Chapter 5 - Clouded Skies
Z
The private hangar was silent save for the low hum of the twin-engine jet's auxiliary power unit. A private flight nurse in navy scrubs met us at the tarmac, gently helping Tony lift Lily onto a leather reclining seat that had been converted into a plush daybed, fitted with a soft fleece blanket and a portable oxygen concentrator.
Lily fell asleep before the plane even pulled out onto the taxiway, her hand resting over her small stuffed mouse.
The cabin was plush—leather seats, dark wood paneling, the quiet luxury of a world I had never belonged to. Robert sat three rows back, staring out the oval window at the tarmac, looking frail and isolated. Tony sat across from me, his hands folded in his lap, staring down at his worn work boots.
"You hate me," Tony said quietly, the hum of the engines muffling his voice so it didn't reach Robert or Lily.
I looked out the window as the plane lifted off, watching the palm trees and ocean shore of Florida shrink into tiny green and blue patches.
"I don't hate you, Tony," I said, my voice hollow. "I hate that you lied to me. I hate that you made me feel like we were a team, when all along you were making secret calls behind my back."
"I was desperate, Claire!" Tony hissed softly, leaning forward, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "Do you know what it felt like to watch you sell your mother's bracelet? Do you know what it felt like to work 18-hour days, fixing septic tanks and broken air conditioners, knowing that even if I worked myself to death, I still couldn't afford to take my daughter to see the ocean before she dies?"
He slammed a fist softly against his thigh.
"My pride didn't matter anymore, Claire! Your grudge didn't matter! The only thing that mattered was giving Lily what she wanted! If I had to make a deal with the devil himself to get her to Florida, I would have done it a thousand times over!"
I looked at him, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, the gray hairs that had appeared around his temples over the last year, the calluses on his hands from trying to hold our world together.
"He isn't the devil, Tony," I whispered, glancing back toward Robert. "That's the worst part. He's just a broken old man who ruined his own life, and now he's trying to buy a piece of ours before time runs out."
"Does it matter?" Tony asked. "Look at her."
He pointed to Lily. She was sleeping peacefully, her breathing steady under the gentle puff of the oxygen cannula, a small smile on her lips as she dreamt. No airport security lines. No cold metal terminal chairs. No exposure to germs in a packed commercial cabin.
"He gave her this," Tony said quietly. "Whatever his motives were, he gave her this."
Before I could answer, the nurse stepped forward from the small galley, checking Lily’s heart monitor. She frowned slightly, tapping the screen.
"Is something wrong?" I immediately sat up straight, every maternal alarm bell ringing in my head.
"Her oxygen saturation dropped a bit," the nurse said calmly, adjusting the dial on the wall unit. "It's normal with altitude changes, but I want to keep a close eye on it. We're going to step up the flow rate."
Robert stood up from his seat, stepping into the aisle, his face pale with alarm. "Is she alright? Do we need to land?"
"She's stable for now, sir," the nurse reassured him. "Just resting."
Robert lingered in the aisle, looking down at Lily. He slowly reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick yellow envelope. He didn't look at Tony or me; he just set it gently on the small table between our seats.
"What is this?" I asked.
"Adam’s trust fund," Robert said, his voice barely above a whisper. "When Adam turned eighteen, I set up an estate for him. After he died... it just sat there. Growing. It has over two million dollars in it."
I stared at the envelope as if it were a coiled snake. "We don't want your money, Robert."
"It's not for you, Claire," Robert said, his eyes flashing with a sudden, fierce intensity. "And it's not a payoff. There is a specialized pediatric oncology research center in Boston. They are running a phase-three trial for refractory leukemia. It costs half a million dollars just to get on the compassionate use list because the therapy is custom-manufactured from the patient's own T-cells."
My heart gave a violent, painful thud. Dr. Patel had mentioned the Boston trial two months ago, but he had dismissed it immediately—it wasn't covered by our state insurance, and the out-of-pocket costs were astronomical. We hadn't even let ourselves dream about it.
"Dr. Patel said the Boston trial was closed," Tony said, standing up, his voice trembling.
"It was closed," Robert said. "I bought two spots on the board of the foundation that funds the lab yesterday morning. Lily has a spot. The transport plane is cleared to fly directly to Boston Logan instead of Ohio if you sign the consent forms in that envelope."
I stared at Robert, my mind spinning out of control. Drama, manipulation, money, salvation, betrayal—it was all swirling together into a blinding hurricane.
May you like
"You did this without asking us?" I gasped.
"I am dying, Claire," Robert said, tears brimming in his old eyes once more. "I have no time for etiquette. Do you want to fight with me about the past, or do you want to save our girl?"
