Stevenson gave the family a quick but thorough recap of events, telling how Quincy had slashed his wrist and Ceara had healed him. “Ceara’s use of her powers apparently brought on premature labor.”
Quincy heard soft gasps when the physician went on to tell his relatives about Ceara’s decision to heal her baby.
Palms pressed together, the doctor sat forward on the sofa to brace her arms on her knees. “Ceara knew she was putting her own life at risk to save the child,” she said softly. She glanced toward Quincy. “And her husband gave her his unswaying support, backing her decision all the way. I gave it to Ceara straight. She was already very weak, and nothing I had tried seemed to help. If she weakened herself even more by trying to heal the baby, I knew I might be helpless to save her. Ceara understood the consequences, but she still insisted on being taken to her daughter.”
Frank cleared his throat. He’d removed his hat, and now he turned the Stetson in his hands. “So what are we lookin’ at now, Doc? Is Ceara gonna pull through?”
Stevenson shook her head. Tears shimmered in her eyes when she met Quincy’s gaze. “I’m so sorry. I won’t overwhelm all of you with medical terms or lists of medications I’ve tried. It’s enough to say that Ceara is barely clinging to life, and nothing I’ve done has had any effect at all.” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “There’s nothing more I can do. From here on out, it’s up to God.”
Standing, the physician crossed over to place a hand on Quincy’s shoulder. “Power of prayer, remember? I have seen miracles happen.”
Quincy nodded. He couldn’t, for the life of him, push out a word. After the doctor left the waiting room, silence descended over his family. Quincy hunched his shoulders, shrinking into himself.
Then, with a ragged sob, he whispered, “I don’t think I can do it, Dad. I can’t lose her and go on living. I don’t think I’ve got it in me.”
Frank whacked Quincy on the back. “You’ve got what it takes,” he said firmly. “You may not know it right now, but if Ceara dies, you’ll have plenty of time to face it and figure your way through it.”
Quincy wasn’t so sure about that. With a dull gaze, he looked around the sitting area. All his brothers had shown up with their wives, and Tucker had come with Sam. That was the Harrigan clan in a nutshell: When one member of the family needed help, they circled the wagons. Dimly, Quincy realized Dee Dee was missing. He guessed that she’d stayed behind with the kids.
Just then Father Mike burst into the waiting area. “Dear God, what happened?”
Frank gave the priest a hurried recap; then he turned to Quincy. “Come on, son. The rest of us shouldn’t go in, but you should be with your wife when she receives the Anointing of the Sick.”
Still in a fog, Quincy followed Father Mike. Once in Ceara’s room, Quincy held her hand, somehow reciting prayers when called for and giving responses on cue. It was a beautiful sacrament. What stuck in Quincy’s brain was that Father Mike called upon all the departed, and all the angels and saints, to become Ceara’s escorts to heaven. Quincy didn’t want her to go, but even so, it comforted him to know that she wouldn’t be alone.
After the ritual was over, Father Mike led Quincy back to the waiting area, where he once again sat beside his dad. People started shoving a sandwich and a drink into Quincy’s hand. He couldn’t even see what he was holding. Ceara. She had been such a bright light in his life, and now she was blinking out like a candle flame.
A nurse came to tell Quincy that he could see his wife again, but he had to go in alone and could stay only ten minutes. When Quincy entered the maternity suite, he saw nurses working frantically over Ceara, checking her vitals, giving her IV injections. Quincy knew nothing they did would help.
Because his time with Ceara was limited, Quincy moved in close to her side as soon as the nurses backed away. Precious seconds. He used every one of them to stroke Ceara’s hair, kiss her dear face, and whisper to her how much he loved her. He could only hope that something he said might call her back to him, but she remained white, waxen, and unresponsive.
When he was ushered from the room by one of the nurses, he left a huge chunk of his aching heart behind. Would Ceara last long enough for another visit? Would he ever see her alive again? Only God had the answers to those questions.
Once back in the waiting room, Quincy headed for his dad again. After sinking onto the cushion, he told everyone, “No change. Well, that’s not true. I’m no expert, but judging by the frenzy the nurses were in, I think she’s losing ground fast.”
Mandy choked on a sob and pressed her face against Zach’s shoulder. Loni bent her head and leaned closer to Clint. White-faced, Sam just stared blindly at the floor. Quincy tried to think of something else to say. They were nearly as upset as he was and needed him to be strong. He just found it difficult right now. He suddenly noticed that there wasn’t a person among them who wasn’t wearing damp clothes, including Father Mike.
Voice hollow, he said, “Looks to me like all you guys got caught in my daughter’s storm.”
“Your daughter’s storm?” Clint looked bewildered. “What do you mean?”
Quincy told them how his baby girl had protested when she was removed from the warm incubator. “The instant she started throwing a temper fit, a storm struck. I’ve never seen the like unless it was on the news.”
“Your baby girl caused that storm?” Zach arched both eyebrows. “The wind damned near took my truck off the road.”
Everyone started talking at once, describing their own close calls during their drives into town. Father Mike had been caught as he walked from the rectory over to the church.
Suddenly Loni held up her hand, calling for silence. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she cried. “Can you repeat that for me, Quincy?”
“Repeat what?”
“Did you or did you not just say your daughter caused that horrible storm?”
Quincy shrugged. “She’s her mother’s daughter. Ceara told me the same thing happened after she was born, that—”
Loni cut him off. “I’m aware of the story, Quincy. Ceara told me about it, too. Don’t you get what this means? Your baby is a druid. She has gifts.”
“Nothing strange about that, I don’t guess,” Quincy replied. “Her mama’s a druid, and according to Ceara, I’ve got druid blood, too, watered down though it is. The baby had every chance to be born with some of her mother’s powers.”
Still comforting his wife, Zach spoke up, clearly aiming for a jovial remark to lighten things up. “I think we should nickname the little sprite Stormy. It’s a cute name, and if she brought that gully-washer on, it suits her to a T.”
Loni sent her youngest brother-in-law an exasperated look. “Zach, for once—just this once, mind you—can you keep your lip zipped?”
Mandy’s head came up. “That isn’t very nice, Lonikins. He didn’t say anything wrong. I think Stormy is an adorable nickname for the baby.”
Loni rolled her eyes. “Hello? Earth to the Harrigans. Can everyone please try to focus? The baby has powers.” She sent Quincy a pleading look. “Think. What if she has the gift of healing?”
Quincy knew Loni was trying to make a point, but he didn’t get what it was. “I’m sure she probably does—or there’s a good chance of it, anyway. All I can think about right now is my wife. Sorry, but I’ll worry about how I’m going to cope with the child-rearing problems later.”
“Child-rearing problems?” Zach echoed. “If tonight’s any example, if the kid gets in a serious snit, she might level your house in a high wind.”
Loni waved a hand again. “God, you people are so dense sometimes. If the baby has the gift of healing, she may be able to heal her mother. Why is nobody else tuning in to my channel here?”
Quincy’s heart jerked with a warm surge of hope. He quickly squelched it. “You haven’t seen my daughter.” He tried to show her size, but his hands were so big he couldn’t possibly convey the image to Loni. He fell back on stating the facts. “She
weighs one-point-four pounds. She’s so tiny she doesn’t look real. So what if she has powers? She’s way too little right now to focus on using them. She can’t even really see yet.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Loni shot to her feet. When Clint tried to grasp her arm, she shook free, apparently as frustrated with him as she was with everyone else. “Gifts like these are instinctive. Do you think I ever in my entire life invited a vision? No, they came at me from nowhere from the time I was little, really little. My whole damned life until I met Clint was like a series of train wrecks, because I had no control, absolutely none, over my gift. My having no control doesn’t mean my gift wasn’t just as powerful, though.”
Quincy was still trying to keep a lid on the hope trying to blossom inside him. “When I cut myself, Ceara consciously decided to grab my wrist. She consciously called upon her gift to heal me. Stormy is way too tiny to consciously do anything. Don’t you get that, Loni?”
“See?” Zach said. “It stuck. I claim dibs on naming her. Even her dad is calling her Stormy.”
Loni rounded on her brother-in-law. “Credit for that can come later. Right now, Ceara may be dying, and we’re running out of time.” She shook off her husband’s hand again. “Please. You guys have to listen to me. I’m the only person here who can come close to understanding any of this. You have to trust me and do what I say.”
Frank stood up. “We got us a wrinkle here, honey, because it ain’t real clear to any of us what you’re sayin’.”
Loni moved two steps toward Quincy. “Then let me be clear. Quincy, go get your daughter.”
“She’s in intensive care. I can’t just go get her without an okay from Stevenson.”
“Then get an okay,” Loni persisted. “That baby needs to be in her mother’s arms.” She closed the remaining distance to clutch Quincy’s shoulder. “Don’t think; just do it. Trust me, Quincy. I think it may save Ceara’s life.”
* * *
Quincy didn’t know if he could get Stevenson on board for another paranormal venture or not, and deep down, he doubted he could plead the case very convincingly, because he honestly didn’t believe his tiny baby girl could do much of anything right now besides find her mouth with her fist. He roused the OB from a nap. She emerged from the closet, where she’d been passed out on a cot, to blink up at him, her dishwater blond hair poking out from her French braid as if she’d stuck her finger in a live light socket.
“Is it Ceara?” She glanced at her watch. “I was with her only fifteen minutes ago.”
Quincy quickly related to the doctor his sister-in-law’s theory that his daughter had the power to heal her mother.
Stevenson gaped at him. “That baby was waltzing with death not long ago. This healing business clearly drains the body. I’m sorry, Quincy, but sometimes a doctor goes with the odds and other times she sticks with the sure thing. The baby is going to be fine. I’m sure of that. I can’t possibly put her at risk again. Ceara chose to do it, so that was different. The baby can’t make choices for herself yet. I can’t make a call like this, and I won’t allow you to, either.”
Loni appeared at Quincy’s side. “Dr. Stevenson, I’m Quincy’s sister-in-law, and a clairvoyant.”
The doctor passed a hand over her bloodshot eyes. “Oh, great. A family full of druids and clairvoyants.” She shook her head. “Nothing you say is going to change my mind. A baby cannot make life-or-death decisions for herself, and I sure as hell won’t make them for her—end of conversation.”
Loni rushed to insert, “It isn’t a life-or-death decision for Stormy.”
“Stormy?” Dr. Stevenson cocked an eyebrow.
“Our temporary nickname for the baby,” Loni explained. “As tiny as she is, we’ve good reason to believe she caused that awful storm earlier.” Loni waved a hand. “Anyway, the baby—”
“Whoa!” Dr. Stevenson held up a hand. “That baby caused the storm? What on earth makes you think that? A nurse told me it took down trees all over town, and weather forecasters are scratching their heads because it wasn’t predicted, came on suddenly, and then just . . . stopped.”
“It stopped the instant you got Stormy swaddled in the warm blankets,” Quincy said. “She was happy again.” He related the story of Ceara’s birth to the doctor. “It’s clear that my daughter has inherited her mother’s gifts, possibly even the ability to heal, and using her gifts won’t harm her in any way, shape, or form.”
“She was born in this century,” Loni inserted, “and her powers are completely undiminished. Before Ceara came forward through time, she was told that the trials of the journey would either take away all her gifts or greatly weaken them. But for Stormy, that isn’t the case. Using her powers is as natural to her as breathing and won’t hurt her at all.”
Quincy pinched the bridge of his nose. “My only worry is that Stormy is too little to focus. How can she heal her mother if she can’t zero in on what’s wrong with her and consciously—” Quincy broke off. “Hell, I don’t know the name for what Ceara did when she healed my wrist and then the baby. To me, it felt like I got zapped with a high-voltage electrical current.”
Loni reached out and grabbed the doctor’s hand. “Please don’t let us down. Ceara is dying. All we want to do is tuck the baby into her arms to see what happens.”
“I could lose my license for allowing that.”
Loni laughed, albeit humorlessly. “Yeah, right, for letting a dying mother hold her newborn? I would think that’s a pretty common thing for doctors to allow.”
“But this is no ordinary newborn,” Stevenson pointed out.
“No,” Loni agreed, “but if you attempt to tell anyone that, you probably will lose your license, at least temporarily, because people will think you’re crazier than a loon.”
Stevenson smiled faintly. “At this moment, I’m wondering if they wouldn’t be right.” She searched Quincy’s gaze. “Are you sure—beyond any shadow of a doubt—that doing this will put your daughter in absolutely no danger?”
Quincy nodded. “I’m absolutely positive.”
“And are you willing to release me from any legal responsibility? I’ll take your word, Mr. Harrigan.”
Quincy glanced at Loni. She nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “I am.”
Quincy’s only uncertainty was that Loni might be wishing on rainbows.
Chapter Twenty
Stevenson hugged her waist, bent her head to stare at the floor, and began tapping the toe of her Dansko Professional, sending out a solid thumping sound. When she finally glanced up, she sighed.
“Okay, here’s the thing.” She glanced at her watch again. “In twenty-eight minutes, give or take a few either way, two other doctors are coming on board, one to take over Ceara’s care, the other to take over Stormy’s. I’m an OB, and Ceara’s condition has moved clear out of my orbit. And Stormy is a preemie. It’s common practice with preemies for a pediatrician to take over. I’ve only been in charge of both of them this long because they were brought in during the middle of the night, and the storm caused so much damage that both specialists have had trouble reaching the hospital. Trees down over roads, no power in some areas. It’s a mess out there.”
Loni interjected. “So in a very short while, you’ll have no say in what happens.”
“Correct,” Stevenson replied, “and until you woke me, I was glad of it. I put in a full day yesterday, and I’ve been up all night. To say I’m exhausted is an understatement. I was looking forward to getting some relief so I could sleep.”
“And now?” Loni pressed.
Stevenson frowned, and then her mouth curved into a ghost of a smile. “Now I’m thinking I have a very small window of time to authorize a short mother-daughter visit.” She directed her gaze to Loni. “You’re right. It isn’t uncommon for a dying mother to be allowed to hold her baby toward the end. Supervised, of course, so no harm comes to the infant.”
“So you’ll do it?” Loni grinned at Quincy. “She’ll do it.”
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“I will,” Stevenson conceded, “but time is of the essence. Once those other doctors arrive, this little experiment probably won’t happen. We need to get Stormy out of NICU, ASAP, and get her into Ceara’s arms.”
She spun away. Over her shoulder, she fired at Quincy, “Well, don’t just stand there! Get your family gathered outside Ceara’s room. I’ll take care of getting the baby there and clearing the birthing suite of nurses.” She turned to walk backward for a second. “I want no medical professionals in there, period. If a healing occurs, it will be the second unexplained miracle of the day, and we usually only get a couple a year. I definitely don’t want witnesses. You understand? My whole career is hanging in the balance.”
* * *
Loni left Quincy leaning against the wall outside Ceara’s room and went to the waiting area to gather the Harrigan troops. Quincy took advantage of the opportunity to close his eyes and just rest his brain for a couple of minutes. Soon he felt feminine hands rubbing his arms, and then big, hard ones, lightly grasping his shoulders. Family. Quincy thanked God for each and every person who’d stepped close to show love for him, but he didn’t have any remaining energy to respond to the gestures.
Thoughts of Ceara circled in his mind, kind of like a movie chopped into bits, tossed in a bag, given a good shake, and then played willy-nilly on a television screen. Ceara grasping his hand and leading him toward the bed on their wedding night, insisting that they do their duty. Ceara terrified the next morning when her hair got sucked into the outtake valve of his Jacuzzi tub. Ceara in Beethoven’s stall, wearing the old-fashioned gown and what looked like an oil filter on her head. Ceara standing at his stove, waiting to knock his eyes out with her new haircut, makeup, and seduction outfit. The memories brought tears to Quincy’s eyes and made him smile both at once. How could it be that he hadn’t known a little more than six months ago that she even existed, and now he couldn’t begin to imagine life without her?
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