Chapter Two
Every day, when Amanda Kozlov drove past the slightly imposing gates with the sign marked PRIVATE PROPERTY, up the long driveway to the front of the elegant, contemporary estate, she had to steel her heart a bit before going inside. Charles Harrison III, his wife, Lisette, and their four children lived in such a magnificent mansion, and were such a loving family, it was hard to think of it as a sad place. But these days, it was.
For fourteen months, she’d been a private nurse for their younger son, Myles. She went to the mansion five days a week to attend to his needs. She knew she wasn’t supposed to get attached to her patients, but she adored him. Now twelve, he was just starting to shed his boyishness for tween-dom, but his sweet blue eyes and vibrant nature still shone with childlike optimism despite his harrowing situation. He’d been fighting valiantly for almost a year and a half now.
She parked her six-year-old Honda Civic at the far space in the wide driveway and grabbed her bag from the passenger seat. It was a gray, overcast morning, and a harsh gust of wind lifted her hair from her shoulders and flung it into her face. With a grunt of annoyance, she rummaged through her bag for an elastic. Quickly, she pulled her long, dark blond hair back and secured it into a ponytail.
The early April air was still cold, with no hint of spring yet, and carried the salty scent of the nearby Long Island Sound. The Harrison property boasted a grand front yard and a wide, grassy backyard that sloped down directly onto a strip of sand and the water. On clear days, Connecticut was easily visible across the calm waters of the Sound.
This job had taken up most of her life. Amanda had never been with a home care patient for so long before Myles Harrison, and the boy had a hold on her heart. It wasn’t as if she had a family of her own, or a boyfriend. She hadn’t gone on any dates since she’d ended her last relationship ten months ago. Dating wasn’t even on her radar these days; the truth was, it’d been both a comfort and a necessity to drown in her work.
She knew she was lucky to have a job in such a lovely town, in a lovely home, with a genuinely lovely family. Sandy Point was one of the wealthiest communities in New York state, and the Harrison family—not just Charles and his clan, but his father, sister, and two brothers—was one of the wealthiest, most powerful families in the country. But all the money and power in the world wasn’t helping young Myles Harrison beat non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. So far, he’d held his own, but it had dug its terrifying claws into him and wouldn’t let go.
Amanda had been by his side as he’d gone through chemo and radiation, which unfortunately hadn’t worked. All of the Harrisons, from the older patriarch to the baby cousins, had been tested as viable bone marrow donors, to no avail. Not one of the clan had been a match. Desperate, Charles had recently taken the step of going to the national bone marrow registry. And then a miracle had happened: a viable match had been found, just a week ago. All Amanda knew was the donor lived in Florida, had agreed to the procedure, and would be flying to New York shortly to start pre-testing.
It was overwhelming, the hope that surged through her. If this worked, it would save Myles’s life. But if it didn’t work . . . Amanda’s heart skipped a beat and she swatted the thought away, a willful mental karate kick. To think of the alternative was just too devastating.
Head down against the wind, she rang the front doorbell and glanced at her watch. She was always on time, and it soothed her to see it was 12:57 PM. Her daily shift was every afternoon/evening, from one to nine. As she waited, she thought of them.
The Harrisons weren’t just courteous; they were generous. They paid her exceedingly well, which she suspected they did to keep her in their employ. They liked and trusted her. From a purely business standpoint, that was a smart move, and she knew Charles Harrison III was an excellent businessman. Amanda guessed he was willing to do whatever necessary to keep her with them for as long as they needed her. And if that meant paying top dollar, even on the days she did practically nothing, that’s what he’d decided to do.
She was grateful for the maximum wages, but she honestly took pleasure in caring for Myles. He was such a great kid, sweet and funny, and she liked the whole family too, which often wasn’t the case. They all showed her their gratitude and expressed their appreciation on a regular basis, more than any of her other patients ever had. That alone made them more than worth her time and efforts, and she was glad to be part of the team.
There were two other private nurses. Christine was there every weekday from 7 AM to 1 PM, and Alisha came on the weekends if Myles wasn’t feeling well. Amanda had wondered more than once if it was necessary, having private nurses there almost around the clock. But Charles and Lisette were worried out of their minds about their son and certainly had the funds, so they could do this, and why not? Their other kids needed them too: Ava, the oldest, was fifteen; Thomas was thirteen and a half; and little Charlotte was only five and a half. Myles and his two older siblings had been the products of Charles’s first marriage, while Charlotte was his and Lisette’s child.
Vanessa, Myles’s biological mother, lived in L.A. She came to visit once a month for two or three days, but apparently just couldn’t handle her son being so critically ill. She wasn’t around much; it was Lisette who’d stepped in and been the rock that boy needed. She was the one who now opened the heavy front door to let Amanda in, offering a small grin.
“Hi, it’s good to see you,” Lisette said, giving Amanda a light kiss on the cheek in greeting as always. She tried to smile, but Amanda noticed it didn’t reach her dark eyes. Lisette’s hands fluttered, fidgeting with the end of her thick, dark braid. “Myles is in his room. He’s tired today, and moody. . . . I think maybe he’s nervous about what’s coming, now that we found a donor. I’m not sure. I’m just glad you’re here.”
Amanda knew Lisette well enough by now to be able to hear what she hadn’t said. He’s tired and moody plus I’m glad you’re here equaled I’m worried because he seems off today.
“I’ll go right upstairs,” Amanda said.
“Thank you. I’ll bring you a drink. Would you like water, coffee, tea . . . ?”
“Water would be fine, thanks.” Amanda took a few steps across the polished hardwood floor of the foyer, headed for the grand spiral staircase. As she made her way up the stairs, she thought about what she might say to Myles to calm his fears and reassure him.
She sighed deeply. Nothing was guaranteed, and she knew that. A bone marrow transplant was no walk through the park, but this was Myles’s best shot at beating his illness.
* * *
Later that night, after a relaxing bubble bath, Amanda got into her softest pajamas, the turquoise fleece a comfort, and put on her fleece socks to shuffle around her small apartment. Her roommate wasn’t home, for which she was grateful. She liked Gretchen just fine; she just liked having the place to herself more. They were both nurses, but Gretchen worked in maternity, doing the night shifts. With such different schedules, they rarely saw each other. Amanda usually got home about an hour before Gretchen left.
Now she poured herself a glass of Rioja and headed for bed. She didn’t have the mental focus to read tonight; she’d scroll on Facebook for a while instead. Her bed was cozy as she sat up in the dark, the light from her phone harshly bright in the darkness. A few sips in and ten minutes later, her phone dinged—the group text thread with her two best friends since the seventh grade.
My kids are driving me batshit crazy tonight, Steph said. NEED. WINE.
Amanda laughed, took a quick selfie of herself holding her half-full glass, and sent it. Here you go, mama. I’m a step ahead of you.
One glass won’t do it, Steph wrote. I need the whole bottle.
Amanda laughed again. That bad?
Their father thought it’d be fun to take them out for ice cream, Steph texted. At 7:00 at night. Dumbass. They’re all sugared up, they’ll never go to sleep.
Amanda checked the time. It was ten-thirty. Jesus, they must be really wired.
I gave up. I told Todd he could put them to bed, since he did this. I’m hiding in the bathroom. I locked the door.
Amanda couldn’t help but giggle. I’ll smuggle you the wine through the window.
I wish you could!!! Steph wrote back.
I’m here, I’m here, came Roni’s text at last. Not ignoring y’all. On a date.
What? Spill! Amanda wrote back quickly. Roni, a lawyer who dealt with international finance, lived in New York City. Steph had married her college sweetheart at twenty-five; she lived with her husband and two kids in Connecticut. Amanda hadn’t gone on even one date since breaking up with Justin. She and Steph lived vicariously through Roni’s busy dating life. Another Tinder guy?
Nope, Roni wrote. Worse. Blind date through a coworker. Why am I here?
To amuse us and keep us entertained, Steph wrote.
He just went to the bathroom, Roni texted. Is it bad that I don’t really care if he comes back or not?
Going that well, huh? Amanda wrote.
Is he nice, at least? Steph asked.
Yes. Very nice. To the point of boring, Roni texted. I’m falling asleep in my soup. But he’s cute, so I’ll need to kiss him to know if I’ll see him again. Could go either way.
You’re ruthless, Amanda wrote.
I prefer to think of it as pragmatic, Roni answered.
The three of them talked for a few more minutes before signing off. Amanda didn’t even realize she’d finished her wine. She was cozy as could be in her bed, but made herself get up to brush her teeth. When she flopped back into bed, she realized she felt a little better. She smiled to herself as she burrowed further beneath the covers.
Wine helped, for sure. Her friends helped, always. Steph, with her suburban stay-at-home-mom life, and Roni, with her fast-paced, high-stress lawyer life. Steph loved being home with her kids. Roni loved the high stakes of her career. Amanda . . . well, her life was pretty quiet these days. Which was fine, even though she’d boxed herself into a routine. And what was worse, for now, she didn’t really care to change things up. Myles Harrison was about to get a whole lot sicker before he got better, and the anguish of that would be all she’d be able to handle for a while. Her own fault for getting so emotionally attached to her patient.
It was safer to be alone. Safer to come home and know her days, and have no surprises, and just push through. Being safe was boring sometimes, but she didn’t like to think about the alternative too much. She’d done exciting and ended up hurt. She’d taken a few risks before and they had left her reeling. Safe was better. Excitement and contentment . . . were for other people.