by Linda Warren
“You’ll help her all you can. I know you will. You’re a good son.”
Beau smiled. “Thanks, Mom. Tell Dad I said hi.” Clicking off, he kept smiling. Everything was better now. It felt pretty damn good to be loved so much. Getting Macy to love him was another matter.
He hadn’t planned to take any time off, but as he walked into his office, his concentration wasn’t there. His thoughts were with Macy and Zoë.
He was thinking of making Jon a partner and Beau’s absence would be good for him, too. It would show Beau if Jon could handle the office while he was away. And Liz. If he didn’t allow her to intimidate him, that would be a plus in Jon’s favor.
He threw his jacket and tie over the sofa and stretched his tired shoulders. He wasn’t sure how Macy was going to take his decision to help her. Probably not well. But then again, Macy was afraid. He saw it in her eyes and heard in her voice, so she might be more agreeable in accepting his help. All he knew was that he couldn’t let her face this alone.
Falling across his bed, he was instantly asleep.
THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED weren’t easy. Macy was against him taking time away from his work, but she didn’t object too strongly. She clearly saw that she couldn’t do this alone. While she slept, he watched Zoë and vice versa. They made several trips to the ENT doctor with no change. He inserted the scope in Zoë’s nose again and that was stressful for all of them, especially when it showed the same results. The doctor ordered a short course of steroids, but it didn’t change her breathing abnormality. Nothing seemed to change and Zoë was still turning blue and wasn’t gaining as much weight as she should.
They seemed to be in a vicious cycle with no improvement. Two months had passed and Zoë was still the same. Beau and Macy had very little time together, but they shared breakfast every morning. He enjoyed those times, but the stress was wearing them both down.
He missed the brothers’ meeting and the McCains found they could go on without his supervision. They all wanted to help, but for now Beau felt he and Macy had to do this.
Every day he was falling more and more in love with the little girl. Like her aunt, she held his heart in the palm of her tiny hand.
They hadn’t heard a word from Delia, but Caleb had found out the name of the man she was involved with—Keith Wallston, who’d been stabbed and killed outside a Las Vegas casino. He was a big-time gambler and known for his many women, but his parents were outstanding members of the community. His mother was into charitable works and they owned a string of small hotels throughout the country. They had homes in Florida, New York and Nevada. The son seemed to have strayed from the family and gotten in with a bad crowd. Delia was in the middle of it all.
She’d come to Macy as she always had when she was in trouble. Beau wondered what Delia was into and what her plans were for Zoë. Most of all he wondered when she’d return for her baby.
He just wished they could locate her. But he wasn’t sure what that would solve except to put their minds at rest. With Delia, it was a game of wait and see. Beau had a surprise for her, though. He wasn’t letting her take Zoë. Not in the baby’s present state of health.
He sat on the sofa, Zoë on his chest, her tiny heart beating against his.
Maybe never.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MACY DIDN’T KNOW how much longer they could go on like this. Dana offered to help and Irene also volunteered. Although Dana was a nurse, Macy knew it would be devastating if something happened to Zoë while she was watching her. And her mother would bring her husband. Macy couldn’t deal with that right now.
She hated pulling Beau more and more into her life, her problems, but was powerless to change the situation. She couldn’t stay awake twenty-four hours a day, and she needed someone to lean on. Macy hated herself for that weakness.
Beau’s extraordinary qualities became more and more apparent as each day passed. He had Caleb searching for Delia, but so far there was no sign of her. Even if she did return, there was no way she could care for Zoë in the baby’s present condition. More to the point, there was no way Macy would allow this. Zoë needed special attention and until her health problems were resolved, she was staying with Macy.
She and Beau spent a lot of time holding and rocking Zoë. Being held all the time was spoiling her, but for now keeping Zoë breathing comfortably was more important.
Right before she turned three months of age, Zoë developed bronchitis and her condition worsened. Following another round of doctor visits, they got the same answers—lung infections were typical for preemies with stridor and to keep her on medication. Macy was nearly at her wit’s end.
After a horrendous day in Dr. Fletcher’s office, she’d had enough. Zoë was getting older and it took both of them to hold her down so Dr. Fletcher could insert the scope through her nose to check her throat. The struggle and Zoë’s pitiful cries broke Macy’s heart. She just couldn’t take anymore.
That evening, holding a fussy Zoë, Macy knew she had reached the end of her patience. “I can’t do this anymore,” she told Beau.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t take Zoë back to Dr. Fletcher and put her through that torture again. It’s not helping.”
“I know.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “What do you want to do?”
“Get her to a specialist.”
“Fine. Who?”
“I’ll have to get a referral from Dr. Pender. I think he’ll give it to me. As a nurse, I know we left normal a long time ago. This is not typical stridor.”
“Okay. I’m going to my office for a while then catch a few hours sleep. Find out if he’ll see her tomorrow. Let’s get this done as soon as we can. Pressure him if you have to.”
Macy glanced at the clock. It was a little after four in the afternoon. She slept during the day and Beau slept at night. “I’ll call now.”
Dr. Pender called back a little after six. After Macy told him how upset she was he agreed to see them in the morning.
She, Beau and Zoë were in his office the next day at nine. The baby was congested and fussy, but he was able to examine her. Zoë quieted down on Beau’s shoulders, her little face pressed against his neck. Beau was becoming as attached to her as she was to him. That was something Macy felt powerless to change, too.
“It’s very evident the noisy breathing is typical inspiratory stridor,” Dr. Pender said. “But looking through the records from Dr. Fletcher, her esophageal rings have matured with no improvement with her breathing. Her weight and growth is still a problem.” He took a deep breath. “I agree a specialist should look at her. We’ve missed something.”
“Do you have any suggestions?” Macy asked, feeling a small measure of vindication.
“Texas Children’s is the best. Eileen Cravey is a pediatric otolaryngologist and I’ve sent babies to her before. I’ve always been pleased with the results.”
“Could you please get us an appointment as soon as possible?”
Dr. Pender nodded. “I’ll get my secretary on it and she’ll be in touch.” He closed Zoë’s file. “I’m sorry, Macy. I know this has been hard on you and Mr. McCain. I really thought time would help Zoë, but it hasn’t. Eileen is very good and I feel certain she can find whatever Dr. Fletcher and I have missed.”
“Thank you, Dr. Pender.”
Macy was on pins and needles waiting for the call. She was relieved when it finally came. The nurse asked a lot of questions and said that Dr. Cravey had spoken with Dr. Pender, who confirmed that a barium swallow hadn’t been done on Zoë. The doctors had done X-rays and scans, but this procedure would be the first she would do. Zoë was not to have a bottle after midnight on the day of the visit so her throat and stomach would be clear. The appointment was in two days. She didn’t even question Beau going with her or try to dissuade him.
Macy left her pets at the kennel and they headed for Houston. Zoë’s bronchitis was much better and she took the trip well, except she woke up a couple of times obvi
ously hungry. The movement of the car lulled her back to sleep. The appointment was early and Macy was grateful for that. She had to fill out a lot of paperwork and was glad Beau was there to watch and pacify Zoë.
She went over the baby’s case history with Dr. Cravey, who was a friendly, middle-aged woman with short brown hair.
After reviewing Zoë’s records, Dr. Cravey glanced at Macy. “Dr. Pender said Zoë has never had a barium swallow.”
“No.”
“I see Fletcher was your ENT doctor. He did his residence here. I’m surprised he didn’t order one first thing.”
“He just kept running the scope through her nose and stuck with his diagnosis of stridor. He said her esophageal rings hadn’t fully developed and with age she would improve. It’s getting very exhausting to watch her every minute. But now I can almost detect when she’s going to turn blue. That bothers me, too, because of the loss of oxygen to her brain. That’s why we watch her constantly. When she starts to breathe heavily, we immediately pick her up. When we rock her, she seems to breathe almost normally.”
“Mmm.” Dr. Cravey scribbled in a chart. “I see from these papers that you are not Zoë’s mother.”
“No.” Macy swallowed, but knew she had to tell Dr. Cravey everything. “My sister abandoned her and I am her legal guardian. The guardianship papers are enclosed.” Macy made sure she had everything the doctor would need to treat Zoë.
“Yes. I see. Zoë is lucky to have a loving aunt and uncle.”
“Oh.” Macy realized the doctor thought she and Beau were married. A slight flush stained her cheeks and she couldn’t stop it. “Beau and I aren’t married. We’re just very good friends.”
“Mmm.” The doctor seemed amused. “Every woman should have a friend like that.”
Macy didn’t know what to say so she said nothing. Their relationship had gone beyond friendship. Beau had told her how he felt, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now.
“I’ll examine her first then run the barium swallow test,” Dr. Cravey said as she stood.
While Zoë was being examined, she and Beau sat in the waiting room.
“I like Dr. Cravey, don’t you?” Beau asked.
“Yes, and she’s very knowledgeable. I hope she finds something. I have to go back to work soon. My pay has stopped and we’re living off my savings. I’m not sure how I’m going to pay for all this. I put in for a loan at the bank and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it goes through.”
“If you need any…”
“No.” She stopped him. “I can handle it.”
“Macy…”
“Let’s don’t talk about this now. I’m too nervous.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Thank you for being here.”
Her eyes held his and she knew her eyes were saying a lot more than she wanted them to. But sometimes those feelings were hard to hide.
“Dr. Cravey will see you now,” a nurse said, and Macy immediately got to her feet.
Down the hall another nurse was walking toward them with a crying Zoë. Macy gathered her out of her arms and kissed Zoë’s flushed cheeks.
“She wasn’t happy with our poking and prodding,” the nurse said. “She mainly just wants something to eat.”
Macy cradled the baby against her. “It’s okay. I’m here,” she cooed.
The nurse led the way into a room and handed Macy a bottle. “We need her to drink this so Dr. Cravey can take a good look at her throat.”
Zoë took the bottle with gusto, but she spit it out after a couple of swallows. Macy kept giving her the nipple and Zoë kept taking it as if she were hoping for decent milk soon.
Dr. Cravey and a group of students walked in and Macy and Beau made to leave. “You and Mr. McCain can stay if you like.”
“Yes, please.”
They laid Zoë on a table and strapped her down, Beau and Macy on one side, Dr. Cravey and an assistant on the other. Several students stood in the background, observing.
Dr. Cravey ran a scope through Zoë’s nose. She struggled and cried like in Dr. Fletcher’s office. Macy cringed. They had done this so many times. She fervently hoped this was the very last.
They could see Zoë’s throat on a screen as the scope went down. Almost instantly Dr. Cravey said, “Aha, there it is.” She pointed to a mass on the screen.
“What is it?” Macy asked, her voice hoarse.
“Very significant laryngomalacia. Totally treatable. We’ll talk in my office.”
Dr. Cravey spoke to the students. “My examination today revealed her ear canals are normal and her nasal passages are clear. There is no evidence of infection. The oral cavity is likewise normal. An endoscopy revealed significant laryngomalacia, larger than normal. Everyone take a good look at the mass so you’ll know what to look for if you ever have a similar case. And remember a barium swallow is a must to distinguish this. Otherwise the scope won’t detect it.”
Everything else went over Macy’s head. Treatable. She clung to those words. The nurse handed her Zoë and Macy immediately fixed her a bottle, then they waited in Dr. Cravey’s office.
Dr. Cravey smiled at Zoë as she came in. “She’s happy now that she’s back with you.”
“What does Zoë have?” Macy asked anxiously.
“Laryngomalacia, just as Dr. Fletcher diagnosed, except it’s much more severe than he surmised. And I will be sending him a letter on this. In short, it’s an excess of fatty tissue of the epiglottis, which is the flap of tissue that closes off the windpipe when you swallow. The tissue blocks her breathing at times and that’s why she breathes noisily and turns blue. That’s why rocking helps. It moves the tissue and she can breathe.”
“How do we correct this?”
“Surgery.”
Macy paled, remembering another surgery that was supposed to correct the problem. But it hadn’t. She held Zoë a little tighter.
“In the operating room we will use a laser to trim this excess fold of tissue. There is always some risk with surgery, but the procedure is relatively safe. She would have to spend one to three days in the hospital then she can go home.”
It sounded simple, but Macy wasn’t so sure.
“If she doesn’t have the surgery, what could happen?” Beau asked.
“The tissue could obstruct her breathing and cause asphyxiation and death.”
Macy gasped. She couldn’t help it. The fear was just so real.
She felt Beau’s eyes on her. “Macy, I don’t think you have much of a choice. Zoë needs the surgery.”
She swallowed the bile in her throat and forced herself to do what was best for Zoë. “When can you do the procedure?”
“Usually you’d have to wait until an operating room is open, but I have a little boy who was supposed to have surgery in the morning. He’s running a high temperature and we’ve postponed it. Since you’re in Houston and I consider this an emergency, I can schedule it for tomorrow. That is, if you can stay.”
Macy took several deep breaths. “Schedule it.”
After that everything went smoothly and quickly. They admitted Zoë to the hospital. With all of their concern for Zoë, they’d neglected to pack an overnight bag. They hadn’t planned on staying. Beau went out in search of clothes and she stayed with the baby.
The room wasn’t private, but for tonight they were the only occupants. The recliner was also a rocker and she sat rocking the baby. Zoë awoke and looked at her with big blue eyes, waving her fists around. The wheezing was very evident.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing, kiddo,” she said. “But I can’t let you go on like this.”
Zoë kicked against her. “I wish your mother was here.” She wasn’t sure why she wished that, other than it would take some of the responsibility off of her. Responsibility never frightened her before, but when it came to the life of a child, fear was her constant companion.
A sweet smile tilted Zoë’s mouth. “You have Beau wrapped around your little finger with that smile.” Zoë’s brea
thing became labored and Macy lifted her to her shoulder. “What am I going to do about Beau?”
Sweet, caring Beau. How many men would put up with her paranoia and fears? She felt a crack in her defenses and for the first time she let herself consider a life with him.
It was everything that was wonderful. Everything that was good. But… No. Tonight she wouldn’t listen to the buts.
BEAU SHOPPED as quickly as he could, but he got caught up in the moment. He’d never bought women’s clothing before, not even for his mother. Macy had given him her sizes and said to buy something practical.
So he bought practical slacks and tops. Luxurious, sexy lingerie held his attention and the saleslady was only too eager to show him a variety of items. But he settled on blue silk pajamas because he knew Macy would love them.
As he carried the bags into their room, Macy was laying Zoë in the crib on a pillow. She turned and smiled at him, making him feel ten feet tall.
“Did you get everything?”
“Yes. All the essentials, including toothbrush and paste, deodorant and shaving stuff.” He set the bags in a chair. “You didn’t tell me what kind of night clothes you wanted.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You see me every day and you see my laundry so you know what I sleep in.”
“Yes, but…”
She pulled out the blue silk pajamas and her eyes grew wide. “Beau McCain.” Her voice rose, but there was a hint of laughter in every syllable.
“I thought you might like something more than a T-shirt, especially in the hospital.” He tried very hard to explain, but he felt his face grow warm. “There’s a robe, too.”
“I see.” She held it up.
“And underwear’s in the bag.”
“I’m almost afraid to look.”
“Don’t worry—they’re practical. There are slacks and blouses in the clothes bag.”
“What did you buy for yourself?”
“Slacks, shirts, socks, pajamas and underwear.”
“Cotton,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “And do you know how I know that?”
