Chương 6
“Six.”
Daniel frowned.
Claire glanced at him.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your eyebrows did.”
Tasha adjusted something on the IV line.
“Brothers are terrible at neutral faces.”
“I have an excellent neutral face,” Daniel said.
“You absolutely do not,” Claire replied.
Tasha smiled and continued working.
For thirty seconds, they were simply siblings annoying each other in a hospital room.
Then Tasha said the neonatal team had cleared Claire for a brief visit if she could tolerate being moved.
Claire’s entire expression changed.
“Now?”
“In a few minutes.”
She tried to sit up.
Pain stopped her halfway.
Daniel was on his feet instantly.
“Easy.”
“I want to see her.”
“You will.”
“I want to go now.”
Tasha raised the bed slowly.
“If you get dizzy, you tell me.”
“I’m fine.”
“Claire.”
“I’m fine.”
Daniel folded his arms.
“Apparently that runs in the family.”
Claire glared at him.
“Not now.”
The wheelchair arrived ten minutes later.
Getting from the bed into it exhausted her more than she expected.
By the time Tasha tucked a blanket around her legs, sweat dampened Claire’s hairline.
Daniel followed them through the corridor.
The hospital had become quieter with the late hour.
Somewhere a floor buffer hummed.
A vending machine displayed a row of sandwiches no person should willingly eat.
Daniel stared at them while waiting for the NICU doors to open because staring at sandwiches was easier than imagining his niece behind them.
A neonatal nurse named Beth met them inside.
She spoke softly without being solemn.
“Your daughter has been waiting for you.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“Can I touch her?”
“We’ll show you how.”
The room contained more machines than baby.
That was Claire’s first thought.
Her second was that her daughter was impossibly small, though she knew thirty-eight-week babies were not supposed to look impossibly small.
She lay beneath a warmer with tiny sensors attached to her chest and a breathing tube under her nose.
A knitted cap covered dark hair.
Claire stopped breathing.
“Oh.”
Daniel stood behind the wheelchair.
Claire lifted one hand toward her mouth.
“That’s her?”
Beth nodded.
“That’s her.”
The baby’s name had been decided months earlier, but Claire suddenly could not say it.
Ryan had chosen Madeline.
Claire had loved the name.
Now even that seemed complicated.
Beth guided Claire’s hand through the opening and showed her where she could place two fingers against the baby’s shoulder.
Claire touched her daughter.
The skin was warm.
Madeline moved one arm weakly and turned her face.
Claire began to cry.
“I’m sorry.”
Beth looked at her.
“For what?”
Claire shook her head.
She could not explain.
For waiting.
For marrying badly.
For not trusting her own pain sooner.
For every moment Madeline had spent without enough oxygen, even though no one had told Claire exactly what that meant yet.
Daniel rested a hand on her shoulder.
Madeline’s fingers opened.
Claire slid one finger into her palm.
The grip was faint but immediate.
Something in Claire broke open.
“Hi, baby.”
Her voice shook.
“I’m your mom.”
Daniel looked down.
Beth pretended to adjust a monitor.
Claire sat there for twelve minutes.
She would remember every one of them.
The faint smell of sanitizer.
The squeak of Daniel’s boot when he shifted his weight.
The way Madeline’s chest rose too quickly.
The little crease beside her left ear.
The anger disappeared during those minutes.
Not forgiveness.
Not peace.
Just absence.
There was no room for Ryan while Claire counted her daughter’s breaths.
When Beth said Claire needed to return to recovery, she resisted.
“I can stay.”
“You’ve had major surgery.”
“I can sit here.”
“You can come back.”
Claire looked at Madeline.
“What if something happens?”
Beth crouched beside her wheelchair.
“If anything changes, we call you immediately.”
Claire did not move.
Daniel bent closer.
“You need to heal too.”
“She needs me.”
“She needs you alive.”
Claire looked at him sharply.
Daniel’s face softened.
“That came out wrong.”
“No.”
Claire looked back at Madeline.
“It didn’t.”
On the way out, she asked Beth whether Ryan had been allowed into the NICU.
Beth hesitated.
“Not yet.”
“Can I stop him?”
“There are procedures regarding parental access.”
Claire’s body stiffened.
Beth continued before panic could build.
“But tonight, given the circumstances and the fact that he has not yet completed the necessary admission steps, he is not coming in without staff involvement.”
Claire nodded slowly.
“Thank you.”
Back downstairs, Ryan had stopped pacing.
Evelyn sat beside him with her birthday corsage still pinned to her dress.
Several petals had wilted.
She touched them absently.
“We should go home,” she said.
Ryan stared at the elevators.
“I’m not leaving.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“She’s upset.”
“She nearly died.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
He turned on her.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Evelyn removed the corsage.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re blaming me.”
“I’m trying not to.”
Ryan laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“You left a pregnant woman in severe pain.”
“You told me she was always trying to pull me away from you.”
Evelyn looked down at the flowers in her hand.
“I said things I shouldn’t have said.”
“And I listened.”
“Yes.”
“So we both did this.”
Her head came up.
“No.”
Ryan stared at her.
Evelyn’s voice shook, but she did not look away.
“I made it easier for you to be cruel.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“I was cruel too.”
The admission seemed to age her.
“But I wasn’t standing in that kitchen.”
Ryan stood abruptly.
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Make me the monster so you can go home feeling innocent.”
Evelyn’s lips parted.
Ryan picked up his jacket from the chair.
“You’ve hated Claire since we got engaged.”
“I have not hated her.”
“You competed with her.”
“That is not the same.”
“You called her needy.”
“She was needy.”
Ryan stared at her.
Evelyn closed her eyes briefly.
“Sometimes.”
“See?”
“No, Ryan.”
She opened them again.
“Not tonight.”
May you like
He looked away.
The security officer near the elevator pretended not to listen.
