When we got to the hospital, the doctors and nurses would only divulge limited information because we weren’t immediate family.  They only told us she was “stable.”  
Cassie’s mom, Dianne, was on the way, as Charlotte was only about 4 ½ hours from home, and she had been on the road about an hour.  All we could do was wait until she got there before we could get any more information.  We sat in relative silence with the exception of some small talk until Mel asked the question she’d been pondering over the past couple hours in between worrying about Cassie.

    “So, why does Brian need a nurse?”  Kevin and Howie’s heads snapped in her direction.  “What?  That Steve guy, Brian told me he was his nurse.  I didn’t mean for it to be a touchy subject.” She held up her hands in defense.

    Both men relaxed visibly.  “Brian told her he has a nurse,” Howie said pointedly at Kevin.  Kevin nodded and started explaining.

    “He’s had a heart murmur since birth.  He was a really sick kid. When he was five, doctors actually told Aunt Jackie and Uncle Harold to start planning his funeral.”  He had this far off look in his eyes as he was obviously remembering something pretty painful.  I realized that when Brian was five, he would have only been nine.  “He’s basically fine for the most part, but all the singing and dancing can be a bit much for him sometimes, so to make his doctor happy and to help with the liability insurance, they hired a nurse for him.  End of story.”  Howie bit his bottom lip as Kevin finished, and I imagined there was more to it than that, but let it be for the moment.  

    Amelia’s cell phone rang and she grabbed it off the waiting room end table.  “Hello?  Oh, hi Donna.”  She paused.  “No, we don’t know anything new.  Her mom is supposed to be here in about three hours.”  I leaned over to glance at Howie’s watch.  It was 5:00 and technically we were supposed to go on in an hour and half.  Amelia sighed.  “Let me ask the girls.”  She covered the mouthpiece with her hand.  “She wants to know if we can go on without her since we’re not going to know anything for a while anyway.”  We looked back and forth at each other.  

    “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to be pretty distracted worrying about her,” Christina spoke up.

    “True,” Mel acknowledged.  “But we’ll just be sitting here worrying anyway and not really accomplishing anything.  If we went and did the show and came straight back after our act, we’d probably get here just a little after Dianne.  What are we really accomplishing here?”  She had a point, so begrudgingly, we went with Howie and Kevin back to the venue and performed without her.  Our performance was shaky at best, as we’d barely had enough time to get dressed and get on stage, without so much as a warm-up. We’d had to ad lib her solos, one of us jumping in whenever needed, and of course the blocking in the dance routines was all off. Management also asked us not to say anything about where she was to the fans.

    When we arrived back at the hospital to find Cassie’s mom chatting happily with her doctor. “Cassandra is doing well,” Dr. Marshall was explaining.  “We were finally able to stop the bronchial constriction with epinephrine, albuterol nebs, IV steroids, and oxygen then wean her off the ventilator over a few hours.  She’s resting now, and is likely going to need some medication adjustment to try to avoid another asthma exacerbation as bad as this one.  I’d like her to see her pulmonologist sooner than later, and she needs to take it easy for a few days, but I think she’ll be fine.”  It was a huge relief.  We had to go on to the next stop on the tour without her, but her parents drove her to meet up with us in Louisville two days later.  She insisted on performing in that show since we were in our home state and all of our families, plus Brian and Kevin’s families were there.

    It was three days later in Detroit while Cassie and Brian were both sitting out of rehearsals when she approached him and sat down beside him in the seats on the arena floor.  “Oh, hey Cassie.  How are you feeling?”

    “Much better.”  She shifted in her seat and leaned back to watch as two different dance routines were practiced on opposite sides of the stage.  “I just wanted to say thank you for your help the other day.  If it wasn’t for you and Steve, I may not even be here.”

    “You gave us a big scare.  I’ve gotta admit I did a lot of praying that day.”

    Cassie smiled.  “Thanks. I really appreciate that.  I did a lot of praying too.  Well, when I was conscious.” She laughed lightly and Brian smiled half-heartedly.  “So, I know why I’m sitting out of practice....what’s your story?  And why is there a Steve?”

    Brian laughed and then looked down at his shoes.  “You get straight to the point, don’t you?”

    “I’m just curious.”  

    He sighed and stretched, then leaned back in his chair, clasping his fingers behind his head and crossing his feet on the floor in front of him.  “It’s a heart thing.  I’ve had it since I was a baby, and all the touring gets tough sometimes, so there’s Steve.”

    Cassie raised an eyebrow.  “Tough enough for oxygen tanks backstage and a personal nurse? What kind of heart thing?”

    “A hole.  All the singing and dancing makes it hard for my heart to pump oxygenated blood to the rest of my body, so there’s the oxygen.”

    Cassie nodded.  “I know all about the oxygenated blood thing, remember?  My pulmonologist insists on checking out my heart occasionally, because if you add a bad heart on top of bad lungs, it’s....”

“Bad news.  Yeah, I know,” Brian finished for her, nodding knowingly.   “The cardiologist is always checking my lungs.  So far, so good, but-” He stopped suddenly.  “Never mind.”  His body fell out of the reclined position and he went back to sitting up with his shoulders slumped over and his head hanging down.

“Brian?”  Cassie leaned over his knees and looked up at his face.  “But what?”

“Nothin’.”

“Oh come on.  You know all about my medical dirty laundry.  I think it’s only fair I know about yours.”

Brian laughed then turned serious again.  He looked into her eyes, which were shrouded in nothing but friendliness and concern and pursed his lips.  “The hole’s getting bigger.  Apparently I’m making my heart work too hard and it’s starting to fail under all the stress.”  His icy blue eyes clouded with tears and she gasped.

“Is there anything they can do?” she half-whispered.

“I need surgery.”

“When are you having it?”  She asked, assuming he’d already planned to get it done.  

“I don’t know.”  He looked back down and starting playing with a some loose thread near a hole in his jeans.

She straightened up in her chair and leaned forward.  “What do you mean you don’t know?!”  she chastised.

“I mean we’re busy.  I’ve had to reschedule it a couple times,” he replied, never looking her in the eye.
   
“What do you mean ‘we’re busy’?  This is your life you’re talking about!  I’m sure the guys would understand that,” she insisted.

    “It’s not the guys.  It’s management,” Brian explained.

    “Who gives a flying flip about management?  You need the surgery!”

Brian couldn’t help but chuckle at her outburst.  “Who gives a flying flip about management, huh?  Now you’re starting to sound like Leighanne,” he laughed.

Cassie furrowed her brows.  “Who’s Leighanne?” she asked.

“My girlfriend.”

“Oh.”  She silently prayed that he couldn’t see her blushing in the dimly lit auditorium.  It was no secret (except maybe to Brian) that she’d had a big crush on him for months.  She cleared her throat.  “I um...didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”  

“Well, management doesn’t like that either,” he mused.  

She giggled.  “I guess they wouldn’t.”  They fell into a comfortable silence and started studying the dance routines on their respective sides of the stage.  Brian scheduled the surgery a week later.