With Every Beat of My Heart

Summary: A dinner, and introductions.

Logan finished ironing his white dress shirt, glad he’d used starch to make the pleats more crisp. His coffee-brown pants were pressed just as sharply, and he supposed he’d look decent enough, but he was loath to get dressed.

The night was nice enough; the day’s blistering heat gave way to a seventy-degree night with a mild breeze. Logan dutifully picked out a camel brown, raw silk tie that had been Jean’s favorite. This night somehow belonged to her.

Daisy whined at him as she padded inside. He stooped to exchange goodnight kisses, spoiling her with love and caring very little about dog hair on his good slacks.

“Go to bed,” he urged, snapping his fingers for her to climb into her own plaid flannel one in the corner. She obeyed but watched him expectantly. He knew she would be up on his bed as soon as she heard the door slam.

He drove with the windows down, enjoying the scents of barbecue and summer roses on his way to the Hilton. Anticipation mingled with dread.

Closure.

That’s why he was here, that, and to find some purpose in Jean’s sacrifice. Logan needed to know that her death meant something, and in a sense, to give the one who received her gift a chance to celebrate her life. He didn’t want to cry anymore, even though Logan admitted there would be some days where it couldn’t be helped. But not tonight.

Was it a young woman? Logan wondered. Or perhaps older, still in good physical condition? What kind of life was she leading, with her new lease on life? A career woman? A student? A mother? A nun?

He parked his Camry toward the back, deciding he would have an easier time leaving early if he wasn’t up to staying. A valet at a podium outside the entrance nodded to him.

“Need any help, sir?”

“Nope. Already covered, kid.”

“Have a good evening, sir.” He held open the door.

“Here.” Logan tipped him anyway, pressing a folded fiver into his palm. The boy beamed.

“Thank you. Appreciate it, sir.”

“Stay honest.”

The lobby was crowded, but Logan saw the marquee over the desk: Donor Association Dinner, in the Blue Room, First Floor. From there, Logan followed the arrows, feeling slightly underdressed.

Once inside, he waited in a short line at the guests’ sign-in table. Everyone passing him smiled warmly, and his nerves settled even more once he spied the bar set up in the back.

“Name, sir?”

“Howlett. James.”

“Here’s your nametag.” The young woman scrawled his first name on a red “My Name Is” sticker. He stopped her.

“Mind makin’ me another one? I go by Logan.”

“Not a problem!” she chirped, crumpling and chucking the first. He almost objected to the second one, on which she included a smiley face.

Great.

“Enjoy your dinner!”

A straight whiskey would put a better face on the night, he decided; this wasn’t the beer and peanuts crowd. Most of the people there looked around his own age, mid-thirties to late fifties. He saw two or three families with children in tow, and he wondered if they had received transplants. A cute little girl with strawberry blonde hair darted by, chasing her sister with abandon and not caring who they bumped in the process. She reminded Logan so much of Jean that he ached.

The dinner was buffet-style, nothing too exciting. Logan opted for the prime rib, cut into stingy little strips. He was grateful that they hadn’t drowned the asparagus in that gloppy lemon sauce he despised. He found a table with several empty spaces and seated himself across from a nice-looking young couple.

“Evening. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I’m Carol.”

“Steve Rogers.”

“Logan,” he offered, gesturing to his name sticker.

“Who would’ve guessed?” Carol grinned. Logan sighed inwardly. At least they were nice…

They were the proud parents of the two little girls. Logan periodically glanced at the one who’d caught his eye. He felt her eyes on him throughout the dinner, and whenever he looked up, she looked away. Stinker. After about the tenth time, he caught her giggling behind her hand.

“Gayle, that’s not polite. Let him eat in peace.”

“Can’t blame her. Folks think I’m kinda funny-lookin’, anyway.” He grinned at Gayle; she grinned back.

Once everyone had their after-dinner cocktails and desserts, their host introduced himself. He was a bald man in a sharp black suit, seated in an expensive-looking wheelchair. His blue eyes were filled with good humor. He came to the podium and a woman approached him with a clip-on microphone, fastening it to his lapel.

“I’m glad to see so many faces here tonight. My name’s Charles Xavier. I’m the director of Salem General’s transplant and donor program. It’s my pleasure not only to welcome the families, friends and recipients of transplants we’ve performed this year, but also to those whose loved ones provided those gifts. We’re truly honored to have you all here.” The assembly broke out into applause.

“As part of the night’s festivities, we have a few guest speakers, a presentation of gifts, and a meet-and-greet with music provided by the hotel’s deejay. I’d like to introduce two of our surgeons, Dr. Leonard Samson and Dr. Erik Lensherr, both specialists in the field of organ transplant and esteemed members of our staff. We’re proud to have them in the Salem General family.”

The speeches were boring but well-meant. Logan ruminated over his Jack Daniels and snuck little Gayle one of his cookies from the dessert bar. Her little sister was wriggling and squirming, two minutes from having a tantrum until her father wisely took her outside.

Charles returned to the podium. His mic whined slightly until he gave it a sharp tap. “I’d like to take this time to introduce some of our donor families whom we have here tonight, and from the bottom of my heart I’d like to say, thank you.” The audience erupted into applause. Logan’s face flushed and he felt a pricking sensation behind his eyes, but he, too, clapped.

“I have up here some gifts. I would like to proceed by introducing each recipient and giving them a few moments to share how their transplants enriched or saved their lives. Then, I’ll allow each of them to meet the donor family responsible for it, without which they wouldn’t be here today. The recipient or family member will present the gift to the donor family.”

The next hour was torture.

Every recipient’s testimonials broke his heart. When Carol and Steve approached the podium, Logan’s suspicions were confirmed: Gayle Rogers received new kidneys.

Carol was tearful and her speech was full of gratitude. “My little girl is in first grade now, she’s in Brownie Scouts and she loves soccer. We always prayed she would make it this far. We cherish every moment we have, and we will never forget this gift you’ve given us. We’d like to welcome you as a part of our family for all that you’ve done for our daughter.” Carol humbly stepped down and took a small bouquet of daffodils and gold-embossed envelope from the table. A young couple at the front of the conference room stood and met her halfway; the mother was equally tearful but smiling as she accepted the gift and hugged her tightly.

The Rogers returned to their table where Carol’s sister was dutifully watching the children. Charles cleared his throat and resumed his introductions.

“That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing that with us tonight. I’d like to bring up one more of our honored guests tonight. I’m pleased to have you here, Mr. Remy LeBeau.”

Logan glanced briefly at his program. He ran down the list of recipient families printed inside. Mattie and Remy LeBeau. He assumed Charles would have read Mattie’s name.

The audience clapped for a tall young man who walked smoothly down the aisle.

His smile was broad and sincere. He was easily the most striking man in the room, over six feet tall and athletically built. He had a hint of healthy tan and reddish glints in his dark brown hair.

He shook Charles’ hand and stood at the podium.

“If you don’t mind, Logan, I’d like it if you could come down here. I believe Remy’s anxious and pleased to meet you.” The young man nodded, but Logan saw the look in his eyes…

The joy and gratitude he saw there was mingled with sorrow.

Logan didn’t know if he could deal with it.

Closure.

Reluctantly, he rose. Little Gayle piped up, “Did you give that man a present like I got?”

“Yeah, sweetie. You could say I did. And so did my wife. She was a lot like you.” Carol watched him in wonder. Logan had said precious little about the circumstances that brought him there that night.

Logan took the seat beside Charles, put on the spot and hating it.

Remy’s eyes ate him up. He leaned into the microphone and spoke almost lyrically, in an accent Logan couldn’t place.

“I never thought I’d have one more day, let alone the rest of my lifetime, mon ami. My doctor gave me six months to live wi’dout a new heart. There were so many damned days where I wanted t’give up, but when I got de call that they found a donor and that I was next on de list, I thanked God and I prayed to him to bless and keep the family of whomever made it possible fer me t’live. I’m back t’work. I run 10K’s and I’m competin’ in a triathlon in two months. I’d like it if ya could be ‘dere.” The audience clapped, but Remy wasn’t through.

“Dis is my aunt Mattie. She’s been wit’ me through dis, de surgery and she’s taken care of me and prayed for me when I was about t’give up hope. She never let me give up hope.” He blew a kiss to an older Black woman about three tables back.

Logan was still overwhelmed.

Jean’s heart went to a man. Logan was meeting him face to face. He shook his hand firmly; he fought to keep his own from shaking as he reached for him.

Then Remy pulled him forward and embraced him in the firm, back-clapping hug men recognized everywhere as good form. But it meant more to Logan than that, in ways he couldn’t describe.

Jean’s heart beat in this young man’s breast. In a sense, a part of her had been brought back to Logan. His heart was still broken.

Yet suddenly, he didn’t feel so alone in this world.