“She’s probably in her room. Or maybe she went up to the cupola?”
“It’s pitch-black up there.”
“We went to the hardware store one day on our bikes,” Brandon said, forgetting his tears for a moment. “We bought flashlights—big ones— with the money we made busing tables.”
Callie grinned down at him, trying to keep him from picking up on her own anxiety. “Dad forgot to move the key to a different spot, didn’t he?” She suspected J.R. had left it deliberately to facilitate a few childish adventures now that the stairway and the floor were safe.
“Yeah,” Brandon said sheepishly. “It’s really neat up there.”
“Did you sneak up to watch the storm last night?”
“No,” Brandon admitted. “Becca wanted to, since we were awake already, but then we figured, what if we get struck by lightning or something? Because of the copper roof and all. It would upset Mom.”
“Yes, I imagine it would upset your mother.” Callie nodded solemnly, swallowing a grin. “Smart reasoning.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” he hurried to assure her, padding barefoot through the big, quiet kitchen, which was clean and scrubbed and waiting for Mac’s arrival with the morning sun.
“Of course not. I believed you this morning, too.”
“It seems like a long time ago. Did you get the tree all cut up?”
“Yes, we did. And then guess what? My mom had an accident and broke her wrist. She’s at my place now resting because it was raining too hard to take her home.” The stairway light was on and Brandon led the way to the family’s quarters.
At her words, he stopped and swung around. “She did? That’s too bad. Boy, what a night, huh?”
“Yeah.” They walked through the darkened living room. “We’ll check her room first,” Callie decided. “If she’s not there, you go get your flashlight and we’ll go on up to the attic.”
But Becca was there, to Callie’s secret relief. She was just a small hunched figure in a frilly white nightgown silhouetted against the suddenly quiet darkness beyond the window. Ginger had styled her hair in a French braid that suited her aquiline features and gave her the look of one of the warrior maidens in her Crystal World novels. Callie went to sit beside her on the window seat. Becca scooted over a little so there was room for her brother on Callie’s other side, but still kept a small distance between them.
“They’re gone,” she whispered, her arms wrapped around her knees, physically holding her emotions inside, as she did so often. “Mom and J.R. and Zach. They brought Mom out on a stretcher to the ambulance, and Zach got in with her, and J.R. got in the front with Mr. Koslowski and they drove away.” Her voice broke on a sob. “Is Mom going to be all right?”
“Yes,” Callie said. This was no time to dwell on the dangers of late-stage pregnancies in mature women. This was the time for her to be a comfort for these two frightened children, to be the big sister. The one who would make everything right. “And the baby will be okay, too. Zach will make sure of that.” Even as she said the words aloud, she found herself believing them and, despite her heartache, believing in him.
“It’s my fault if he’s not,” Becca sobbed. “I’ve been so mean to Mom. I didn’t want her to get a new baby. I wanted it to be just the three of us, the same as it’s always been.”
Callie didn’t attempt to take Becca into her arms, although she longed to cuddle the forlorn little figure. Her stepsister was such a bundle of contradictions, so prickly and easily offended, it would be better to let her make the first move. “I kinda felt the same way about you two,” she confessed.
“Huh?” Becca looked up, her eyes wide, her cheeks tear streaked, searching Callie’s face to ascertain if she was being truthful or just being a grown-up saying what she figured a kid wanted to hear. Callie met her skeptical gaze head-on.
“I thought you liked us,” Brandon said, hurt.
Callie laughed, lightening the moment. She gave him a quick hug and he snuggled closer to her side. “I do like you. I like you both all to pieces.” She wasn’t sure how they would react if she said she loved them, so she held back.
“We like you, too,” Becca whispered.
“A whole lot,” Brandon said. “Maybe we even love you.”
Callie had to struggle to hold back the tears. “I love you, too.”
“Really?”
“Really. The thing is, at first I didn’t want to share my dad with your mom and you guys—and a new baby, too. It’s been just me and my dad for a long, long time. Just like it’s been you and your mom. I didn’t want to share him.”
“Your mom left you and went away for years and years. Mac told us,” Becca said solemnly, scooting a bit closer to Callie’s side.
“Yes, but now she’s back and we’re friends again.” It was a simple explanation of a complex relationship, but she hoped it was the truth.
“Our dad died. He isn’t going to come back,” Brandon said. “I want to call someone Dad, and JR said I could. Is that okay with you?”
Callie pulled him close. “He’s the best father in the world, if I do say so myself, and I’m absolutely certain he’s happy you want to call him Dad.”
“I want a grandma and grandpa.” Becca dropped her head onto her knees. “We never get to see ours. They live far away and they never even call us on the phone or anything. Will your grandma and grandpa care if I call them that?”
“They won’t mind a bit.” Callie swallowed hard to keep a sob from escaping. Abandonment came in all kinds of forms, she realized, not just a mother who needed to take off and find herself.
“They will care if something happens to the baby. They’ll hate me.” She started sobbing in earnest. Callie reached out and wrapped her arm around Becca’s thin, shaking shoulders.
“Stop blaming yourself,” she said firmly but gently. “You can tell your mom you’re sorry when you see her. Then you’ll feel better. Why don’t you both get dressed as quick as you can? I have a sneaking suspicion we’re all going to get a little brother or sister before morning, and we don’t want to miss our first chance to meet him...or her.”
Callie was growing more and more anxious to be with Ginger and J.R.—and Zach. She might as well admit it. She was no longer a doctor first. She was a daughter and a sister and a woman who wanted to be near the man she had fallen in love with. She couldn’t be objective anymore, at least not tonight. She could only worry and love, and pray for Ginger and the baby and for her own happy ever after.
“Everybody always says he. Only once in a while does Mom say her.” Becca’s solemn face transformed itself once more with the appearance of her lovely smile. “I’ve got a list of names. Mostly for girls. I want a sister.”
“You have a sister,” Brandon said, jumping up from the window seat ready to roll. “We have Callie.”
Callie’s heart melted, and she knew then and there these two children were no longer her stepsiblings; they were her brother and sister and always would be.
“Whichever it is, we don’t get to choose,” Callie reminded them both, struggling not to cry. “Now hurry! I want to check on my mom before we leave town.”
* * *
“WELL, LOOK WHO we have here. Did they finally let you out of White Pine Lake for a few hours?”
Zach was standing at the nurses’ station in the E.R., watching Ginger’s monitor with a PA he’d worked with in the past. He looked up from the red and green undulating lines and pulsating numbers and greeted the heavyset woman in the long white lab coat. “Dr. Carmichael, how are you?”
She returned his greeting with a smile and an outstretched hand. “I’m fine. It’s good to see you, too, Zach, though I wish it wasn’t at two forty-five in the morning.” She stifled a yawn behind one strong brown hand. Ophelia Carmichael was a Latina woman whose parents had come to north
ern Michigan many years earlier to work in the cherry orchards. They’d settled there and raised a family. She was married with grown children and must be somewhere in her late fifties. Zach had worked with her in the past and found her professional, intelligent and not a woman to suffer fools gladly. She examined Ginger’s chart.
“Did she go toxic on us?” She toggled a screen on the electronic notepad she pulled out of her pocket, glancing through the notes Zach had made on the trip to the hospital, as well as the notes from the admitting physician and the nurses from Ginger’s initial exam. While she was reading, the other PA excused himself to take a phone call, leaving Zach and the ob-gyn alone.
“She fainted or possibly had a mild seizure about two hours ago,” Zach said. “Her blood pressure’s still sky-high and the baby’s showing signs of acute fetal distress. Here’s the results of the ultrasound.”
“Just shy of six pounds. That’s a point in our favor. But these numbers worry me,” she said, shaking her head. “Inducing’s not an option. I don’t want to put any more stress on the baby.” Zach nodded his agreement. “Is there an O.R. open?”
“Got one on standby.”
“Is she prepared for an emergency C-section?”
“She’s been advised it’s a possibility.”
“And the husband? Is he with her?”
“Yes. And her stepdaughter will be here shortly also. She’s Dr. Callie Layman, my new boss.”
Dr. Carmichael’s head came up. “I haven’t met her yet, but her med-school records are impressive. How are you two getting along out there in the hinterlands?” She grinned to show she was kidding.
“We’re doing great.”
“What room do they have Mrs. Layman in?”
“Six,” Zach said.
“Lead the way. Are you going to scrub in with me?”
It was an invitation he couldn’t refuse, not only because Ginger was his patient but because he knew Callie would want him to be with her stepmother when she couldn’t be.
“Thank you.”
“Great. It will give you a taste of what you’ve been missing here.”
“I’m happy where I am,” he said.
“Sure you are.” Her expression was a mixture of disbelief and pity. “Bring me up to speed on our patient.” Zach was grateful for the change of subject.
“She’s scared and she’s worried for the baby’s safety. So is her husband, but he’s not going to lose his cool, no matter what happens.”
J.R.’s strength was one of the reasons he’d be the man Zach would pick to be his father, if Zach had been given such a choice. As it was, he’d be glad to settle with J.R. being his father-in-law...if he ever got the chance to make things right with Callie. “Mrs. Layman’s also insisting on seeing her children before she goes into surgery.”
The ob-gyn frowned. “We can’t wait much longer for them to arrive.”
“They’re on their way with Callie—Dr. Layman. They should be here shortly.” Dr. Carmichael lifted one eyebrow at the inadvertent use of Callie’s given name but didn’t remark on it further. “Has Mrs. Layman had her pre-op meds?”
“Yes. And the anesthesiologist has been in to check on her.”
“Then I’ll inform her we’re ready to go as soon as the children get here.” She headed for Ginger’s cubicle, white coattails flying.
“Zach.” Callie strode down the hall from the E.R. entrance, Becca and Brandon trailing behind. They all looked worried and wound up. Callie was still wearing the raincoat, but she’d added a royal-blue Michigan sweatshirt to ward off the chill of the wet night. The twins were wearing jeans and T-shirts and hoodies that were beaded with rain. So the weather hadn’t let up. He’d almost forgotten about the storm. Funny, how outside considerations got away from you in the hospital. It wasn’t like the clinic, where he could gaze out the window just about any time the mood struck him and see the sky and the lakeshore and the woods and meadowland stretching away into the distance. “I hoped I’d find you here,” she said as she approached him.
He glanced at his watch. “It took you a bit longer than I expected.”
She gave him a half smile. There were faint shadows under her eyes. It occurred to him that they were both going on forty-eight hours with very little sleep, operating now on willpower and adrenaline. “I brought my mother along with us. She was still in a lot of pain and I didn’t want to leave her alone at the duplex. I figured we might as well take Dr. Assad up on his offer and have her wrist checked out. Mom’s filling out the paperwork now. I’ll catch up with her once the kids have seen Ginger. How is she doing?”
“She’s being prepped for a C-section. Dr. Carmichael, the OB, doesn’t want to take any chances.”
Callie nodded. It was obvious she had a myriad of other questions but she wouldn’t ask them in front of the twins. “Can the kids have a few minutes with her?”
“Certainly,” said Dr. Carmichael as she came out from behind the curtain of Ginger’s cubicle. Heads swiveled in her direction. “C’mon in, kids,” she said, beckoning them forward. “Your mom and dad are waiting.”
“You heard her say it. Our dad,” Brandon whispered as he grinned up at Callie. Becca smiled, too. She reached out and took Callie’s hand. Brandon grabbed the other one. Both youngsters were holding back a little, apprehensive, letting Callie lead the way. The big sister.
Zach was glad that at least one aspect of Callie’s family building was going the way she wanted it to.
Zach didn’t follow them down the hall, conscious once more of being the outsider, as he had so often been in his life. But then Callie beckoned him with her eyes. She waited as he hesitated, then smiled as he fell into step behind them. The ache in his chest lessened slightly. Maybe she would forgive him. Maybe there was still a chance for him to win her back.
Zach halted just inside the curtain and remained there, one shoulder propped against the wall. The small, harshly lit space was crowded with five people squeezed in among portable monitors and IV poles. But the twins barely seemed to notice. They had eyes for no one or nothing but their mother. Ginger held out her arms and both children moved to her side, Becca laying her head on her mother’s shoulder, sobbing quietly, Brandon patting Ginger’s cheek. Callie moved to J.R.’s side and he put his arm around her shoulder and she slipped her arm around his waist. “Thanks for coming so quickly, sweetie.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she said. She laid her cheek against his shoulder for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Becca choked out. “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean all summer. I promise I will be nice to you from now on. I’ll be perfect and keep my room clean and help with anything you ask me to. I’ll even change the baby’s diapers,” she finished in a rush.
Ginger laughed and wrapped her arms around her daughter’s thin shoulders. “Oh, honey, don’t cry. Thank you for wanting to do all that for me, but you don’t have to make anything up to me. I understand. We should have talked about this sooner. I know it’s always been just us, but I promise you I have enough love in my heart for you, your brother and a new baby. As a matter of fact, for all of you.” Her eyes met J.R.’s, the last words spoken for him alone.
“And for Callie, too?” Brandon asked, tears running down his cheeks again. Callie found a box of tissues on the counter running along one wall of the cubicle. She held them out to Brandon and he blew his nose with a honk that would have made a decent goose call.
Ginger smiled. “For Callie, too, if she wants it.”
“Yes,” Callie said. “I do.”
Zach watched from his place just beyond the family circle as one more piece of Callie’s family puzzle fell into place. The Laymans were fusing themselves into a blended family right before his eyes.
And he had never felt more alone in his life.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“THANK YOU FOR bringing the twins to me,” Ginger said to Callie. Then she lay back against the hard pillow of the bed and closed her eyes, as if she no longer had to fight the tranquilizing effect of her pre-op meds.
Callie took a quick assessment of the readings on the screens above and beside the high bed, both the one that monitored Ginger’s vital signs and the one that monitored the baby’s. Ginger’s blood pressure had come down to within normal limits, and the baby’s heartbeat was strong and steady. They had got to her in time. Under Dr. Carmichael’s and Zach’s expert care, Ginger’s baby would be born safely.
Callie turned to share her relief with Zach only to find he was gone, the curtains swaying slightly where he had just been standing. Her disappointment was so acute it bordered on real pain.
The curtain was swept aside again and for a split second she hoped he had returned, tall and reassuring, in control and in charge even in the set of worn blue-gray scrubs and a surgical cap he’d found somewhere. Only, it wasn’t Zach but a tired, harried-looking surgical tech carrying a clipboard. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of all of them standing around Ginger’s bed. J.R. was still wearing his White Pine polo shirt with a bar towel stuck in the back pocket of his khakis, just as it had been when he left the restaurant. He had a day-old beard and for the first time Callie thought he looked every one of his forty-nine and three-quarter years. The twins were tearstained and clinging to their mother’s hand. For her part, Callie was sure she looked every bit like a woman who had been awake and on her feet for most of the past two days. The tech’s distracted expression was replaced with a sympathetic smile. “I’m here to take Mrs. Layman upstairs,” she said. “You can wait in the family waiting room on the third floor. There are couches and a couple of vending machines, and the nurses’ station’s just a few steps away.”
“Thanks,” Callie said automatically. “Take care of her, Dad,” she said, rising on tiptoe to give J.R. a quick peck on the cheek.
“Say a prayer,” he whispered back, “for both of them, for all three of us.”
Family Practice Page 20
