His Woman, His Child (14 page)

Hank mumbled brief replies to the greetings he received on his way into his office. He hoped the day was uneventful because he sure as hell didn't feel like putting up with crap from anybody.

He slammed the door behind him when he entered his office, checked the coffeemaker on the table in the corner and thanked God someone had thought to make a fresh pot for him. He poured the hot liquid into a mug, pulled out his chair and sat behind his desk.

What had he done wrong? He was sure Susan had wanted them to get married. So why, when he'd proposed to her this morning, had she gotten angry and ordered him to leave her house? He didn't understand women, especially one woman in particular.

Come on, Bishop, admit it,
an inner voice taunted.
Your proposal was hardly the kind a woman dreams about all her life. No roses. No candlelight. No sweet music playing in the background. You should have waited until you could have set the stage for her. Hell, man, you haven't even bought her a ring yet.

Okay, the first thing he needed to do was make reservations for dinner somewhere romantic. And then call up a couple of jewelers in Marshallton and get some quotes on diamond rings. And he should call the local florist and have a couple dozen roses sent— No, not roses, lilies. A huge bouquet of lilies.

Dinner reservations. Flowers. An engagement ring. And tonight, when he proposed again, she'd say yes.

He pulled the telephone directory out of the bottom desk drawer, flipped through the pages and stopped at the heading for restaurants. He read off the list and narrowed his choices down to three. Seafood, French cuisine, or an old lodge located on a lake. The listing for the lodge noted that they catered private parties for two to two hundred.

Hank smiled. A private party for two was just what he needed to woo and win his fair lady.

Just as he reached for the telephone, someone knocked on the office door. "Yeah?"

"Hank, it's Richard," the deputy said as he eased open the door.

"Yeah, Richard, what's up?" He took one look at his deputy's solemn face and knew something terrible had happened. "What's wrong?"

"We just got a call from the police department. There's been a bad wreck at the intersection of Fifth and Elm. A drunk driver, doing seventy, ran a red light and crashed into the side of a vehicle crossing on a green light."

"Damn! I'd like to put all drunk drivers in jail. How bad was it? Anyone killed?"

"The drunk's dead. He wasn't wearing a seat belt."

"And?"

"The woman driving the other vehicle has been rushed to County General. She was unconscious and had lost a lot of blood. And the air bag didn't protect her much from the side blow to her minivan."

"Minivan?"

"God, Hank, I'm sorry. It was Susan Redman. She was the other driver."

The world stopped suddenly. No sound. No light. No feeling. Utter and complete desolation. And then he heard the beating of his own heart. He could see Richard Holman's lips moving, but he couldn't understand anything he said. Hank's body was engulfed in icy fear. Numbness dissolved into pinpricks of pain, stabbing his whole body.

Susan had been in an accident. What if she was badly hurt? What if she lost the baby? What if she died?

Hank felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at his deputy.

"Come on," Richard said. "I'll drive you over to County General."

"How—" Hank cleared his throat. "How bad is she hurt?"

Richard patted Hank on the back. "Pretty bad."

They arrived at County General's emergency room fifteen minutes later. The ER staff informed Hank that Mrs. Redman was in surgery on the second floor. He didn't wait to ask any questions, but once he and Richard were in the elevator, he turned to his deputy.

"I want you to call Caleb and Sheila," Hank said.

"Already took care of that," Richard said. "Before we left the office, I told Helen to call your brother."

"Thanks."

What the hell was taking the elevator so long to move up one damn floor? He had to get to Susan. Had to be there. Had to do something to save her. Just as he reminded himself how irrational his thoughts were, the elevator doors swung open. Hank flew out and down the hall, straight to the nurses' station. Richard followed quickly behind him.

Kendra Camp came out from the nurses' station and met Hank. "Mrs. Redman's in surgery. They rushed her in there about ten minutes ago."

"Tell me what you know. Please." Hank balled his hands into fists. His jaw tightened. A fine mist glazed his eyes.

"Come on down to the waiting room." Kendra laced her arm through Hank's, then glanced over her shoulder and nodded at Richard. "I'll tell you what I know."

They reached the waiting room in a matter of minutes. A small room with pale green walls and vinyl furniture.

"Why don't we sit down," Kendra suggested.

"I can't sit," Hank said. "Tell me. How bad is it? And what are her chances?"

Kendra glanced nervously at Richard. "There's a lot of internal bleeding and her pregnancy complicates matters. Dr. Hall and Dr. Farr are both in the operating room." Kendra took Hank's hands in hers. "There's a good chance that they'll have to perform an emergency C-section."

"A C-section? But she's not even seven months pregnant," Hank said. "It's too soon for the baby to be born."

Kendra squeezed Hank's hands. "Premature infants have a much better chance of survival now than they once did. If—and I'm saying if—they have to take the baby, then we'll rush him straight to the neonatal unit. We have a fine one here at County General. And if necessary, we can med-flight him straight to Nashville."

"She can't lose her baby," Hank said. "You don't know what that child means to her."

"I understand." Kendra's eyes filled with tears. "I know it's all she has left of her husband. Believe me, the doctors will do everything they can to save both her and the baby."

Hank wanted to shout from the rooftops—
Not Lowell's baby! My baby! My son!
"Are you saying it might come down to saving either her or the child?"

"Try not to think about—"

Hank flung off Kendra's hands and glared at her. "Dammit, tell me!"

"Yes. If they decide to do the C-section, it might endanger the child, but it could save Susan's life."

"Then tell them to do the Caesarean." Hank grabbed Kendra's shoulders. "Do you hear me? Go in there and tell them that Susan comes first. They have to save her."

"Oh, Hank." Tears trickled down Kendra's face.

"Hank, she can't go into the operating room and tell the doctors what to do," Richard said as he placed his hand on Hank's shoulder. "Besides, even if she could, they can't take orders from you. You aren't Susan's husband and you're not her baby's father."

"I'm not Susan's husband, yet." Hank jerked away from his deputy, turned and looked first at Richard and then at Kendra. "But she's going to marry me. Just as soon as possible. She's my fiancee. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Oh, Hank, I realize how much you care about her, but—" Kendra said.

"I love her." The depth of his feelings for Susan came into clear focus for him. He did love her—more than anything on earth. "And if anyone has a right to make decisions about Susan's child, I do. I gave Lowell and her that baby. But Lowell's gone now. And by God, I am not going to let Susan die, too. Do you hear me?"

"Hank, you're upset and confused." Richard glanced nervously at Kendra, and Hank knew what the two of them were thinking—that he'd lost his mind.

"I'm the father of Susan's baby," Hank said.

Kendra gasped. Total silence filled the waiting area. The dead silence ended a few seconds later, when Caleb and Sheila Bishop entered the room.

"We got here as quick as we could." Sheila wrapped her arms around Hank and hugged him.

"Thank goodness, y'all are here," Kendra said. "I'm afraid Hank's pretty upset and he—"

"Kendra and Richard think I've gone nuts," Hank said.

"He's not crazy," Caleb assured them. "He is the father of Susan's baby." Caleb glanced at his big brother, his gaze questioning him, asking permission to explain the situation.

"Lowell was sterile," Hank said. "I donated my sperm so Susan could be artificially inseminated. That baby she's carrying is mine."

"I'll get word to Dr. Farr," Kendra said, then hurried off down the hall.

Richard Holman slumped down in a nearby chair. "I knew Lowell and Susan had been trying to have a baby for nearly a year and that they'd gone to all kinds of specialists, but I had no idea that they'd … that the baby was … Damn!"

"How is Susan?" Sheila asked as she led Hank over to the green vinyl sofa. "Let's sit down."

Hank followed her suggestion and they both sat. "Internal bleeding. That's about all I know. They're operating now. And … there's a chance they might have to do an emergency C-section. It may come down to deciding whether to save Susan or save the baby."

"Oh, dear God," Sheila said, her voice a gasping sob.

"I'd better call Tallie," Caleb said.

"Yes," Sheila agreed. "And we need to let Donna know before she finds out from someone else."

Hank couldn't sit still. He twisted and turned on the sofa for several minutes and then he got up and paced around the room. He felt as if he were locked in a cage. He wanted to run—hard and fast—and escape from the possibility that he might lose Susan. And the baby.

Don't do this!
He prayed silently.
Not when Susan and I finally have a chance at real happiness. Don't take her away from me. Please, let her live. And let our son live. I promise that I'll be the best husband and the best father I know how to be. I'll never let them down. I swear!

Tears gathered heavily in Hank's eyes. Drops trailed down his face, over his jaw and onto his neck. He hadn't cried since he'd been a kid. Six. Maybe seven. He hadn't cried when his grandfather died. He hadn't even cried when Lowell died, and he'd loved Lowell like a brother. But this was Susan. His Susan. The woman who loved him.

Minutes ticked by. As he paced the floor, Hank occasionally glanced at the wall clock. The telephone in the waiting area rang continuously—people calling to check on Susan's condition. Sheila took all the calls, whispering her replies. Hank realized she didn't want him to hear her repeating the same answers over and over again. With every step, every breath, Hank prayed.

Thirty minutes later, Donna Fields, round from head to toe and with swollen hands and feet, waddled into the waiting room. She hugged Hank, but didn't say anything. Her eyes were red and swollen and clouded with fresh tears. She turned to Sheila. The two embraced and then sat together on the vinyl sofa.

Three hours later the waiting room was filled to capacity. Tallie and Peyton. Mrs. Dobson and Mrs. Brown. Sheila's brother Mike and his wife. Scooter Bellamy and his mother. Crooked Oak's mayor and a dozen assorted friends, including Peyton's brother Spence and his wife Pattie.

"The whole county is praying for Susan, my boy," Reverend Swan said. "It's all in God's hands now."

Time became meaningless. People spoke to him, hugged him, patted him on the back and shook his hand. He tried to respond, but the best he could manage was a blank stare. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his emotions under control. He wanted to shout out his anger and vent his frustration by ripping apart half the world. But all he could do was wait. Wait to find out if after today he'd have a reason to go on living.

The crowd inside the waiting room stilled suddenly, their voices becoming silent. Hank sensed the change in the atmosphere. He looked around and there stood Dr. Farr just outside the doorway. The crowd parted as Hank rushed toward Susan's obstetrician.

"We performed the Caesarean and took the baby," Dr. Farr said. "He's small—just barely three pounds." Dr. Farr placed his hand on Hank's shoulder. "He's upstairs on third in the neonatal unit."

"How is he?" Hank asked. "What … are his chances?"

"All things considered, we're lucky," Dr. Farr said. "There's a good chance your son will live, but it's too soon to make any predictions. If you'd like, you can go up and see him."

Hank grabbed the doctor's arm. "What about Susan?"

"Dr. Hall will come out and talk to you soon."

Caleb walked up beside Hank. "Susan's going to be all right. You've got to keep telling yourself that and believe it."

"She was so upset with me this morning," Hank said. "I asked her to marry me, but I went about it all wrong. I didn't even tell her that I loved her. Hell—" Hank raked his fingers through his hair "—this morning, I didn't realize I loved her so damn much!"

"Don't do this to yourself. Susan's going to live and you'll get a chance to tell her how you feel."

"I've been such a stubborn jackass. I've put her through a lot of misery because I was too frigging scared of marriage and fatherhood and lifetime commitments."

"Susan understood," Caleb said. "And she'll forgive you. Look what I put Sheila through and she forgave me."

"God, I just hope I get the chance to ask her to forgive me."
And to tell her that I love her. That she is my life.