Wyatt

by Susan May Warren

  “Hey, Wyatt,” York said.

  Wyatt just stood in the doorway and swallowed.

  His mother had released Coco and now took her face in her hands. “York says this darling boy belongs to you. He’s a beautiful child, Coco.”

  Coco’s eyes had filled, a tear dragging down her cheek.

  Huh.

  That’s when he got the slightest shake of head from York. As if…

  If York hadn’t said anything, then…

  “Um…so…how are you here, Ma?”

  “Road trip with RJ.” His mom came over and drew him down into a hug. “I’m so glad you made it home safely. When RJ said you went to Russia to play hockey—and to bring Coco home, well, of course you did. You and Coco were always special to each other.” She patted his cheek.

  He frowned and glanced at RJ.

  She was looking at York, her mouth pinched.

  Mikka flung his arms around Coco. Wyatt didn’t understand the words, but he could figure them out. He hoped for the same reaction someday.

  His mother was looking at the little boy with such a soft expression.

  And suddenly, the fact that he’d…

  Who are you? This isn’t how a Marshall behaves. His father’s voice sliced through him.

  He had the sudden urge to slink from the room.

  Behind them came another knock. Sarai came in, dressed in a white lab coat, wearing one of those stickers, followed by another doctor, a Korean woman, her dark hair cut chin-short.

  A blonde nurse in her mid-twenties, dressed in an orange top and pants with fish on them, followed. As the two doctors came over to the bed, the nurse smiled up at him, her eyes widening. “Are you Wyatt Marshall? Goalie for the Blue Ox?”

  The question came so far out of the blue it felt like he’d been high-sticked across the head, his life rushing back to him.

  Wyatt Marshall. Goalie for the Blue Ox.

  Yes. That was him. He nodded.

  “Are you visiting the children’s cancer ward today?”

  He glanced at Coco.

  And then, for some unknown reason buried only in his subconscious, he nodded again.

  “This little guy is special. He’s from Russia,” she said and came over to take his blood pressure.

  Sarai sat on the bed. “Hey, Coco. Wyatt. We’re all checked in, and we ran the first panel of tests. They should be back soon.”

  He didn’t know why, but Wyatt couldn’t move.

  Sarai turned to Mikka and spoke in Russian.

  Coco was nodding, her face pinched. She reached out for Mikka and pulled him back into her arms.

  And in his gut, Wyatt knew it was bad.

  Are you ready for that?

  No. Yes. Oh, he didn’t know what he wanted.

  He loved Coco. And he loved Mikka, too, but…but the life he’d dreamed for them hadn’t included an instant family.

  Hockey is all I have. It’s my whole world.

  His instincts just took over, and he found himself moving into game mode, not thinking, not feeling, just…

  “I gotta go to practice,” he said and turned. His legs obeyed, and like the coward he was, he fled the hospital and the life that certainly couldn’t belong to him.

  Wyatt was leaving?

  Leaving?

  Coco turned, but he was gone before she could call after him.

  Which she wouldn’t do, thank you.

  The silence in the room rose up to choke her as Wyatt’s steps disappeared down the hall. Because oh, she’d been right. Frustratingly, painfully, regretfully right.

  For all Wyatt’s honorable, romantic words, he didn’t have room for Mikka—or her—in his life. And as soon as his real life rose up to remind him of everything he would be sacrificing, he ran.

  She half expected him to smile big, maybe offer to sign autographs. Yes. I’m Wyatt Marshall. Goalie for the Blue Ox.

  Oh, shoot, she shouldn’t blame him. Wyatt had lived for hockey since long before she met him.

  Her mistake had been falling for a man whose heart was already taken.

  Now she’d just have to figure out a way to protect Mikka too.

  Sarai had briefly stopped talking when Wyatt left.

  “Um, I have to, uh…” RJ got up and left the room. Probably to run after her stupid brother.

  Of course, York went after her.

  Which just left her with Gerri Marshall, who had stepped back, watching, a wrinkle across her brow.

  Coco hadn’t a clue what to say to her.

  Meet your grandson?

  No. Not now. That would be a longer conversation that by rights she should have with Wyatt, the coward, by her side.

  Besides, Mikka was clinging to her, small and afraid in her arms. She climbed on the bed with him and pulled him into her lap.

  “Mamichka. What took you so long?”

  “I got here as soon as I could, little man.”

  “Should I wait until Wyatt comes back?” Sarai asked, still in Russian. “I shouldn’t have spoken Russian—”

  “You were telling Mikka about the procedure. Of course you need to speak in Russian.” She kissed his head. “Mama will be with you the entire time.” Her eyes filled then as Sarai went on to explain the specifics of the bone marrow aspiration.

  “We’ll be taking a bone marrow sample and biopsy from his hip bone. He’ll be on his side. It’ll take about thirty minutes. We’ll inject a local anesthetic, and that will probably sting a little, but we’ll make sure he doesn’t feel anything, just a little pressure. The results will take about a day to get back.”

  She looked at the other doctor, the Korean woman with kind eyes, and flipped into English.

  “This is my friend Dr. Nancy Lee. She’ll be doing the procedure.”

  Dr. Lee shook Coco’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  She looked at Gerri. “And is this Grandma?”

  Coco looked up, frozen, the question holding her hostage.

  Gerri just smiled. “Of course it is.” She stepped up and shook Nancy’s hand and winked at Coco.

  Oh. Right. Because Coco’s mother had died and left Coco in the care of Gerri. So, yes, that would sort of make her a proxy grandmother.

  Never mind the truth.

  “Let’s get started,” Dr. Lee said. “You ready?” She directed her question at Coco, who wanted to shake her head, her entire body trembling. Not in the least ready.

  Coco couldn’t move.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Gerri said, meeting Coco’s eyes.

  Yes. Right. Coco nodded.

  Behind her, a nurse had entered, carrying a tray of supplies.

  Coco got off the bed and came around in front of Mikka, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. Took his hand.

  Gerri pulled up a chair behind her. And took her hand. Squeezed.

  As the nurse prepped Mikka, positioning him on his side, then stepping aside for Dr. Lee to prepare his hip with sterile cleanser, Gerri started to sing.

  Her voice was soft, sweet, and directed toward Mikka.

  Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so…

  The song stirred inside Coco, awakening a memory of her sitting on the floor of the big house, in front of the fire, the wee hours of the night clouded in around her, quietly weeping.

  She hadn’t heard the steps on the stairs, hadn’t realized that Gerri had come down until she felt the soft wool of the afghan settle on her shoulders.

  Then Gerri sat beside her, put her arm around her, and pulled her close. Humming, then singing.

  Little ones to Him belong.

  They are weak, but He is strong.

  Her eyes filled, and in her memory she laid her head on Gerri’s shoulder.

  “You are not alone, Coco,” she’d said softly. “And right now, you don’t need to be strong. God is with you. And He will rescue you.”

  She hadn’t exactly known what Gerri meant, because with everything inside her she’d wanted to curl up in front of the hearth and neve
r get up.

  Now, holding Mikka’s hand, she just wanted to lean in again to the shoulder of this woman who had, somehow, miraculously appeared to wrap her arms around her.

  Around them.

  Sarai had her hands on Mikka’s body, speaking to him in Russian, and Dr. Lee inserted the local. “Don’t move, Mikka.”

  He whimpered, and his eyes filled, but Coco held his gaze, her eyes filling also. “You’re such a brave boy.”

  Gerri continued to hum as Dr. Lee finished the local, waited until it took, then quickly proceeded with the biopsy.

  “You’ll feel pressure, but not pain, Mikka,” Sarai said, but his eyes widened anyway, and he cried out.

  “Stay still.”

  He was whimpering, however, and starting to wiggle.

  “Mikka, stop!” But Coco was crying so hard that her word came out sharp and frightening.

  Mikka started to scream.

  Gerri got up and pressed her hands on his body and started to pray.

  “Lord, You are great. You are mighty. And You can heal this little body. And in Jesus’s name we ask for Your peace for Mikka and for Coco and for these doctors. And for complete healing, by Your power.”

  A heat radiated through Coco’s body, Gerri’s words finding her bones, steeling them.

  Mikka stopped screaming, looking up at Gerri with his big brown eyes.

  “You are our rescuer, Lord, and right now, deliver this sweet boy because You love him. You delight in Mikka. You see him, and he belongs to You. Because of that, we put Mikka’s body, his life, his spirit into Your safe hands.”

  Mikka had settled, his eyes still on Gerri.

  “All done,” Dr. Lee said and put the specimens into bottles onto the tray.

  Gerri touched Mikka’s face. “Such a brave boy. Just like his father.”

  Coco looked up at her.

  “Really?” Gerri said, her eyes shining. “You don’t think I didn’t recognize my son in this cute little boy? Those brown eyes, that unruly brown hair, the dimple? The way he sticks his tongue in the side of his mouth when he’s bearing down, trying to win at a thumb war?”

  Yes, Mikka did do that.

  The nurse finished bandaging Mikka then patted his leg. “All done, Mom.”

  As they were packing up, Sarai turned to Coco. “I thought maybe, while we’re waiting, we could run some blood tests. If we need to pursue a bone marrow transplant, it would be good to see if you might be a match.”

  “Of course,” Coco said.

  “What about me?” Gerri said. “Because I’m the grandma.”

  Sarai smiled. “Okay, Grandma.”

  “I think you should call me Grandma Gerri, how about Gigi? I think it has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

  Coco just stared at her.

  “I’ll send someone in to draw blood,” Sarai said as she left the room.

  Coco slid up to the bed and pulled Mikka into her arms, smoothing down his hair. “I…I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know…I mean—”

  “It was before you left, wasn’t it? Probably even before Orrin died?”

  She nodded.

  “Thanksgiving? When Ford caught you—”

  “After that, when Wyatt was home for Christmas.”

  Gerri had slid back into her chair and now gave her a smile, a nod. “I wondered if something hadn’t happened between you two. My son always loved you. I know you loved him too.” She squeezed Coco’s hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Coco wiped her cheek. “I was ashamed. I knew…well, your family doesn’t make mistakes—”

  “Oh, please. Honey. We are epic with our mistakes. You’ve heard the one about Reuben leaving home because his little brother stole his girlfriend? Or Tate being arrested for a drunk and disorderly? We make mistakes like everyone else. The difference is that God doesn’t make mistakes. So…” She touched Mikka’s leg. “This little guy is a gift to all of us, just like you were. Are.”

  Coco looked away, her eyes blurry. Aw, she was just tired from the crazy trip over the ocean.

  And the fact that she’d been so tragically right about Wyatt.

  “You probably don’t know this, but you came to live with us right about the time Wyatt was moving out.”

  Yes, actually, she did. Because she’d longed for Wyatt to stay.

  “I was worried that we were going to lose him. And then you came to live with us, and it was game over. I liked to imagine that he came home to see us, but in truth, I think his heart belonged to you. Wyatt is my romantic, and once he gets something in his heart, he doesn’t let go.”

  Mikka’s breathing deepened as he fell asleep against Coco’s chest.

  “It’s also his folly. He sets up an ideal, and when his life falls short, he doesn’t know how to adjust, so he goes back to what he knows. He did it after Orrin died, and I think…well, how long has he known about Mikka?”

  “About thirty-six hours.” She made a face. “I was going to tell him that summer when I came back to the ranch. No, actually, I was going to tell him the weekend that Dad Marshall died, but—”

  “All our lives changed that day. And Wyatt didn’t handle that well at all. I think in his head he had hopes to make it to the NHL and then somehow his father would—”

  “Be proud of him? Show up for his games?”

  Gerri frowned, but nodded. “Orrin loved Wyatt so much he didn’t want to stand in the way of his dreams. It killed him to let Wyatt move to Helena, but he did it because he knew it was best for Wyatt. As for going to his games…I think it simply reminded him too much of the fact…well, the fact that he’d wanted to play hockey too, like his brother. But his father needed him on the ranch. At first, he feared letting Wyatt get so attached to something that could backfire.”

  “Except it didn’t.”

  “He saw very early how good Wyatt was at the sport. And then, when Wyatt switched to goalie, he really lit on fire.” Gerri brushed Mikka’s hair back from his face—probably he needed a haircut. “I remember the day Orrin came home and told me that he thought we should send Wyatt away. It was like cutting off his arm, but he did it. We did it. Because we were his parents, and you do anything for your child, even if it hurts, right?”

  Yeah.

  “Wyatt puts his heart into everything he does. It’s what makes him special. He doesn’t hold back… My guess is that he gave you his whole heart, Coco, back when…when Mikka was conceived. I think today he just ran into a speed bump.”

  Given her his whole heart.

  The one thing she’d been afraid to do.

  “Wyatt has built an amazing career,” Coco said. “He’s on magazine covers, and everywhere he goes, people know him. He has a big life. And mine is…small. I live in a tiny apartment and my only friend is my computer. But…I never wanted a big life. I wanted…”

  “Wyatt.”

  She nodded. “Except, I never told him that. I wanted him to want me, without…without telling him that I loved him. Instead, I kept leaving him, hoping he’d read my mind. I was so stupid.”

  “I think that makes you romantic, wanting your white knight. And frankly, Wyatt is just as romantic. He wants to be the white knight. You two are the perfect pair. No wonder he loves you.”

  She shook her head.

  “What?”

  “He shouldn’t. I…I lied to him.”

  “Love sees past that, Coco. It’s not based on what we do or don’t do. True love isn’t conditional.”

  Coco frowned at her.

  “Do you have a reason you love your son?”

  “No. I just—”

  “Love him. Because he’s yours, right? And you’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you? You felt his pain during the procedure—I saw it on your face. You’d be fierce for him if you had to. And gentle and sacrificing if he needed that too.”

  Coco nodded.

  “You delight in him.” Gerri pressed her hand on Mikka’s cheek. “You would even if he hurt you. Lied to you—and I promise,
he will at some point in his life. And you’ll still love him. And why not? He’s absolutely a treasure.”

  Gerri smiled at her. “That is how God feels about you too, Coco. And He wants to fight for you. Because you are His treasure.”

  Of course Gerri would bring this back around to God. But oddly, Coco almost thirsted for it, Gerri’s prayer and now her words nourishing on the wasteland of her heart.

  “Listen. Wyatt loves you enough to do something crazy like go to Russia to find you. I have no doubt that he will come back, his heart in his hands. But you need a deeper truth. I know God brought you into our family because we needed you. But you also needed to know that you were safe. That you weren’t alone. And that you had a home.”

  She squeezed her hand. “You still have that home, honey.”

  Coco’s chest might implode.

  “You don’t have to do any of this alone. We are with you. God is with you. Commit yourself to the Lord. Let Him deliver you. Let Him rescue you, because He delights in you.”

  The verse sank into the soil of her heart.

  “You don’t have to fix this, Coco. You don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to figure out how to keep yourself and Mikka safe. You don’t have to do anything but let Jesus care for you. Jesus loves you, this I know. Because the Bible tells me so. When you are weak, He is strong. Because to Him, you belong.”

  Coco looked at Mikka, then back to Gerri. “Can I come home?”

  “It’s about time, honey.” Gerri got up and pulled her into her arms. “It’s about time.”

  Coco leaned against her, closed her eyes, and wept.

  11

  “RJ! Stop!”

  RJ had gotten all the way outside the hospital building before she slowed. York had hounded her down the hallway, into the stairwell, down all four flights, and through an emergency door at the bottom of the stairs.

  She hadn’t wanted to take the elevator in fear of him catching up—

  “RJ!”

  Shoot. The warmth from the August day rushed over her and she braced her hands on the brick wall of the building as York followed her outside. Breathe.

  “What’s going on?”

  She didn’t even know where to start. Except with the obvious. “Why didn’t you tell me?”