The First Love Cookie Club

by Lori Wilde

  The smell of antiseptic burned his nostrils. His mouth tasted salty. Tears. He was crying. He rested his elbows on Jazzy’s bed, clasped his palms together, and bowed his head in supplication. It had been so long since he’d prayed. Years. Not since he was fourteen and he’d prayed for God to save his mother, and he hadn’t. Travis had been pissed off at God for a long time. But now, his back was truly against the wall.

  “Please,” he prayed. “Please don’t take Jazzy. Take me instead.”

  The sound of his anguish rolled off the walls,washed over his ears. If Jazzy died, he had no reason to live. None at all.

  Then a soft rustling noise drew his attention to the doorway. He raised his head and saw her standing there, a witness to the lowest point in his life.

  Sarah looked a bit uncertain, holding back a bit, her hands knotted together and held low in front of her. Then her eyes clutched his and she steamed into the room like sunshine.

  “She’s not going to die, Travis,” Sarah said with such certainty, so calm and knowing that he actually believed her. “I have called my parents. They’re the best heart specialists in the country and they’ve asked a top-notch pediatrician to consult. I’ve arranged to have Jazzy medevaced to Houston. Dr. Adams has agreed. It’s all taken care of. They are going to cure her. She is going to live.”

  Travis stared at her, openmouthed. In that moment, Sarah looked like superwoman—in charge, assertive, unruffled. She was precisely what they needed. He and Jazzy.

  Travis knew how difficult this was for her. Taking an emotional risk. Putting herself on the line. Offering all she had to help him and his daughter. He was grateful, so damn grateful.

  But there was a part of him, ego perhaps, that felt like he’d failed. He didn’t have the money, resources, or influence Sarah possessed. He couldn’t pick up the phone and call the best doctors in the country. He couldn’t pull money from his wallet and conjure up transport helicopters. He couldn’t protect his own child.

  “Sarah.” He whispered her name and got to his feet.

  Their gazes cemented.

  He had so much to say to her that he didn’t know where to start. Words of regret and gratitude, of apology and thanksgiving crowded his mouth, but before he could find a way to say them, the room flooded with medical personnel.

  They were lost in a sea of people, on opposite sides of the room. Doctors, nurses, technicians, respiratory therapists prepared his daughter for her journey. But Sarah’s gaze cradled his. He could hear what she did not say. I’m with you, Travis, all the way.

  Once his daughter was bundled on the gurney, the efficient-looking CareFlite team in jumpsuits propelled her toward the staff elevators that led to the helipad on the roof. “There’s not enough room for you to fly with us,” said the male nurse, who with his sharp features, no-nonsense stance, and buzz haircut looked like he could have been a marine.

  “I can’t leave her,” Travis said. “She’s all I’ve got.”

  “We’ll take good care of her.” The air ambulance nurse’s tone softened.

  He wanted to demand they all let him go with her, but the longer he argued, the more he put Jazzy’s life in danger. He leaned over, kissed his daughter on the forehead, but she didn’t open her eyes. Fear sledgehammered his heart. He clenched his jaw, battled back tears. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart; Daddy will meet you in Houston.”

  Sarah slipped an arm around Travis’s shoulder. “I’ve arranged for a private jet. They’re waiting atthe Twilight airfield. We’ll arrive close to the same time Jazzy does.”

  Travis looked over at her. Her blue eyes shone brightly as if she was fighting off tears of her own. He couldn’t believe she’d done this. She’d taken care of everything. He should be grateful. Hell, he was grateful, but it was hard for him to let go of the reins, let someone else take over. It made him feel helpless, useless. What kind of father was he if he couldn’t take care of his daughter’s needs?

  “I’m going with you,” she said, and then added softly, “That is, if you want me to.” She held out her hand.

  He took it, squeezed it, tucked away his pride, and allowed her to lead him from the hospital, because if it hadn’t been for Sarah, he would surely have gone insane.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  On the flight to Houston, they held hands. Sarah could feel the tension in his body. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, and gently rubbed his back.

  “Crystal ran out on us again.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, passed it to Sarah.

  “You’ve got to let go of your rage toward her,” Sarah said. “Crystal has been through more than you can know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Softly, she told him about the little boy that his ex-wife had lost.

  Travis stared down at his hands; his shoulders slumped. “I had no idea. She never told me about Shiloh. I’m still angry with her, but now at least I can understand where she’s coming from. Why didn’t she ever tell me?”

  “It was too painful for her to talk about. She just couldn’t cope with Jazzy’s illness. What she did was wrong, but, Travis, I do believe she’s coping to the best of her ability.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I suppose you’re right. I’m going to have work on forgiving her.”

  “After this is over you two can have a long talk and come up with a way for her to be a part of Jazzy’s life.”

  “That’s assuming Jazzy makes it.” His voice cracked.

  “She’s going to make it,” Sarah said fiercely. “Your daughter is a warrior.”

  By the time they arrived in Houston, Sarah’s parents and the pediatric specialists had examined Jazzy in the pediatric medical intensive care unit. Helen and Mitchell Collier stepped into the waiting room just as Sarah and Travis got off the elevator.

  “My goodness, Sarah,” her mother exclaimed. “Look at you. You’re slim and you’ve cut your hair. You look wonderful.”

  It was then that Sarah realized exactly how long it had been since she’d seen her parents. She’d lost the extra weight last year when she’d joined Weight Watchers and went from a size fourteen to a size eight.

  Her parents had changed as well. Streaks of silver were now heavily threaded through her mother’s auburn hair. Her shoulders seemed so small and fragile. Her mother was fifty-seven. How did she continue to manage the long hours in surgery that her career demanded? How much longer would she be able to keep it up?

  Her father looked older too, but not in a bad way. He was balding a bit at the temples of his silvery hair and the lines at his eyes had deepened and he was wearing glasses, which gave him a scholarly air.

  They both wore green scrubs with white labjackets thrown over them and surgical clogs. They smelled of hospital antiseptic and paper scrub masks. Smells Sarah knew well. Some things never changed.

  “Turn around.” Her mother twirled an index finger. “Let me get a good look at you.”

  Sarah twirled.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Helen Collier said. “You must have shed thirty pounds.”

  It irked Sarah that her mother was proud of her for losing weight and not for her other accomplishments, but she let it go. This wasn’t about their past squabbles. This was about saving Jazzy’s life.

  “I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to see Jazzy,” she said. “She’s very important to me.”

  “All you had to do was ask,” her father said somberly. “We’ve always been just a phone call away.”

  As if she was the reason for their estrangement. Sarah let that go as well. The only thing that mattered now was Jazzy. “Let me introduce you to Jazzy’s father,” she said, stepping back and putting an arm on Travis’s shoulder, then tried not to let the jolt of awareness that shot up her fingers show on her face.

  “How is she?” Travis asked. “What’s wrong? Dr. Adams seemed at a loss.”

  “We have some good news and some bad news,” Dr. Mitchell Collier said. “Perhaps we should sit down.”


  Travis paled visibly. “Is it that bad?”

  “Not now that you’re in our hands,” Helen said, fully owning her ego. She’d earned the right. “Your daughter has been misdiagnosed for four years. She does not have severe bronchial asthma andthis is why her condition did not improve as she got older.”

  “What does she have?” Travis’s entire body was so tense Sarah could see the ridge of muscles bunching along his shoulders. She draped her arm around him, felt him relax slightly. She smiled inwardly at that. To think her touch could comfort him in this time of high stress.

  “She’s got cardiac asthma, the treatment of which is completely different than it is for bronchial asthma.”

  “But I don’t understand. We took her to several specialists. Why didn’t anyone discover it before now?”

  “There’s several reasons,” Mitchell said. “For one thing, Jazzy’s symptoms were atypical for cardiac asthma. Then there was your mother’s history of severe bronchial asthma. Bronchial asthma can be hereditary and that probably predisposed doctors to look there first.”

  “What’s causing it?”

  “That’s the bad news, Jazzy has a congenital malformation. She needs surgery and she needs it right away.” Sarah’s father and mother proceeded to go into in-depth medical detail about Jazzy’s condition.

  “Are you certain?” Travis said. “She was doing so well on that medication Dr. Adams prescribed.”

  “That drug was merely masking her symptoms. It wasn’t helping her,” Helen said. “Surgery is the only option.”

  “The good news,” Mitchell interjected, “is that Jazzy should make a full recovery.”

  “So when are you doing surgery?”

  “She’s being prepped right now. We just need you to sign the paperwork.”

  Sarah stood back, watching her parents interact with Travis. She’d never been on this side of the equation before. She’d always been the kid being stood up by her parents on Christmas Day. But now, she was with the kid they were spending their Christmas with. A sick child who desperately needed them.

  Suddenly, she saw her folks in a whole new light. She wished they’d brought her to the hospital to see the kids they helped. Maybe she wouldn’t have resented Christmas so much. But it didn’t matter. The past was behind her. She remembered something Travis had said to her when she told him about her scar. Scars are just evidence of where you’ve been, they’re not markers of where you’re going.

  Everyone had things in his past he’d like to change. Some kept secrets and those secrets could eat your soul, lead to loneliness and isolation. Like Travis’s father and Crystal. But others were wise enough to open up, to take the emotional risk of sharing their secret pain to find love and acceptance.

  Deep inside, Sarah felt a hundred different things all at once. Felt them and let them unfurl inside her. Surprise, joy, relief. The resentment she’d been holding on to slipped away. She canted her head and studied her parents. They were brilliant, accomplished people who made a real difference in the lives of others. They weren’t perfect. They made mistakes, but they tried.

  And they loved her, in their way. She could see itin their eyes when they looked at her. Funny, she’d never been able to see it before.

  “Sarah,” her mother said as they got to their feet, “can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

  “Sure.” She turned to smile at Travis. “I’ll be right back.”

  She went down the hall with her mother, pleased at the lack of tension that was normally in the air whenever she was around her. Maybe she’d been as much of the problem as they’d been.

  “This is him, isn’t it?” her mother said when they were out of earshot of the waiting room. “The one you had the dreams about when you were a kid.”

  Sarah nodded.

  “He makes you happy.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “A mother knows when her child is happy. He loves you, you know.”

  “What?”

  “He can’t stop looking at you. It’s the same way your father looks at me.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in soul mates and destiny and stuff like that.”

  “Maybe not,” her mother said, “but I do believe in the healing power of love. I see it in my practice every day. Hang on to him, sweetheart.” Then in a very uncharacteristic gesture, her mother kissed her cheek. “He’s the one.”

  Sarah sat with Travis throughout Jazzy’s surgery. They didn’t talk, just waited, holding hands. She fell asleep curled next to him on the couch. He’d almost fallen asleep himself when he saw her parents step into the waiting room. He stood up, stretched his legs, his heart thumping crazily.

  They smiled.

  Relief flitted around him. Smiling was good. Travis wanted so badly to believe in a Christmas miracle. No, not a miracle. Sarah had done this. He’d been forced to swallow his pride and let Sarah help him, and thank God for that. Just admitting that he needed help, that he couldn’t do it alone, caused a huge weight to roll from his shoulders. It felt good.

  “Your daughter came through the surgery with flying colors,” they assured him.

  “We’ll keep her here for a few days,” Helen said. “But we anticipate a full recovery and more than likely you can take her home by the middle of next week.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” he said.

  “Go get some rest.” Mitchell Collier clapped him on the shoulder.

  “I need to be with my daughter.”

  “She’s still under sedation,” Helen said, and glanced over at Sarah, who was still sleeping on the couch.

  “Your daughter seems to have taken quite a shine to mine,” Helen murmured. “All Jazzy wanted to know was if you two were here. Oh, and she wanted me to make sure her Isabella doll and that Magic Cookie book would be here when she woke up.”

  “We’ve got them,” he said, realizing he was talking about himself and Sarah as if they were a couple.

  Helen smiled as if she understood everything that was churning through his mind. “You’re a great parent,” she said. “A far better one than Mitchell and I ever were to Sarah. We’ve got a lot to make up for.”

  He saw the pain and regret in her eyes. “There’s plenty of time. Sarah wants a real relationship with you.”

  “Does she?” Helen looked surprised, but hopeful. “Really?”

  “She might not be able to say it, but that’s what she wants more than anything.”

  Helen shook her head. “You’re what she wants more than anything. I see the way she looks at you.”

  Could it be true? Travis shook his head, wanting to believe it, but afraid to get his hopes up. “When can we see Jazzy?”

  “Mitchell and I are going to check in on her to make sure everything is on target, and a nurse will come get you when she’s settled.”

  Travis looked over to see Sarah had awakened and was standing with her arms folded over her chest, holding herself apart.

  Her parents departed, leaving Travis and Sarah alone in the silent waiting room. His eyes stared straight into hers.

  Travis reached out and took her hand. “I was a fool,” he said. “A damn fool to let you talk me into giving Crystal another chance.”

  “She’s Jazzy’s mother; I had to convince you try to fix things with her. And you weren’t a fool. Crystal is hurting. She needs a little compassion.”

  “You’ve been more of a mother to Jazzy in three weeks than Crystal ever was.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we can’t sympathize with Crystal’s plight. She tries her best, even if it’s not good enough. Some people just aren’t cut out to be full-time mothers.”

  “You’re thinking about your own mother,” Travis said.

  “I’m not blaming my parents for who they are. I understand them better now than I ever did before and I think they understand me a little better too. But you really should give Crystal another chance to make amends.”

  “I’ll try.” He nodded. “There’s another
reason I was a damn fool.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I got my feelings hurt.”

  “I hurt your feelings?”

  “Damn straight. When you told me what happened between us in the cabin was nothing more than a good time. While a guy likes to know he’s able to please his lady, that doesn’t mean he likes to be treated like a sex object.”

  “Poor baby.”

  “That’s right, be glib about the knife you stabbed in my heart.”

  Sarah sobered. “Did I really hurt you?”

  “I felt like you ripped out my heart and stomped it with those stiletto boots of yours. In my pain, I couldn’t see the truth. That you were hurting as much as I was.”

  “Jazzy knew best.” Sarah smiled. “She put a kismet cookie underneath my pillow on Christmas Eve.”

  “She put one under my pillow as well.”

  “Did you dream of your one true love?” Sarah asked.

  He looked deeply into her eyes. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I dreamed of my wedding day.”

  “And who were you getting married to?”

  “My soul mate.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “How do you know it was a he?” she teased.

  He smiled. “It was me.”

  She swatted him lightly on the shoulder. “Look at the ego on you.”

  “You told me nine years ago, but I was in no position to listen. You were only fifteen.”

  “But you liked me?”

  “Yeah, but how could I admit that? You were a kid and I was getting married to Crystal. I attributed the feelings to cold feet, but part of me knew there was something there. Something I could not admit.”

  “Really bad timing on my part.”

  “But I’m no longer married to Crystal,” he said, “and you’re no longer a kid. I’ve been with a lot of women in my time, Sarah. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, but I’ve never … no one has ever …”—he paused, searching for the right words—“impacted me the way you have.”