No Greater Love (21 page)

“I think Carl would like that.” Pieter moved his feet restlessly in the dark drawing room. “The babies . . . do you think?”

“Come, my love,” Janan linked her arm through his and led him to the small room under the stairs where she watched Pieter sink to his knees between the two baskets.

Chapter 19

The usual grayness of a late-January morning was lightened by a moment of sunshine and Pieter, standing alone on the steps of the Registrar’s Office, lifted his face in thanks.
A good omen for a new life,
he thought
as he watched a taxi pull up in front of the steps. Just as Crispin and Ann Marie stepped out, he saw Dirk bounding around the corner. He had expected Crispin but the sight of Ann Marie and Dirk coming to be part of his wedding brought the sting of tears to his eyes. He embraced them and then turned back to look anxiously for Janan. A moment later a subdued gray Lexus sedan slid to a stop in front of him and Deman hurried to open the door. As Marc helped Emine out of the car, Pieter stepped forward to offer his arm to Janan wearing a slim aubergine cashmere coat over a fitted violet silk dress. A mauve tulle hat clung to her vibrant curls defying the January cold. Following closely behind her was Sophia carrying a fragrant bouquet of purple and white violets that he had arranged to be delivered to Janan that morning.

In response to Pieter’s raised eyebrows, Janan whispered, “Saskia, Nehls, and Mies insisted on looking after the babies so Sophia could come.”

After a moment of indecision, Dirk moved forward and offered his arm to Sophia. “The steps are slippery.”

Neatly dressed in a new chocolate-brown coat buttoned to her chin with a black felt cloche hat covering her hair, Sophia shot Janan a panicky look, but at Janan’s slight nod, she placed the tips of her fingers on Dirk’s arm and let him lead her into the Registrar’s Office.

In contrast to the conservative wedding service, lunch at Marc and Emine’s home had been a gay affair with many toasts and best wishes for happiness. Pieter had gripped Janan’s hand under the table unwilling to be parted from her for even a moment.

Finally, he stood up and raised his champagne glass. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he began, making no effort to stem the tears sliding down his face. “To gain my life’s greatest treasure and to have my family and friends here to share my joy is a wonderful gift and I thank you all.”

At last it was time to leave and, at Janan’s nod, Emine sent word to Nehls that it was time for the babies to go home. Slipping his arm around his wife’s waist and holding her close, Pieter murmured their thanks and pushed to the back of his mind the difficult decision he and Janan must soon make.

Each carrying a baby basket, Pieter and Janan walked straight to Maarten sitting by the fireplace. Placing the baskets in front of Maarten’s chair, Pieter said, “This is my wife, Janan.”

“Welcome to the family, my dear.” He pushed himself to his feet, leaning on his cane. “I am delighted that you have come.” As he settled in his chair, he gazed spellbound at the two baskets now arranged in front of him. “My niece and nephew, I presume?”

Lifting one baby out of the basket and placing the bundle on Maarten’s lap, Janan said, “This is Tomas.”

“How do you do, Jongen Tomas?” Maarten asked formally as Tomas studied his face with gray eyes. “Welcome home.” He turned toward the other baby.

Pieter lifted her out of the basket and placed her on Maarten’s lap beside her brother. “This is Barina.”

“How do you do, Juffrow Barina?” Maarten said in a husky voice as Barina opened her dark-brown eyes framed with long black eyelashes and gazed at him. “Welcome home.” With a large bony hand placed firmly on each baby, he glanced up at Pieter and Janan. “I am so happy for you. Please accept my best wishes on your wedding day.”

Janan kissed Maarten’s cheek and put the babies back in their baskets and Pieter, murmuring his thanks, bent down to pick up the baskets.

“No, no. Leave them here with me, by the fire.” Maarten shifted his focus to Sophia, standing quietly by his chair. “We can manage together, can’t we, my child?” He nodded firmly. “Yes, we will do very well right here. Pieter, I must ask you to show Janan around her new home,” he said to their retreating backs as they headed hand-in-hand toward the stairway. “Well, perhaps later.” He turned back to Sophia. “How much longer will the babies sleep?” he asked impatiently.

“About an hour, Mijnheer Bentinck,” she answered shyly.

“Humph. I suppose we have to wait.” He glanced at her from under heavy eyebrows. “Call me Maarten. It will save time. We will start on your Dutch lessons while we wait.” He frowned as a thought occurred to him. “English is taught as a second language for all Dutch children. Everyone here speaks some English. They will expect you to know some if you go into nursing.” He peered at her. “Have you studied any English?” At the shake of her head, he said cheerfully, “No matter. We will work on your Dutch in the afternoon and your English in the evening.” He rubbed his hands together happily. “We’ll have you caught up in no time.”

“I thought we would never be alone.” Pieter sighed as he opened the door to the master bedroom.

Janan stood in the doorway, transfixed. The bedroom at the Inn that had been paradise for them for one short night had been re-created: dark walnut wainscoting she had said reminded her of the solid trunk of a tree, green wallpaper above it she had described as poplar leaves, and white maple tongue and groove paneled ceiling she had said was the roof of their tree house, their cabin in the sky. “Oh, my darling. You have made us a magic retreat, a copy of the loveliest place that I have ever known,” she cried, wiping away tears.

“It was where I first knew complete bliss,” Pieter said. “I wanted to have our Shangri-La here, for us, our special place.” He closed the door firmly and turned the key. “I have waited so long to hold you in my arms, to kiss every inch of you.”

“The eight magic kisses?” Janan breathed.

“Nine now.” He grinned wickedly. “I dreamed it up while I was in treatment but I have not been able to test it out yet.”

“I should hope not.” Janan backed up until her body was nearly touching his. “I have started the zipper but I can’t reach any further.” She lifted her hair out of the way, her words an enticing invitation.

Inhaling the almond scent of her hair that had haunted his memories, he slid the zipper slowly down with his lips following its descent. “Tell me, my darling, are you happy?” At her nod, he turned her around to face him. “You know that the amount of time we have together is . . . uncertain.”

“Science is making great strides with leukemia. Besides, life is always uncertain.” She smiled sadly. “Between swallowing one date and reaching for the next, an earthquake can take everyone you love.” She reached up to cradle his face in her hands and then let her hands drop to caress his shoulders, his chest, stopping when they encountered his belt. She smiled through a mist of tears. “We must enjoy every day and”—her fingers hovered at his waist—“every night.”

“Once you asked me to loosen my belt and my heart almost stopped.”

“My darling husband, would you,” she asked with a mischievous lilt to her voice, “please loosen your belt?” 

His hands trembled as he hurried to meet her request. His voice thick with emotion, he said, “You smell so tantalizing today, different somehow.”

“It must be the 41 different spices and herbs that are used in a special Turkish bath for mothers when their babies are 40 days old.”

“I didn’t know that there were Turkish baths in Amsterdam,” he murmured with his face buried between her creamy breasts.

“Oh, yes. Emine knew one. She arranged for a special time so that she and I could go early this morning.” Janan smiled demurely as she slipped her fingers through his hair. “It is a very old custom and very relaxing.”

“Maybe for you but not for me,” he growled as he walked her backward toward the large dark walnut bed with its tuned-down white sheets and comforter and square white pillows propped against the headboard. “Why 41?”

“They say it is to help the father forget the 40 days and 40 nights of abstinence,” she whispered in his ear.

“There aren’t enough spices in the world,” he muttered, “to help a father forget eleven months of abstinence.”

She reached up and touched his lips with hers. “A kiss of introduction.”

“Oh, my dearest love, I have missed you so terribly. You were never out of my thoughts.” With a kiss of acknowledgement, he lowered them both to the bed and covered her satin-smooth body with his. “I have dreamed of this moment,” he said huskily. “It kept me alive.”

“I love your eight delicious kisses and have yearned for them, but”—she slowly smoothed her hands down each side of his back—“I think this time we should skip forward to the last one.”

“I like the tops of your feet,” Janan said dreamily from her resting position on top of him as she stroked his foot with the tip of a silky toe.

“That was not on your list,” he said thoughtfully.

“What list?” She lifted her head from his shoulder to look into his eyes.

“A long time ago, I demanded to know what you liked about me and you fired off a list. I would repeat that list over and over in my mind when I was feeling especially low.”

“Well, I didn’t know the tops of your feet then,” she answered primly.

“You like the tops of my feet? Just the tops?” he teased.

“I don’t know the bottoms . . . yet.”

“We can remedy that,” he said as he rolled over.

Later, he grumbled as he stroked her hair, “I am waiting. Surely, you can manage a small
iyi
.”

“It was definitely
Çok iyi
. Very nice,” she gurgled against his shoulder before reluctantly lifting her head. “Maarten and Sophia will be wondering what happened to us.”

“I’m sure Maarten won’t be wondering and I doubt if Sophia will either.” He laced his fingers through hers. “We can steal a few more moments alone. I must talk with you about something before we leave this haven.”

“Tell me,” she said, laying her arm protectively across his chest.

“As I told you, the tests showed that I am in remission, zero cancer cells.” He paused at her quickly murmured, “Thank God” and then continued. “The Leukemia Team and the Stem Cell Team have recommended a stem cell transplant.”

After a long pause, Janan said, “There really is no choice, is there? The chemotherapy killed the cancer cells but it also destroyed the cells you need to make blood and to fight infections. Somehow you have to be able to produce new healthy cells, and if that takes a transplant, then you have no choice.”

“A stem cell transplant, if it takes, would stimulate new bone marrow growth so that it can make new blood cells. It would also reduce the risk of relapse.” He moved, taking her with him, so that they were sitting side-by side leaning against the pillows at the head of the bed.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Janan asked softly.

“It would mean hospitalization,” he said, his voice was strained. “I have just found you and I can’t bear the thought of leaving you.”

“How long would the hospitalization be?”

“Weeks, more likely two months. One of the dangers is infection. The Stem Cell Team would want to use protective isolation to reduce the risk of infection.” He moaned. “Weeks and weeks away from you and the babies.”

“You said that one of the dangers is risk of infection. What are the other risks that you are not telling me?” When he did not answer, she said, “I remember now. There is a risk of Graft versus Host Disease.” She could not keep the fear out of her voice. “The donor’s stem cells may have an immune response against your normal tissue. They might destroy your normal tissue.”

“It’s a risk but the chances are not that high,” he said, deciding against telling her that 10-to-50% of patients experienced that response. “The Stem Cell Team takes precautions to reduce all risks.”

“You mean putting you in protective isolation? Shutting you off from contact with the outside world?”

“Yes, and they also give great consideration to the choice of donor. The closer the donor’s genetic makeup is to the patient’s the lower the risk and the greater the chance of the stem cell graft taking.” He forced himself to go on. “My brothers would likely have the closest genetic makeup to mine.” He cleared his throat and said reluctantly, “I would have to ask them if they would be willing.”

“I’m sure they would be willing. More than willing. But what is the likelihood that they would be compatible?”

Unable to meet her eyes, he mumbled, “About a 25% chance.” He hurried to add, “Of course there is a National Donor’s bank. The Team could search for a match there.”

For a moment Janan was silent and then she twisted around so that she was facing Pieter. “The best chance of genetic compatibility would be the umbilical cord blood that I had saved and frozen when the babies were born.”

“No! You saved that for them.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I could never take that. They might need it.”

She lifted her chin and stiffened her back. “You and I must live. We are their rock. They need us. We owe them that.” Her voice softened. “It is our duty to fight to stay alive and we must go into battle as soon as possible.”

“I will talk to my brothers,” he offered reluctantly. “It will take time.”

“Each day you wait, you are at risk. You have no protection against an infection.” Her eyes gleamed with determination. “We must act as soon as possible. The cord stem cells are ready to be transplanted now.”

Trying in vain to suppress the tremor sweeping over him, Pieter whispered, “You must have feared that they would need the stem cells sometime in the future. I can’t put them at risk of not having what they may need someday.”

“In truth, I saved the cord blood because I remembered Carl saying that cord stem cells were being used to treat different types of leukemia.” She raised her head defiantly, “I did not save the cord blood for them. If they become ill, it would not be soon and it’s likely that different, new stem cells would be used to treat them, not their own. I saved the cord blood because it seemed criminal to throw away something that could save someone’s life. Think of the people who would benefit if all cord blood was saved routinely. ”