“If William continues to breathe easily, then Abby will be able to come in and start feeding him in the next few hours. But if he’s struggling for air or breathing too fast,” Doc cautioned, “we’ll have to hold off on starting feeding and do follow-up testing.”
Tad regarded Doc warily. “Doesn’t the baby need to eat?”
Doc nodded. “If we can’t feed him, we’ll start an IV and feed him that way for the time being.” Doc went on to explain that babies breathed through their mouths only, so the pediatrician didn’t want to do anything that would make it harder for William to breathe.
The fear gripping Tad’s heart squeezed a little more. More than anything he wanted to protect Abby and his son. “You’re worried about my son, aren’t you?” he asked grimly.
“Some, yes,” Doc admitted honestly. “But William’s a fighter, Tad, and he’s holding his own for the moment. There’s a lot to be said for that.” Doc studied Tad with a physician’s eye. “I wish I could say you looked as good.”
Taking Tad by the arm, Doc led him down the hall in the direction of Abby’s room. “You’ve had a really rough time of it, too, haven’t you, son?” he asked compassionately as every wrong thing Tad had ever done came back to haunt him with crushing speed.
Years ago he’d let his kid brother down, with an error in judgment that had ended up costing Billy his life. Now, years later, he’d done it again, this time with his wife and son. And he was just as powerless to do anything about it after the fact. Instead, he had to wait it out and see if his son was going to be okay. The way Billy hadn’t been.
With effort Tad pushed the torturous memories away. His dreams for the future fading faster than a shooting star, he knew he had to unburden himself. And who better to talk to than Doc, who’d often said that in his thirty-some years as a healer he’d seen and heard it all?
“I never should have pressured Abby to move here. But I did because—God help me—I wanted her with me. Not just as the mother to my child but because I wanted her to make my dream hers.”
“Sharing a dream can bring a couple closer together,” Doc said gently.
“But it wasn’t just that,” Tad said grimly, his shame mounting. “I needed her skills, her insight, to make the paper what it is today.” Tad shoved a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t have garnered anywhere near the success without her input.” And therein lay the trap he’d created for them. “Don’t you see, Doc? I’m the one who got her excited about newspaper work. Not enough to want to do it forever of course—I don’t think that’s possible—but enough to want to put in way too many hours.” Like she had that very morning, Tad thought guiltily. “And now, because of that, our baby is here early, and I can’t shake the feeling that in my selfish need to have everything my way I might have gotten us into a bad situation that I can’t fix.” What if—because of his damned selfishness and self-centeredness—things went wrong again and he and Abby lost their son? Tad had read between the lines enough to know that although William was stable, he was not out of danger yet.
The silence that fell between the two men was more indicting than any tribunal. Hand on Tad’s arm, Doc directed Tad past Abby’s hospital room to a deserted waiting room a little farther down the hall. Once there, he propelled Tad onto one of the sofas and made him sit.
“The last thing Abby needs is to hear you talking like this,” Doc told him gruffly.
“Maybe,” Tad allowed grimly, ashamed. He wished like hell he’d had something more noble to report. “But it’s all true. I took advantage of Abby at a real low point in her life.” Was this—Will’s condition—punishment for that?
Doc folded his arms. “Abby strikes me as a young woman who knows her own mind. She wouldn’t have come to Blossom with you if she didn’t want to be here.”
That wasn’t quite true, Tad thought uncomfortably, as pain and regret tightened like a vice around his heart. He had backed her into a corner when she lost her job at Trend, and he knew it, even if no one else here did. Until now he’d believed he’d do it all over again in a flash if it meant he and Abby could have the chance to make their marriage a real one and be together again, but now he wasn’t so sure he hadn’t brought this all on them himself! He swallowed hard. If anything happened to their baby, if he was at fault, he knew he would never forgive himself. And neither would Abby.
Doc moved to the bank of windows and stood opposite Tad. “As far as the baby coming early goes, that could have happened if she hadn’t worked at all. So you needn’t blame yourself about that.” Doc paused, trying to see if he was getting through. “Look, son, you and Abby and the baby have all been through a lot today. It’s going to take time to recover. Talking to Abby about any of your doubts or regrets about past misdeeds is not going to do any of you any good, particularly at this juncture, so I want you to promise me you’ll let that go for now,” Doc said firmly. “Save it for later, after William is home, if you must discuss it.”
Doc seemed to think by then it would no longer be necessary.
“Right now, just concentrate on getting some rest yourself. And helping Abby and baby William do the same. It wouldn’t hurt you to get something to eat, too. Not to mention a shower, shave and fresh set of clothes.” Doc placed an arm around Tad’s shoulders. “So here’s what we’re going to do....”
Chapter Thirteen
Abby awoke the following morning, not sure how long she’d been asleep, only knowing that every part of her ached with the need to be with Tad and see her baby again. Shakily she tried to sit up, only to discover she still had an IV in her arm and was woozy as all get out. Worse was the fuzzy memory of Tad talking to Doc Harlan, telling him he regretted ever bringing her to North Carolina. Or had that been a nightmare? Abby wondered, confused.
Closing her eyes, she sank back against the pillows. And that was when she heard it, the quiet heavy footsteps, then Tad’s voice, low and urgent, and the brisk purposeful voice of the neonatologist.
Tad and William’s pediatrician came into the room. To Abby’s surprise, Tad was showered and shaved. He even looked as if he’d had some rest. But there was a distant regret-filled look in his blue eyes that hadn’t been there before she went to sleep—which made her think that her memory hadn’t been a nightmare at all. And there was something else going on here, too, she thought. Otherwise, the faces of both men wouldn’t look quite so reluctant and grim, and she wouldn’t be feeling quite so panicked.
“Hello, Abby,” the pediatrician said gently.
Abby swallowed around the lump in her throat as every self-protective instinct she had snapped immediately into place. “How’s the baby doing?” she asked as Tad sat beside her on the edge of the bed and took her hand.
William’s pediatrician smiled at her, but the expression in his eyes was grave. “Abby, I’m a little bit concerned about him. He seemed to recover from the initial birth incident quite well, and we checked some tests on his blood to see if he was getting enough oxygen, and those looked good. But since that time he’s started to breathe a little fast again and his temperature dropped a bit.”
“I don’t understand.” Abby shot Tad a fearful look before turning back to William’s pediatrician. “What does that mean?”
“When you or I get sick, we get a fever. When a baby this young gets sick, sometimes the temp goes down a tiny bit, instead of up,” he explained, his serious expression telling her everything she didn’t want to hear. “The first thing we do when that happens is check the baby’s blood sugar and infection count. William’s blood sugar was fine. But his infection count showed too many of the cells that indicate he might be getting sick.”
The pediatrician went on to explain they’d ordered a chest X ray, which had looked normal, and then drawn blood for cultures. “In the meantime we’ve started William on antibiotics and IV fluids.”
Abby struggled against the panic that threatened to envelop her. “When can I see him?” She had to get to William, let him know they were there.
“Right away. As for feeding, as long as his respiratory rate reminds high, as I’ve explained to Tad, I can’t allow you to breastfeed him. We’ll give William all the nutrition he needs through an IV so that we don’t hinder his breathing.”
They were doing everything they could. She had to have faith. Abby drew an unsteady breath and worked to keep her voice even. “How long is he going to be in the hospital?”
“If the blood cultures remain negative, his breathing slows to a normal rate, and he continues to do well, then he can probably go home in seventy-two hours. If the cultures are positive, William will have to stay here in the special-care nursery anywhere from ten to twenty-one days.”
Still struggling to understand, Abby asked, “Did he get sick because he was born early? Or was he born early because he was already sick?”
“Most of the time these infections just happen, and we’re unable to relate it to any specific event if there’s no infection in the mother. You, Abby, have shown no signs of fever or infection, so we’ll probably never know why this occurred.”
Abby could deal with that. As long as William got well. And he would get well, she thought fiercely. She and Tad would see to it.
William’s pediatrician talked to them some more, promised to come back to see them again that evening, then left to continue his rounds. Together, Tad and Abby walked down to the special-care nursery. A nurse showed them how to scrub their hands for several minutes with a rough bristly brush and some brown antiseptic-smelling soap, then ushered them in.
Abby teared up when she got her first good look at her son. He was so beautiful. He had a head of black hair, long-lashed eyes, rosebud lips and one heck of a determined chin. He was nineteen inches long and weighed six pounds five ounces, according to the identification card on the outside of his isolette. He was lying on his back in the warming bed clad in just a diaper. An IV line had been inserted into his foot, and a clear plastic helmet had been placed over his head. Abby felt frightened and reassured all at once. He was alive, and as long as he was alive, he had a chance to pull through.
Her heart pounding, she glanced at the nurse. “What’s the helmet for?”
“That’s an ‘oxy hood.’ We’re giving him a little extra oxygen to help him breathe.”
Abby leaned against Tad, aware she’d never needed his strength and determination more than she did at that moment. “He’s so tiny,” she whispered. “So defenseless.” She wished she could hold him.
Tad nodded and tightened his grip on her. “But he’s one heck of a fighter, Abby. The doctors have said so.”
THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED were indisputably the roughest in Abby’s entire life. As the pediatrician had suspected, William had a positive blood culture that confirmed the presence of an infection in his tiny body. A second chest X ray also showed a small pneumonia in his lungs, and another weighing showed a loss of three ounces. They continued the IV and the antibiotics, and prayed the powerful medicine, combined with the essential nutrition, warming bed and oxy hood, would do the trick. And all the while Abby and Tad paced and prayed.
Twelve hours after being on antibiotics, William’s breathing improved somewhat. A second blood culture showed the same bug that the first culture had. Convinced they’d selected the right medicine, William’s pediatrician continued the antiobiotic, and within thirty-six hours of the baby’s first becoming sick, a very grateful and blissfully happy Abby was able to hold him in her arms. And, taken off oxygen, William was able to eat for the first time. Hours later, his IV fluids were discontinued and he was moved to a crib.
Tad and Abby both had reason to rejoice when repeat blood cultures, drawn several days later, were negative. It meant, William’s pediatrician explained, that they had suppressed the bug. Nevertheless, William had to finish a fourteen-day course of antibiotics.
During that time Abby was discharged from the hospital.
Abby’s parents—notified by Sadie—sent telegrams and flowers to the hospital, expressing their good wishes, but—otherwise engrossed in their work—did not offer to come and visit or help out. Tad felt badly for Abby. Surely, he thought, if ever there was a time when a grown woman needed her parents, this was it. But Abby wasn’t surprised. She told him she’d expected as much and not to worry about it. She wasn’t going to. Instead, she focused her every thought, her every ounce of energy, on helping their infant son get well. As did Tad. Until finally, day by day, William improved, and they heard the news they’d been waiting to hear.
“You can take your baby home.”
Tears of joy streamed down Abby’s face as she looked at the infant in her arms. A huge knot of emotion grew in her throat, making speech impossible. Tad kissed her forehead and his son’s tiny fist in turn, and for a few minutes he too seemed unable to speak. Finally he thanked William’s pediatrician profusely for all he’d done.
“Anytime,” the doctor said with a smile and a wink. “And maybe next time,” he said, playfully hinting there might be other newborns of Tad and Abby’s for him to take care of, “the whole thing will go a lot easier.”
Next time. Abby jerked in a quick breath at the thought.
Would there be a next time? Another pregnancy?
She faced Tad awkwardly, wondering where they went from here. Their agreement only covered the period until their baby’s birth. Now William was here. He was finally out of danger. And the future loomed ahead of them uncertainly.
The doctor left, and a heavy silence fell between Tad and Abby. At last Tad braced his hands on his hips, then offered matter-of-factly, “I’ll go down to the business office and take care of the paperwork necessary to sign Will out.”
Abby nodded. “I’ll get our things together and wait for you here.”
ALTHOUGH WILL SLEPT peacefully the whole time, the forty-five-minute ride home seemed interminable. Abby felt odd, sitting in back, while Tad sat in front and drove. Odder still was hearing about the newspaper. Although Tad was still very much caught up in the goings-on in the office, it seemed ages since she’d worked there. Even longer since she and Tad had shared anything remotely like the fiercely passionate relationship they’d once enjoyed. It’s not my imagination , Abby thought as she stared out at the cold blustery February day. The two of them were united in their love and concern for their child. But as for everything else...
Tad had been keeping a very tight rein on his emotions and withholding every bit as much as he said since the birth of their child. She knew he loved their baby, too, and had been devastated by little Will’s illness. But it was more than that. She didn’t know how or why it had happened, but there was an emotional wall between them now, keeping them apart. A wall she couldn’t ever see herself scaling.
Maybe, though, she thought dispiritedly, she shouldn’t be surprised by that. He’d married her on a whim, because of the passionate nature of their whirlwind love affair, and stayed married to her because of the baby and because of the paper. Now the baby had been born and the newspaper was on solid ground. Tad had to realize, as did she, that it was time they thought about going their separate ways again, just as they had once promised each other they would.
As Tad turned the Jeep into the drive, Abby sighed. The only problem was she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave, even to go back to work in the magazine field. Given a choice, she would much rather work on getting their relationship back to the happy state it had been in before Will’s birth. Unfortunately she couldn’t do it alone. And right now she wasn’t sure Tad was all that driven to help her.
No sooner had he cut the engine, than Sadie and Raymond were rushing out the door. They brought the baby in. Sadie had the house warm and the cradle waiting. For a few minutes they oohed and aahed over the still-peacefully sleeping William. Then Sadie, remembering an urgent telephone message for Abby, abruptly went to get it.
Abby left to return the call, then rejoined the group several minutes later, still in a state of shock. “The editor-in-chief of Southern Home and Garden magazine has ju
st quit to take a job in London. They’ve offered me the position.” Abby named a salary that was twice what she’d made at Trend.
“What are you going to do?” Sadie asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t have much time to decide. They’d need me to start in six weeks, and they want an answer within forty-eight hours.” Abby swallowed and looked at Tad. “If I don’t take it, they want to start a full-fledged search.”
“Congratulations,” Tad said with what sounded like real enthusiasm. He hugged her warmly, clearly impressed. “That’s a huge career leap.”
“Yes,” Abby agreed woodenly, “it is.”
Sadie and Raymond looked at each other and stood. “I’m sure you two want to discuss this alone.” Sadie kissed Abby’s cheek, as did Raymond. Both offered their congratulations.
“Thanks,” Abby said, knowing now what she hadn’t known before Will’s birth—and Tad still didn’t know—that she couldn’t take a job that would take her away from her baby, even for a few days at a time.
William was only going to be young once; she wanted to cherish this time with him. And she wanted to find a way to rebuild her marriage to Tad, to get over this crazy distance between them, however—why ever—it had come about. But only, she thought, if he was willing to meet her halfway.
Sadie and Raymond left quietly, and Tad went to get the bottle of champagne they’d received as a gift in honor of William’s homecoming. While she watched, dread weakening her knees, he searched the kitchen cupboard for two glasses. Finding them, he set them down on the counter. “I don’t see how you can turn this job down.”
Just tell me you love me and want to stay married to me forever, and watch how fast I react. “The job is in Atlanta,” Abby reminded him, putting aside the crushing hurt she felt and carefully gauging his reaction. His needs and desires were just as important as hers. This had to be about what he wanted, too.
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