A Heart for Robbie (3 page)

His mother’s reflection stood quietly next to his, but Liam and Clay

had gone, lost in the turmoil of his mind. Julian turned to look, to see if they just weren’t reflected, but saw nothing. The fear escalated in their absence.

“Why does everything in a hospital have to take forever?” his

mother whispered, as if she were afraid someone would hear and force

them to wait even longer.

He didn’t have an answer for her. At that moment, he didn’t have

any answers.

The door to the giant windowed room opened, and the nurse

returned, followed by a brown-haired doctor he recognized from the

delivery room. Sweat beaded on the doctor’s high forehead, and his short brown hair looked damp in the low hallway light. His blue eyes were

grave behind thick silver-framed glasses. Brow furrowed, he reached out

to Julian and shook his hand.

“My name is Doctor Novak. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to come

and talk to you. Your son is stable for now, but we are going to need to transport him to St. Mary’s Children’s Hospital downtown. They have a

pediatric cardiologist on staff who is better equipped to treat him.”

“A pediatric cardiologist?” Julian’s heart stopped.

“Yes, when a fetus is in the womb, the heartbeat sends blood in the

opposite direction that your heart or my heart does. When the baby is born and begins to breathe on his own, a valve in his heart switches and allows the heart to function the way it should. For your son, that valve didn’t do what it was supposed to, and we need to figure out why. He’ll be airlifted for transport. The helicopter will be here within the hour.” He lifted an arm and wiped the sweat from his forehead while Julian stood there, trying to get a handle on what he’d said.

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“Sweet Jesus,” his mother breathed and started to cry softly.

“Okay, first, what’s going to happen when he gets to the other

hospital? Second, can I see him? Is he breathing on his own? Is… is he in pain?” Those were the only questions Julian could think to ask while they rattled around inside his head as if the cargo lines securing his thoughts had just snapped. The unreality of the situation fueled Julian’s fear. God, he didn’t know anything about heart conditions or even hospitals. He’d

never been a patient in one.

“When he gets to the other hospital, more than likely they will give

him a thorough examination and then a cardiac catheterization. That

means that they will put a line through the artery in his leg and run a

camera up into his heart to take pictures and determine the extent of the problem.”

Julian’s horrified expression caused the doctor to pause for a

moment and allow Julian to wonder about the details, the pain, and how

they’d have to cut into his son to put a camera into his leg.

“Right now, his lungs are working, but he’s not taking in enough

oxygen from the air, so he is in a high-oxygen environment. You can stay with him until he is ready for transport. And no, I promise you, he isn’t in any pain.” He put a hand on Julian’s arm. “We’re hopeful.”

Julian was glad they were hopeful, because he could feel only a sick,

paralyzing terror.

“Thank you,” Julian told Dr. Novak numbly. He should have

thanked the man for saving his son’s life as well, but shock had

overwhelmed any sense of decorum. Julian heard his mother thank the

doctor again as he walked toward the NICU, almost scared of what he

would see. The door chilled him as he pressed his palm against the cold, impersonal glass and looked inside. There were seven plastic cribs in the room, all surrounded by monitors and cables. Fragile children, some so

tiny he could barely see them over the sides of their beds, lay passively in bins like clearance merchandise. Sadness overwhelmed Julian—for the

babies, for their parents, but mostly, selfishly, he hurt for himself and his son. The scene intimidated him as he stood watching while a nurse moved

from bed to bed, checking complex and terrifying equipment.

“Come on, honey,” his mother told him, taking his arm. Together,

they ambled through the large double doors.

As they got closer, Julian saw that each small crib bore a construction

paper sign in the traditional pink-and-blue theme giving the child’s name A Heart for Robbie

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and a few statistics like weight and date of birth. Julian wandered away from his mother, looking for his own name.

Immediately, the nurse stopped what she was doing and walked over

to them.

“Can I help you?” she asked kindly as she looked up at Julian. Petite,

maybe five feet tall, she had black hair pulled back from a face far too young to belong to a neonatal nurse.

“I’m looking for my son. Dr. Novak said that I could stay with him

until he was transferred,” Julian choked, his voice having lost all measure of strength after the shock of his conversation with the doctor.

“Mr. Holmes?” she asked, and Julian nodded. “My name is Kathy,

and I’ll be taking care of your son until he leaves.” She led them over to a plastic box on wheels that, to Julian, looked like a large hamster cage. The clear plastic box had six large circular shapes around the sides and a latch-opening top. It was just missing the little tunnels and maybe a wheel—oh, and a water bottle.

Julian nearly asked about it until he looked down and saw a baby in

a diaper lying atop a light blue blanket, attached to cables and wires, with a hose across his tiny little face. The zoo-like sign on the infant’s cage bore the name “Holmes.” The air left his lungs in a rush of awed breath.

“There is a sink over there. If you both wash up with that

antibacterial soap and put on gowns from that box, you’ll be able to hold him. We still have a little while before they will be ready for him,” Kathy said, indicating a box of yellow surgical gowns next to a small sink in the corner of the huge room.

“I wouldn’t… I don’t… I don’t want to hurt him,” Julian whispered

as he gazed down at his son, who looked so fragile with an IV in his scalp and tape across his face. Even if he were perfectly healthy, Julian had a feeling he’d still be afraid.

“We wouldn’t let that happen,” the nurse told him gently. “If it

weren’t safe for him, I wouldn’t let you even if you begged. But, Mr.

Holmes, what he needs right now is to know that someone loves him and

is looking out for him.”

A lump formed in Julian’s throat as he hurried to the sink. The nurse

was right; there were things Julian needed to tell his son.

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They donned the necessary paraphernalia after washing their hands

thoroughly for several minutes. Julian and his mother returned to the

nurse, who held the sweet infant in her arms.

“Sit right there in that rocker, and I’ll hand him to you. It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she assured him. “You’ve just been through a lot today.”

He appreciated her understanding and sat in the chair she had

indicated. Then the blanket fell away from his son’s face, and the tiny boy came into view.

“Be careful of his oxygen tube,” she instructed before laying his son

in his arms.

Julian’s first thought was that nothing on earth had ever been as

beautiful as the child he held. His sweet son had soft curls, black as the night, that were significantly shorter than Julian’s own shoulder-length curls. The baby’s coloring, while pale because of his traumatic birth,

appeared to be a lighter reflection of his father’s skin. Subtler differences between Julian and his son showed in the baby’s ears and nose. While his father’s ears were larger, the baby’s nose was flatter and wide.

Nevertheless, no matter what their similarities or differences, Julian’s heart nearly burst with love for the tiny, helpless boy.

He was so overwhelmed in that moment, a tear slid down his cheek

and he brushed it away, not taking his eyes from his son.

“Julian, he looks just like you,” his mother whispered reverently as

she reached over to stroke her grandson’s diminutive cheek. “Have you

decided on a name for him?”

Julian nodded, using his thumb to stroke the boy’s hair.

“Robert Aaron Holmes,” he answered, his voice breaking as he

looked away from Robbie’s delicate face for the first time to seek out his mother’s approval. She beamed at him. “Robert for Dad and Aaron for

Erin because they are two of the strongest people I know. He’ll need their strength.” Then he looked back down at his son again. “Robbie,” he said

quietly, and the baby’s brilliant blue eyes opened.

“I think he likes that,” the nurse said with an indulgent smile.

“Hi there,” Julian told his son. “God, you’re so beautiful. To look at

you, no one would ever think that anything was wrong. Don’t you worry,

Robbie, because I’m going to make them take very good care of you at

that new hospital. So don’t be scared, okay, buddy?” Julian pushed the

light blanket away from his baby’s face, stroking the tiny, pale cheek

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before pulling the little bundle higher onto his chest. “Daddy loves you so much, and I’m going to make it all better. I promise.”

Not wanting his son to see him cry, Julian asked his mother if she

wanted to hold Robbie. He stroked his baby’s whisper-soft hair absently

with his thumb as he handed Robbie to the nurse so his mother could settle in the chair. After she had Robbie safely in her arms, Julian broke down completely, his sobs quiet and painful. His mother kissed his sweet boy on the forehead and cooed to him. Holding her grandson made her so

incredibly happy; he tried not to wonder how badly she would be

devastated if they couldn’t keep him alive. Julian pushed that idea away and promised himself that he wouldn’t consider the possibility again.

Robbie would live. He had to.

Linda didn’t let go of her grandson until she and Julian were both

shooed away by the nurse so the staff could get Robbie ready for transport.

His ride would land soon.

“Can I ride with him? Please, I don’t want him to be alone,” Julian

asked, feeling a little desperate. In just a few minutes, Robbie had filled him so completely that he wasn’t certain he’d be able to survive without his son. Robbie wasn’t just a picture on the screen anymore or some

random movement in Erin’s pregnant surrogate belly. He was a beautiful

little boy with his father’s hair and eyes. Robbie was a part of him.

“He won’t be alone,” the nurse reminded him with quiet patience.

“But no, for safety reasons, they don’t let nonmedical personnel fly. I can get you directions to St. Mary’s. Don’t rush, because they won’t let you see him while they are getting him settled anyway. Take your time, stop

by your house and pick up a change of clothes, and maybe book a room

near the hospital.”

“Thank you for being so kind and for taking care of him,” Julian told

Kathy as two EMTs entered the room and started checking Robbie’s

plastic home.

“I hope everything turns out okay,” she said as they walked into the

hall.

Julian turned and followed his mother from the room, like the shell-

shocked survivor of an emotional holocaust. He let her lead him back to

the room where his father waited alone. Paul must still be with Erin.

“How is he?” his father asked his mother quietly while Julian stared

at the gurgling, bubbling fish tank, not taking in anything but his reflection 14

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in the glass. Robbie had his eyes, his hair. They were supposed to be

celebrating this moment, taking pictures. God, he had to remember to take a picture on his phone when he got to the other hospital. That thought

burned into his heart, taking over everything else.

“Mom, I need to go,” he said suddenly, as if he were racing God

himself to get to his son.

“I don’t want you to drive, Julian. You’re too upset.” She fretted,

winding her fingers in his father’s sweater.

He looked up into his father’s eyes, brown and steady, so different

from his own, different from his son’s. The understanding shone clearly, the words “if he were my son” so clear, his father might as well have said them aloud.

“We’ll be right behind you,” his father said, and Julian turned for the

door, forcing himself not to run.

In his mind, he made a list of the things he would need to take to the

hospital: clothes, toiletries, maybe his laptop. He’d look for a hotel after he checked on Robbie. The plan clicked into place in his mind, each step logically following another. With something to do, some kind of control, he could finally breathe again.

His escape from the hospital turned into a blur of scurrying nurses,

ambling family, and the brightly lit gift shop where he’d planned to buy Erin flowers.

Erin.

He pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text to Paul.

Robbie is being airlifted to St. Mary’s, something about his heart.

I’ll let you know as soon as I can. On my way there now.

The automatic doors couldn’t open fast enough, and he forced

himself to wait until he could squeeze through before breaking into a run in the parking lot. Nervous energy flowed off him in waves, and he

wondered how he must look. Crazed. Neurotic. It didn’t matter. He caught sight of his midnight blue Civic, purchased for its safety record at the start of this whole process. He remembered Erin teasing him even as he signed

the paperwork. It had been a week after she’d told him she was pregnant.

All the science, all the inseminations, it had worked, and he was a father.

The response from Paul came as he fumbled with the keys in his

pocket.