by Gina Wilkins
After another period of silence—at least, as quiet as a hospital unit filled with swooshing, beeping and whirring equipment could be—Jackson spoke again. “You know that couple we saw downstairs in the cafeteria? The ones who adopted the kid with the vision disabilities?”
“You mean the Hulsizers?”
“Yeah. They sure think the world of you.”
“They’re nice people. I like them, too.”
“That was a good thing you did for them, helping them find their son. They looked like good parents for him, a happy family.”
Though she was a little surprised by his topic, she nodded. “They’re very good parents. I knew they would be when I met them and spent some time with them.”
“They made it sound as if they wouldn’t have gotten a kid at all if you hadn’t fought for them.”
“Their case was a little tricky,” she admitted. “I can’t give the details, of course, but there were some problems in their application that made them seem less than ideal on paper.”
“But you were able to see beyond the paperwork problems to tell that they would be good parents.”
“Yes. Lots of people have made mistakes in their past. That doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to have children, especially if they can show evidence that they’ve overcome their problems.”
“It’s gotta be hard to make calls like that, though. We both know there are people who shouldn’t be parents, regardless of whether they look good on paper.”
Laurel thought of her own parents—the father who hadn’t wanted responsibility, the mother whose only thoughts were of her own fun and pleasures. No, they should never have brought a child into the world. Nor should any social worker ever have approved them had they applied for adoption. But mistakes were made on both sides, and sometimes children were placed in homes that were less than ideal, just as some good potential parents were never given an opportunity to prove their worth.
It wasn’t a fair world. But Laurel had made an effort to pair children who had been denied families with couples who had been unable to conceive. Maybe it was a foolish desire to make up for her own unsatisfactory upbringing. Or maybe it was just something she was good at, which gave her a feeling of fulfillment.
It had been a long time since she and Jackson had talked about her work, other than to quarrel about her hours. Of course, the same was true in reverse, she thought with a touch of guilt. She rarely asked about his job either, being more likely to criticize the amount of time he put into it than to show any real interest.
“I just do my best and hope I don’t make any drastic mistakes,” she said.
And then she turned the conversation to him instead. If they were going to do a better job of communicating, it would have to be a two-way effort. “How are things going at your job site? Are you still waiting on that big delivery from Seattle that’s been holding you up?”
Both his eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know you were even aware of that.”
“I pay attention to your concerns,” she said, trying not to sound overly defensive. “I know you deal with a lot of responsibility in your job. Just because I think you could spend less time at the sites and a bit more at home doesn’t mean I don’t respect what you do.”
He started to speak, and she sensed that he was going to take exception to what she’d said, making her regret her wording. Maybe it had sounded as if she were trying to start another quarrel about working hours, but she really hadn’t been.
Instead, he surprised her by saying, “You’re probably right. I guess I have spent too many hours at work. During Tyler’s surgery this morning, I was thinking of all the evenings I wasn’t there to play with him or read to him or tuck him in. I thought it was my responsibility to provide him with the best material things I could afford, but when I thought of losing him, it wasn’t the money that mattered. It was the time we could have spent together.”
Caught completely off-guard, she blinked at him.
He shook his head, looking somewhat embarrassed that he’d opened up even that much. “Never mind.”
She wasn’t sure what to say, except, “You’re a good father, Jackson. No one doubts that you love Tyler. But maybe it will be good for both of you if you can spend a little more time with him in the future. He doesn’t need all those material things, you know. He needs his daddy.”
“And his mommy,” Jackson replied. “Maybe we can both spend a little more time with him in the future.”
Because they had already agreed that spending more time together was one way to put their marriage back on track, Laurel nodded. She was needed at Children’s Connection, but she was needed more at home.
Tyler’s illness had served as a wake-up call for both of his parents.
Laurel had no complaints about the level of care Tyler received in the pediatric intensive-care unit. His condition was constantly monitored by medical staff who seemed genuinely concerned about his well-being. Laurel and Jackson were made to feel welcome in the unit and were encouraged to ask questions about everything that was done to their son.
Jackson hadn’t completely forgotten his earlier worries about medical mistakes. “Do you know that medical error is cited in some sources as the fourth leading cause of death in this country?” he asked Laurel, looking up from a news magazine he had been reading to pass the time. “Adverse reactions to drugs, accidental overdoses, mix-ups in prescriptions between patients—”
“Jackson,” she interrupted firmly, “calm down. Those are valid concerns, of course, but you and I are watching everything that’s being done with Tyler. We won’t be leaving him here alone, but I trust this staff. I work around this hospital every day. I hear who are the good doctors and the ones who have more questionable reputations, and we’ve got the best. As for the rest of the staff, this hospital administration has spent a lot of money and energy during the past year working on reducing the patient-error rate to the lowest it has been in more than a decade.”
“Everyone has seemed pretty efficient,” he acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep an eye on them for the rest of the time Tyler’s here,” he added, returning to the alarming article he’d been reading so closely.
Not that her husband was a control freak or anything, Laurel thought with a slight sigh, but she supposed when it came to Tyler’s welfare, there was no such thing as being too vigilant.
Just this once she could even be grateful for Jackson’s insistence on perfection.
“Mr. Reiss?” A petite nurse’s aide poked her curly red head into the unit. “You have a couple of visitors in the waiting room. They said they work with you. They told me it was okay if you aren’t in the mood for company, but they just wanted you to know they’re here.”
Jackson looked questioningly at Laurel.
“Go,” she told him. “They made the effort to stop by, it’s the least you can do to thank them.”
“Come with me. Tyler will be okay for a few minutes.”
“Of course he will,” the aide agreed. “Actually, it’s time for me to take some readings, so both of you should have a little break.”
Laurel wasn’t enthusiastic about visiting with virtual strangers during that little break, but she didn’t want to seem churlish. As she had pointed out, it was thoughtful of Jackson’s co-workers to stop by. If he wanted her to thank them with him, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to do so. After all, she reminded herself wryly, she and Jackson had agreed to work harder at being a team.
She didn’t like leaving Tyler alone in the ICU even for a short time. She almost changed her mind at the door, but Jackson took her arm and led her out. “We’ll be right back,” he promised her.
It wasn’t overly reassuring to be towed out of the unit by the man who had just warned her about every bad thing that could happen in a hospital.
Six
Jackson had to swallow a groan when he saw who was waiting for him. He’d expected to find a couple of guys from his crew, most likely Joe and
Luke, his two best friends from work. Joe and Luke were there, all right, but they weren’t alone. Chandra Shoemaker, the boss’s secretary, had come along for the visit.
Feeling Laurel stiffen the moment she caught sight of the visitors, Jackson didn’t have to guess which one had set her back up. Laurel had never liked Chandra.
The two women had met only a few times, at the annual company picnics and Christmas parties, which were the few events Laurel had attended. She usually used work or Tyler as an excuse not to go with him to his social functions.
Though she had never put her feelings into so many words, he suspected that she thought Chandra had something going for him. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t have been completely wrong. Chandra was a compulsive flirt, and he doubted that she was all talk when it came to her conquests. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that she would have been available to him had he chosen to take her up on her half-teasing advances.
Heck, maybe he’d even flirted a little in return. After all, a man’s ego needed an occasional boost, and he sure as hell didn’t get that from Laurel. But cheat on his wife? No. That wasn’t the way he had been raised.
A real man honored his commitments, Carl had said too many times to count, and Jackson had made a commitment to be a faithful husband. If Laurel didn’t understand what that meant to him, well, then, he really was a stranger to her.
“Hey, guys,” he said with a falsely bright smile, giving another slight tug on Laurel’s arm to move her forward. “Nice of you all to come by.”
“How’s your boy?” Joe asked with genuine concern on his weathered face. “He doing okay?”
“He’s still sedated, but everything looks promising so far.” Jackson pushed a hand through his hair. “We’re hoping they get him breathing on his own in the next few hours so they can take him off the ventilator.”
“This must have been a rough day for the two of you.” Shy Luke glanced quickly at Laurel before turning his dark eyes back to Jackson’s face. “Anything we can do for you?”
“No, but thank you for offering.”
Chandra stepped forward to take Jackson’s hand. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do? We’re here for you if you need anything at all, you know.”
He patted her hand, then quickly released it, moving subtly closer to Laurel at the same time. “We’re doing okay, aren’t we, Laurel?”
“Yes, we’re fine.” Her voice warmed just a bit when she added to the men, “But we really do appreciate you stopping by to offer your support.”
Luke flushed a little, as he always did when he felt self-conscious. Joe cleared his throat. “Thing is, we have a little something for the two of you.”
He held out a slightly crumpled white envelope. “Some of the guys at work took up a collection for you. We’ve all had family members in the hospital at one time or another and we know how expensive it can be. You know, eating in the cafeteria and paying for parking and all. Maybe this will help a little.”
Jackson’s pride cringed at the thought of taking the offering, but he knew it would hurt his co-workers if he refused. How many times had he dug in his pocket for a contribution to something just like this? It had always made him feel good to help out his friends when he could. He supposed the others felt the same way.
“That’s really nice of you guys,” he said awkwardly. “And women,” he added with a glance at Chandra. There were women on the crews, of course. It was just habit to refer to everyone as “the guys.”
“It was very kind,” Laurel agreed, her warm smile making Joe’s flush deepen. “Please thank everyone for us.”
Joe shrugged, looking pleased with their response to the gift, as though he hadn’t been quite sure how Jackson would react. “Just try not to spend it all on cafeteria food. As good as the food here is, that stuff gets old fast.”
“Don’t I know it.” Eager to put the awkward moment behind them, Jackson stuffed the envelope in his back pocket. “So how’d everything go at the site today? Did that shipment ever come in?”
“I’ll let you stay and talk shop with your friends,” Laurel said before anyone could answer. “I really should get back to Tyler now.”
“You should try to get some rest, Laurel,” Chandra said. “You look really tired.”
Laurel’s smile glittered just a bit. “I’ll do my best.”
Taking her leave of the men, she turned and left the waiting room, her steps unhurried, her head held high.
Jackson sighed, wondering if he was in for another chilly session with his wife. Was it his fault that Chandra had a catty streak that showed up even when she was making an effort to be nice?
Laurel would probably figure that it was, he thought glumly, and then turned his attention back to his visitors.
She wasn’t jealous, Laurel assured herself again back in her chair in Tyler’s unit. So what if Chandra was younger, perkier and bustier? So what if she had a habit of looking at Jackson as if he were some sort of exotic, forbidden dessert? Jackson wasn’t weak enough nor foolish enough to be taken in by that sort of thing. And besides, he was too honorable even to consider breaking his marriage vows, something his staunchly moral father would have flatly condemned.
Still, Laurel would have liked to be sure that Jackson’s fidelity had more to do with his devotion to his wife than to his desire to live up to his father’s high standards.
One of the monitors connected to her son began to emit a high-pitched beep, making Laurel jump and half rise out of her chair. Before she could call a nurse, someone was there.
The nurse pushed a button to mute the alarm, then swiftly and efficiently changed an empty IV bag. Murmuring something reassuring to Laurel, she checked Tyler’s breathing and readings, then left the unit just as Jackson came back in.
“Is there a problem?”
Laurel shook her head. “One of the IV bags had to be changed. Everything else seemed okay.”
“Have they said anything more about taking him off the respirator?”
“No one’s mentioned it yet. I guess they’re waiting for a doctor to check in.”
Jackson frowned and glanced at his watch. “If we don’t hear something soon, I’m going to start asking questions until I get answers.”
She eyed his face, then glanced down at her lap, saying gruffly, “Maybe you’d like to wipe the lipstick off your face before you start throwing your weight around. People tend to take you more seriously when you aren’t smeared with Kiss Me Crimson.”
Though she wasn’t looking at him, she suspected he flushed a little when he reached up to swipe at his cheek with the back of his hand. “Chandra gave me a kiss on the cheek on her way out. One of those meaningless social kisses people toss around so easily these days. She’d have done the same to you if you’d hung around.”
“Not if she wanted to keep her lips,” Laurel muttered beneath her breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Laurel, you can’t seriously believe—”
She stood abruptly. “I think Tyler just frowned. Do you think he’s in pain?”
“I think you’re changing the subject.” But Jackson also stood and moved to Tyler’s bedside, studying the boy closely. After a moment, he said, “I don’t believe he’s feeling any pain, at least not consciously. He’s too deeply sedated.”
She wanted so badly to gather her baby into her arms and rock him, but she couldn’t, of course. Not with all the tubes and needles and monitors stuck in him and on him. She contented herself with stroking his hair. Maybe he sensed her touch; the slight frown she had noticed earlier faded, leaving his little forehead smooth again.
“He seems to know you’re here,” Jackson murmured, unconsciously echoing her thought.
“I hope so.”
“You’re a good mother, Laurel.”
She bit her lip to the point of pain as all her maternal insecurities flooded through her again. Would a good mother have missed the signs that her son was sick? Wouldn’t a
good mother have been content to stay at home with her child rather than going back to work even when they didn’t really need the money she earned?
Was Jackson only mouthing words he didn’t truly believe?
“I do my best” was all she could say.
But standing here now, looking at her unconscious son, she couldn’t help wondering if her best was good enough.
Tyler’s breathing tube was removed that evening. Because of potential complications of intubation, the doctors wanted the child breathing on his own as soon as possible, a sentiment with which Laurel heartily concurred. She was glad it hadn’t been necessary for him to remain on the machine overnight.
Jackson and Laurel were asked to leave for a while to allow the medical professionals room to work, and were assured that they would be allowed back in as soon as Tyler was settled again. She hadn’t been out of the hospital in days, so Laurel allowed Jackson to persuade her to go for a walk in the meditation garden.
It had rained that afternoon, as it so often did in Portland, but the rain had stopped for a while, leaving the air cool and slightly damp against her cheeks. Her jogging suit was warm enough, but just barely, the breeze seeping through the knit fabric. Her gray tennis shoes squeaked a little in the shallow pools of water left on the narrow walkways.
Bordered by the walls of the hospital wings, the garden was quiet, almost empty this late on a Friday afternoon. A few smokers gathered around an ash can in a nook specified for that purpose at the far end of the garden, but they were far enough away that Laurel could almost feel as if she and Jackson were the only ones around, if she ignored the diners in the cafeteria on the other side of the glass wall.
She breathed deeply of the rain-washed air, realizing for the first time how cooped up she’d been during the past few days. Even when working, she spent little time in her office, since she often visited prospective adoptive parents in their homes. She hadn’t read a newspaper or watched television since Tyler was hospitalized, so she had no idea if there were any important events going on in the world. But, then, nothing else really mattered to her now except her child’s health.
