From Friend to Father

  “Not to me.”

  “Why not you?”

  “Because my wife just died. Because she was Sarah’s best friend. Because of Rose and all the complications in this whole stinking situation.” He took a deep breath, tried to calm himself.

  “Being with Sarah reminds me of Vanessa. It reinforces her loss, but also the relationship we once had. Sarah was her friend. For years, that’s the only way I’ve ever let myself look at her.”

  “Hey, whoa, what does that mean? Let yourself?”

  Trust Matt to get to the heart of the matter. He might look like a surfer and sound like a frat boy, but he had a mind like a ninja—highly disciplined, completely flexible and full of twists and turns that let him see the big picture better than anyone Reece had ever met.

  “It means I’ve always had a thing for Sarah, ever since the first time I met her.” The words burst from him, and he couldn’t tell who was more shocked—Matt or him.

  “Wow.” Matt stopped at a red light and turned to stare at him incredulously. “How did I have no idea about this?”

  “When I first met her, she was married and I was dating Van. It was completely inappropriate. Then she was divorced and I was married—still inappropriate.”

  “And now?” Matt asked softly.

  The question hung there for what felt like forever. “Do you know what it’s like to want your wife’s best friend? To try to build a life with one woman while a tiny part of you is always wondering about another? I loved Vanessa and tried to be a good husband to her, but if I do this—” He let the words trail off, unwilling to voice his true fears.

  “If you do this, then it’s like you never loved Vanessa at all.”

  Reece stared out the passenger side window as the words stabbed like knives. He didn’t answer, but then he didn’t have to. Matt had hit the nail on the head and they both knew it.

  “I loved Vanessa very much, and I never once thought of cheating on her.” Reece swallowed, forcing the words past the lump lodged in his throat. “But sometimes I couldn’t help comparing her to Sarah. Sarah was so much stronger and bolder than Vanessa could ever be. So much more straightforward and easygoing. And—” His voice broke. “And I wished, more than once, that Vanessa was more like her. More of a fighter. More passionate. More willing to stand on her own.”

  He stared at his friend. “So you tell me. How can being with Sarah now be anything but a total betrayal of my wife?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  TERROR WAS a living, breathing animal inside of Sarah as she raced into the emergency room, Rose’s too-still body in her arms. “My baby can’t breathe!” The words poured out of her. “Help me, please. She can’t breathe.”

  She was immediately surrounded by medical personnel.

  “Is she choking?”

  “No. She’s had a cold, but her breathing got really labored. And when we were in the car, she started turning blue. I got here as fast as I could.”

  Sarah could feel the absolute panic that was one slip of her control away. She barely had the presence of mind to relinquish her daughter to the care of the nurses.

  Rose, please don’t die.

  Please don’t leave me, baby.

  Two nurses had whisked Rose to the treatment area. One was flicking the bottom of Rose’s foot with her index finger while the other was calling for a doctor.

  Fighting back her fear, trying to be strong as they slipped an oxygen mask over her baby’s mouth, Sarah hovered out of the way even as she murmured wordlessly to Rose. If her baby was going to die—No. She wasn’t going down that road. Not now. Not ever.

  Rose would be fine. Rose would be—Sarah cried out at Rose’s pitiful attempts to scream as the nurses put an IV into her too-tiny hand. The baby lacked the breath to offer much resistance. Even with the oxygen pumping into her she was too pale, too blue.

  “What brought this on?” the doctor snapped out as she rushed into the cubicle.

  “She’s had a cold for a week and a half and she just isn’t getting better.” Sarah repeated the same information she’d given the nurses. “I’ve taken her to the doctor three times and today the doctor gave her this inhaler.” She fumbled in her purse for the albuterol inhaler her pediatrician had prescribed to combat Rose’s sudden onset of wheezing.

  “Was she premature?” the doctor asked.

  Sarah shook her head. “Only by a couple of weeks, but it was negligible. She was in great shape and she came home with me. She was fine. She was fine,” she repeated.

  No one was listening. One nurse fit a pulse ox monitor onto Rose’s chubby toes, while the other one injected the IV with something.

  The doctor had her stethoscope in her ears and was listening to Rose’s too-labored breathing.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Sarah demanded. “What are you giving her?”

  “Your baby’s lungs are filled with fluid,” one of the nurses answered soothingly. “We’re giving her something to get rid of some of it so she can breathe easier.”

  “But what’s wrong with her? Why is this happening? I’ve taken her to the doctor.” Even as she spoke, Sarah knew her voice was all wrong. Too high-pitched. Too scared. But try as she might, she couldn’t regulate it. Like her heartbeat and the terror rocketing through her, it was beyond her control.

  Don’t die, Rose. Don’t die. Don’t die. It was a mantra—a prayer and a plea. A demand and a declaration. She couldn’t lose Rose. Not now. She knew there was no way she would survive it.

  After what felt like an eternity, the doctor turned to her, her stethoscope dangling around her neck. “Rose is obviously very sick. My first instinct is to say pneumonia, but I’m going to get a chest X ray and do some blood work to be sure.”

  “Pneumonia?” Sarah stared at the woman blankly. “But we were at the doctor today and he said she was okay. He said the cold was only hanging on longer than normal. How could he be so wrong?”

  “He might not have been.” The doctor—Dr. Adams, according to her name tag—laid a soothing hand on Sarah’s shoulder. Or at least she assumed it was supposed to be soothing, though it was anything but. Her experience with E.R. doctors up to this point had proven that the nicer they were, the worse the news they had to deliver.

  She found herself wishing for a brusque, rude doctor. An impatient doctor. A doctor who had more important patients to see. Anyone or anything but this doctor staring at her with a grave expression and concerned eyes.

  “Babies can get sick very quickly. They can go from normal to dangerously ill in just a few hours.” Dr. Adams glanced at Rose. “Is this your first one?”

  “No.” Sarah clutched Rose’s baby blanket to her chest. “She’s my third.” She barely got the words past her chattering teeth, but no one seemed to notice.

  “Then you know what I’m talking about.” Dr. Adams smiled. “The upshot of that quick descent to illness is that the recovery time can be almost as quick.”

  Sarah grasped her words like a lifeline. “Is that what’s going to happen to Rose? Is she going to be okay now?”

  Rose’s color had improved minimally, but she was too quiet, her breathing still too heavy. She was retracting badly, her little stomach getting sucked in behind her ribs as she struggled for oxygen.

  “We’ll take this an hour at a time, all right?” The doctor reached for her chart. “For right now, why don’t you sit down next to the bed? The nurses will take some blood and I’m going to order the X ray right now. Someone should be here in a few minutes and we’ll talk after I get a better idea of what’s going on.”

  Sarah was painfully aware of the fact that the doctor hadn’t given her the reassurance she had so desperately sought, but didn’t push it. Don’t ask the question if you can’t handle the answer—that’s what her favorite teacher had often preached.

  “Can I hold her?”

  “Of course.” The tall nurse answered, her smile gentle as she took blood from Rose, using the arm that didn’t have the IV in it. The baby was so exh
austed that she didn’t even flinch. “Just let me finish here then I’ll hand her to you.”

  Moments later the nurse did just that and Sarah nearly wept at the sweetness of having her daughter in her arms, Rose’s small, sturdy body curled against her chest.

  “Careful of the IV. You don’t want to pull on it or we’ll have to start all over again.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  The woman’s smile was kind. “I know you will. I’ll get this blood to the lab then I’ll be back to get your information.”

  Sarah nodded as her own eyes drifted shut. She wondered how Tad and Pamela were doing with the boys, but let the worry go. Her brother would call her if there was a problem. Right now, Rose needed her.

  The next few hours passed in a blur of questions and insurance information and tests. X rays, blood tests, breathing tests, another X ray, an ultrasound. It went on and on until Sarah wanted to scream. Until she wanted to beg for someone to tell her what was wrong with her daughter. For someone to tell her how she could make Rose all right again. At one point, she did call Tad and check in; he assured her the boys were sound asleep in his guest room.

  The knowledge that part of her family was okay soothed her, helped her get through the rest of the insanely long night.

  Finally, as the clock on the wall ticked toward 5:00 a.m., Dr. Adams came back.

  “What is it?” Sarah demanded, the prolonged panic cutting through any and all politeness she might have had. “What’s wrong with my daughter?”

  Her arms were numb from holding her daughter in the upright position that seemed to make breathing easier for Rose, but not for a second did she consider letting her go. Putting her down.

  “Rose has a very bad case of viral pneumonia, complicated by a lung infection that’s gone undiagnosed.”

  “Viral?” Sarah questioned as a fist grabbed her heart and began to squeeze. “But that means antibiotics won’t…” Her voice trailed off as her worst nightmares became reality.

  “You’re right. Antibiotics probably won’t work. But we’re going to start her on a course of them to take care of the lung infection. We don’t want her catching any thing else—her immune system is severely compromised at this point and we don’t want any secondary infections to crop up.”

  “So how do we treat the pneumonia? How do we make her better?”

  “That’s a tricky question at the best of times and it’s made trickier because of the fact that your daughter is still an infant. But there are some things we can do to make her more comfortable and get her on track to recovery.”

  The doctor proceeded to outline her suggested course of treatment and Sarah listened to every word with the most intense concentration she could muster. Not only because she needed to know, but also because when she finally got a break she would have to call Reece.

  She wasn’t looking forward to the task.

  When they were finally settled in their cubical in the infant intensive care unit and Rose was sleeping fitfully—her breathing was calm if not even—Sarah collapsed in the chair beside the bed and let the tears she’d been holding in all night slowly leak out. She wanted to scream, to sob, to rage at the world about the unfairness of it all. Why her baby girl?

  She gave herself ten minutes. Ten minutes to cry, ten minutes to whine about the unfairness. Ten minutes to get her own emotions under control so she could make the calls she knew she had to make.

  When she no longer felt a hitch in her throat, she called Tad. As soon as he picked up the phone she could hear the boys laughing in the background.

  “I assume that means the boys are doing okay?” she asked, relief coursing through her.

  “They’re doing great. Pam had an early meeting, so I’m making pancakes before I take the boys to school.”

  “Thank you, Tad. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. That’s what I’m here for. Hold on—” There were a few seconds of silence and then she heard, “Who gets the first airplane pancake?”

  “Me, me,” came a chorus of shouts from the boys and she couldn’t help smiling. Bless Johnny and Justin for sparking something she’d worried she’d never do again.

  “You still there, sis?” Tad came back on the line.

  “I am. I packed clothes for them in their backpacks, so—”

  “Already found them. The boys are dressed, hair combed, teeth brushed.’

  “Aren’t you the efficient one this morning?”

  “You only say that because you can’t see the disaster that is my house at this very moment.”

  “I owe you one, Tad.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll collect when you least expect it.”

  “Somehow, I knew that.”

  “So, how’s Rose?” Tad’s voice turned quiet.

  “She’s got viral pneumonia, so they’re starting a course of treatment. She’ll be in ICU for the next few days and we’ll go from there.”

  “Geez, I’m sorry, Sarah.”

  A sob tickled the back of her throat, but she forced it down. “She’ll be okay.”

  “Of course she will. Let me get the boys to school and I’ll come sit with you.”

  “No, I’m fine. I don’t want you to miss work.”

  “Sarah—”

  “Please, go to work. If you come, I’ll just fall apart and I don’t want to do that.”

  There was a long pause. “Are you sure?”

  Again she fought to keep back the tears. “Yes.”

  “I’ll bring the boys by after school—they’ll want to see you.”

  “That’d be great.”

  “I love you, sis.”

  “Oh, Tad, I love you, too.”

  Another long pause, as if Tad couldn’t bring himself to hang up. Finally, he said, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”

  “I’m positive.” She glanced at her watch. “Now get the boys to school. If you don’t leave soon, they’re going to be late.”

  “We’re on our way.”

  “Okay, then. Bye.” Sarah forced herself to hang up the phone, forced herself to let go of the one small piece of security she had in her life. When her father left, when Mike left, when Van died, Tad had always been there for her. No matter how bad his own life had been, he’d always stood up for her.

  Taking a deep breath, she studied the phone in her hand much as she would a viper’s nest. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to call Reece, and she needed to do it now so that her mind would be clear when Rose woke again.

  * * *

  REECE NEARLY THREW his cell phone across the room when it started to ring again. He was exhausted, utterly worn-out from dealing with this job and still trying to handle all the other clients, as well. He’d been on the phone until after three trying to resolve a problem with the project in Hawaii and it was now—he squinted at the clock on the nightstand—only 6:00 a.m.

  Rolling over, he buried his head under his pillow and tried to ignore the ringing phone. He breathed a sigh of relief when the shrill rings stopped, then groaned as they started almost instantaneously.

  He frowned as he picked up the phone—the number was unfamiliar. He answered it anyway, barking, “Hello?” in the nastiest voice he could manage. If it was a wrong number, he’d—

  “Reece? It’s Sarah.”

  Fear whipped through his veins at the sound of her voice. “What’s wrong?” The way he had left things between them, there was no way Sarah would be calling him if there wasn’t a problem, especially not before dawn California time.

  “It’s Ro—” Her voice cracked and his fear turned to ice-cold panic.

  “What’s wrong with Rose?” The phone grew slippery beneath his palm. “Is she all right?”

  The ten seconds it took Sarah to answer him stretched to eternity. “She’s in the hospital.”

  “Tell me.”

  And she did. He reeled at the images of Rose gasping for breath, her little body turning blue from lack of oxygen
. Nearly lost it completely when Sarah mentioned the intensive care unit.

  “I’ll get on the first flight out.”

  “You don’t have to do that. We’ve got things under control—”

  “My daughter is in the hospital.” He couldn’t stop the frigid whip of his voice. Didn’t know if he even wanted to. “Where else would I be?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll call you when I have my flight information—give you a better idea of when I’ll be there.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  He started to hang up then remembered. “Hey, how are the boys?”

  “They’re okay. My brother has them right now.” Again her voice broke.

  He couldn’t be upset with her for a second longer. “Hang in there, Sarah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  He hung up the phone then leaped into action, his exhaustion forgotten as adrenaline raced through him. He pulled up the morning flights on his laptop, found one leaving in a little over an hour. If he packed quickly, he should be able to make it.

  Throwing on the first clothes he touched, he dumped the rest of his stuff in his suitcase, in between trips to the bathroom to brush his teeth and pack up his toile-tries. As he packed, his mind whirled a million miles a minute. He’d have to cancel the conference call he had set up with Hawaii for this afternoon, have to get Matt to cover the meetings he had this morning.

  Within fifteen minutes, he’d booked his flight, filled his partner in on the situation and was in a cab to the airport. And it wasn’t until he was sitting in the back of the cab, with nothing to do but think, that the worst hit him.

  He could lose Rose.

  She was sick, so sick that Sarah said the doctor’s weren’t making any guarantees. They said it was good that Sarah had gotten her to the hospital so soon, but viral pneumonia was almost untreatable for a baby. Antibiotics didn’t work. All the medical people could do was keep Rose comfortable and hydrated.

  A chill unlike anything he’d ever felt crept through him. Could this really be happening? He’d scarcely survived losing Vanessa. Was he going to have to lose Rose, too—now that he was attached to her? Now that he loved her so much he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it?