by West, Cara
"Can he stay on that permanently?"
"No. When he comes off the machine they'll put in a pacemaker." Sam started to go on, then seemed to hesitate.
"What else do you need to tell me?" Megan asked quietly.
Driving into the hospital parking garage, Sam took a ticket and pulled into a spot. He turned off the ignition and turned to face his sister before he spoke again.
"Right now Dad's prognosis is guarded. Surviving the operation was only the first of many hurdles."
"So we won't know anything definite for days."
"That's the way it looks." Sam paused. "A lot of it will depend on his recuperative powers. If his heart can't do its job with the help of the pacemaker, they may be looking for a donor."
"You mean a heart transplant?" Megan asked, her throat tightening.
Sam nodded.
"What... what if his heart is too damaged, and they don't find a match for him?"
Sam turned back around and stared out the windshield. "We'll face that eventuality if we have to. Not before."
Megan clutched Nate's hand. "Does Mom know this yet?"
Jenny spoke this time, her voice wobbly. "Molly knows most of what Sam's told you. But I don't think it's sunk in."
"Is she here at the hospital?" Megan asked.
"She's here and expecting us."
Megan took a deep breath. "Then we'd better go in."
Once in the hospital, the four of them made their way through a maze of corridors to the cardiac-care waiting area.
When Megan opened the doors, she found Molly standing in the middle of the room. With a cry, Molly clutched her daughter to her heart.
MEGAN THOUGHT Sam's grim recital had prepared her for seeing her dad. But her first glimpse of Andrew was a terrible shock. This wasn't the father who'd raised and loved her. That man was vigorous, in body, as well as mind. This man's skin was pale and thin as parchment. His face was a death mask. Wires and tubing hung over him like macabre Christmas tinsel. Machines monitored and recorded his every twitch.
"He spoke to me after they took the tube from his throat," Molly whispered as she and Megan edged closer to the cubicle where he lay. "But he's still groggy from the anesthetic. They said he'll be that way the rest of the night."
Megan forced the look of horror off her face and nodded to her mother.
"See if he's awake." Molly nudged Megan closer. "I told him you and Nate were on your way here, so he expects you." She stepped back toward the door. "I'll wait outside."
Megan started to object but realized she needed this time alone with her father. She took a moment to reach inside herself for fortitude.
"Dad?" She reached for his hand and held it, careful not to disturb the array of IVs. "Dad? Can you hear me?"
His lashes flickered and his face turned her way.
"Dad, it's Megan." She leaned closer and kissed his forehead.
His lips moved. "Megan? Is that my little girl?"
"Not so little anymore. I'm big enough to take you on."
His eyes opened completely. "That's not saying much. Anybody could take me on right now." His words were slurred and raspy, but Megan could hear a spark of life.
"What's this all about?" she asked. "Can't leave you for a minute..."
"Three years is more like it."
His hand felt icy in her grasp as she teased, "Yeah, and you go and land yourself on an operating table."
For the first time a faint grin appeared on Andrew's face. "Couldn't think of any other way to bring you home, sweetheart."
"Well, I'm home now, and I don't mean to put up with any more nonsense. It's time we had you up and out of here."
She leaned over confidentially. "I have to say. Dad, I've only been here a little while, but I can tell this isn't what you'd call a fun place."
She heard the ghost of a chuckle.
"Sharper than a tack," he whispered. "That's my youngest daughter. Takes after her mother." As soon as the words were out, a shadow crossed his face. "I keep telling Molly she needs to stop hanging around here. I can't make her go home for a decent night's sleep."
"Don't you worry. I'll take care of Mom," Megan promised.
"You'll have to, sweetheart. I can't do it any longer. Megan—" his look sought hers "—I'm glad you made it home in time."
In time?
She patted his hand and swallowed her alarm. "Oh, I wouldn't have missed this for anything. You're rigged up like a Christmas tree."
This time he didn't laugh at her attempt at humor.
Instead, he squeezed her hand weakly. "Megan... you're special to your mother, being the youngest. Risa, Carol and Sam have their families to look after. Be sure and stay with Molly for a time if... if I don't make it home."
His words were almost like a speech he'd prepared. When he'd finished, the spark of life he'd shown seemed to drain from his body. His eyes closed, his hand slackened.
"What kind of talk is that?" Megan's question was sharp, but she wasn't sure he'd heard her.
Apparently he had. "I... I wrote a textbook on probability, remember? My odds don't look too good."
"I never knew a Grant who cared about the odds. If I'd paid attention to the odds, I wouldn't even be here. Besides, I didn't fly all the way from Italy to attend a funeral."
She leaned closer to his ear. "But you have to promise to do your part. Dad. I'm home. We're all here. There'll be someone right outside that door whenever you need us. But you have to do your part—do you hear me?"
"I hear you."
A moment passed, and she wondered if he'd respond further.
Finally, with obvious effort, his words drifted up to her. "Come to think of it, sweetheart, I'm not in the mood for a funeral, either."
The faint smile reappeared on his face, causing a tightening in Megan's chest.
"I guess," he rasped, "I'd better do my best to stick around."
IF HER DAD'S FRAILTY had shocked her profoundly, her mother's agonizing guilt tore at her heart. She saw a glimpse of it moments later when the family went down to the basement cafeteria for coffee.
"Andrew was watching the Astros when it happened," Molly said, her hands twisting together. "First time in years they've been in a pennant race. Andrew was like a kid, he was so excited. He told me they were only two and a half games out of first place. I'd gone to run errands and visit Carol. I couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes." A spasm crossed her face. "When I think of him lying there alone... hurting..."
Megan caught the look Sam and Jenny exchanged. They'd obviously heard this same tortured narrative. Glancing Nate's way, she saw her concern mirrored in his face.
"Mom," Megan said, "you always run errands while Dad watches baseball. You hate baseball."
"Carol was the one who found him," Sam supplied. "She'd called to find out if Molly had left. When she didn't get an answer, she began to worry. Dad... well, he'd had some dizzy spells."
"Dizzy spells? Why didn't someone write and tell me?" Megan's question drew a brief silence.
"Anyway," Sam continued after a moment, "Carol drove over, found Dad and called 911. We almost had to call an ambulance for Carol, as well."
"If I'd been there, if we'd caught the attack sooner," Molly said, "his heart wouldn't have been damaged so badly and—"
"Carol?" Megan interrupted. "What's this about an ambulance for Carol?" Her fear for her sister temporarily supplanted her fear for her father.
"This pregnancy hasn't gone well," Jenny explained briefly.
"Oh, no," Megan said. "And she's always prided herself on being a baby factory."
"When she visited Andrew in the hospital, she fainted outside the cardiac-care unit. We almost had two patients—one in obstetrics."
"And I haven't been able to be with her!" Molly cried.
Jenny came back immediately with, "She has help around the clock."
"Risa's over there right now," Sam added. "She's taken charge of all the kids."
"While you thre
e have been holding down the fort at the hospital," Megan said. "Well, tonight I'm taking over."
When Sam started to object, she cut him off. "I don't want any arguments. I'm still wired from the trip and wouldn't be able to sleep, anyway. Besides, I'm sure Caroline's missed you."
Jenny sighed. "Caroline's barely a year old, and yet she knows something's wrong."
"How could she not," Megan said, "with all the comings and goings? Who does she look like? You or Sam? I couldn't tell from the snapshots you sent."
Nate shook his head. "I've seen those pictures, and they don't do her justice."
"Just as I suspected," Megan said.
"She's beautiful." Molly's tone softened as she smiled at her daughter-in-law. "Just like her mother."
"She certainly has Jenny's coloring," Nate chimed in.
"The way she's taken to the backyard wading pool," Sam said, grinning, "she's going to be a water sprite when she grows up."
"Just like her mother." Nate looked as proud as if he were the father.
Megan was fascinated to think he'd been beguiled by Sam's child. "I can't wait to see her," she said.
"Look. You go back to Carol's with Jenny and Sam," Molly urged her. "That way you can say hello to everybody."
But Megan was firm. "I can see everyone tomorrow. You're the one going home with Jenny and Sam."
"Oh, no, I couldn't—"
"Dad and I talked about how you've been at the hospital day and night."
"You did?"
"It was one of the first things he mentioned. I don't think his worrying about you is helping his condition."
Molly looked stricken.
Megan caught Jenny's eye. An understanding passed between them.
Jenny put her arm around her mother-in-law's shoulders. "Megan's right, you know. You need a good night's sleep."
"But I'm not ready to leave. It's only eight-thirty."
"Why don't I stay and take Molly home later?" Nate suggested. "That way Sam and Jenny can pick Caroline up at Carol's and get her to bed at a decent hour."
"Thank you, Nate," Molly said finally. "If you don't mind waiting, I'd like to see Andrew settled for the night."
Four sets of eyes met at that moment in collective understanding. A partnership of equals. Megan was no longer the kid sister who needed to be shielded from heartache. Molly was the one who needed the protection of them all.
MEGAN WOULD NEVER FORGET that first midnight shift she spent at the hospital. The first time she'd been alone since she'd heard the news about her father. The first time she'd felt a terrifying responsibility to keep him alive until the dawn.
At midnight, the witching hour when fears fly up to beat against logic, Megan leafed through magazines trying to keep herself together. But she met with minimal success.
She'd spoken the truth when she'd told everyone she couldn't have slept, yet it was as if she was in the middle of a nightmare. The disorientation she felt blurred her senses.
When a rush of movement at the nurse's station signaled a patient in distress, alarm sliced through her mental haze. She broke out in a sweat and found it hard to catch her breath. The next ten minutes—until she found out that her father wasn't the cause of all the activity—were the longest she'd ever lived.
Her chest constricted with pity when she saw a nurse come out to speak to the family of the patient, and one of their number, an older woman, began sobbing. Megan slipped out to the corridor so that the family could be alone with its grief.
She was staring at the wall, rubbing her clammy palms together, when an unexpected pair of hands settled on her shoulders.
She twirled around and found Nate had returned.
"I didn't know you'd be back." The words tumbled out of her. "They just... there's been a..."
"I know," Nate said. "I went by the cardiac-care unit first."
"His wife...she looked the same age as my mother."
"I know."
Megan covered her face with her hands. "I felt so sorry for them," she whispered. "And then all I could do was thank God it wasn't Dad. Not this time, anyway."
"When I realized what had happened, I felt the same."
Dropping her hands, Megan said more steadily, "I'm glad Mom wasn't here. I'm not sure she could've handled it. You saw how she was tonight."
"You did the right thing sending her home."
Megan grimaced. "As soon as you left, I turned into a wimp."
Nate smiled down at her. "You don't look like a wimp from here."
"Oh? What do I look like?"
"A beautiful woman."
She flushed at the unexpected compliment. "I—I wasn't fishing, you know."
"Consider it in the nature of shock therapy." He smiled.
Her momentary discomfort was soothed. "I feel better now that you're here," she confessed.
"Come on." He urged her in the direction of an exit. "Let's take a walk outside."
"I'm not sure..." She glanced in the direction of the waiting room.
"Just for five or ten minutes."
Until the waiting room was emptied of emotion.
Nodding her agreement, Megan tried to blot the scene just past from her mind.
They didn't speak while Nate guided her through the sliding glass doors. As soon as she walked out from the air-conditioned chill, onto the pavement, the heat of the Texas summer jarred her senses.
She took a shaky breath. "I'd forgotten how hot it can be in August. This is still August, isn't it? I haven't gone into a time warp, have I? That's the way I feel."
"Unreal, you mean?"
"More like a nightmare." Her voice grew harsh. "Especially after seeing Dad. Nate... the life's drained out of him. He seems so frail and helpless!"
"All surgical patients look that way. My mother had gall-bladder surgery several years ago. When I saw her in recovery, she'd aged twenty years. But within weeks she was her old self again. Your father will look better by tomorrow."
"Will he?" Megan stared at Nate bleakly, asking more than one question.
Nate took her by the shoulders. "Megan, you can't give up hope."
"But what if Dad gives up? If you could have heard him. Oh, Nate, I'm so frightened." She blinked away tears.
"It's okay to be frightened."
She shook her head frantically. "I need to be strong."
"You'll be strong when you have to," he assured her. "Right now you don't have to—especially with me."
Megan would have protested, but the words stuck in her throat. When her eyes filled with sudden tears, Nate took her in his arms.
"That's right,'' he murmured. "Cry it out. You've got this one coming after all that's happened." He smoothed his hands over her shuddering back. "I'm right here. Cry it all out."
Finally her sobbing subsided and she lay limply against his chest. It seemed as if her tears had washed away her fear and confusion and left her with a sense of peace.
They stood that way for another minute or so, her occasional hiccup pointing to signs of her recovery. At last he held her slightly away to gaze down at her tear-streaked face.
"Feeling better?"
She thought for a moment. "Yes. I think so."
"I had a feeling you could use a good cry."
She sent him a damp grin. "And I used to think you were uncomfortable with feelings. Lucky for me you're an expert on women."
A strange look crossed his face, and he backed away. "Let's walk a little farther. We could both use the exercise."
She would have felt rebuffed if he hadn't smiled coaxingly and squeezed her shoulders before directing her forward.
"Sam looks terrible," she said after a while. "Don't you think so?"
"Yes."
"And vulnerable. I'm glad he has you. He can talk to you better than he can to anyone else."
"I'm just as worried about Jenny," Nate said.
Megan looked to him in query.
"Andrew's the father she didn't have as a child," he explained. "They've be
come very close since the wedding. She's terrified of losing him."
"I didn't realize how much he'd come to mean to her."
"Since Jenny and I are both adopted members of the family, we tend to understand each other where the Grants are concerned.''
"So you do approve of Sam's wife," Megan probed. "I wondered if his marriage might come between a beautiful friendship."
"Jenny's like a rainbow shining through our lives." Nate put his hand to his chest in an extravagant gesture. "She's the essence of springtime. A wood nymph come to live among us mortals." He stopped walking and looked directly at Megan. "Jenny's the best thing that ever happened to Sam."
"Except for Caroline," Megan said with a teasing grin.
"Except for Caroline," Nate agreed.
Megan took the opportunity to study him briefly. He was harder to read than he used to be. His classic features seemed layered with irony.
Had he by any chance fallen in love with his partner's wife?
No. Megan saw no signs of a despairing lover. She decided to return to an earlier question. "What made you come back?"
He looked blank. "Come back to where?"
"To the hospital."
"Oh." Now he looked surprised. "I thought you knew I'd be back. I mentioned it, but I guess you were talking to Jenny and didn't hear me."
"You didn't have to, you know. Despite my histrionics, I could've managed."
He smiled, and the smile wrapped itself around her just as his arms had. "Could you have?"
"Well... maybe not the crying part."
He shook his head. "You didn't need to manage. I never meant to leave you. Not this first night."
"You mean, having escorted me home all the way from Italy?"
"Something like that."
"You mean, having taken responsibility for me?"
He suddenly seemed wary. "Where is this leading?"
She took his arm and patted it, continuing their stroll. "You know, you really are a very nice man. And your shoulder's excellent for crying on. How could I have missed that all these years?"
For the first time in Megan's memory, she thought she saw red creeping up Nate's neck. It was hard to tell under the amber glow of the mercury lighting, but something had turned his tan a darker shade.