by Alice Ward
In this case, no news isn’t good news. No news means that she’s still in the operating room. They’re still trying to save her. How did this happen? Why did this happen? What the hell did Stacey or Oliver ever do to deserve it?
In my rational mind, I knew that bad things happened to good people and vice versa, with no rhyme or reason. But it was hard to be objective when two of the people I loved most in the world were in mortal danger.
If the baby doesn’t make it, Stacey will be devastated. If either of them doesn’t make it, Oliver will never be the same. This is going to change all of us, forever.
I hadn’t met my niece, but it was already impossible for me to imagine the world without her. And Stacey had become like a true sister. In some ways, I’d grown closer to her than I was to Piper.
As I thought about the worst possible outcomes, I started to feel like the jet was closing in on me. I stood up and paced the floor until Marcus announced that we were about to start our descent into JFK.
The moment the jet pulled to a stop on the runway, I jumped from my seat and grabbed my suitcase. Marcus stepped out of the cockpit and released the exit door, and Piper and I dashed down to the pavement. I’d never questioned how we’d get from the airport to the hospital. I’d expected Drake to have a car waiting for us but instead, we were greeted by a helicopter. Drake’s driver Vince was standing next to the pilot.
“Stacey’s still in surgery,” he greeted us with a kind but worried face. “The baby’s still holding her own. The fastest way to get to the hospital is by air. I’ll take your luggage from here.”
“Thank you, Vince,” I said without slowing down. I climbed into the helicopter with Piper at my heels. I didn’t have the patience for introductions with the pilot. All I cared about was getting back in the air and getting to my family. To my relief, he climbed behind the controls and the chopper climbed into the air.
Oliver’s the most strong-willed person I know. If his daughter takes after him, she’ll just get stronger from here.
***
“Chelsea, I’m so glad you’re here,” Oliver said, rushing down the sterile hallway. Even from a distance, I could tell that he’d been crying. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, while the rest of his face was sunken and white. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair.
“They’ve just taken Stacey to recovery. She was knocked… unconscious… during the accident,” he explained through his tears. “She doesn’t know… about the baby… did you hear she’s a girl? She’s so small, Chelsea… so small and so early. I don’t know…”
“The baby is perfect,” Drake interrupted, approaching from behind. “And she’s going to pull through, Oliver. I know she will.”
“Thank you for getting us home,” I said, meeting his eye.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, turning away from me. “Oliver and I were working when he got the call from the paramedics. I didn’t want him to wait alone. Now that you’re here, I’ll leave you all alone.”
“Thank you for everything, Drake. I’ll call you with an update as soon as I have one,” Oliver offered.
“I would appreciate that, Oliver. Please, tell Stacey that she and your daughter are in my prayers. I’ll stop by in the morning, unless that would be an imposition.”
“It’s no imposition,” I assured him.
“Thank you,” he replied, still refusing to look at me. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Drake turned and started for the elevator. I called out to him before I could stop myself. He stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“I just want to say thank you,” I whispered under my breath, in response to Piper’s puzzled look. I rushed over to where Drake was waiting and moved in front of him. His refusal to meet my eye hurt in ways I didn’t understand and I felt an overwhelming compulsion to let him know how much I appreciated him being there for Oliver.
“What do you want, Chelsea?” he asked through a clenched jaw.
“I want you to look at me,” I replied. His eyes darted back and forth and finally met mine. His gaze was blank and I felt like I was looking at a stranger.
“I just wanted to thank you,” I began.
“You already have,” he replied impatiently.
I bristled. “I thanked you for the jet. Now, I’m thanking you for staying with Oliver… why can’t you look at me, Drake?” I asked as his eyes dropped to the floor.
“Why do you think, Chelsea?” he asked, his voice hushed and melancholy. “I’m trying to do what you asked of me. The last time we met, you said you wanted to be done with me for good. When you left the limo that night, I realized that there was no point in trying to win you back. You were right. You never loved me, not the real me. But I loved you. And right now, everything in me wants to wrap you in my arms and tell you that everything is going to be okay. I know that’s not my place anymore, so I’m going to leave while I can still control myself. Please have Oliver or Piper call me if any of you need anything.”
Drake stepped past the elevator and disappeared behind the staircase door. My heart didn’t fill with love after his speech, but the hate I’d felt for him lifted off my shoulders. I turned and saw a man in a white lab coat talking to Oliver and Piper. I joined them quickly, anxious for news.
“Stacey’s starting to wake up,” Oliver explained as I reached them. “This is Dr. Vines. He’s going to take me back to be with her. She was in and out of consciousness in the ER and we don’t know what, if anything, she’ll remember. I have to be the one who tells her about the baby. .”
“Of course, go be with her and tell her that we love her. Tell her that we’ll find a way to deal with this together. Piper and I will be right here waiting when you come back,” I assured him.
“Actually,” Dr. Vines interjected. “If you’d like, you can go meet your niece.”
“What?” I asked, certain that I’d misheard him.
“Mr. Waters is one of the hospital’s most generous benefactors,” the doctor explained. “He’s asked that certain restrictions be waived, and accommodating his requests won’t cause any harm. He also arranged for Mrs. Tyler to be moved to one of our private suites. The NICU is the third door on the left once you pass the elevators. The nurses are expecting you. They’ll check your temperature and if it’s normal, you can gown up and meet the newest member of your family.”
I stood rooted in place and swallowed nervously. The idea of seeing my niece both thrilled and terrified me. “Dr. Vines… what can we expect, with the baby… statistically, I mean?”
“As I explained to your brother, every preemie is different. I’ve witnessed babies survive being born weeks earlier than your niece. But I’ve also seen babies born much later who’ve failed to thrive. Right now, her lungs are our biggest concern. The rest of her organs seem to be doing well, but we’ll have to watch her kidney and liver functions as we give her medications. I can tell you that preemie girls have a much higher survival rate than boys.”
“Is there anything else we can do? Or is this a matter of waiting and seeing?” I pressed.
“You can talk to her,” he said with a smile. “You can touch her, as long as you’re wearing gloves. You can let her know that she’s loved and tell her everything she has to live for.”
I nodded, fighting back tears. I hugged Oliver again and then pushed him towards the recovery room doors. “Go take care of your wife. I’m going to go meet my niece.”
***
“Hey, how are you feeling?” I asked as Stacey’s eyes peeped open. I walked to the window and opened the curtains, letting in the early morning sun. Stacey struggled to sit up in the bed, grimaced, and settled back against the pillow.
After Emma’s delivery, Dr. Vines had extended his incision and performed exploratory surgery. He removed Stacey’s spleen and repaired her torn liver. As he worked, a plastic surgeon pulled shards of glass and metal from her arms, legs, and face and stitched her skin back together. Thick g
auze bandages covered the wounds while four different bags of medication flowed into her via the IV in her left hand.
“I don’t know how I feel,” she croaked, raising the head of her bed. She took the ice water from her bedside table and finished the glass with one gulp. “My mouth and throat are so dry,” she explained, her voice closer to normal.
“That’s from the breathing tube and the pain medicine,” I told her. “You gave us all quite a scare. The cops were here an hour ago. The man who hit your taxi was drunk. He’s being held on driving under the influence and reckless endangerment. More charges will be added, if…”
“If one of us dies?” Stacey finished, her battered face curling up in an amused smile. . “You can tell the cops that no other charges will be necessary. Emma and I are going to be just fine. Did Ollie tell you that’s what we named her? Emma Grace.”
I nodded, amazed by Stacey’s genuine faith that everything would be okay. “The name is beautiful. So is little Emma.”
I’d spent a majority of the night staring into my niece’s incubator. She was the size of my hand, with translucent skin. Tubes and wires flowed into her tiny body and shields covered her eyes. She had Oliver’s complexion, Stacey’s nose, and my shockingly red hair. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Dr. Vines says all of the dirty glass and metal that cut me puts me at a high risk for infection,” Stacey said with a frown, staring down at her drab taupe hospital blanket.
“Ollie said you’ve had a fever,” I said softly. Oliver had said a lot more, but I wanted to let Stacey get there in her own time.
She nodded, tears rolling down her eyes. “They gave me a tetanus shot and I’ve lost track of how many meds they have me on. Dr. Vines warned that it will be a few days before I’m able to get out of bed. And… and I can’t see Emma until my fever breaks.”
I crossed the room to embrace Stacey, but stopped cold when I reached the bed. I had no idea where I could touch her without inflicting more pain.
“I’m so sorry, Stace. This isn’t how any of this was supposed to happen,” I said, putting a soft hand on her shoulder.
“No, it’s not,” she agreed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath, renewing her resolve. “But it’s what happened, and we have to deal with it. If I could put her back in and keep her safe, I would. But that isn’t an option. I’m her mother and all I care about is what’s best for her. Even if that means I have to stay away.”
I squeezed Stacey’s hand, in awe of her strength. “I don’t know how you’re doing this,” I confessed.
“I don’t have a choice. Ollie FaceTimes me from the NICU, so I’ve been able to see her and talk to her. And I already have a hundred pictures of her.” She leaned back against her pillow, her shoulders dropping. “To be honest, I’m not sure I could get to the NICU right now, even if they let me. Just keeping my eyes open is exhausting.”
The door to Stacey’s hospital suite opened and Oliver walked inside carrying a tray of coffee and a white paper bag. “From the deli on Fifth, as requested,” he said, placing everything on Stacey’s table. He lifted a Styrofoam soup container from the bag and passed it to Stacey.
“I’m on a liquid diet for the time being,” Stacey explained. “And here, that means bullion, Jell-O, and a can of Sprite. Oliver convinced the doctor to let him bring stocks from O’Neil’s instead.”
“Here sis, I figured you’d still be here so I grabbed lunch for you too,” Oliver said, tossing me a pastrami sandwich wrapped in butcher paper. “And we have coffee for us and fruit tea for Momma,” he added, passing out the cardboard mugs.
I was about to bite into my sandwich when the door opened again. Dr. Vines stepped into the room, followed by a short, thin man with a ring of grey hair surrounding the bald dome of his head.
“Is Emma okay, Dr. Vines?” Stacey asked, straightening herself in the bed.
“There’ve been no changes,” he replied, his voice kind and full of compassion. “I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Lekberg. Doctor, this is Stacey and Oliver Tyler, and Oliver’s sister Chelsea.”
We all exchanged greetings and Dr. Vines continued. “Dr. Lekberg is a cardiothoracic neonatologist. He practices at Johns Hopkins and is currently running a clinical trial for a medication that may be more effective at improving Emma’s lungs than our current steroid protocol.”
“I’ve already examined Emma’s scans, and I believe she’s an ideal candidate for the treatment,” Dr. Lekberg explained. “The drug I’m studying is called Levanex. We’re in the third stage of the trial, which means that everyone in the study is on the drug. It also means that we have a fair idea of side effects, which have proven to be much more mild and insignificant than the steroid regimen she’s currently on.”
Oliver sat down on the other side of Stacey’s bed and she sat up a little straighter, turning to Dr. Vines.
“So the risks we discussed this morning, the possible kidney damage and the neuro disorders… those would be minimized with the trial treatment?”
“Yes,” Dr. Vines replied, turning toward his colleague. Dr. Lekberg took his cue and launched into further detail.
“Please understand that Emma still has a long way to go and this is medicine, not magic. The risk of the medication causing permanent damage is much lower with Levanex. The fact that she was born so prematurely could cause a number of issues going forward.”
“But this Levanex, is it more effective? Less? Or is it just safer?” Oliver asked, narrowing his eyes. “And how long have you been studying it? I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable giving my daughter an experimental treatment.”
“I completely understand your reluctance,” Dr. Lekberg answered. “I’ve been running the Levanex trial for five years. Before that, I spent twelve years helping to formulate the drug. In the first and second stages of the trial, patients who were on Levanex improved thirty percent faster than patients on the traditional steroid treatment. I’m happy to provide all of the documentation to support my claims.”
Oliver turned to Stacey. “What do you think?”
“I think this isn’t even a question. We have to give her the drug.”
He nodded and turned back to the doctors. “How soon can we switch treatments?”
“A nurse will be in shortly with the consent forms. We’ll start treatment this afternoon,” Dr. Lekberg answered. “I’ll be staying in the city to oversee her care.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Lekberg,” Stacey said with a yawn.
The doctors nodded and started for the door. “We’ll let you get some rest,” Dr. Vines said over his shoulder. “I’ll see you on my evening rounds.”
As the door clicked shut, my cell phone started chiming. I was pleasantly surprised to see Colton’s number on the screen. “Hello?” I answered, making my way to the hall. Stacey’s hospital room didn’t seem like the place to explain I’d met a new man.
“Chelsea, I heard about your sister-in-law. Is everyone okay?”
“They had to deliver my niece last night and Stacey had a lot of internal bleeding. The doctors removed her spleen and repaired a tear to her liver. The baby has a long road ahead of her, but she’s holding her own.”
“I was so worried when you weren’t at yesterday’s lecture,” he confessed. “I knew something horrible must have happened to make you miss it.”
Dr. Harris is giving the closing lecture on Friday… oh, Colton was scheduled to speak yesterday. I wasn’t going to go because it overlapped with the trip to Indigenous Tribes Museum.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to explain things before I left,” I offered, sensing that Colton’s feelings were hurt. “We rushed out of the hotel as soon as we got the news.”
“I understand,” he assured me. “I’m glad things are going as well as to be expected. How are you holding up?”
“I’ve had an emotional twenty-four hours,” I confessed.
“I thoug
ht that might be the case. I have something that will cheer you up. Come down to the lobby.”
The line went dead before I could ask Colton to explain himself. I stuck my head into Stacey’s room and told them I was going down to the gift shop. Then I walked to the elevator, dazed with confusion.
The way he said ‘come down to the lobby’ made it sound like he’s in the lobby. But he can’t be. The convention is still going on; he wouldn’t have left the day before his boss’ big lecture. He must have sent me something. He didn’t have Stacey’s room number, so whatever it is must be waiting in the lobby.
I rode the elevator to the ground floor and made my way through a maze of hallways. Finally, I stepped out into the open atrium lobby. To my shock, Colton was waiting on a bench.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as he approached and wrapped his arms around me.
“I thought you could use a friend,” he explained, planting a wet kiss on the side of my face. He lifted a large white gift bag from the ground. “And you and your roommate forgot your swag bags.”
“You flew all the way here to bring me museum calendars and drink cozies?” I asked, doubting his story and his intentions. Colton and I had enjoyed each other’s company, but we’d only spent a couple of hours together. The single kiss we shared didn’t seem to warrant cross-country travel.
“And to make sure you were okay,” he reminded me. “If it’s okay, I’m going to crash at your place tonight. I’ll fly back to LA first thing tomorrow, so I don’t miss the old man’s speech.”
I couldn’t believe that he’d not only flown to New York, but also expected to stay at my apartment. I appreciated that he wanted to be there for me, but irritated that he’d assumed what I needed instead of asking.
“I was planning on staying here tonight.” I hesitated and took a deep breath. I knew Colton probably couldn’t afford a hotel on an intern’s salary. I had no idea how he’d afforded his plane ticket. He was a nice guy, devastatingly handsome, and he’d gone to great lengths to show that he cared about me.