He moved to Timmy’s room and opened the door. The sound of Tim’s breathing yanked him into the room, and when he clicked on the light he knew something was wrong, very wrong. “Tim?” He picked up the boy, speaking softly. “Timmers? It’s me. Daddy.”
No response, just that awful labored breathing as if his little boy was struggling for air.
Panic rose.
He fought it down.
He’d handled lots of illnesses with the kids, but never anything like this. “Timmy? Timmy, wake up, honey. Wake up, okay?” He stared at the little fellow, as if the heavy breathing might remedy itself once Timmy woke up, but the sight of Timmy’s blue-tinged lips made his decision easy and hard. He carried the boy back to his room, grabbed up his phone and made two calls. The first was to 911, to report a child with trouble breathing.
And the next was to Emily Gallagher.
* * *
Emily grabbed for the phone. “Grant, what’s up? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Tim.” He was trying to sound calm, but the fear in his voice grabbed hold of her heart. “The ambulance is on its way to take him into the children’s hospital at Strong.”
“Why?”
His voice cracked. “He’s sick. He’s having a hard time breathing. His lips are turning blue, Em.”
God, oh, God. Please shelter this little boy and his father. Heal him, Lord—shed Your healing mercy upon him like the dewfall, all encompassing. Heal him, Lord. Please. “You’ll have to come through town to get to the thruway. Meet me at the corner of Center and Lake Road and I’ll take Dolly.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Of course I don’t.” She heard the sound of the approaching ambulance coming through Grant’s phone and her heart seized. “I’ll grab her so you can focus on him, okay?”
“Yes.”
Rory came into her room as Emily quickly tugged clothes into place. “What’s going on?” When Emily explained, Rory stepped up to the plate, like always. “I’ll take Dolly. You go with Grant. He shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”
Emily’s car was freezing cold, but by the time Grant pulled up to the intersection a couple of blocks from the Gallagher house, it had warmed up. Emily climbed out. So did Rory. And when Rory took Dolly and the spare booster seat, Emily got into the passenger seat of Grant’s car. “I’m coming with you.”
He covered her hand with his for just a moment, but it was long enough. “Thank you, Em. I—” He breathed deep, thrust the car into gear and headed for the thruway. “I can’t believe this is happening. He was fine last evening. Just fine.”
“And fine yesterday, although he did seem tired at nap time. More tired than usual, but we’d played hard all morning.”
“I don’t get it.” Grant went through the tollbooths a few minutes later, accelerated and took the next exit, toward Rochester. “How can a kid be perfectly healthy one minute and struggling to breathe the next?”
“I don’t know.”
They pulled into the hospital emergency lot twenty minutes later. The desk nurse took quick, basic information, then sent them upstairs.
“Timothy Gallagher.” Grant spoke his son’s name in a firm, tight voice. “They just brought him in.”
“We’re getting him settled.” The calm night nurse took them into a nearby waiting area, overlooking the city lights. “Give us a little time to stabilize him.”
Stabilize him. The phrase put a choke hold on Emily’s heart. “His doctor just arrived, and she’ll be able to fill you in shortly.” She pointed to a coffee system and a food cupboard. “Help yourself to anything, and be assured that Timmy is in good hands right now.”
Grant didn’t reply, and when Emily looked up, she realized he couldn’t reply. Harsh emotion marked his gaze, his face. His throat convulsed and he blinked hard, twice. She reached out and took his hand. “Thank you. We’ll be right here, waiting for the doctor.”
Minutes ticked by like hours. Christa texted Grant about the wedding as the sun broke along the eastern horizon, and Grant scrubbed a hand to his face. “The wedding. How can I think about the wedding at a time like this? But how can I not think about the wedding?”
Emily took his phone and texted a quick message of reassurance to Christa, then handed the phone back. “The wedding’s in good hands—everything’s been checked and rechecked. That’s why you hired us, Grant. We’ve got your back. Right now the only thing you need to worry about is Tim.”
“And Dolly. What if she gets it? She’s more prone to things than Tim.”
“She’s as tough as they come. Tougher than you give her credit for.”
He scowled at the door, then faced her. “You’re right about me overprotecting her.”
“I know I am.”
He flushed. “I never worry about Tim the same way. I fret about Dolly, about her limitations all the time, but I just kind of took Tim’s health and well-being for granted. What kind of father does that?”
“The normal kind.”
“What if I hadn’t gotten up tonight? What if I hadn’t gone to check on them? I don’t, all the time. Usually, if all seems quiet I just go back to sleep. What if I’d done that, Emily, and lost him?”
She held his gaze. “I call those Holy Spirit nudges. Those instincts that come for no reason, out of the blue. I believe God uses the Holy Spirit to nudge our conscience to do good. To choose well.”
“God makes house calls?” He sounded cryptic, but he was stressed so she let it ride.
“He does every kind of call. He promised to be wherever two or more are gathered in his name.”
“Em.” He stared out, over the city, and exhaled slowly. “I wish I had your faith. Your beliefs. I—” He stopped talking and turned quickly when the doctor strode in.
“How is he? Can I see him?”
The doctor motioned to a chair. Grant shook his head. “No, I don’t need to sit. Just tell me, straight out. Is he going to be okay?”
“Well, I’ll sit then, because it’s going to be a long day.” The doctor sank into a chair. Grant didn’t look any too happy, but he followed her lead. Emily did, too, and folded her hands in silent prayer.
“He’s got pneumonia.”
“Pneumonia?” Grant shook his head. “How can he? He hasn’t been sick. He had sniffles for a day or two, but nothing that would give you pneumonia.”
“Whooping cough does.”
“He’s got whooping cough?” Emily sat forward. “I’ve been watching him for the past several days, Doctor, and he hasn’t really been coughing.”
“Not everyone gets the textbook cough.”
“He’s been vaccinated.” Grant gripped the arms of the chair. “How could he come in contact with someone with whooping cough?”
“It’s highly contagious and we’re seeing more cases even with the vaccine. In Tim’s case I’m going to keep him here and monitor him until the antibiotic takes hold and gives him the upper hand. But I want to put Dolly on a course of antibiotics starting immediately. We don’t want this bacteria lurking in her system, so we’re taking a proactive approach.”
“Of course. I just don’t see how he could get something like this.”
“Exposure to someone harboring the bacteria. And everyone Tim has been around this week has been exposed.”
“I’ve taken them all over this week, Doctor,” Emily told her. “In and out of town, visiting people. Did I cause a new pandemic?”
The doctor laughed. “No, but we will get the word out. Babies are especially susceptible, as are children with health issues. No blame to spread here—these things happen. I’ll write you a prescription, and yes you can stay right here with Tim. We’ll probably keep him here for forty-eight hours or until he turns the corner and I’m confident about his prognosis. Is there someone who can w
atch Dolly?”
“My sister and I will.”
“Good. I’m going to send a prescription over to the pharmacy in Grace Haven, the one I usually use for you, Grant. That hasn’t changed, has it?”
“No, the Grace Haven Pharmacy is fine.”
“And they should have it in stock, so you can pick it up later this morning. If not, I’ll forward it to another drugstore. I want Dolly fighting this sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll call my sister to pick it up,” offered Emily. “She’s right there in town.”
“All right.” The doctor stood. “I’m going to take you in. He looks funny right now because we’ve medicated him and we’re giving him IV fluids. We’ve got oxygen on him just to help ease his struggle. You’re not going to freak out on me, are you, Grant?”
He shook his head, but the sadness in his gaze broke Emily’s heart. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twelve
Grant’s heart seized and his breathing went tight when he saw Tim hooked up to various tubes and machines. His vibrant, sturdy, smart little boy looked suddenly helpless.
His stomach knotted.
His hands formed fists.
Tears smarted his eyes, but he needed to be strong for Tim. Strong for Dolly. He brushed the back of his hand against his face and leaned over the high-sided bed. “Hey, buddy. Daddy’s here. I’ll be here with you all day, okay? I love you, Timmers.” He leaned in and kissed his son, choking back emotion.
He worried about Dolly constantly. He fretted nonstop, he overprotected her, and he kind of just expected Tim to be okay. And now he wasn’t. Guilt mushroomed inside him.
“He’ll sleep for a while.” The doctor kept her voice soft. “The nurses are monitoring his breathing, his oxygen and his fluids. We started with an IV antibiotic and we’ll go to an oral once he’s better.”
“But he’s going to be all right? He’ll recover?”
The doctor put a hand on Grant’s arm. “He should be fine, but there is a slight mortality rate. Let us do our jobs while you guys continue to pray for him.”
Pray for him.
Grant swallowed hard. He hadn’t prayed in a long time. Not since he got down on his knees as a little boy, begging God to bring his daddy back.
It never happened, and he decided right then that God didn’t exist because if he did, could he ignore a child’s plea like that? And if he could, then Grant wanted nothing to do with him.
Prayer hadn’t been part of his college life, or his work life or his married life. In Grant’s opinion it was old-school nonsense, a simplistic way to handle complex issues.
Now it was life and death, his child, his beloved son. He bowed his head.
What should he say? How should he start? And why would God cast favor on a stubborn nonbeliever like Grant?
Emily prayed softly and sweetly, murmuring words of supplication, asking God to bless Tim, to bless Dolly, to bless Grant.
God owed him nothing. Grant knew that. But if he could see his way clear to heal Tim and keep Dolly from getting sick, Grant would be forever in his debt.
* * *
Seven hours and no change.
Tim’s pallor didn’t make Emily nervous: it downright scared her. Pale, waxy skin. Washed-out lips. Faded fingernails.
The doctor had been in twice, and the last time she’d been accompanied by an infectious disease control specialist. They conferred in soft tones, backfilling the room with murmured words behind the hums and clicks of machines.
And then they left, leaving Grant and her wondering.
A young woman came to the door. “I’ve got a coffee cart here. Can I make you something special?”
“No, I—” Grant began, but Emily stood and moved across the room.
“Yes. Absolutely. I’d love a mocha latte, and straight coffee for my friend, here.”
The young woman smiled, fixed their coffees then handed Emily a small tray of fresh bagels and cream cheese. “Just in case.”
“Thank you.” Emily whispered the words and took the food over to the small side table near the window. She pulled back the curtain partway.
Bold winter sun brightened the room. The angled light got Grant’s attention. He stood and stretched. Worry etched his face. “I’m sorry to mess up your day.”
“You didn’t.” She handed him his coffee. “He did.” She indicated the sick toddler with a smile. “But it’s kind of special to have the chance to come and sit by his side and pray him through this.”
“What if—”
She held up a firm hand. “We don’t go to what-ifs. We go to whens. When Tim turns the corner, we take him home. When Tim is better, he’ll tease and torture his sister again. When Tim feels good, he’ll want ice cream. Get it?”
He smiled, and it was the first smile she’d seen all day, then he reached out and hugged her with one arm. “Got it.” He rested his chin on top of her hair. “Thank you for being here. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”
“You’re welcome.” His arm, slung gently around her. Being tucked in, close to his side. The feel of his chest, rising and falling with each breath. Yes, even sharing his concern for this beautiful child, struggling to fight off illness. Emotion rose within her. Sweet emotion, tender thoughts of what could be, shoving Noel’s lucrative offer out of contention.
He’d prayed with her today. It took a near-death experience, but he’d turned his son over to God, the Father Almighty, and for a stubborn, take-charge guy like Grant, begging was a huge step. Was this a real change or a God-of-convenience thing?
Who knew? But it was a move in the right direction.
Corinne tiptoed into the room just then. “Hey, guys. I have tonight off so I brought some necessities from home. New toothbrushes and toothpaste, some fruit, chocolate—” She arched a knowing brow in Emily’s direction. “And a picture from Dolly.” She held up a sheet of construction paper covered with scribbles. “Rory put this on an art board and gave her a box of toddler crayons. This handcrafted work of art is her gift to you. And I’m supposed to tell you that she’s had her first dose of the antibiotic and will get her second dose right about now.”
Grant looked relieved as he accepted the drawing. “Thank you. And thank Rory again for me, okay? You Gallaghers know how to step up to the plate.”
“Well, we’re baseball lovers.” Corinne grinned as if that was a given.
“There is that.” Grant’s slight smile didn’t erase the concern in his eyes as he watched Tim for any sign of improvement. “But it’s more than a good analogy. It’s how you live.” His mouth pressed tight. “I didn’t realize how rare that was. I’ve spent so much time coasting through life, I never realized how important some things were.”
Sympathy swelled within Emily. “We all make mistakes. And life hands us curveballs. Oops. Sorry. Baseball again.”
He touched her cheek with his free hand, a gentle gesture. “It was stupid that it took me this long to see things more clearly. To understand better.”
“I think we come to moments at different points in our lives,” Corinne told him. “And what we make of those choices, those bends in the road, helps mold us. We can’t change what’s been, but we can be a blessing to what will be.”
Tim moved just then. He wriggled on the bed. His face contorted, then he yawned, a big old normal, little-kid yawn. He blinked, peeked around then dozed back off, but for just a moment, he looked delightfully normal.
“Did you see that?”
Corinne laughed softly. “I think the meds are kicking in and we’ve got bacteria on the run.”
“You think?”
She pointed to the tips of his fingers, now a healthier-looking pink. “Yup.”
“Oh, man.” Grant g
rabbed hold of his son’s bed rails and breathed relief. “This has been a day for the record books. First, Serenity’s call, saying she was in town and wanted to see me. Then having Tim get sick and rushing him into the hospital. I would be okay with never having to do this again.”
“It’s parenthood, Grant. Trust me.” Corinne smiled down at the little one in the bed. “It will happen again.”
Emily appreciated her advice, but she zeroed in on Grant’s first statement. “You said Serenity is in town?”
Grant grimaced. “Someplace, yes. She wanted to see me, without the kids. I said no, of course.”
“Why?” Foreboding took the place sympathy had held, because Emily was pretty sure she knew why.
“She walked out. She made choices. Why should I let her waltz back in when she feels like it? We’ve had no contact from her in two years. Not even a Christmas card. No.” He shook his head. “She didn’t need us. We don’t need her.”
And there it was, the quiet knell of confirmation.
Christ had talked about forgiveness.
Grant had none. He’d taken old hurts and turned them into a life sentence. He casually examined both sides of the issues and chose stubborn anger each time. His firm jaw and squared shoulders said he meant business.
Well, so did she. And it didn’t include a life full of drama, anger and angst.
“Hey, I see good news on the monitors.” The doctor strode in, looking more cheerful than she had two hours before. “He’s oxygenating better, and his pulse rate is coming back to normal. The meds are doing their job.”
“He’ll be okay?” The hope in Grant’s voice reflected Emily’s, but she put her heart in pause mode.
“It looks like we’re on the road back,” the doctor told him. “We’ll continue treatment here until I’m sure, and then you’ll have to be vigilant at home. This is a tough bacteria, and we can’t get comfortable or let down our defenses. No taking him out, dragging him around, wearing him down, okay? He needs to be at home, quiet and cozy, all right?”
“We’ll see to it,” Grant promised.
“Good. I’ll check back later.” She left the room, humming, a much more cheerful sound than the earlier quiet of hushed voices.
Her Unexpected Family Page 14
