Vital Signs (5 page)

“I thought about what you said, that the kids share stuff, so I got some things that I thought could be just for David and some that everyone can use.” She upended the bag. “He probably doesn't much care what he's wearing, but I couldn't resist these.” There were four small tracksuits, soft fleecy cotton, in bright shades of red, blue, yellow and turquoise.

“With his eyes and hair, these colors should be great on him,” Hailey said.

There was also a huge stack of books that Hailey could tell at a glance were perfect for David's age, and several ingenious learning games designed to attach to the bars of a crib. There was also a small fleecy white teddy bear.

“I wouldn't dream of trying to substitute the one he's got,” Nicole explained. “I know how much it means to him. I just thought maybe he could have two?”

Nicole was looking at Hailey with an uncertain expression.

“Of course he can. Maybe now I can even get Bonzo away from him long enough to wash. Thanks so much for all this, Nicole.” Hailey was examining the games. They were both unique and educational and more expensive than the hospital budget would ever allow. “Wow, these are great. Because of the IV, he has to spend a fair amount of time in his crib, and these will challenge him.”

As Hailey repacked the bag, she gave Nicole an
update on David, telling her that he was drinking more liquids and that he'd asked for his mother.

“Wouldn't you just like to strangle her?” Nicole's blue eyes flashed fire behind her glasses.

“Absolutely. Around here, there'd be a lineup for the privilege.”

Ian and Tommy, laughing uproariously and clearly bent on destruction, went tearing past the door.

“Gotta go, Nicole. Those two are my patients and they're hellcats when they get going. No telling what they'll get up to. I gotta catch them before they pull a fire alarm or plug the toilets again.”

“I don't suppose you'd want to have lunch one of these days?” Again Nicole's voice was uncertain.

“Love to. Only trouble is, I'm starting the seven-to-seven shift tomorrow morning—I've been filling in for another nurse on this shorter one. So it would have to be a late dinner, instead of lunch.” Hailey figured that would be out of the question; any woman who looked like Nicole had dates every night of the week.

But to her surprise, Nicole gave her a wide smile and an enthusiastic nod. “That would be perfect. I don't eat till late, anyway. And I'm free any evening that's convenient for you.” She pulled a business card out of one of her pockets. “Call me—you set the time. I can work my schedule around yours.”

Hailey shot off down the corridor in pursuit of her rambunctious charges, wondering why Nicole would want to see her away from work. The two of them were obviously nothing alike, and what they might
have in common beyond discussing David, she couldn't imagine. But her curiosity was piqued, and she found herself looking forward to getting to know the other woman better.

She spent the late afternoon hurrying through the necessary duties so she'd have time to read that evening to the kids at the end of her shift. It was a difficult time for some of them, that hour or so before bedtime, and she hated the fact that they often got stuck in front of the TV because the nurses were busy. Many parents spent the end of their workday with their sick kids, but there were a number of kids on the ward whose parents lived far away or had other children at home to care for and so couldn't make it to St. Joe's.

They were the ones Hailey spoiled a little with balloons and stories and, if their diets permitted, special snacks and little treats from the kitchen.

She picked up David and took him with her to the playroom, where she sat in a rocking chair and read the kids a couple of chapters from a Harry Potter book. Of course the story was way beyond David's level, and he kept looking up at her, a puzzled expression on his face. Once, he reached up and took hold of a fistful of hair.

She smiled at him, and there was the tiniest movement of his mouth, not quite a smile, but close. The other kids demanded equal time on her lap, so she strapped David in a wheelchair. He didn't object. He watched the others, but most of all, he watched Hailey.

A full hour after her shift had ended, she carried
him back to his crib and settled him for the night. She bent and kissed his cheek, and a dangerous thought flickered through her mind.

It was probably impossible, but if Roy couldn't find any relatives who wanted him, was there any chance that she could take this little boy home with her?

 

R
OY WAS FRUSTRATED
. Four days had passed since he'd first visited David in St. Joe's, and so far, all his attempts to find Shannon Riggs or anyone who could tell him where she was had come to nothing. First he'd checked her personnel file on the computer, getting whatever details were available about previous investigations. Then he'd located Tonya Cabral, the volunteer street worker who'd taken Shannon under her wing and helped her get off drugs. Tonya was somewhere in her sixties, a tiny, birdlike woman with deep lines in her face and dark, sad eyes. She'd put a wrinkled hand over her mouth and started to cry when he told her that Shannon had disappeared, leaving David alone.

“I feel so responsible,” she sobbed. “I usually go over and visit her Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I came down with a bad migraine and was knocked out for a few days.”

Shannon had gone through a drug-rehab program prior to David's birth, and she seemed to have stayed clean, because there was no record of a complaint regarding her care of David. He'd called the social worker who'd been involved at that time, and she confirmed that Shannon took good care of her baby.
She was attending parenting classes and working at getting her high-school diploma.

The troubling thing was that Shannon had never revealed who the baby's father was or given any information about her own background, other than saying she'd grown up in Port Hardy, a coastal village on Vancouver Island. Her file listed her mother and father as deceased, with no other close relatives and no siblings, but from experience, Roy knew that teenagers often did that on their forms. If they were from troubled homes, they didn't want their parents involved in their lives. The social worker had talked to street kids who knew Shannon, and they'd said she was often seen with a man named Murphy. None of them knew much about him or where he lived. The file wasn't much help to Roy in finding Shannon. Tracing relatives would be difficult, if not impossible. He called the RCMP in Port Hardy and asked them to locate any families by the name of Riggs, but he strongly suspected that Shannon wasn't using her real name.

He was also doing his best to locate her. He'd given her description to the people he knew who drove around downtown Vancouver in vans, distributing clean needles and condoms. He knew several of the firefighters who worked the downtown east side, and he'd asked them to be on the lookout for her. He'd checked emergency departments at all the Lower Mainland hospitals besides St. Joe's, and of course the Vancouver police had Shannon's description.

He'd interviewed the firemen who'd been first on
the scene in the apartment, he'd talked to the paramedics and the staff in the ER, and of course he was keeping close contact with David's doctor, Harry Larue.

Roy had other cases, far too many of them to be able to devote a full working day to David's situation. As always, he was forced to do a great deal of work on his own time. And he was starting to really begrudge the fact that his private life and his profession were one and the same.

S
HANNON
R
IGGS
came out of drugged oblivion and her first thoughts were of Davie, but the thought of him made the pain in her chest too sharp. She shoved the images of her son down into a dark box in her mind and tried to slam the lid.

Shaking and sweating, she struggled to figure out where she was. It was stifling hot. Sunlight penetrated through a rip in the dark-green curtains, and she could hear the sound of traffic outside. A picture of sunflowers was screwed to the wall, and a closed door must lead to a bathroom. A motel room, she decided.

She propped herself up on one elbow and studied the face of the husky man sleeping beside her. He wasn't Murphy, and to the best of her knowledge she'd never seen him before. Her stomach lurched. She felt nauseated.

She slid out of bed. Her legs were rubbery, and she had trouble making it to the bathroom without falling. Her head felt as if it was about to explode, and the drug need went crawling through her veins like a hungry snake, making her itchy and edgy and frantic and sick.

For an instant memories surfaced, police cars, an
ambulance in front of her apartment, urgent voices floating to her in the hot afternoon. A stretcher with a small figure on it—they were taking Davie away, and she had to stop them.

She'd tried to get out of Rudy's car, but he'd grabbed her, pulled her back inside, then driven off as Murphy held her. She'd writhed and screamed and fought to get loose, but Murphy was strong.

“You're high, baby, they'll toss you in the slammer. The kid's okay. They're takin' care of him. Here, have some of this—it'll make you feel better.”

And from then until now, she couldn't remember anything.

She retched into the toilet, gasping for breath, disgust and fear and shame gnawing at her soul. Where was her son? Terror and emptiness made it hard to breathe.

The door opened, and the man stood there, squinting down at her.

“You okay, doll? That was some party, huh? I got some stuff left—you want some?”

She shook her head. She managed to get to her feet, turn on the hot water in the shower and step inside. She pulled the curtain and turned the tap until the spray was as hot as it would get. It beat down on her face, and gradually the pain in her chest became unbearable. She opened her mouth and tried to howl, but no sound came out.

She'd deserted her baby son, the one thing in her life that was precious and clean and innocent. She'd betrayed him, and in doing that, she'd become the person she'd been running from for so many years.

She'd become her own mother.

She wanted to die, but she'd tried before and it wasn't easy.

 

R
OY LOCKED
the office door behind him, aware that he was the last one in the building, apart from the cleaning staff. It was almost nine o'clock, and he hadn't eaten since noon. He was famished, and he hated eating alone. He also hadn't seen Nicole for a while. On impulse he dialed her cell-phone number, and after a few rings she answered.

“I'm just leaving the office. If you're not busy, I wondered if you wanted to grab a burger. Or at least talk to me while I wolf a couple down?”

Belatedly he became aware of background noise, music and the murmur of conversation. “Damn, I'm sorry. I'll bet you're out somewhere posh with the pilot. He'll never believe I'm your brother, so just make like this is a wrong number, and I'll talk to you another time. Bye.”

“No, no, don't hang up. Hold on just a minute.” Nicole said something indistinguishable to someone, and then she was back.

“Roy? Hailey and I are at Tomato on Cambie. She just got off shift and we're having a late dinner. Want to join us? Hailey says it's fine with her.”

It was a no-brainer. Roy didn't even take the time to register surprise that his sister and Hailey were out together. “I'll be there in fifteen. Order me whatever their dinner special is—I'm famished.”

He spotted them the moment he walked into the funky café. Even in this colorful atmosphere,
Hailey's wild red hair stood out like a beacon. She and Nicole were sitting in a booth beside the windows, plates of delicious-looking food in front of them. He made his way over and slid in beside Nicole.

“Ah, fairest damsels in the land, thank you for taking pity on a starving man.” There was a basket of bread on the table with only one piece left, and it didn't look as if the women were going to eat it. He slathered butter on and bit into it.

Hailey smiled a shy greeting at him. She had a first-rate smile—he'd noticed that before. It started in her eyes and moved slowly to her mouth. And that damned hair looked as if an electrical current ran through it.

The waitress appeared as if by magic and put a steaming bowl of soup in front of him, along with another basket of warm, fresh bread.

“Whatever this is, it's my favorite.” He took a spoonful and groaned with pleasure. “Ignore me, please. Just go on talking about whatever it was you were talking about before I barged in. I've always wanted to know what females talk about when there aren't any men around.”

“Men, of course.” Nicole leaned her elbows on the table. “But we'll change the subject now. No point in revealing all our secrets. What are you doing working so late, Roy?”

“The dreaded paperwork. I was warned that if I didn't do something about the mountain on my desk, they'd hold back my paycheck. I'm so far behind I need a rearview mirror.” He emptied the soup bowl
in a few huge gulps and buttered another chunk of bread. “What else did you order for me?”

“We just told them to serve you the largest of the entrées. I think it was roasted ox or something, wasn't it, Hailey?” Nicole knew that he stuck to a basically vegetarian diet.

“Stewed buffalo tongue.” Obviously Hailey had caught on, as well. She shot him a mischievous look.

“Tonight I'm hungry enough to eat raw venison.” Roy grinned at her. He liked Hailey's husky voice, the way it wandered up and down like a musical instrument she couldn't quite control.

“Nicole was about to tell me how she got interested in landscape architecture,” Hailey added, taking a forkful of her dinner. It looked like fresh fish in some sort of wonderful sauce.

“Subtitled dirt to dirt in five generations, much to the horror of my upwardly mobile family.” Nicole laughed. “Our distant ancestors had a gardening business in Milan, but then the family moved to Vancouver and our great-grandfather—who was a hunk if those black-and-white photos are to be believed—capitalized on his looks and married up. Great-grandma was no beauty, but she had pots of money. Her father was one of the early lumber barons. They had a slew of kids—must have had a great sexual relationship—and everyone got university educations, invested in real estate, went into law, expanded the family fortune. My grandpa and my father and two of my brothers are lawyers. Roy, of course, is a social worker. Two aunts are doctors, and one cousin went into politics. Me, I'm the black
sheep, a throwback to earlier times. I went into law to fulfil family tradition, but I was born with the good earth under my fingernails. My first memory is pulling up my grandmother's daffodils to see how big the bulbs were.”

“So when are you going to follow your heart and start your own gardening business?” Hailey asked.

Nicole sighed. “Soon, I hope. Someday soon.” She turned the conversation back to Hailey. “How old were you when you knew you wanted to be a nurse?”

“Eleven.”

“And? How come so young?” Nicole wasn't about to let her off the hook with a one-word answer.

Hailey shrugged. “My dad had a heart attack that year. He was in hospital a week before he died, and the nurses were so good to my sister and me. I developed a huge crush on them. And once I was in training, I knew right away I wanted to work in pediatrics.” She flashed her wide smile again. “I never really wanted to grow up, see, and being around kids all the time is a great way to avoid it.”

“None of your own?” Roy found he was curious about her, about whether she was married or had a live-in lover.

He was about to butter more bread when the waitress set a plate heaped with vegetables and baked salmon in front of him. He eyed it with unabated hunger.

“Not yet.” Hailey shook her head. “I'm single. But I really want a family of my own, so I've applied
for single-parent adoption. It's just taking longer than I thought to get the paperwork finished.”

“Wow, that's so brave of you.” Nicole's voice reflected her admiration. “I've thought lots of times about doing the same thing, but I've never gone further than daydreaming about it. Tell me how the process works. Are there many restrictions?”

Roy ate and listened, amazed. He knew Nicole loved kids, but he'd never heard her admit that she'd even considered single-parent adoption.

“Not anymore,” Hailey said. “Oh, you have to prove there'll be male input into the child's life, some sort of father figure. And of course you have to show that you'll be able to love the child unconditionally and that you're able to put a roof over its head. But that's about all. You can either go for a private adoption or through Social Services. There's a significant difference financially, which was the determining factor for me. Social Services is cheaper. It can cost up to a thousand for a child under the age of three, but if you take a kid over that age, it's free. And if you feel you can manage an emotionally, mentally or physically disabled child, there's not as long a waiting period as there is for a newborn. Privately you'll pay upward of ten thousand for a baby.” She added in an apologetic tone, “Here I am going on about it when Roy's an expert. He can probably tell you a lot more about it than I can.”

“Not really.” He shook his head. “I'm not involved much with the department that handles adoptions. I deal more with kids in trouble.”

“So which route are you taking, Hailey?” Nicole ate the last of her dinner and pushed her plate away.

“Social services. I couldn't begin to afford the private-adoption thing. When I decided that I was going to adopt, I bought a little house over near Main Street. Real-estate agent called it a fixer-upper, but that was stretching the truth.” She laughed. “It was more of a tear-downer, but by the time I'd figured that out, I'd already put money and energy into it. It's a real money pit, but I still love it. I've spent so much at Home Depot I'd buy shares if I had any cash left.”

“You hire people to do the work for you?” Roy was wolfing down his dinner, enjoying every mouthful, but he was finding the conversation just as satisfying as the food. Hailey impressed him. She'd decided what she wanted out of life and then gone after it, full speed ahead.

“Don't I wish.” She looked remorseful. “Nope, I can't afford to hire anyone. I wish I could sometimes. The first thing I'd do is get someone to redo my bathroom.” Hailey shook her head, her curly red hair fanning out around her face. The overhead light struck sparks from it. “It's a total disaster area. The floor's rotting out, the bathtub needs resurfacing, the walls are peeling. I admit I don't know where to start on that project, but for everything else, I do the work myself—at least as much as is humanly possible.”

“Did you take a course in carpentry?” Nicole was obviously just as interested as he was, Roy noted.

“Nope. I just bungle through. I've figured out how to put up drywall and I'm not bad at painting.
I've gotten pretty good at sanding. I've even done some minor electrical repairs.”

She sounded proud, and Roy thought she ought to be. He didn't know many other people, male or female, who'd take on what she had.

“I'm going to build a deck out back as soon as I get the money saved for the cedar,” Hailey went on. “Although the first priority is that darned bathroom.”

“But how do you know what to do?” Nicole asked.

“Oh, I use instructional books and videos and watch repair shows on TV. And I ask the clerks at Home Depot—they're really knowledgeable. But a lot of it is common sense and trial and error.

Roy was fascinated and more than a little envious. “I've always fantasized about buying a rundown place and fixing it up.”

Nicole shot him a surprised look. “Have you, Roy? You never told me that. How come you've never done it?”

“Never had the guts.” He smiled at Hailey. “Would you do it again—buy the house, get into all the repair stuff—knowing what you know now?”

Her face was the kind that held no secrets. Her feelings showed in her expression, and she looked amazed that he would even ask. “Absolutely. It's fun most of the time. I've gotten used to living in chaos and putting up with drains that overflow and toilets that don't flush, but at least it's a challenge you can do something about.”

Roy knew instinctively what she was talking
about. As a nurse, Hailey watched sick kids get sicker, knowing there wasn't much she could do about it. He often had the same feeling in his own work.

“It helps if you have buckets of money and lots of free time,” she went on. “Neither of which I have, so everything's taking me a lot longer than it should.”

“I'd love to see your house,” Nicole said.

Roy was thinking the same thing, but he wasn't brave enough to say it.

“Really?” Hailey looked surprised. “Well, then, why not come over this Sunday. I'm off that day.”

Roy accepted the dessert menu the waitress was handing him. “I'd like the berry compote with an extra scoop of ice cream, please. You two want anything?”

They shook their heads and he handed the menu back and turned to Hailey. “Can I come see your house, too?”

“Absolutely. Around ten. I'll make us all some brunch.”

“Oh, Hailey, that's not necessary—coffee's just fine,” Nicole began, but Roy interrupted her.