She was in the doorway when Dawson said, “If…if Sloan’s there…not gone to work yet, will you tell her about Gabe? I don’t really want to call or text her about it. But she should know.”
Lani closed her eyes. Sloan. Gabe’s mother. That truth reared up. Sloan held a card Lani never would. “I’ll make sure she hears it from me.”
Sloan didn’t go to the hospital right away. She wanted to see Gabe with all her heart, but she couldn’t face walking into the place again, even after all this time. When Lani first told her, Sloan assumed he’d come home quickly. But he didn’t, so days later she gathered her courage and went to see him. She arrived early on a morning when Lani would be on the campus for classes and Dawson would be at work. She wanted to see Gabe without either Dawson or Lani around when she went into the room.
Just walking into the hospital made her stomach queasy. The antiseptic smells, the voices from intercoms paging one person or another, the sight of so many people in blue or green scrubs, caps, and dangling face masks—it all brought back memories she didn’t want returned. When the elevator doors opened on the pediatric floor, she stepped out, glancing at the cheerful colors and cartoon animals painted on the walls, a world away from the neonatal ICU. On this floor, she felt a little less like an alien on a foreign planet. Lani had given her Gabe’s room number. She stood at the door, her heart pounding. Taking a breath, she pushed through the doorway, then stopped because Dawson was standing beside Gabe’s bed. He looked surprised at seeing her.
“I…I thought…,” she mumbled.
“Boss asked me to pick up something in town. Stopped here first to see him since it was on the way.” His eyes seemed to penetrate her skin. “No change.”
She stared at the bed where Gabe lay sedated, stepped closer.
“Your first time to visit?”
He knew it was, so his words were a rebuke. She ignored his barb, told herself she shouldn’t have come. But she had. Because now things had changed…three-year-old Gabe had smiled at her, sat at her feet when she played and sang. He had called her “Sing Lady,” breathed the scent of cereal on her face. Her chin trembled. She raised her gaze to meet Dawson’s, squared her chin. “He’s bigger now, but he’s in a hospital, still has a tube down his throat, he isn’t moving, and his eyes are shut tight. So no. Not much difference at all.” Her eyes drove into his. “And not one single bit easier now than it was when he was born. It hurts just as bad.”
CHAPTER 40
Dawson quickly realized that he’d stepped out of bounds. What had happened in the past when Gabe had been born needed to stay there. “Sorry. Sarcasm uncalled for. I know how it hurts to see him like this. But his doctor says the steroids have had plenty of time to work, so he might pull the tube and start waking him up tomorrow.”
The news cheered Sloan, and she traced her fingers along Gabe’s cheek. His skin felt cool from the room’s temperature, but soft as silk. She flipped a thatch of his dark hair from his brow.
“Lani does that too…the moving his hair thing.”
“I haven’t seen her since this happened. Probably no reason for her to come to the house unless Gabe’s there.” Sloan spoke the words as an observation, not a criticism.
“She comes here every day, soon as her classes are over. And because she works here in the nursing program, she’s able to check on Gabe. She sends me regular texts. That way I can work and still know exactly what’s going on with him.”
“She’s a gem.”
Dawson gave Sloan a sharp look.
“She loves him.” Sloan amended her comment. “He’s not just a job to her.”
Dawson felt his phone vibrate, reached in his pocket, saw the caller on the display, but didn’t answer. “Boss is wondering why I’m taking so long on this errand, so I got to go.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket. “But you don’t have to go just because I do.” He hoped she would remain because he disliked leaving Gabe alone even when the boy was sedated. “You can talk to him too. Lani says that the sense of hearing is ongoing. Coma patients wake up and tell of conversations overheard while they were”—he searched for a word—“out, under, whatever. Maybe Gabe hears our voices and knows we’re here.”
Sloan nodded. “All right.”
He thought of something else. “Did you tell anyone at the nurses’ desk that you were coming to his room? Because they want visitors to check in and wear a tag. It’s one of the rules, to protect the kids.”
She had no tag, of course.
Not wanting her to think she wasn’t wanted, he added, “I’ll stop at the desk and put you on the approved visitor list.”
She watched him go and then returned to staring at Gabe. She touched him again. How beautiful he was. Perfectly formed. Part her, part Dawson, totally himself. Where did she fit in his life?
Lani rushed through the doorway. She was giving up her lunch break to spend the time with Gabe. When she saw Sloan, she halted. “Oh! Excuse me. I…I didn’t know you—”
“Were coming?” Sloan finished. “Yes, I wanted to see him.”
“I…I’ll come back later.”
“You don’t have to run off.” Sloan faced her. “Tell me again how this happened. From the beginning.”
Lani hadn’t seen Sloan for days, and facing her now, seeing her cool expression, was unnerving. When she’d rushed into the house days before, she’d been frantic, barely coherent when she told Sloan what had happened. “I…I did tell you. Hasn’t Dawson explained further?”
Sloan saw no reason to admit she’d been avoiding Dawson at home and had only accidentally run into him minutes before. “I know how careful you are with Gabe, how you watch over him…and yet”—she motioned to the bed—“here he is.”
Emotions crumbled Lani on the inside. Dawson had forgiven her, but apparently Sloan had not. Lani repeated what had happened at Bellmeade, leaving nothing out, nor offering any self-defense, adding the words, “It was my fault,” to the story.
Sloan saw emotions of anger, fear, guilt, panic, tumble across Lani’s face as she told the story, each one written in her eyes in large print. Lani didn’t know how to slant the story in her favor; Sloan saw that instantly. Some people were born liars. Some weren’t. Lani was an anomaly in Sloan’s experience. Yet through the telling, the self-blame, recriminations, and guilt, Sloan saw emotions she never expected from Alana Kennedy. Shame and humiliation. She recognized the duo because she had worn both all her life like an itchy sweater. She was LaDonna’s kid, the trailer-park girl whom other kids shunned. Lani seemed a “golden girl”—smart, capable, efficient, loved by a devoted sister—but this failure with Gabe had rocked her.
“I would give anything if I could go back and change that day.” Lani’s gaze went to Gabe, as if absorbing the image and the pain it brought would change things. It didn’t. She still ached over her failure to protect him.
Ambient noise from the hallway, of food trays clattering on carts, the slow hiss of oxygen being delivered inside the room, the sound of an insect beating its wings on the window outside, filtered slowly into the moment, Sloan on one side of the hospital bed, Lani on the other, the beautiful child between them.
Then Lani heard Sloan say the oddest thing. “I should have never let Jarred walk away that night. I should have stopped him. I should have made him stay with me. Or followed him. Something. The next day when I was in the police tent, all the pieces fell into place, a perfect fit, of what he’d intended to do and why he didn’t want me with him. I didn’t see it at the time, and hours later, it was too late and he was dead.” Lani could only surmise the complete story, but she certainly understood the pain and guilt attached to it. Sloan had allowed Lani a rare glimpse into a closed off part of herself, and Lani realized it was a gift of sorts…Sloan’s way of offering leniency to Lani about Gabe. Guilt was the common denominator, the thing that put them on equal footing through events that neither could change.
Sloan glanced up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Focusing o
n Lani, she came back to the present. “Serious mistakes have no do-overs.”
“Please stop beating up on yourself, Lani. This could have happened to anyone taking care of Gabe. Even his father.” This from Melody when Lani came home that evening. They were in the living room, the gas fireplace logs glowing, and mugs of hot chocolate and a tray of popcorn between them on the coffee table.
“But I’m the one who wants to be a nurse.”
“And nurses never make mistakes?”
Lani sighed. After her conversation with Sloan, she was almost to a point of forgiving herself. Almost. “When Gabe’s awake, I’ll be better.”
“How’s your horse?”
“Doing good. Jon and Ciana keep me posted, but I haven’t gone to check him myself.” Lani swirled the few sips left in her cup, studied the muddy liquid. “I’m going to run out to the stables this weekend. Every free minute I have now I want to spend at the hospital.”
“Mom and Dad want us to come for Christmas.” Melody changed the subject.
The first thought Lani had was What if Dawson and Gabe need me? Then she remembered that Dawson was taking Gabe to Chicago, which meant they would be gone for the holidays. And thinking of Gabe out of the hospital and having fun with his dad and granddad lifted her mood. Besides, she missed her parents, so it would be good to see them, even though Kenai, Alaska, in December would be cold, dark, and deep in snow. She grabbed a handful of popcorn.
“If we go to Alaska, we won’t have to put up a tree,” Melody said.
“What! Not put up a Christmas tree? Of course we’ll put up a tree.”
Her sister burst out laughing. “I wish you could see your face. You’d think I suggested we drown a puppy.”
“I want to bring Gabe here and show off our tree when he’s out of the hospital. We’ll put a tree up at his house too. And his Pops will have another for him in Chicago. Sounds perfect.” Lani launched the wad of popcorn and it rained down on Mel’s head.
Melody ducked, grabbed her own fistful of the popcorn, and tossed it at Lani. In seconds, a popcorn war erupted and the two of them were laughing and dodging the bombardment of white puffy kernels. In no time the bowl was empty, and the room and dark green carpet were spotted with white.
Melody grinned. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”
Lani quickly sobered. “Felt good too. Thanks for the break.” She glanced at the mess.
Mel said, “Tell you what, let’s not throw it away. We’ll put it into plastic bags and make popcorn and cranberry chains for the Christmas tree you want to decorate.”
Lani offered a wistful smile, her mind returning to Gabe. “Can’t have too much Christmas when you’re three.”
Lani came out of her morning classroom and headed for the parking lot in a cold gust of November wind. She reached in her purse for her phone, wanting to turn it off vibrate, and saw that she had a text message from Dawson. Heart thumping, she stopped in the flow of foot traffic, got bumped and barked at by the two guys who’d walked into her. The message read…
Doc pulled tube. Gabe awake.
CHAPTER 41
Lani couldn’t get to the hospital fast enough. He was sitting up in the bed, still on oxygen through cannulas in his nose. Dawson, sitting in a chair next to the bed, stood and grinned. Gabe, all downcast, brightened, opening his arms as Lani rushed to hug him. “Lani.” His voice was hoarse, whisper soft. “Take Gabe home.”
She glanced at Dawson. “I’ve been trying to explain that Dr. Nelson decides when he can leave, not me.”
Lani pulled away from Gabe, offered her hundred-watt smile. “Before lunch? We can’t leave before lunch. I saw the food cart in the hall and peeked at the food. Macaroni and cheese and green Jell-O. Looks yummy.” She knew he liked both dishes.
Gabe glanced to the door. “When?”
“I’ll go get it for you.” She zipped into the hall to the large service cart, found the shelf and tray with his bed number, and walked it to the nurses’ station. “I have the tray for Gabriel Berke. Little guy’s really hungry. His dad’s with him, and I will be too.”
The busy duty nurse nodded, and Lani carried the tray into the room where Dawson had positioned a wheeled service table across Gabe’s bed. She lifted the cover while Gabe fumbled with the plastic wrapped spoon. He dug in, but after a couple of swallows, he dropped the spoon onto the plate. “Hurts.”
The intubation had left his throat raw and sore. “It’ll get better.” She wedged herself beside him on the mattress, a hospital no-no, and kissed his temple.
Her tenderness touched Dawson, and he remembered Sloan saying, “She loves him.” When Lani glanced at Dawson, he thanked her with his eyes.
She picked up the spoon. “Bet the Jell-O will feel better going down.” She offered him a scoop of the wiggly gelatin, but he wouldn’t try it.
He laid his head on her shoulder. “Home, please.”
“Would you like to watch cartoons?” She picked up the remote and turned on the TV on the wall, toggling to one of his favorite programs. The colorful cartoon images caught Gabe’s attention, but after a few minutes, the boy began to search his bed. “I want Woof-Woof. Where Woof-Woof, Daddy?”
“At home, buddy, in your room. I’ll bring him later.”
Gabe began to cry. “Want him now!”
Again Lani intervened. “I can go get him right now.”
Gabe looked a little panicked. “Not go, Lani.”
“I or your dad can go right now. Or…we can watch cartoons together and bring Woof-Woof later. You choose.”
Dawson, impressed by Lani’s negotiating skills, hid a smile. He watched Gabe’s face, his expressions as he warred over the choices. “Cartoons,” he decided. He returned his attention to the television and settled in the bed. Lani smoothed Gabe’s hair and Dawson offered her a wink.
She winked back, then settled in to watch the screen, feeling for all the world like one of the family. In her case, a pseudo-member.
After her shift ended, Sloan checked her phone messages while she sat in her car, shivering and waiting for the heater to blow warm air through its vents. Gabe was awake! The text had come around six, not from Dawson, but from Lani, during the busiest time in the restaurant. Sloan checked the dashboard clock. After eleven. Too late to stop at the hospital tonight, but first thing in the morning…
She was there at ten a.m., picked up her visitor’s pass, went to Gabe’s room, and found him sitting up but tethered to the bed by oxygen tubing, his stuffed dog under one arm and the TV remote in his hand. “Hi, Gabe.”
He looked at her, broke into a smile. “Hi, Sing Lady.” He held up his dog. “Daddy bring Woof-Woof.”
Sloan petted the dog’s smooth leather snout. “I bet he’s missed you, because I know I have.” That much was true.
“You take Gabe home?”
His request tugged at her heart. “I can’t, Gabe. But I can visit with you for a while.”
He pouted. “You sing for Gabe?”
“Um…I don’t have my guitar.” He frowned, and she hastily added, “But I’ll bring it next time I come. How’s that?”
He turned his attention toward the television, and she watched it with him until Lani showed up just before lunch. Gabe shouted hello, and Sloan rose from the chair, picking up her purse. “Don’t go,” Lani said.
“Something I have to do at the house, but I’ll be back after lunch. I’ll leave Big Bird’s latest adventures to you and Gabe for now.” Sloan waved goodbye and swept from the room.
She kept her word and returned with her battered guitar case just as the food trays were being cleared. Lani was gone. Gabe clapped when Sloan lifted out the well-worn instrument.
“Sing ‘Sunshine’!”
She settled on a chair and strummed the steel strings, was into the song and the creative ways she’d invented to play it when a woman in scrubs and a stern expression marched into the room. “What’s going on in here?”
“Just a little music for Gabe.”
br /> “Well, the noise is carrying down the hall and other children are supposed to be resting.”
Noise! The woman was calling her music noise! Sloan bit back angry words.
“Sing Lady play for Gabe. I like,” Gabe announced from the bed.
“It’s rest time,” the woman snapped, making Gabe cower.
Sloan came out of the chair.
“Hey! What’s going on here?” Lani, in her red shirt uniform, jogged into the room, saw the look on Sloan’s face.
“This young woman needs to leave. It’s rest time.”
Sloan looked ready to bash her guitar against the head nurse of the pediatric floor. Lani stepped between them. “Mrs. Carville, this is Sloan Quentin, Windemere’s own singing star. She’s famous, has played in Nashville, plus a ton of other cities—she’s really well known. She’s just popped in to visit Gabe Berke and sing him a few of his favorite songs, on my request. She won’t stay long, and it’ll mean so much to Gabe.”
“The other children are asking questions about the music. They won’t settle down.”
In a moment of inspiration, Lani said, “Why don’t we take the kids who want to listen to her sing to the playroom for an impromptu concert? Fifteen minutes of lovely live music. How can it be a bad thing?”
“No one’s authorized—”
“I can run down and get Mrs. Trammell’s okay…but why bother her with this? Fifteen minutes. This will be a special treat.”
By then, several other nurses had come into the room, and they began to voice their enthusiasm for Lani’s idea. She saw Carville beginning to soften and asked the others, “It’s extra work to bring the kids and take them back to their rooms, but would any of you mind?”
No one did. Mrs. Carville caved. “Fifteen minutes,” she said.
The other nurses scurried to gather the “well” kids on the floor, those able to leave their rooms, and to get them into wheelchairs or walk with them pushing their IV poles to the playroom. Lani helped Gabe into a wheelchair, while he chattered and giggled.