Read Online Full of Grace by Dorothea Benton Frank - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank
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about a billion diseases?”
“A billion and one. I’m telling you, baby, it’s happening so fast we can hardly keep up with our own progress and the implications of it all. These guys at the Mayo Clinic just finished up a study on spinal-cord nerve regeneration, and it worked. Well, it worked on lab mice anyway. Now the trick is to get to the place where it’s safe to do trials on humans.”
“And funded.”
“Yeah, there is that little caveat. So tell me the truth. Is your old man still raging about my allegiance to stem-cell research?”
“What do you think? It doesn’t matter, Michael. He can get up on his hind legs and bark like a fox and it doesn’t change the way I feel about you, okay?”
Michael reached across the table, took my hand in his and then covered it with his other hand. A small breeze moved across the courtyard, ruffling the tablecloth and my hair. It was dark as pitch and in the candlelight Michael’s face appeared more angular and masculine than in the light of day. There were dark smudges under his eyes. I hadn’t noticed them earlier, but I wrote them off to fatigue.
“Well, tell Big Al to tell his priest that stem cells are going to be ancient history before they can get them to work consistently.”
I leaned across the table and whispered, “Good. But you’re the only man I’ve ever known who would use this irresistibly romantic moment to launch a discussion about science versus religion. Any other man, after this gorgeous dinner, would be trying to see what color my panties—”
He put his finger to my lips.
“I’ll get to your panties, Miss Russo. Listen, especially embryonic stem cells. Go tell Big Al that there’s a bunch of guys down in Sydney who figured out that olfactory stem cells do the same job, and get this—the study was funded by the Catholic Archdiocese for a mere hundred thousand.”
“Big Al wouldn’t know what you’re talking about. Olfactory? Isn’t that where lots of people put together fuel equipment on an assembly line?”
Michael looked at me with a wide grin and shook his head. That look said, And you don’t either . This didn’t offend me in the slightest. I knew that Michael was a genius and he was going to save the world. Okay, he would be a cog in the wheel that saved the world. But he did have the most splendid mind I had ever known.
Later, Michael was upstairs and I was just finishing up the dreaded dishes—there’s nothing like that extra glass of wine to ruin your enthusiasm for cleaning a kitchen—and I heard him turn on the news. We had truly become like an old married couple. We went to work, came home, ate dinner, cleaned up, watched the news and went to sleep. I loved it—each and every day and night was so happily anticipated and I knew it was because of Michael. Michael thrilled me. This was real love—romantic love, physical love, intellectual love, companion love—you could name it anything you wanted to and it was the same thing—still growing stronger and deeper with no resistance from either side.
I heard the toilet flush and thought I had better move myself upstairs if I had hopes for any ooh-la-la that night. Then I heard it flush again and again.
“Michael? Are you okay?”
No answer.
I rushed up the steps and found him on the floor of the bathroom. He had obviously been vomiting.
“Michael! What in God’s name…? Do you need a doctor?”
“I am one,” he said. “Just help me to bed.”
He was weak and unsteady on his feet as I helped him up and walked him to the bed. His arm was around my shoulder and mine was aroundhis waist. I knew he had consumed a fair amount of wine, but no more than I had, and I felt fine. He got under the covers and I pulled them over him.
“What can I get you, baby?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m a little dizzy. Probably worked out too long…something…the heat? Who knows?”
I relaxed as I heard him diagnose himself. That was a sign that things weren’t too
“A billion and one. I’m telling you, baby, it’s happening so fast we can hardly keep up with our own progress and the implications of it all. These guys at the Mayo Clinic just finished up a study on spinal-cord nerve regeneration, and it worked. Well, it worked on lab mice anyway. Now the trick is to get to the place where it’s safe to do trials on humans.”
“And funded.”
“Yeah, there is that little caveat. So tell me the truth. Is your old man still raging about my allegiance to stem-cell research?”
“What do you think? It doesn’t matter, Michael. He can get up on his hind legs and bark like a fox and it doesn’t change the way I feel about you, okay?”
Michael reached across the table, took my hand in his and then covered it with his other hand. A small breeze moved across the courtyard, ruffling the tablecloth and my hair. It was dark as pitch and in the candlelight Michael’s face appeared more angular and masculine than in the light of day. There were dark smudges under his eyes. I hadn’t noticed them earlier, but I wrote them off to fatigue.
“Well, tell Big Al to tell his priest that stem cells are going to be ancient history before they can get them to work consistently.”
I leaned across the table and whispered, “Good. But you’re the only man I’ve ever known who would use this irresistibly romantic moment to launch a discussion about science versus religion. Any other man, after this gorgeous dinner, would be trying to see what color my panties—”
He put his finger to my lips.
“I’ll get to your panties, Miss Russo. Listen, especially embryonic stem cells. Go tell Big Al that there’s a bunch of guys down in Sydney who figured out that olfactory stem cells do the same job, and get this—the study was funded by the Catholic Archdiocese for a mere hundred thousand.”
“Big Al wouldn’t know what you’re talking about. Olfactory? Isn’t that where lots of people put together fuel equipment on an assembly line?”
Michael looked at me with a wide grin and shook his head. That look said, And you don’t either . This didn’t offend me in the slightest. I knew that Michael was a genius and he was going to save the world. Okay, he would be a cog in the wheel that saved the world. But he did have the most splendid mind I had ever known.
Later, Michael was upstairs and I was just finishing up the dreaded dishes—there’s nothing like that extra glass of wine to ruin your enthusiasm for cleaning a kitchen—and I heard him turn on the news. We had truly become like an old married couple. We went to work, came home, ate dinner, cleaned up, watched the news and went to sleep. I loved it—each and every day and night was so happily anticipated and I knew it was because of Michael. Michael thrilled me. This was real love—romantic love, physical love, intellectual love, companion love—you could name it anything you wanted to and it was the same thing—still growing stronger and deeper with no resistance from either side.
I heard the toilet flush and thought I had better move myself upstairs if I had hopes for any ooh-la-la that night. Then I heard it flush again and again.
“Michael? Are you okay?”
No answer.
I rushed up the steps and found him on the floor of the bathroom. He had obviously been vomiting.
“Michael! What in God’s name…? Do you need a doctor?”
“I am one,” he said. “Just help me to bed.”
He was weak and unsteady on his feet as I helped him up and walked him to the bed. His arm was around my shoulder and mine was aroundhis waist. I knew he had consumed a fair amount of wine, but no more than I had, and I felt fine. He got under the covers and I pulled them over him.
“What can I get you, baby?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m a little dizzy. Probably worked out too long…something…the heat? Who knows?”
I relaxed as I heard him diagnose himself. That was a sign that things weren’t too
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