Part 26 (1/2)
”Come on,” Cash said. ”I want to see if your son looks like you.”
Garon gave him a depressed glance. ”I hope not, poor little kid.”
”They'll have him ready about now,” Coltrain remarked. ”Well?”
Garon went with them, reluctantly. He wasn't sure it was right for him to be enthusing over a child while Grace was fighting for her life. But he knew he'd go crazy if he had to sit here thinking about it. At least, the child would be a diversion.
But when he was looking through the window at the little boy, his mindset changed. His whole att.i.tude changed. He stood staring at the tiny thing in the blue blanket with eyes that hardly focused.
”He's so tiny,” he exclaimed. ”I could put him in my pocket!”
”Want to hold him?” Coltrain asked, seeing a way to erase the terror from his eyes.
Garon looked at him, surprised. ”Would they let me?”
Coltrain smiled. ”Come on.”
THEY PUT A HOSPITAL gown on him, sat him in a rocking chair, and handed him the tiny little boy, wrapped in his blanket. A nurse showed him how to support the baby's head and back.
Garon looked down at his child with a mixture of awe and fear. He was so small. All his reading hadn't prepared him for the impact of fatherhood. He counted little fingers and toes, smoothed his hand over the baby's tiny bald head. He saw Grace in the shape of the child's eyes, and himself in the chin. His eyes grew misty as he thought of the days and weeks and months and years ahead. Please G.o.d, he thought, don't let me have to raise him alone.
The baby moved. One tiny hand grasped Garon's thumb and held on. The baby's eyes didn't open. He was curious about that, and asked. The nurse, beaming, told him that it took about three days for the baby to open his eyes and look around him. But he still wouldn't be able to see much yet. Garon didn't care. He looked down at his son with an expression that no artist in the world could have captured.
Watching through the window, Coltrain and Cash smiled indulgently at the sight.
”What a picture,” Coltrain said with a grin.
”Picture!” Cash took out his cell phone, turned it, looked through the eye and snapped several pictures of Garon holding the baby. ”Something to show Grace,” he told Coltrain, ”when she comes out of recovery.”
Coltrain nodded. He hoped that prediction was correct. He knew far more than he was going to tell Garon or his brother. That could wait until there was no longer any choice about it.
FOUR HOURS LATER, Dr. Franks went looking for Garon. He looked very tired.
”She's holding her own,” he told Garon. ”We'll know within eight hours.”
”Know?” Garon moved closer. ”Know what?”
The doctor drew in a long breath. Coltrain grimaced. Dr. Franks looked at Garon and said gently, ”In eight hours, either she'll wake up-or she won't.”
It was the most terrifying thing anyone had ever said to him. He knew he must look like the walking dead as he gaped at the surgeon.
Coltrain laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. ”Don't give up now,” he said.
”I'll go mad,” Garon said huskily. ”Eight hours...!”
”We're going to go to the motel. I booked a room,” Cash began.
”Leave the hospital, now? Are you out of your mind?” Garon raged.
”Only for a few minutes,” Cash promised, exchanging a covert glance with the two doctors over Garon's shoulder. ”Come on. Trust me.”
”You'll call me, if there's any change?” Garon asked Coltrain unsteadily.
”I promise,” the redheaded doctor agreed.
”I got you a room, too,” Cash told Coltrain. He handed him a key. ”Don't argue. I have friends you don't want to have to meet.”
Coltrain chuckled. ”Okay, then. Thanks. I'll take advantage of it, in a few hours.”
”We'll be right back,” Garon promised.
Cash didn't say a word.
AN HOUR LATER, Garon was pa.s.sed out on the sofa in the suite Cash had registered them into. It wasn't quite fair, he knew, but his brother seemed to be on the verge of a coronary. Cash had filled him full of scotch whiskey and soda. Since Garon hardly ever took a drink, the combination of worry, exhaustion and alcohol had hit him hard. He went out like a light.
Cash wondered at the depth of the man's feelings for his young wife. He hadn't spoken a great deal about Grace in the past few months. They'd both come to the house for dinner a few times, and Tippy and Grace had become fast friends. Grace loved to hold their baby, little Tristina, whom they called ”Tris,” and cuddle her. Garon had watched his wife with the little girl, and an expression of pure delight had radiated his normally taciturn features. Garon didn't speak about Grace very much, but when he did, it was with pride. Perhaps he hadn't known his own feelings until this tragedy unfolded. It was impossible not to know them now.
Six hours later, Garon awoke. He blinked, looking around the room. It was a hotel room. Why was he here? There was his brother, Cash, on the phone. He didn't remember....
He sat straight up on the couch, horrified. ”What time is it? Have you called the hospital? Grace...What about Grace?” he exclaimed.
Cash held up a hand, nodded, and said, ”We'll be right there.” He hung up, smiling. ”Grace is out from under the anesthesia. She's awake.”
”Awake.” Garon shuddered. ”She's alive!”
”Yes. She isn't responsive yet; she's still pretty much under the anesthesia. But the doctors are cautiously optimistic. The new valve is working perfectly.”
Garon got to his feet and held his head. ”d.a.m.n! What did you ladle into me?”
”Scotch whiskey, soda and a substance I'm not allowed to own or explain because it's cla.s.sified.” He grinned.
Garon couldn't help a chuckle. His brother really was a devil. But he'd become a good friend, as well. He paused by Cash and clapped him on the shoulder with rough affection. ”If you ever get in trouble and need anybody arrested, you can call me.”
”I'll remember that. Let's go.”
GARON WAS ALLOWED in to see Grace, but only for a couple of minutes. She was white as a sheet, but her breathing was steadier and the blip on the monitor was fairly regular. He brushed back her hair, loving the softness of it, the quiet beauty of her face.
As if she sensed his presence, her gray eyes opened and she looked at him, a little blankly.
”You're going to be all right,” he said softly. ”Very soon, I'm going to take you home.”
Her lips tugged into a faint smile before she closed her eyes and went back to sleep. Garon touched his finger to her dry lips, loving just the sight of her.
He went back out into the waiting room feeling more optimistic. The fear was still there, but he'd deal with it. He stopped when he saw six men surrounding Cash. They were colleagues from the San Antonio office, all except one-who was the former leader of their Hostage Rescue Unit. His heart felt lighter as they came to greet him, asking about Grace and offering help. He had to choke back overflowing emotion. He really did work with the best group in the world.
GRACE IMPROVED DAILY. They had her up and walking the day after surgery. It horrified Garon, but they insisted that this was what had to be done in order for her to recuperate and, more importantly, not develop a respiratory infection to go with the side effects of the surgery.
Garon walked her down to the nursery with painful slowness. He pushed the pole where her IVs hung. She held on to his arm and felt lighter than air, despite her ordeal.
They stopped at the nursery and the nurse held up little Tory for them to see. Garon didn't know it, but Cash had snapped several photos of him holding the little boy and shown them to Grace. If she had any doubts about his feelings for his son, the photos erased them. Grace was fascinated by his love for the child.