It Happened One Night (30 page)

Please
,
God
, her heart prayed, pleaded.

She didn’t hear Calvert coming toward her, calling her name.

•  •  •

Eli followed the receptionist’s directions through the hospital turn-by-turn until at last he found Lana’s room. By the time
he reached her bedside, his heart was beating so loud he thought it might leap from his chest. Lana lay in a narrow white
bed, her face turned away from the door. Karin stood fast when she saw him rush in, and he started to ask her what was happening,
but she lifted a finger to her lips, her eyebrows raised exaggeratedly high. He recognized some of his own panic in her eyes.

“Come here,” she whispered.

He followed her into the hallway, wishing Lana was awake, wishing he could take her hand and hear her voice and know she was
okay. But for now, he would be happy just to have the facts. “What happened?”

“She went into premature labor,” Karin said softly. “They stopped the contractions with saline and terbutaline, so she’s in
the clear for now. But there’s no telling when they’ll start again.”

“Will the baby be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Karin said, pain in her voice. The skin around her eyes had faded to a dull blue-gray, and her hair was a
mess, falling in kinked strands around her face. “The doctor said its heartbeat is strong—it’s healthy so far. But it’s too
young to be born. They gave Lana some kind of steroid to speed up its lung development and prevent brain hemorrhaging, just
in case it decides that it has to be born sooner rather than later. But we’re praying it doesn’t come to that.”

Eli ran a hand through his hair. The moment felt surreal. Steroids and brain hemorrhages. He couldn’t even imagine what Lana
must be going through. He peered around Karin’s shoulder to see her, so still and quiet, her pale hair pulled away from her
face and falling against the paler pillows.

His heart ached to think that she’d almost lost the baby, and he realized just how attached to the child he’d become. Karin
squeezed his arm. She too had something to lose. Probably, Karin already thought of the child as her own—as if
Lana
wasn’t the woman in danger of losing a child. The idea didn’t sit well with him, and he gently drew away his arm.

“She’s okay right now,” Karin said. “You should have seen her. She was a trouper. Really brave and strong.”

“What will they do for her?”

“The doctor said bed rest.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s really nothing more they can do. They could set her up with a really expensive system to monitor her day and night.
But the doctor said it probably wouldn’t change anything anyway. And you know how Lana feels about electronics.”

“But
bed rest
? That just seems so nineteenth-century. They must have something better than that.”

Karin smoothed back her hair. “Actually the doctor said bed rest wouldn’t necessarily help either. She said there’s no real
proof that it works. But she said it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Eli had to step away from her a moment, away from the conversation. Frustration made his blood boil. He felt helpless, angry,
and too late. “So what the hell is going to keep her from having the baby?”

“I don’t know,” Karin said. “Rest. Taking care of herself. The baby will come when it wants to, but they want her to get to
at least the thirty-five-week mark. Then, all we can do is give it a fighting chance.”

“Hello.” A woman in scrubs and a white coat stopped near them in the hallway and held out her hand to Eli. Her dark hair was
pulled back stark and tight around her face. Eli hadn’t even noticed her walking down the hall. “I’m Doctor Christianson.
You must be…”

“Eli Ward.” He shook her hand, knowing that she’d assumed he was the baby’s father. “Karin was just getting me up to speed.”

“Very good. I was only just passing by, but I wanted to stop and introduce myself.”

Eli had to force himself to let go of her hand. “How long will you need to keep her here?”

She peered into the room. “We’ll have to see how well she responds to the medicines, but it will probably be at least a couple
of days. She’s a fighter; I can tell. She’s going to hold on to that baby for all she’s worth.”

Eli couldn’t help but glance at Karin. She didn’t look back.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m in kind of a rush. But I’ll be back again very soon.” Dr. Christianson began to walk down the hall,
then paused and turned halfway around. “It’s always seemed to me that the patients who have families, friends—people to hold
their hands along the way—do the best. You all are very lucky to have each other. I include Lana’s baby in that too.”

Eli saw Karin rub at her eyes. Wordlessly, he put an arm around her and they sat down. All they could do now was wait.

•  •  •

Karin walked the long, sterile corridors of the hospital, hallways leading to hallways, doors opening to more doors. There
was something nightmarish about all the tile and marble and low ceilings of white. Pictures of local heroes and finger paintings
hung here and there on the walls, one no different from the other. It was late now, and the building was quiet, her steps
echoing faintly. She knew the rooms around her were full of people, but as she passed through the gleaming marble corridors
she felt entirely alone.

She found him in the cafeteria, a room of empty, industrial-blue tables and stainless-steel countertops. Her instincts had
told her that Calvert wouldn’t have left the hospital, that he was out of sight but still nearby, and she’d been right to
trust herself. He sat leaning back in a chair with his knees sprawled open and his head tipped back to watch a muted TV.

“Why didn’t you leave?” she asked, sitting down opposite him.

If she’d surprised him he didn’t show it. He nodded toward the window. “I can see your minivan from here. I figured I’d know
it, when you and Lana go.”

Karin looked out the window, where a light dusting of snow came alive in the streetlights and turned the parking lot a gentle
white. She had no sense of time or weather in the hospital; each second had ticked by the same as the last. The doctor had
said the baby had a good chance, but Karin knew she wasn’t out of the clear yet. She couldn’t bear to be so close to having
a child only to see the chance elude her once again.

“Are they gonna live?” Calvert asked. His eyes were glazed-over and puffy; worry lines bracketed his mouth.

“They’ll both be fine,” she assured him.

“Did someone tell the baby’s father what happened?”

Karin laughed. “The baby’s father doesn’t believe the baby is his. He doesn’t want anything to do with Lana anymore.”

Calvert frowned. “A child should have a father.”

“Well, I guess that’s one thing we agree on,” Karin said. She stood and pushed her chair in. “Listen, you don’t have to stick
around here. You can go, okay? I’ll call over to the motel to let you know what happens.”

“All right,” he said.

She crossed her arms. “You know, I can’t fix what happened between you and Lana. That’s your business. But I don’t think you
should quit trying.”

He nodded. “I appreciate you saying that.”

“Go home and get some sleep.”

“Sure thing,” he said.

She turned to walk back out of the big, empty hall, and when she paused in the doorway to glance at him over her shoulder,
she saw that he’d stretched his legs straight out before him and crossed his ankles. She knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere
at all.

Lana stared at the hospital ceiling, green-and-beige curtains surrounding her on all sides. The woman in the next bed over
was snoring softly, but her television was blaring full blast. At the foot of her bed, Eli slept fitfully in a cheaply cushioned
chair, his head craned at what looked to be a painful angle. From time to time, she could hear the squeak of a cart being
wheeled down the long hall.

When she was a kid, she used to have an elementary school teacher who would reclaim the class’s attention by dropping a big
flat book on the floor. The sound of it slamming onto the tile commanded their attention and changed the whole energy of the
room. Lana felt as if the universe had done the same thing to her now. She hadn’t been listening. Now she was.

She’d almost lost the baby today. She still might lose it. She lay stone-still, afraid to move, afraid to do anything but
breathe. The possibility of a future without this child…

The truth was so powerful it was paralyzing. All bets were off. In the midst of wild pain, everything in her had focused on
the one and only task of keeping her baby from being born no matter what it took. And it astonished her, the way her body
had reacted even before her brain knew what was happening. The love that exploded inside her was so fierce it was nothing
shy of possessive, and her basest instinct was maternal, protective, and stronger than she could have known. For months she’d
doubted her own ability to be a parent. And yet now she knew the truth: No one could have the kind of feelings she’d had today—so
primary and fundamental—and
not
be a good parent. Her love was too powerful, too strong, to allow that to happen. She was not like her father after all.

She remembered what the woman in the Barn had told her:
Dreams are tricky things
. She’d always wanted an adventure, to test her limits and see what she could see. But now, with a kind of clarity that felt
like revelation, she knew she would sacrifice anything for the love of this child. She’d never been so certain of anything
in her whole life. She would raise her baby as
her
baby. And she would love it. Always. If it lived.

November 24

Eli woke for no reason in the middle of the night. He was in Lana’s bedroom, and even though he’d slept in her bed a number
of times now, the wonder of opening his eyes to see her face, her contours shadowed and softly lit by the alarm clock lights,
still made him feel choked with gratitude. Tonight was the first night she’d returned from the hospital, with strict instructions
to take it very slow. He would have thought she’d sleep like the dead. But instead the sound of her breathing told him that
she was awake.

“You okay?” he asked. He reached out a hand to her, felt the heat of her skin beneath the soft fleece of her pajamas.

“Fine so far.”

“You can’t sleep?”

“No,” she said.

He moved toward her and stroked her hair. She snuggled deeper into her pillow and closer to him. He pressed his nose to her
hair and smelled her shampoo, tea tree oil and mint. When she spoke, her words were muffled by cotton and he had to strain
to hear them. “I don’t want to give up this child. I want to keep it. For my own.”

He sighed, struck by an overwhelming feeling of relief. He kissed her forehead gently. “That’s wonderful. Lana, I’m so glad.”

“But how am I going to tell her?”

“It’s going to be hard.”

“I’m a terrible person.”

“You were confused. But I think you’re starting to know what you want now.” Lana was silent, and he fought back the urge to
ask about what else she might have made a decision about, whether he would be welcomed as part of her family too. “You’re
going to be a good mother. And that child will live in a good, loving house. I know it, Lana. Because I know you.”

“Thank you,” she said.

He waited, holding his breath. Now was the part when she should agree to marry him. It made perfect sense, anyone could see
that. He counted the seconds. He’d told himself he wouldn’t bring up the subject of marriage again; the offer he’d made her
had no expiration date, and so he had an obligation to be patient. And yet, even though he hadn’t spoken about offering her
his grandmother’s ring, he could feel the subject stretching between them, unspoken and tense.

“I’m really tired,” she said.

He waited a moment, then loosened his arms and let her go. The inches between them felt wide as a desert, and he wondered
if she was already pulling away. Maybe something about accepting the baby made her less likely to accept him—as if she wanted
to protect herself and her child from hurt by not letting the baby have any kind of father at all.

He wondered: If she couldn’t shake him off gently, would she humiliate him again? Was she already planning how to send him
on his way?

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. Their love for each other had always been strong, but their romance was still fragile
and new. There was risk if he trusted her and risk if he didn’t. He wanted the promise that she wouldn’t break his heart again.
He hoped she would give it soon.

November 25

Karin opened the door to Lana’s house with her key and shouldered her way into the kitchen, glad that the Wildflower Barn’s
reduced winter hours allowed her a little extra time to care for her sister.

She put down her bags on the countertop and shouted hello. “I brought groceries.”

She threw her keys on the kitchen table and dug around in her bags. She’d bought all the fixings for a small Thanksgiving
dinner for tomorrow. She searched until she found a pint of ice cream and a couple of tabloid magazines that Lana had asked
for. Since becoming bedridden Lana had apparently become addicted to celebrity gossip. Karin thought it was funny—this unexpected
angle of her sister’s personality—but she didn’t judge.

“Hello?” She found Lana propped up on her pillows, staring at the shadow of her own hand against the wall. She looked stronger,
more robust, than when Karin had last seen her in the hospital just a few days ago.

“Look,” Lana said. “It’s a duck.”

Karin laughed and put the magazines among the other books on the messy shelf. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “I brought
reinforcements.”

Lana dropped her hand and turned to face her sister. There was an odd look in her eyes, a restlessness that had given way
to resignation. She was going stir-crazy, by Karin’s guess.

“Oh, Kari. So much has happened.”

She laughed. “Angelina and Brad are adopting again?”

“No. Really. Important things. There’s so much to tell you. I don’t even know where to start.”