Chương 4
Wren knew him from photographs before she knew him from life. Nolan Rusk, Tobin’s father, lived forty minutes away and appeared in the apartment mostly through framed pictures Celia had not removed after their separation.
Celia saw Wren and stopped.
“Where is he?”
“They won’t tell me.”
Celia rushed to the desk. Nolan came toward Wren instead.
“What happened?”
His voice was quiet, almost polite. The quietness frightened her more than shouting would have.
“He stopped breathing.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were you holding him?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“In my lap.”
“Did he fall?”
“No.”
“Did you give him anything?”
“His bottle.”
Nolan’s jaw shifted. “What bottle?”
“The one Celia made.”
Celia turned from the desk. “Don’t start.”
“I asked her a question.”
“You’re not questioning her.”
“Our son is being intubated.”
The room changed around that sentence.
Celia had been told something at the desk. Her hand covered her mouth. Nolan dropped her coat onto a chair.
“Intubated?” Wren said.
Celia reached for her, but Wren stepped back.
“The doctor is coming,” Celia said. “They’re taking him upstairs.”
“Can I see him?”
“I don’t know.”
“I need to see him.”
Celia’s eyes moved to the red marks on Wren’s arms. “What happened to you?”
“The police.”
Nolan looked at the marks, then away. “Why were the police there?”
“Because a neighbor called.”
“And what did she tell them?”
Maribel stood. “That is enough.”
Nolan’s face hardened. “You don’t get to decide what’s enough. My child nearly died while she was watching him.”
“And he has a heartbeat because she was watching him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“The paramedic said it.”
“The paramedic said she caused the arrest?”
“No,” Maribel said. “Listen to the words people use before you fight them.”
Celia sat down hard. She pressed both hands between her knees.
A pediatric emergency physician arrived with a badge that read DR. SIMONE VALE. She asked Celia and Nolan to follow her into a consultation room. Celia caught Wren’s wrist.
“She comes too.”
Dr. Vale looked at Wren. “Were you present when he collapsed?”
Wren nodded.
“Then I need to speak with you. Your guardian can join us.”
The consultation room held six chairs and a box of tissues designed to look less like a box of tissues by being covered in wood-patterned plastic. Dr. Vale sat at the head of the table.
“Tobin’s heart is beating on its own,” she said. “He is receiving breathing support. His initial blood work shows significant acidosis, which is expected after cardiac arrest. We are transferring him to the pediatric intensive care unit.”
Celia gripped the table. “Brain damage?”
“It is too early to know.”
Nolan stared at the doctor’s badge instead of her face. “What caused it?”
“We are evaluating several possibilities. Infection, aspiration, an abnormal heart rhythm, an exposure to medication or another substance, a metabolic condition. We don’t have an answer yet.”
“Could CPR hurt him?” Nolan asked.
Wren’s hands disappeared beneath the table.
“Effective CPR can cause bruising and occasionally other injuries,” Dr. Vale said. “Those risks are far smaller than the risk of not performing it.”
“Was it effective?”
“The paramedic report says circulation returned after advanced resuscitation. The dispatcher’s documentation indicates chest compressions began within minutes of collapse. That is important.”
Nolan looked at Wren then. Not with gratitude. Not yet. He looked at her as if she had become a fact he did not know where to put.
Dr. Vale asked Wren to describe everything from the hour before Tobin collapsed. Wren told her about the bottle, the two coughs, the way his eyes had moved toward the lamp and then lost focus. She described placing him on the carpet because the couch cushions were too soft. She described calling emergency services, putting the phone on speaker, and following instructions.
“Was he stiff or shaking?” Dr. Vale asked.
“No.”
“Did his color change before he became unresponsive?”
“His lips looked gray first. Then blue.”
“Had you noticed unusual breathing earlier?”
Wren thought of Tobin asleep against her shoulder two evenings before, his breaths arriving in clusters with a small pause between them.
“Sometimes he pauses.”
Celia looked up. “Babies do that.”
“How long are the pauses?” Dr. Vale asked.
“I don’t know. A few seconds.”
“Any previous episodes of blue lips?”
“No,” Celia said.
Nolan rubbed the inside of his wrist.
Wren noticed. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You did that when she asked.”
Nolan dropped his hand. “I scratch my wrist.”
“Has Tobin ever turned blue?” Dr. Vale asked him.
“Not blue. He went pale once.”
Celia twisted toward him. “When?”
“At my apartment. A month ago.”
“You never told me.”
“It lasted two seconds.”
“What happened?”
“He was crying, then he stopped. I picked him up and he started again.”
“You never told me.”
“I just did.”
Dr. Vale’s pen moved across the page. “Has anyone in either family experienced fainting, seizures, unexplained drowning, or sudden death at a young age?”
“No,” Celia said.
Nolan continued scratching his wrist.
“Nolan,” Wren said.
His eyes flashed. “Stay out of this.”
Celia’s face changed.
Dr. Vale waited.
Nolan leaned back in his chair. “My brother drowned when he was seventeen.”
The air conditioner clicked on.
“Was there an autopsy?” Dr. Vale asked.
“He drowned.”
“I understand. Do you know whether he was witnessed struggling in the water?”
Nolan stared at the wall. “He was a strong swimmer.”
Celia whispered, “You told me it was an accident.”
“It was.”
Dr. Vale did not argue. “We’ll arrange a cardiology evaluation in addition to the other testing.”
The meeting ended because Tobin needed procedures and consent forms. Celia followed the doctor. Nolan stayed behind long enough to shove the tissue box away from him though no one had reached for it.
At the door, he said to Wren, “I’m sorry the officer grabbed you.”
It was not the apology she wanted, and perhaps he knew it.
May you like
“Are you sorry you thought I did it?”
He glanced toward the hall where Celia had disappeared. “I don’t know what happened yet.”
