Time for Grace (11 page)

Not for the first time, he wished his aunt had left him as blissfully ignorant of the full truth about his father’s death as his mother had wanted him to be. Aunt Emily had told him they’d disagreed on the subject. He knew she must have felt very strongly that it was the right thing to do. Because somehow Aunt Emily found the courage to go against his mom when she’d never had the strength to function on her own in any other way. The two women had relied so heavily on each other that Kip had kept quiet, not wanting to upset the delicate balance of the household. And also because he hadn’t wanted endless dissections of his motives from his mother, his four sisters and six cousins.

“Mrs. Bates,” a nurse he’d never seen before said from the door to the scrub room. “The doctor said you can come back in for a few minutes.”

Sarah stood and started away, but she stopped and looked back at him. “Is there any reason my friend can’t come in? He loves Grace, too.”

“Of course,” she answered. “In fact if you have family, maybe you should call—”

“No,” Sarah cut in. “There’s no one else.”

Kip followed, scrubbed and then entered the NICU all the while thinking her parents belonged there praying for the grandchild they’d never even bothered to come see and supporting the daughter they so shamefully ignored.

Grace was in a separate part of the NICU now, isolated from the others. She was back on the ventilator and back on the flat bed. Peter Kelly looked up when they came in. He’d met Pete through Angel Flight fund-raisers but he’d never seen him under circumstances like this.

“Her fever hasn’t gone up any more, Sarah,” he said, gently. “We have that going for us. We got the cultures back and that’s why I called in the lung specialist. He’s suggested a new antibiotic. It’s the best protocol against the bug she has.”

“That’s good, right?” Sarah asked, desperate hope in her tone.

Kelly nodded but his expression remained grave. “All antibiotics have risks and this particular one isn’t usually used on preemies. In fact, as far as we know, it’s never been used on a micro preemie like Grace. It’s a risk but I think it’s one we have to take. She’s not going to fight this off otherwise. You understand what I mean?”

Sarah’s lower lip trembled but she sank her teeth into it as if steadying it would steady her. She nodded. Kip put a hand on her shoulder, praying he’d be able to lend her a little strength. “I told you to do whatever you have to do to save her,” she said, then asked, “Can I hold her first?”

“Only for a moment. We’re trying to keep her cool. It’s strange, I know. All along we’ve been fighting to keep her warm and now—” Pete Kelly shook his head.

“The next few hours are pretty critical. If she’s going to respond, it’ll be soon. And if she has a bad reaction—” He stopped. Took a breath. “Well, that may be sooner.”

The look in Pete’s eyes was so solemn Kip understood what that meant without a doubt. The antibiotic could kill Grace. Suddenly, being a pilot and having people’s lives rely on his skill didn’t seem so high pressure an occupation, after all.

Sarah cradled Grace’s tiny body in both hands. Talking softly. Urging her to fight on. Telling her all the plans she had for them when Grace got strong enough to go home. Then Sarah laid her back on the temperature-controlled pad and continued talking to her, petting her head and letting Grace curl her little fingers around her mother’s pinky.

Leslie Washington came in behind him and drew Kip’s attention. Kip looked at his watch. She didn’t work this shift as far as he knew. “I couldn’t stay away, either,” she explained. “I took night duty for someone. Why don’t you pray for our girl. None of us is ready to give up on her. Least of all Grace herself.”

“Please, Kip,” Sarah said. “She did so good in surgery after you prayed. Hold her. Pray for her. Maybe…”

Sarah had no faith in her own prayers but at least she still believed. Kip bent down and Leslie laid Grace on just one of his hands. Her little bottom rested on the heel of his hand and he was able to support her head and neck with his fingertips. She felt like a feather. Her downy hair was soft against his fingers and she was just about as light. It was hard to believe she was real and alive.

But he could feel her labored breathing.

Her tiny heart beating.

And she was warm. Awfully, awfully warm.

His throat ached with the magnitude of the loss it would be if this tiny human didn’t make it. He bit his lip, blinked away the burning tears he just couldn’t fight and cleared his throat.

“Lord, You know Grace and what a fighter she is. She needs of Your help right now. And You know Sarah’s pain at seeing her child suffer like this because You watched Your Son suffer. This new drug is risky but we know You can make it work safely and well. Let her stay with us. Our lives are but moments to You. Please give Grace her full measure of moments. Make this a time for Grace to thrive. I—” his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat again. “I ask You for the life of this child in the name of Your Son. Amen.”

Kip placed Grace back on the temperature-controlled bed, mindful of Pete Kelly’s admonition about keeping her cool enough. Then he took a deep breath and turned to Sarah. She nodded, still looking scared but a little more confident. She moved next to the flat bed. “You rest now, baby girl. They’re going to give you a new medicine that’ll fix you right up. Mommy won’t be far away. I’ll be back again later. I have faith in you, Grace. You’ll be here waiting for me.”

Kip followed her out and took the seat next to her on the bench where he’d found her when he arrived.

“I feel as if I’m always thanking you,” Sarah said after a few moments. “I told Miriam not to bother you, but I’m glad she did, too. I’m thankful that someone else who loves Grace is here.”

“And
I
feel like I’m always apologizing to you. I got your message last night maybe fifteen minutes after you called, but I thought the message was from that afternoon. It seemed like a moot point by then. If I’d known what was going on here…” He shook his head realizing he’d probably said enough. “Well, anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t understand your call was urgent.”

“It’s okay. Really. I don’t remember what I even said but I’m sure if I’d mentioned that Grace was sick you’d have called me back when you got in.”

He only nodded because what he really wanted to do was correct her. He’d have come running if he’d known Sarah herself needed him but telling her would be a mistake. No matter what Grace’s outcome was that night, a stronger bond had already formed between them.

Once again she wrapped her arms around herself and he couldn’t watch that lonely gesture again. Nor could he maintain his self-imposed isolation when she was so close and so alone. He reached over and tucked her against his side, resting his cheek against her silky hair as her head came to rest on his shoulder. This was like walking a tightrope and he knew it. One wrong step and someone could get terribly hurt.

Sarah deserved better than another disappointment from someone she cared about. She’d apparently had enough of those to last a lifetime already.

I
t was hours later that the door to the NICU swung open. Sarah jumped to her feet, her heart pounding in fear. Then within a heartbeat Kip was on his feet right behind her, gripping her shoulders, lending her support and strength. She held her breath as Doctor Kelly stepped into the hall.

He turned around and wore a wide grin. “Her temp’s down, Sarah. Her breathing’s easier, too. I think we’ve got this thing licked.”

For some reason all she could do was stand there and stare at him. She knew what he’d said and what it meant, but she didn’t seem to be able to process it. Maybe she was just afraid to hope.

Her knees started to shake. If Kip hadn’t stepped close behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, Sarah was sure she’d have folded up in a heap.

“What about the effects of the drug on Grace?” Kip asked, still supporting her both mentally and physically.

“Her labs are looking okay as far as the side effects of the antibiotic. I’d say she’s showing no adverse effects of it. Your kid is one feisty little critter, Sarah. Of course, we’re going to monitor her closely but she’s looking pretty good to me.”

“Thanks, Pete. This is great news,” Kip said as he moved to her side, keeping his arm wrapped around her waist. “It’s great news. Isn’t it, Sarah? Sarah? You have to breathe, honey. Take a breath.”

Sarah sucked in a great gulp of air. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath. “She’s really better?” she asked, still a little breathless.

Doctor Kelly chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get you in there to see her. Maybe you’ll believe your own eyes.”

She looked up at Kip. “You come, too.”

“Sure,” he said smiling. “Come on. Let’s get scrubbing.”

Sarah felt giddy and light as air. Kip was as excited as she was, smiling and scrubbing up with gusto. Sarah breathed a further sigh of relief when they got to Grace’s little bed. Her coloring was back to that blessed pink it had picked up after her oxygen flow improved following her surgery. She was cooler to the touch and off the respirator, as well.

Leslie suggested Sarah hold her and see if she was strong enough to take a bottle, one of her newer accomplishments. Once the baby was in her arms, Grace opened her eyes. Kip knelt next to Sarah and chuckled. Grace sought out the sound and looked right at him, and they both could have sworn she smiled around the nipple. They looked at each other then grinned through grateful, happy tears.

Grace took very little of the bottle and was soon sound asleep as if she’d put on all the show for her fan club that she intended to that night. Doctor Kelly was a bit worried about wearing her out so Leslie returned her to her bed.

While they walked toward the elevators, Kip offered her a ride home and Sarah gratefully accepted. Though she was buoyant with relief, exhaustion had crowded in on her now that she knew her child was once again safe and gaining strength.

Sarah was so tired, in fact, she fell asleep practically as soon as Kip steered his pickup onto the highway.

The last thing she remembered was a sign for the Schuylkill Expressway before a lack of motion woke her. She hadn’t even opened her eyes when she inhaled the combined scent of old leather and lime. Kip’s distinctive scent.

Probably unconsciously seeking his warmth in the chilled pickup, she’d moved over close to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. For just a few moments Sarah absorbed the comfort of having his shoulder to lean on, but then she heard Kip make a small sound that was somewhere between distress and impatience.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped. She sat up and scooted quickly away from him. What had she been thinking? In spite of his affectionate support all night, he’d made his feelings on entanglements very plain.

“It’s okay. You were cold and tired.”

She nodded and pushed some stray hairs off her face. “I’ve been up for twenty-four hours and I didn’t get much sleep before they called me to tell me Grace was sick. I’d stayed late because she was fussy. I guess she was starting to get sick then.”

“It’s okay,” he repeated. “It gave me some time to think. I know you’re tired but would you mind if I came up. There are some things we really need to talk about.”

She couldn’t imagine what they’d need to talk about unless he wanted to make another, me-lone-bachelor speech. She’d done pretty well managing the last one. She could do it again and send him on his way with a clear conscience. It was the least she could do to pay him back for all his support.

“Sure. I can make hot cocoa. I even have marshmallows,” she said trying to sound breezy. That ought to show him she wasn’t trying to hook him against his will. Who served a man cocoa as a come-on? Of course she wouldn’t know how to be seductive if she tried. And she wouldn’t want a man who’d require her to be something other than who she was, anyway.

He nodded, and seemed more sad than irritated so maybe she’d read his intent wrong. She hoped so because she really wasn’t in any condition for a confrontation of any kind.

Kip followed her into the garage and up the interior wooden steps. “Have a seat,” she said as she passed the stools and the breakfast bar. They could talk with the countertop between them. That ought to make whatever he had to say easier to deal with. But that wasn’t to be.

“Sarah. Stop,” he said and caught her hand as she hung her purse on the back of one of the dinette chairs. She turned, surprised to see how pained his expression was. And how close he was.

“What’s wrong, Kip?”

“This,” he said, then his free hand tipped her face up as his lips descended. Of their own accord her eyelids dropped closed. His kiss didn’t have the edge it’d had when it morphed into more than a celebration on Grace’s behalf. This kiss brought tears to her eyes because it was so bittersweet. After a moment, his hand left her face as his lips left hers. She opened her eyes and wanted to weep at the utter agony written on his kind, handsome features. “Kip,
what
is it?”

“Come on,” he said and she realized he still held her hand when he tugged her toward the living room area.

“Let’s sit in here.”

She followed, exhaustion and anxiety chasing away any impatience she’d felt when he’d asked to talk with her. She sat on the sofa and he let go of her hand then sat across from her. He sat for a long moment, his posture identical to the way it had been after he’d arrived at the hospital and sat next to her on the bench—elbows on his thighs, hands clasped and head down. She didn’t know if he was praying, thinking or both. What she did know was that, after she’d seen the look in his eyes, she’d give him till dawn if that was how long it took for him to explain what was wrong. A kiss and the emotions it had stirred hardly seemed an answer.

Then he looked up and she was no longer sure about that. “There are things you deserve to know. Things that make my life—my bachelor life—make sense. Things that make not changing it make sense even though I’d give nearly anything to be able to.”

“O-kay,” she said carefully, more confused than ever.

“My dad died when I was seven,” he said.

She nearly interrupted to tell him she knew all the reasons for his bachelor lifestyle from Miriam. But then he went on and she’d be forever thankful she’d decided to count to ten instead cutting in.

“My uncle Galen died two years after my dad. My aunt and six cousins moved in so my mom and Aunt Emily could pool their resources. Which really meant my mom went back to work as a nurse and my grandmother and Aunt Em took care of all of us. I tell them all—my sisters, cousins and mom—that living with a baker’s dozen of women has me out of patience with the lot of you.” He shot her a little grin, taking the sting out of his words. “It’s not really a lie because I’m usually pretty out of patience when they get on me about not being married. And I can honestly say I’d never met a woman I thought I would want to live with even though I’ve always wished I could have kids.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. You kissed me and said it was a problem. Neither of us is attached. I know I pretended it didn’t mean anything when you kissed me at the hospital but—”

“Uh, Sarah, I didn’t believe the act for a second. You kissed back. You also aren’t the kind of woman to kiss like that with no feelings involved.”

“Oh.” She felt a blush heat her face and looked at the floor. “Then I really don’t see a problem.”

“The problem is that no matter what we feel, it can’t go further.”

That got her to look back up no matter how embarrassed she was. “Why?”

“For the reason I grew up the way I did. My dad and uncle weren’t killed in freak accidents or war or sickness or any number of other random things that shorten lives. They died when their perfectly good hearts just stopped. And my grandfather and great-uncle. And their father. I don’t know any further back than that but you get the idea. The weird thing is my nephews will all be fine if history repeats itself. Sons of the Webster women have all been just fine. A few lived into their nineties. But I’m going to die in eight years or less. None of the male line lived more than a few months past their fortieth birthdays. Some not even that long.”

She sat in stunned silence, speechless. His days on earth were numbered. Soon she might be grieving another loss. It was too much. She shook her head, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Are you sure they can’t help you? What’s wrong with your heart?”

“Do you think I haven’t tried to find out? They tell me there’s nothing wrong. They told my dad and uncle the same thing. My uncle saw his doctor one morning. My cousin came home from school that afternoon and found him sleeping on the sofa—-but he wasn’t asleep. He was dead.”

She gasped.

“You see it, don’t you? You know how much it hurt losing your husband after such a short marriage. Imagine how much it would hurt to have years of love just cut off in the blink of an eye. I can’t leave someone I love to grieve the way my mom and aunt did. I can’t leave
you
that way. Or with the financial and emotional burden of raising my kids alone on top of that. I won’t live the rest of my life knowing that if I do the selfish thing and let what we feel blossom and grow, I’ve condemned you to that. And if we had a son, then I’ve done this to him. And again to you. My grandmother buried both her sons. My aunt was right to tell me—warn me. It ends with me. No more wives and mothers burying us.
No more.
”

She nodded, biting her lip. She couldn’t tell him he was wrong. How could she follow her heart knowing it was destined to be broken in two? Better a crack now than devastation later. If losing Scott had hurt as much as it had, how much worse would it hurt to lose her soul mate?

To lose Kip.

He stood and kissed the top of her head. She looked up, trying to see him through a sheen of tears. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

He smiled sadly. “Be happy. Find some great guy to help raise Amazing Gracie and give her healthy and happy brothers and sisters. Just be happy, love. It’s the best any of us can do.”

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and sent the tears that had gathered there cascading down her cheeks. The door shut and she heard him pelting down the steps into the garage. His pickup roared to life, then its sound faded into the distance.

And she was alone.

Again.

Sarah sat in stunned silence for a long time trying to imagine a world without Kip Webster in it somewhere. “Why does life have to be so hard, Lord?” she asked aloud, then when no answer came she dragged herself to bed and turned off her alarm. It was Saturday and nearly dawn so she planned to sleep as long as she could.

But once in bed, she lay staring at the ceiling as it lightened with the rising dawn. Sleep just wouldn’t come. Tired as she was, her mind kept running over those devastating moments as Kip poured out his story. She recalled everything she knew about him. She relived every second she’d spent with him. As one thought connected to the other she realized she’d begun comparing him to Scott.

Then she purposely centered her thoughts on her late husband alone. She remembered the fun they’d had. The snowman they’d built the day they’d met when she was so happy to see snow again. And that brought up the misadventure when he’d tried to teach her to ski a month later when she headed down the wrong slope—the double diamond slope—and he’d had to ski alongside her and steer her off to the side. Then there’d been all those lunches in the teachers’ lounge when they’d talked about their shared faith and a thousand other subjects that interested them. They just didn’t talk about their pasts.

And she remembered his enthusiasm while handling the arrangements for their wedding. He’d made shopping for rings fun too. She chuckled recalling his long, long lists of the things they’d do after they were married. Scuba diving, motor biking, deep-sea fishing, dancing in the moonlight and swimming in it too. Those were the things they’d managed to check off during their Bermuda honeymoon. Those were the only things they’d checked off.

Because then it had been time to say goodbye and he’d stretched that moment by hanging out the window waving until the bus was out of sight. And he was out of her life.

Even though sorting through the memories cemented the truth in her heart that for her he’d been more friend than lover, she had no regrets. She
had
made him happy.