A Heart for Robbie (12 page)

next day and the following day. He wondered if Robbie had been healthy,

would he have the same debilitating fear?

His mother opened the back door, and he launched into action,

checking the mirror and climbing out of the car. She stepped aside, and he unbuckled the car seat and pulled the carrier from the seat with a

Herculean effort. Well, they certainly didn’t have to worry about Robbie A Heart for Robbie

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being underweight. Anyone who picked him up would be satisfied by his

growth. His mother grabbed the diaper bag and followed him up the porch

and into the townhouse.

“There you are,” Erin said with a smile as she kissed him on the

cheek. “We were starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

“I….”

“Julian, honey, go out and get the rest of the stuff from the car. I’m

going to get my grandbaby out of his coat.” His mother gave him a

significant “remember what we talked about” look, and he turned for the

door.

Yes, one thing at a time. They would get through this one step at a

time.

The bags sat in the car where he’d left them, bringing a little order

back into the chaos swirling in his head. He carried them directly up to the nursery, where nothing had been added, merely set up. The crib, changing table, and rocking chair were all assembled and the bedding tied into place with pretty little bows. He looked up over the shelf and saw that Erin had painted “Robbie” with stencils in blue. Tears of gratitude and sheer

exhaustion welled in Julian’s eyes. The room looked so beautiful, worthy of the little boy downstairs who now fought for his life with every breath.

“I hope you don’t mind about the stencils. I thought you’d like it.”

Julian rubbed his eyes and turned to his best friend of nearly fifteen

years. His arms opened, and she stepped into them.

“It’s so perfect, Erin, thank you. I wouldn’t have Robbie without

you. I love you,” he whispered, and his resolve broke. The tears fell, silent and harsh down his face, as he tried to contain the crushing sobs.

“Honey, it’s a stencil, not a Rembrandt,” Erin said with a small

laugh in her voice, her arms tightening around him.

He barked out a laugh in between sobs, finding laughter through the

tears.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “He’s strong. You’re strong.

We’ll figure it out, baby. You’re not alone.”

“I know. Mom has made it pretty damn clear that she’s considering

moving in. I promise I will ask for help when I need it. Robbie and I just need to get settled in, get into a routine.”

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“And you can start,” his mother said from the stairs behind him,

“with a diaper change. What are you feeding this kid?”

Julian laughed again, wiping the tears from his face.

His parents and Erin stayed for the better part of the evening, taking

turns feeding and changing Robbie while Julian caught a quick nap.

Spending every waking moment at the hospital exhausted Julian, and he

looked forward to at least four or five hours of uninterrupted sleep until Robbie woke for his feeding. Julian opened the snaps on Robbie’s little

sleeper and attached the sensors and leads to the apnea monitor while his sweet son slept. After living his first two weeks in the hospital with

prodding and beeping and all kinds of noise, Robbie had learned to sleep through just about anything, and Julian thanked God for that. He gave the baby monitor a quick check and took the receiver with him to bed.

THREE AND a half hours later, a horrible screeching noise blared through his room, bouncing off his walls in a cacophony of ear-piercing noise.

Julian’s body shot an adrenaline rush through him so powerful he tasted

the metallic sting on the back of his tongue. Bile rose in his throat as he recognized the static of the baby monitor warping the sound of the apnea monitor. Robbie. Oh, please God. He launched himself out of bed and

sprinted for the nursery. His heart pounded so loud in his ears, he almost missed the gurgling, playful sounds Robbie made from the crib.

Robbie gazed up at him, his little arms and legs working in the tiny

sleeper. One of the leads bounced, unattached from the sensor, against his skin. The tears came before Julian could stop them. His heart continued to flutter, the sensation strange against his ribs. He lifted his son from the crib and sat carefully in the rocker. A sob escaped as he kissed Robbie’s forehead, warm and safe under his lips.

“It’s okay, buddy. You’re okay,” Julian whispered against his son’s

skin, every bit of volume robbed from his voice by blinding fear. Little Robbie gazed up at his father, unfazed by the slight trembling in the hands holding him. The look on his tiny face seemed to say it all.

I know, Daddy.

Julian disconnected Robbie from the monitor and laid him back in

the bed. No way would he ever be able to sleep with his son in a different room. Instead, he opened the closet and pulled out the bassinette he

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received at the shower. When he’d asked Erin what it was used for, she

said that sometimes it’s easier to have the baby close, especially after giving birth. He hadn’t given birth, so at the time, he had no earthly idea what he’d do with it but kept it in case. As a first-time, single father, he recognized that he didn’t always have the right answer. But it seemed like the best answer then.

He carried the white wicker contraption into his room and set it up

on his side of the bed, right at the edge, so he could reach over and check Robbie without getting up. Everything from the bedside table went

somewhere else. The lamp went down to the floor, and the iHome went

into the first drawer, making way for the apnea monitor, which he brought in from Robbie’s room. He plugged the machine into the wall socket and

spread it out on the small table. The iHome was an indulgence, but he’d

miss the lamp.

Robbie started crying while he worked, so Julian picked him up from

the crib and took him downstairs to the kitchen. He set him in the infant carrier while he warmed up a little bottle and added the brown nutrient

booster he’d gotten from the hospital. The stuff looked gross and

sometimes made Robbie sick, but they said it would help him gain weight

without struggling to drink more formula. Julian decided to trust them but watched to see if Robbie got sick too often for the additive to do any good.

By the time he’d gotten Robbie fed and changed, the monitor

configured, and put bedding into the bassinette, it was nearly eight in the morning. He grabbed the cordless phone and called Erin as he carried

Robbie into his bedroom.

“Hey,” Erin answered with a yawn.

“Hey.” Julian held Robbie up on one shoulder and the phone on the

other as he tried to elicit a burp from the baby.

“Have you slept at all?” Erin asked, and Julian shifted the phone to

his other shoulder as he laid Robbie in the bassinette next to the bed.

Quiet, rhythmic slurps of Robbie going to town on his pacifier reassured Julian, and he sat on the bed.

“About three hours. The monitor went off because Robbie was

moving and dislodged the lead. It scared the hell out of me. I’ve moved

him to my room, but I couldn’t get back to sleep.” He put a hand on

Robbie’s chest, even though he could see it rising and falling. The

physical indication that his son was breathing helped calm him.

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“Why don’t you bring him over and let him stay here one night so

you can get some sleep? We can take care of him.”

Julian knew he’d have to have the conversation at some point, but

that didn’t make it easier.

“Erin, he can’t stay there. Kids carry a lot of germs, and if he even

catches a cold with the weakness in his heart, he could die. The doctors told me to keep him away from other kids. Parks, schools, even the mall—

they’re all off limits for him until he’s stronger.” Julian kicked off his slippers and crawled into bed.

“You don’t trust me to take care of him, do you?”

The sigh escaped before he slammed his lips closed around it. Their

entire lives, Erin took everything to heart. He had a suspicion she’d even taken him being gay personally. But after weeks of no sleep, a night of

being terrorized by loose leads on the apnea monitor, and the constant

worry of screwing up and killing his son, he couldn’t filter himself as he normally did.

“Erin, not everything is about you.” He regretted it as soon as he

said it.

“I gave birth to him, Julian, and now you don’t trust me to take care

of him. I have four kids. I’m perfectly capable of babysitting an infant for the night.”

“You’re capable of babysitting a healthy infant for the night. Do you

know what to do if he stops breathing? What about checking his nail beds for proper circulation? Know what a healthy heart is supposed to sound

like on the business end of a stethoscope? It has nothing to do with

trusting you. It has to do with keeping him breathing until he can get a heart. My mother took the classes with me. She’s going to keep him

tomorrow night so I can sleep.”

His heart broke when he heard her sniffle, but Robbie needed to be

his priority.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said and hung up without waiting for

a response.

Julian sighed and reconnected the leads to the sensors on his son. He

checked them again, and then the machine, before resting back against the pillows. After a few minutes, he slid down farther, his eyes still on

Robbie, who blurred as Julian faded into sleep.

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Chapter 7

SIMON GRABBED a banana and put it on his tray next to the salad and the

pasta concoction they were serving for dinner. He didn’t normally work

past five, but they’d had another transplant case come through at the end of the day. He was waiting on the letter of necessity from Dane and

wanted to get all of the paperwork filed so they could list the patient.

Virginia Rivera, a fifty-nine-year-old grandmother, needed a new liver.

She was an active woman in otherwise excellent health, according to her

intake. How she could be so sick didn’t make much sense to Simon, but he wasn’t a doctor. He left that to the professionals. His job included making sure the insurance company came on board.

He pulled out his wallet as he approached the cash register, where a

bored-looking college student sat reading a book. Over the cashier’s

shoulder, he saw Julian Holmes enter the cafeteria. As he neared, Simon

noticed he held a cell phone to his ear. Simon thanked God he’d forgotten the paperback he’d wanted to read during dinner. He’d have felt like a

total stalker.

“I don’t know, Mom. They said he should be able to go home in a

few days. Yeah, the stupid resident did it when I went down the hall to

grab something from the machine. No, it’s okay. The administrator came

down and put a note in the chart. They won’t do anything else unless they talk to him. I’m in the cafeteria to grab something, and then I’ll be back up there.” Julian grabbed a tray with his free hand and nearly bumped Simon on his way to the salad bar.

“Oh, hey,” he said when he noticed Simon watching him. “Mom, I’ll

call you when something changes. Okay. Love you too.” Julian ended the

call and slid the phone back into his pocket.

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“How is your son?” Simon asked as he walked along next to Julian,

who piled things onto a salad plate seemingly at random. Julian turned

each ladle to the side to read the names of the unidentifiable dressings.

“He’s okay. I brought him in because he’s been vomiting.” Julian

moved over to the grill and ordered a cheeseburger and fries to go with his haphazard salad.

Simon got the impression that he didn’t really register anything on

the level of food right then. If he had to put a word to it, he might choose shell-shocked.

“Oh, but he’s going to be okay?” Simon set his own tray down on

the rails in front of the grilling station, waiting for Julian.

“Yes, they think so. Well, as okay as he can be without a new heart.

Then one of the goddamned residents took it upon himself to vaccinate

Robbie. They were waiting on that until after his transplant, because those kinds of shots tend to make kids sick. And it did. Now we’re going to be here a couple of days while they treat him for that too. The poor little guy just can’t catch a break.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon said, at a loss.

“Dr. Dane came down and straightened it out. They won’t make that

mistake again. It’s in his chart now that he’s not to be vaccinated.”