by Gina Wilkins
Because she and Jackson had spent the day in Tyler’s unit, she hadn’t met any of the other family members currently sitting vigil in the hospital, but she was no more in the mood for socializing than she was for current events briefings. She just wanted to go home—and she wanted to take Tyler with her.
“Mom said Beverly stopped by again this afternoon. She’s eager to see Tyler,” Jackson said after they had walked in silence for several minutes.
“Surely she knows that only family members are allowed in ICU.”
“I think they’d let her come in for a few minutes tomorrow if we say it’s okay.”
Laurel hesitated, then shook her head. “I know she’s fond of Tyler and I really am very grateful to her for noticing the signs of his illness. But does it sound much too selfish of me to say that I wish she would wait a little while before visiting again? I’d rather just keep it family for now.”
“So would I,” he admitted. “Beverly’s a nice woman, but I’ve always seen her as an employee, not a member of our family.”
And not an employee he had wanted to hire, she added silently. To Jackson, Beverly had always represented the biggest source of conflict between them—Laurel’s decision to return to work.
“I’ve taken an indefinite leave of absence from work,” Laurel reminded him. “I’ll be with Tyler during his full recovery. Since we can’t afford to pay Beverly while I’m on leave, she’ll probably need to look for another position. When he’s well again and I feel comfortable about returning to work, we can talk about rehiring her if she’s available, or someone else if she’s not.”
Jackson paused to study a small bush that was drooping beneath the weight of the raindrops that still clung to its early-spring leaves. “So you think you will want to return to work soon?”
“Right now, I can’t think of anything except getting Tyler well,” she said candidly. “But I don’t want to close any doors for the future, either.”
Jackson didn’t say anything in response to that, though she suspected there were plenty of things he would have liked to have said.
A large fountain stood in the very center of the garden. Water cascaded six feet down tiers of stone, splashing merrily against the smooth river rocks at the base. Later in the summer, mounds of flowers would add color to the greenery planted around the fountain. Laurel paused to listen to the falling water, realizing as she did so that the spot where she and Jackson stood now was blocked from the view of both the diners and the smokers, offering a little area of seclusion in this place where privacy was in short supply.
As if deliberately changing the subject, Jackson said, “Mom and Dad will probably be back soon. Sure wish I knew what’s going on with Mom. Whether it’s just the stress of Tyler’s surgery or something more.”
“I’m sure she’ll tell you if there’s anything bothering her. You and your mother have always been able to talk.” Too much so, if they’d been talking about her, Laurel would have liked to add.
“Yeah, I guess. So, what are you going to do tonight?” he asked, abruptly changing the topic again. “They won’t let you sleep in Tyler’s room, will they?”
“No, not in ICU, although they said we could go in to see him whenever we like. I suppose I’ll sleep in the ICU waiting room with the other parents. What about you?”
“Yeah, I’ll stay, too. Actually, you could go on home and get some rest. I’ll call you if—”
“No.” She shook her head forcefully to emphasize the refusal. “I want to stay. Especially tonight. He might need me.”
Jackson didn’t push it, probably because he knew it wouldn’t have made any difference. Laurel would sleep in the waiting room, reluctantly, but she had no intention of leaving the hospital tonight.
A cool, damp breeze teased the hair on the back of her neck that had escaped the loose ponytail she’d worn for convenience. Her resulting shiver made Jackson wrap his right arm around her shoulders. “Getting too cool?”
“A little. Maybe we should go back in. They could have Tyler ready for us by now.”
Jackson glanced at his watch. “The nurse said we should give them half an hour. It’s only been fifteen minutes.”
“Maybe they’ll finish early.”
“Let’s wait just another couple of minutes.”
She heard him draw a deep breath, and she knew it was even harder for him to be cooped up indoors all day than it was for her. Especially when there was so little he could do to make himself feel useful. “Maybe you should go home tonight. Get some sleep.”
“No. Not tonight. I want to be here in case— Well, I just want to be here tonight.”
In case anything bad happened. He didn’t have to finish the sentence for her to understand what he meant. Both of them knew that the first twenty-four hours after surgery were the most critical in the recovery process. Although they had been repeatedly assured that Tyler’s recuperation was progressing as expected, they had been warned of all the potential, if unlikely, things that could go wrong.
“Nothing bad’s going to happen,” she said aloud, feeling almost as if she had to keep reiterating the affirmation to make it come true.
Jackson tightened his arms around her shoulders and brushed his lips against her forehead. “We won’t let it,” he murmured.
She leaned against him. Maybe if they focused together on the same compelling wish—Tyler’s complete recovery—it would come true, she thought somewhat fancifully. They were a team, he kept reminding her. They were stronger together than apart. At least, that was what she wanted to believe.
Taking advantage of the seclusion of the nook in which they stood, the deepening shadows, the seductive music of the falling water, Jackson moved his lips from her forehead to her cheek. And then to her mouth.
He’d kissed her so many times and in so many ways during their four years together. She had thought she knew every nuance of his kisses. Yet this one was different in some way she couldn’t quite define. It was almost as if, for the first time since she’d met him, Jackson wasn’t quite so sure of himself. As if his inability to protect Tyler from this crisis had shaken his confidence in every way.
She reacted instinctively. Putting her arms around his waist and tilting her head back to return the kiss, she offered comfort and reassurance, even as she sought the same things in his embrace.
Being held by Jackson was always a heady experience. His body was toned from years of hard work, his shoulders broad, his arms roped with muscle, his thighs long and solid. He was the very model of virile masculinity. On the night they had met, she had been swept off her feet by all that overwhelming maleness. She still was at times, even when she was equally tempted to strangle him for it.
He ended the kiss very slowly. For just a moment he rested his forehead against hers, as if clinging to the closeness. And then he sighed. “I suppose we’d better go back in.”
Did his tone mean that he was as reluctant as Laurel to return to the realities waiting inside the hospital?
For the brief time they’d been out here in the garden, shielded from view of the hospital, they could almost pretend everything was fine. But now it was time to go back in.
Swallowing a sigh, she dropped her arms and stepped away from him.
There were eight other children in the pediatric ICU that night—fewer than usual, Laurel was told by one of the nurses. Other families huddled in the ICU waiting room’s chairs and recliners.
When she entered just before 10:00 p.m., Laurel noted that several families had made little nests for themselves, their chairs surrounded by bags of snacks, books, magazines and craft materials to help them pass the long hours of waiting. She found out very quickly that the parents who had been there longest had claimed certain sections of the room as their own.
There was no television in this room, though she was informed that a TV lounge was located just down the hall. This room was for resting, waiting, visiting quietly with family and friends. During the nights, it became a place f
or exhausted parents to sleep as best they could. At ten, the lights were dimmed, blankets and pillows were distributed and all but two visitors per patient were asked to leave.
There were other facilities available for the families of hospitalized children. A Ronald McDonald House was located not far from the hospital, providing sleeping and recreation quarters for people who lived too far to commute easily to visit their children. Most of the people settling into the waiting room for the night either lived nearby or simply refused to leave the hospital while their children were there. Laurel could have gone home, of course, but she simply couldn’t bear the thought of being a full half hour away if Tyler needed her for any reason.
“Here you go, honey. These two recliners are free tonight.” A pleasantly homely woman who looked to be in her late forties patted the arm of a chair next to her as she spoke to Laurel. “Mr. and Mrs. Carson’s boy was moved to a regular room this afternoon.”
“Lucky them,” Laurel said, sinking into the recliner closest to the woman while Jackson took the one beside her.
“Yes. Their boy was in a bad car accident with his grandparents. Both of them were killed, I’m sad to say. It was touch and go for young Daryl for a while there, but he’s on his way to a full recovery, praise be.”
Laurel set the blanket and pillow she had been given to one side of her chair. “That is good news.”
The older woman nodded. “We get to know each other in here after a while. All of us start to care about the other patients. My name is Carol Grissom, by the way. My fourteen-year-old daughter’s in unit 4. She was hurt riding her bike day before yesterday. I told her always to wear her helmet, but she didn’t listen that day.”
The woman stopped for a hard swallow, and then she added with forced cheerfulness, “She has a head injury, but the doctors tell me she’s showing signs of improvement. I’m sure she recognized my voice this evening, even if she couldn’t respond yet.”
Brought out of her own anxiety for the moment, Laurel touched the woman’s hand. “I hope everything goes well for her.”
“Thank you, dear. It’s been a tough time for me. I’m a single mother—Patty’s dad died several years ago—and my only family is a brother who lives in San Francisco. Patty’s all I have.”
How lonely it must be for this woman to have to go through this ordeal alone, Laurel thought with a wave of compassion. It made her grateful to have Jackson’s support, grateful even for his parents, whom she knew would do anything she asked of them during Tyler’s crisis.
She felt vaguely guilty for not recognizing how much luckier she was than other people. At least Tyler’s chances of recovery were excellent, barring unforeseen complications. That was more assurance than many of these worried parents had to cling to.
“I’m Laurel Reiss. And this is my husband, Jackson. If there’s anything we can do for you—”
“Isn’t that sweet of you.” The woman cut in with a faint smile, looking genuinely touched by the offer. “I know you have troubles of your own. You have the little boy who had the heart surgery this morning, don’t you?”
“Why, yes. His name is Tyler.”
“You look a little surprised that I know about him. There hasn’t been much to do to keep me distracted except to find out about everyone else,” Carol admitted candidly. “I’ve spent as much time with Patty as they would allow, but when I’m not in there with her, I’d go crazy if I didn’t have something to do to take my mind off her condition.”
“I don’t blame you.” Laurel made a mental note to have one of her friends on the hospital’s social worker staff check in on Carol, if no one had done so yet.
A couple in the far corner of the room knelt beside their chairs for what appeared to be a quiet prayer before sleep. Carol lowered her voice as she leaned closer to Laurel. “Robert and Jean Wyzinski,” she murmured, nodding toward the praying couple. “Their little boy has very little chance of surviving, but they haven’t given up hope. They can’t, I guess.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Laurel asked in a whisper, feeling sympathy gather in a lump in her throat.
“He had routine surgery to correct a minor problem with his stomach and he developed a post-surgery infection that has turned into encephalitis. He isn’t responding to any antibiotics and his condition keeps getting worse instead of better. He’s been in a coma for the last three days. They’ve been told to expect the worse, but they cling to their faith.”
“How—” Laurel swallowed hard, her sympathy now touched with fear of something similar happening to Tyler. “How old is their son?”
“He’s eight. Their only son, though they have two older daughters. I feel so sorry for them.”
Carol was obviously a people person, someone who cared about others as intensely as she was curious about them. Laurel already liked her, but she didn’t have the energy for further conversation about other people’s problems for now. She was so very tired.
With a faintly apologetic smile, she reached for her blanket as someone dimmed the lights in the room. “I think I’ll try to get about an hour’s sleep before I look in on Tyler again.”
Unoffended, Carol glanced at her watch. “The nurse has promised to come get me at midnight to sit with Patty for a while. I suppose I’d better get some rest, too. Good night, Laurel.”
“Good night, Carol.” Laurel settled back into her recliner, turning her body toward Jackson as she did so. He was already stretched out, his eyes closed, though she knew he wasn’t yet asleep.
As if to confirm that thought, he reached out to her. She placed her hand in his and let her eyelids drift closed. Just before she fell into a restless sleep, she offered a prayer of hope—for her child, and for all the others whose loved ones waited and worried.
Seven
Laurel nearly jumped out of the big recliner less than two hours later when someone touched her. It felt as though she’d just managed to doze off when she opened her eyes to find a young nurse’s aide leaning over her.
“Mrs. Reiss? I’m sorry if I startled you.” The young woman spoke in a whisper.
Laurel tried to be as considerate, though fear made her voice rise a bit. “What’s wrong? Is it Tyler?”
“Nothing’s wrong. He’s just restless and we thought he might like to hear your voice. You asked us to come get you when he woke up.”
Proving he hadn’t been sleeping deeply either, Jackson lowered the footrest of his recliner. “He’s awake?”
“Not completely. We still have him lightly sedated.”
Laurel was already on her feet. Since she’d slept in her jogging suit and sneakers, she was prepared on that short notice to follow the nurse. “We can both come?” she asked, noting that Jackson was sliding his feet into his shoes.
“Of course.”
They left the waiting room as quietly as possible to keep from disturbing the few people who actually seemed to be sleeping. Laurel noted that Carol’s chair was empty, so she figured she must have been summoned to her daughter’s unit.
As the nurse had explained, Tyler wasn’t fully awake, but had surfaced from the heavy sedation enough to whimper softly and squirm a bit in the bed. He quieted when either of his parents spoke soothingly to him, so Laurel and Jackson spent the rest of the night taking turns sitting with him and taking catnaps in the waiting room. Neither got much sleep, and both were exhausted by the time Donna and Carl arrived Saturday morning.
Laurel noted immediately that Donna seemed calmer, even if her behavior was still not quite normal. Something was obviously bothering her, but maybe she had decided to keep whatever it was to herself until Tyler was better.
Carl seemed even more protective of his wife than usual, but other than that, Laurel could detect few real changes in his demeanor. Maybe he was a bit more awkward with Jackson than usual? Maybe he didn’t quite meet his son’s eyes when he spoke to him? Or was that simply her sleep-deprived imagination at work?
Tyler was somewhat more responsive that morning
, though still heavily medicated for pain. He even managed a smile for his grandmother, which brought a new film of tears to Donna’s eyes. Laurel couldn’t bring herself to mind that the smile wasn’t for her, because it obviously meant so much to her mother-in-law. And almost immediately afterward, Tyler groggily asked for his mommy. Laurel kissed his forehead and stroked his hair until he went back to sleep.
“You and Jackson both look so tired,” Donna said a short while later. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep while Carl and I sit with Tyler?”
“No, I’m fine,” Laurel answered instantly.
“Yeah, me, too,” Jackson said, not to be outdone.
Donna didn’t try to push the issue.
Laurel wondered if she had been a bit too optimistic when she tried to stand a few minutes later and had to discreetly hold onto the back of a chair until the world stopped spinning. Okay, so she was tired, she conceded. But she wouldn’t give it to the weariness now, not as long as Tyler needed her.
Confident that she was strong enough to get through this, she went out to the coffeemaker that was always freshly filled, and poured herself an extra-large cup of the strong brew.
The Wyzinski child took a turn for the better that afternoon. Another severely injured boy didn’t make it. Laurel found herself celebrating for the one family and grieving for the other, their situations made more personal to her because of her own child’s ordeal.
When she wasn’t sitting with Tyler, Laurel chatted with Carol Grissom. Unfortunately there was no change in Patty’s condition, but Carol continued to distract herself from her worry by monitoring all the other patients and their families. She asked several times about Tyler and seemed genuinely pleased when Laurel reported that he was improving steadily.
Laurel certainly couldn’t complain about Tyler’s care. The doctors and surgeons, nurses, aides and other staff were all professional and efficient. She heard a few muttered complaints from other families, but honestly had none herself. Kathleen O’Hara still checked in with her at least once a day to make sure there were no problems with Tyler’s care, but Laurel had nothing but praise for the hospital staff.