wouldn't need to be so gentle.

"Would you like to sit?" he nodded at the row of benches at the end of the room. Luciana quietly followed him to one of the benches and sat next to him.

"What makes you think she won't live?" he asked her.

"She hasn't been well the last few months, after she had a bad tooth extracted," she answered, her head low as she played with the straps of her purse. "The anesthetics, the heavy pain medications... they didn't go down well."

"How old is she?"

"Almost eleven." She cast him a fleeting glance. "I knew it was over when she refused the shrimps—her favorite food."

"Is that when you decided to bring her here?" he asked, leaning forward and placing his elbows against his knees.

"No. It's when she started to drink from her water bowl like she hadn't drunk in years. She has only touched her water bowl twice in ten years." She tucked her hair behind her ear, and swallowed slowly. "The vet who usually sees her isn't available right now. His wife is having a baby."

"May I know the name of the vet?" he said, cocking his head to a side. He knew almost all veterinarians in the state.

"Dr. Bob Vickman," she replied. Chris sat upright, surprise sliding on to his face.

"You live in Wisconsin?" he asked.

"Yes. Madison."

"You drove all the way here from Madison? At this time of the night?"

She shrugged. "It isn't that far. I do it all the time."

Instead of pressing any further, Chris decided to focus on the patient. "Would you like to know what's wrong with your cat?" he asked, unfolding the paper in his hand. Luciana looked at him but didn't nod.

"She has enlarged kidneys," he continued, looking at the report. "To be precise, one of her kidneys is larger than the other, and it's leaking protein into her urine." He paused, folding the paper again. "We ran an ultrasound on her. She's going to need IV dialysis."

When she didn't respond, Chris looked at her face. "Did you know she had bad kidneys?"

"Yes. It was discovered during the tooth extraction." She leaned back on the bench and looked away. "I guess, the antibiotics didn't work after all."

"How long has she been under treatment?"

"About three months. She had more good days than bad, though."

"We aren't sure what's caused the renal failure but I'm certain it isn't the tooth infection." He rose from the bench, putting the sheet of paper inside the pocket of his smock. "She needs to be here for a while," he said. "Once her kidney values are a bit stable, we are going to perform further tests."

He looked down at her, suddenly wishing she weren't all alone there. It was going to be hard.

"Is there anywhere you can stay for the night?" he asked hesitantly. "There's not much for you to do at the moment."

"It's alright," she said. "I'll stay."

Chris nodded, walking back to the exam room.

---

Chapter 2

Cleo was dying. Twenty-four hours ago that thought would have seemed ludicrous. But right now, in this empty waiting room, it seemed more real than ever.

Luciana had no idea how long she had been there. Looking out the window, she saw the sky faintly lit up by the sun that still hadn't shown itself. The fine sheet of sleet on the ground was starting to melt, leaving small puddles in places. She looked back at the hallway, waiting for some news of her beloved companion of ten years.

Cleo had come to her as an eight-week-old kitten, and been her best friend and sidekick ever since. It was a little over a year after she moved to Madison; she had just finished college and was looking for a new job, and Cleo needed a home. She had adopted her without second thoughts, even if that meant an extra $30 in rent and a few hundred extra in food.

Little did she know that the tiny kitten would never leave her side for the next decade. Fluffy, calm, and food-loving, Cleo was the most docile cat she had ever seen, and she had seen a lot of cats in her lifetime. She was so ridiculously placid that Luciana could pop her under her arm and squeeze her or wear her like a deerstalker on her head. Her demeanor made everyone from strangers to her friends adore her. From her first job to her first home, Cleo had been there to witness it all. She had been more present and constant in her life than any other human. They grew up together.

Her phone vibrated inside the pocket of her jacket, almost jolting her out of her skin. She reached a hand in and fished it out, steeling herself when she found her brother's name flashing on the screen.

"Lu?" The deep male voice sounded concerned. "Where are you? I'm sorry I couldn't text you back last night. I was in the middle of something."

"I'm in Chicago," she said, clamping her knees together and placing her elbows against them. "Cleo's terminal."

"You're in Chicago? And what's wrong with Cleo?"

"Elijah." She sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm too tired to talk right now."

"Where are you?"

"At the animal hospital in uptown Chicago."

"Oh." There was a short pause. "I'll be there in a while."

"Thanks," she said, her voice thick with exhaustion after not having slept in over a day. When she put the phone back inside her coat pocket, she found two janitors entering the room, probably to clean the place before the day began. Luciana hadn't moved from there ever since she arrived. Besides the two times she'd used the restroom, she hadn't gone anywhere else. Her eyes had been trained on the hallway, which led to the exam room and the treatment room, where she knew Cleo was.

She dropped her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. She was tired enough to doze off but knew she wouldn't be able to, not when her best friend was going to leave her soon.

The thought made her eyes well up.

The sound of footsteps made her open her eyes. She saw Dr. Benson walking down the hallway towards her.

She tried to not stare. When she had been referred to Dr. Chris Benson, she hadn't the faintest idea that he looked like a Norse god with a weird British accent. Not that it was a bad thing, but with his tall, broad structure, deep blue eyes and almost shoulder-length blonde hair, he didn't look much like an ordinary human, least of all, a veterinarian.

Luciana rose from the bench, her eyes not leaving his gaze. When he stopped a few inches away from her, she noticed his somber expression.

"Cleo's kidney values are slightly lower now," he announced, his eyes still locked with hers. "But a needle aspirate has found the actual cause of the renal failure."

"What is it?" she asked, even though she knew she didn't want to hear it. She shivered inwardly and pulled her arms around herself.

Chris remained silent for a minute, before handing her a bunch of papers. Luciana hesitantly accepted it, although her eyes searched his face.

"What are these?" she asked.

"Cleo's biopsy report," he said. "She has renal lymphoma."

Luciana stared wide-eyed at him, her mouth slightly parted. "Cancer?" she shrieked. "Cleo has...cancer?"

He nodded, slipping his hands inside the pockets of his smock. "I'm sorry," he said. "This isn't what we had hoped for either."

Luciana sank in the bench again, her grip loosening. Chris took the papers from her hand before they dropped to the ground. He thought she'd cry but she didn't.

"Are you alone?" he finally asked. "Please tell me you have friends or family members who can be with you. I don't want you to face what is to follow all alone."

She turned to look at his face. "What is to follow?" she said, her voice breaking.

Chris looked around him. The janitors had almost finished cleaning up and patients would be pouring in soon. The quiet waiting room would turn into a crowded, raucous place.

"I think we should come to my office and talk," he said, rolling the papers in his hand. "Are you alright? Do you need some water?"

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm waiting for my brother."

"Your brother?"

"Yes, me." The door of the waiting room opened, and a police officer of 40 strode in. Standing at around 5'10", lean and well-built with a neat French beard, he was fit in every sense of the word. That, and a little intimidating with the handcuffs and gun. The janitors stared for a moment, before leaving the room promptly. "Hi Chris," he extended a hand towards him.

"Elijah," he smiled in recognition as he shook the hand offered to him. "It's...it's strange to see you here. I didn't know you were her brother."

"Yeah, not many people do." He looked over at his sister, who hadn't risen from the bench yet. "What's going on with Cleo?"

"How do you know each other?" Luciana finally spoke.

"We're neighbors, Lu," Elijah explained. "The stone house next to mine? That's his."

"Oh." She rose to her feet, and Elijah put an arm around her. Chris smiled.

"I'm glad you're here," he said. "Shall we go into my office and talk?"

Ten minutes later, they were seated in Chris's office, where he explained what feline renal lymphoma was. Luciana wasn't sure she was listening at all. She only knew that she wouldn't be leaving the hospital with Cleo alive and well. Chris stopped talking and looked at her face when she absently swiped the edge of her eyes with her index finger and found it slick with tears. Chris pushed the box of tissues towards her.

"I'm fine," she said.

"You haven't listened to a word of what I said," he shook his head. "You can go home and rest. You are visibly stressed."

"How long does Cleo have?"

Chris glanced at Elijah and leaned back in his chair, heaving a deep sigh. "Less than six weeks, even with the most rigorous treatment," he said. "Renal lymphoma is the worst disease a cat can have."

Luciana seemed to process that information. "What does treatment involve?"

"Steroids and chemotherapy," he replied. "But I'm afraid, Cleo isn't strong enough for either. Her kidneys aren't functioning anyway, she is eschewing food, and she isn't capable of human interaction anymore."

"I told you she wouldn't live," she said, her gaze low. Chris leaned forward on the table.

"If she had regular renal failure, she'd still have a high chance of survival with treatment," he explained. "But she has cancer, and she's a small cat. She will not survive even one dose of steroid or radiation."

"So you are suggesting....?" Elijah trailed off, not able to say the word. Chris's face darkened.

"No," he said. "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm merely stating the facts, helping you make a choice."

"She is in pain, isn't she?" Luciana asked. Her gaze seemed listless and empty, her voice small and distant. A trickle of tear had dried on her cheek, glistening against her pale skin. "I never wanted her to be in pain. I thought I was always good to her."

"I believe you've been good to her," Chris nodded reassuringly. "I know a good parent when I see one. You wouldn't have driven 150 miles in rain and sleet in the middle of the night to get her to the hospital if you weren't good to her. But you have to make a choice now."

He reached across the table and instinctively placed his hand on hers. Luciana shivered at the contact, enough to make him realize he was touching a woman he hardly knew. He promptly withdrew his hand.

"It isn't about being good to her anymore," he added. "It's about what's best for her."

Luciana briefly glanced at her brother, torn and heartbroken. Elijah put an arm around her but said nothing. There was nothing to say anymore.

"So it's either six weeks of pain and suffering or a peaceful end?" she spoke around the lump in her throat. Then she slowly raised her eyes to meet his gaze. "Can I hold her, for the last time?"

Chris stared at her for a minute, as if to ascertain he heard her right. "So...you're choosing to let her go?" he asked. The words stung every time he had to ask that to the family of a patient. He steeled his grip around the pen in his hand when Luciana nodded.

"Are you sure?" Elijah asked. "There's no going back."

"Either way, I will never be able to take her back home," she croaked. "I don't want her to suffer. I want her to be at peace."