by Lisa Jordan
Josie pulled ice cream from the freezer and set in on the counter to soften. She wiped her cold hand on her hip.
“Josie.” Nick’s hand settled on her shoulder. She jumped. “You okay?”
She moved away from his touch. “Of course. Just getting cake and ice cream ready.”
“You seem upset.”
“I’m fine.” She smiled, but her facial muscles stiffened.
“Are you mad at the gift I bought Hannah? I know it’s a little expensive, but it’s my first birthday of hers to celebrate. I wanted it to be special.”
“The gift is great. She loves it, Nick.” Of course she did. Who wouldn’t love such an expensive gift for her tenth birthday? It was all she could do to scrape together enough cash for this party and the e-reader. The rest of the month was going to be tight, but Josie didn’t care—Hannah was going to be ten only once.
“Then what is it?” He fingered the flower she had pinned in her hair above her ear.
Josie moved away from him to dig through the drawer for the ice cream scoop. Then she remembered it was sitting on the island next to the cake and ice cream. “I found an e-reader on sale and bought it for her.”
Nick leaned against the counter and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you first. I can take it back.”
“Seriously? Are you kidding me? She loves it. I’ll return mine for something else.” And buy a grown-up attitude while she was in the store. It was silly to be upset with Nick, but Josie had been the only parent Hannah had known, and now she had to share.
“Listen, can we talk? I mean, later after things settle down a bit.” Nick cupped her elbow, his thumb caressing her skin. “I handled things badly last week. Give me a chance to apologize. Let me take you to dinner.”
“Nick, I don’t know—”
Lindsey burst into the kitchen, her face pale. “Josie, come quick, something’s wrong with Hannah!”
Josie rushed to the living room to find her daughter’s lips had swollen twice their size. Hives broke out on her face, hands and arms. Her breathing came out in high-pitched wheezes.
Josie dropped to her knees and cradled Hannah. “Nick, call 911. She’s having an allergic reaction. Lindsey, grab her EpiPen off the island in the kitchen. Hurry!”
Within seconds, Lindsey thrust the pen in Josie’s hand. Josie flicked off the safety release cap and thrust the pen into Hannah’s thigh until it clicked. Under her breath, she counted to ten in Italian, each second precious to her daughter’s life.
Hannah’s breathing lost its high-pitched whistle. Her chest rose and sunk with each labored breath. The blue left her lips, leaving them a pasty gray.
She glanced at the girls. Their eyes widened as they huddled together on the couch. “What happened? Did anyone see?” She should’ve been in here, watching her daughter. Instead, she did an emotional dance with Nick in the kitchen. Not anymore.
Hannah’s friend Ashley glanced at her friends. “She was fine, Ms. Peretti. We put her new lotion on our hands. Hannah put lip balm on her lips. After that she started talking funny and her lips swelled up.”
Josie scanned the carpet. “Where’s the lip balm?” Where was that ambulance?
“It’s still in her hand.”
Josie pried Hannah’s fingers open and picked up the lip balm, reading the label. Birthday cake scent with vanilla and shea butter.
Her blood turned to ice. The shea butter. And the lotion probably had the same ingredient. She snatched the bottle still open in the middle of the floor and read the label. Yep, same stuff. And Hannah had used enough to cause an allergic reaction. Josie’s heart plummeted. She should’ve been in here.
Sirens wailed outside. About time.
Two EMTs in blue pants and jackets carried large first aid boxes and pulled a gurney. One of the men cupped an oxygen mask over Hannah’s nose. Working quickly, they placed her on the gurney and rolled her outside to the ambulance. Josie jogged alongside, the chilly air biting at her bare legs. But she didn’t care. She wasn’t letting Hannah out of her sight again.
Once they lifted her inside, the one who administered oxygen—his uniform identified him as Hurst—motioned for Josie to climb inside. “You can sit there.” He pointed to a bench along the wall of the ambulance.
Josie reached for Hannah’s hand and sat. The smell of antiseptic permeated the air. She tried to listen to what the EMTs were saying, but Hannah’s shallow breathing and translucent skin tone held her attention hostage.
Hannah flinched when the EMT inserted an IV into her left hand. Josie stroked her forehead. The wig dislodged, revealing her downy-covered head. She straightened the wig.
She jostled in her seat as the ambulance crossed the railroad tracks, then turned onto Hospital Drive and backed into Shelby Lake Memorial’s emergency department. The driver wrenched open the back door, and the two men guided the gurney out. The one with Hurst stitched on his shirt wheeled Hannah down the corridor while the other one shared her vitals and other information with the physician on call.
Unfortunately Josie knew the emergency department well enough to map it in the dark. The physician looked familiar, but his name escaped her. She couldn’t worry about that right now, anyway, when Hannah appeared small and fragile on the gurney. She caught some of the EMT’s words and had been in and out of the hospital enough times to realize Hannah might not come home this time.
Chapter Eighteen
His mother. Ross. And now Hannah. He had no right to a family. You don’t hurt those you love.
Nick sprinted across the parking lot and strode into the emergency department. His eyes swept the room with its rose-colored vinyl chairs that formed a horseshoe around a square glass table littered with worn magazines. An elderly man watched some show on the wall-mounted TV while the woman beside him napped with her head on his bony shoulder. In the corner, a teenager in baggy clothes slouched in a chair and played a handheld game.
Striding to the triage desk, Nick cleared his throat. The nurse wearing blue scrubs and a white sweater looked up from her computer. “May I help you?”
Sweat slicked his skin. Nick brushed a palm over his forehead and forced back the bile searing his throat. “My daughter. She was just brought in by ambulance. Hannah Peretti.”
“Right. This way, Mr. Peretti.” She hefted her oversize form off the small computer chair and lumbered through the swinging doors that led to the exam rooms.
He didn’t take time to correct her about his name. Instead, his muscles tightened as he followed her down the corridor to the last room on the left.
She waved a hand at the door, as if presenting a four-star hotel room. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, his feet froze in the doorway. His daughter appeared swallowed by the bed. The bright lights and white-as-snow sheets washed out her color even more, leaving her skin a sickly blue-gray tone. Tubes ran into her nose and out of her arms.
For as much time as he’d spent in the hospital with Ross, he should be used to the hospital sounds—the whooshing and beeping of the medical equipment, the hushed murmur of voices, the occasional whimper of pain. But as long as he had a breath in his body, he wouldn’t get used to the sounds that signaled life or death.
A fist of regret clamped his heart so tightly that he winced and rubbed the left side of his chest. At that moment, Josie looked up and started at seeing him standing in the doorway. The look that crossed her face caused his insides to wither.
She whispered something to the nurse before stalking to him. Her eyes flashed.
His gut burned. “How’s Hannah?”
Grabbing his arm, she jerked him outside of the exam room and into an empty consultation room next to Hannah’s. Once inside she snapped on the light and closed the door. She crossed her arms over her chest. “How do you think she is, Nick? My daughter is in there fighting for her life. Because of you.”
He ground his teeth and steeled his to
ne. They were not going through this again. “She’s my daughter, too.”
“A good father wouldn’t give his child something that could possibly kill her.”
“I am a good father, Josie, and you know it. This was an accident. I didn’t know it would cause a reaction. You told me about the peanut allergy, but never mentioned anything about shea butter.”
“So this is my fault?”
“It’s no one’s fault. It was a stupid accident.”
“One that may cost Hannah her life.” Her voice choked. She pressed a fist against her lips.
Nick gathered her to his chest. “Don’t cry. The doctors will give her something to stop the reaction.”
Josie pushed out of his arms. “She’s not like other kids. She won’t just bounce back from this. Don’t you get it? This could kill her. She’s all I’ve got.”
“You have me.”
Josie looked at him a moment, then shook her head. “No, Nick, I don’t.”
Her whispered words carved his heart into pieces. “Don’t…don’t say that. I’ve spent the last month trying to show you that we’re meant for each other.”
Josie dragged a hand through her hair, dislodging the flower tucked behind her ear. It spiraled to the floor. “The last month has been a cakewalk compared to what’s to come. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to wake up each morning and pray your daughter wakes up, too?”
“Where’s your faith, Josie? You have to believe Hannah will get better. And to answer you, yes, I am ready for all of that. What do you say? Give us a chance.” He picked up the flower and twirled it between his fingers.
She held up a hand. “I can’t deal with this right now. My daughter needs me.”
He sandwiched her hand with his. “She’s my daughter, too. And I need you.”
“For how long, Nick?” Her eyes searched his face.
His heart plummeted. He dropped her hands and took a step back. “It’s never been a matter of if I’d leave you again, but when, right, Josie? I’m not that nineteen-year-old kid anymore. And I’m not your mother. I’m here for the long haul, whether you want me to be or not, so you’d better get used to having me around.”
His phone rang in his shirt pocket. He glanced at the display. Jacob House. He grabbed it. “Nick Brennan.”
“Nick? Walt here. Hey, listen. Ross can’t find his camera and is becoming increasingly upset. Don’t suppose you have it, by chance, do you?”
An ache pulsed behind his eyes. He didn’t have time to worry about a camera right now. “No, I haven’t seen it.”
“Ross keeps asking for you. Do you have time to stop by?”
Nick’s shoulders slumped as he leaned against the wall. How could he be in two places at once? “I’m at the hospital. My daughter had an allergic reaction. I’ll check my truck to see if he left it in there and call you back.” He ended the call and gripped the phone. “I have to run out to my truck, but I’ll be right back.”
Reaching for the handle, Josie wrenched the door open. “You know what, Nick? Don’t bother. I’ll handle this without you.” She stormed out of the room.
Nick locked his hands behind his head and pressed his forearms against the sides of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought the impulse to shove his fist through the light box.
He left the room and paused outside Hannah’s door. She lay in the bed with her eyes closed. He ached to go inside, to kiss her forehead and tell her how sorry he was, that he didn’t mean to screw it up. But sorry wouldn’t cut it. Was she better off without him?
He turned and headed down the corridor when his phone rang again. He jerked it out of his pocket. The university. What now?
One of the nurses looked up from the clipboard. “Sir, you can’t have cell phones in this department.”
Nick nodded and strode toward the red EXIT sign. Instead of exiting into the emergency waiting area, he ended up in an unfamiliar hall. The phone still clenched in his hand continued to ring. He answered just to silence the annoying sound and pushed through the first door he saw.
“Dr. Brennan.” His eyes took a few seconds to get used to going from an overly bright corridor to a low-lit room with flickering candles on a side table.
“Dr. Brennan, this is Dr. Clark. Your family leave is up soon, and the department would like to sit down with you before you return to the classroom.”
One more person demanding his attention. He heaved a sigh and dropped onto the closest chair. “I’m sorry, Dr. Clark, but I will have to call you back. My daughter is in the hospital.”
“The meeting requires your attention.”
“What’s it about, sir?” He gripped the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders to loosen the tight muscles.
“Due to the recent…information you shared about your daughter, some of the board members are concerned about your name being linked to the university.”
“My daughter has no bearing on my role as a professor at the university.”
“What about those impressionable kids? What would they think?”
“Those students aren’t kids. They’re adults who make choices regardless of what gossip they may hear on campus.” Nick ground his teeth.
“You still need to lead by example.” Dr. Clark’s patronizing tone dripped in Nick’s ear.
Nick fought to keep his voice level. “My example is I’m manning up to be a responsible father. If that’s a sore spot with the university, then I will have my resignation letter on your desk by the end of the week. Good day, Dr. Clark.” He ended the call.
What had he done?
He had a family to provide for. He couldn’t mouth off to his department chair and quit. Just like that. And he had Ross to think about.
Chest heaving, his blood raced through his veins.
Dropping the phone on the floor, he rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands to his face. His daughter was at death’s door. Josie hated his guts. His brother needed him. Josie expected him to walk out the door any moment. He was no good to any of them.
Or to God.
He opened his eyes to find a plain wooden cross at the front of the room haloed by an overhead light. A small altar had been placed in front of it.
He had no right being here.
Pushing to his feet, he walked past four rows of padded chairs until he stood in front of the cross. Shadows flickered across the floor. Piped-in music sang of God’s amazing grace.
Nick choked back a fist-size lump and squeezed his eyes shut against the surge of wetness. He dropped next to the altar and drove his hands through his hair. He fixed his eyes on the diamond-patterned carpet, counting the shapes between his feet as he forced his breathing under control. His keys dug into his thigh. Stretching out his right leg, he pulled them out of his pocket. The Superman key chain mocked him.
He was nobody’s hero.
A hand clamped on his shoulder. He jerked up, dropping his keys. Emmett Browne stood behind him wearing his tweed hat. Compassion lined his face.
Leaning on his cane, Emmett eased himself next to Nick. He nodded over Nick’s shoulder. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I was sitting in that first row when I heard you on the phone. Wanna talk about it?”
Nick steepled his trembling fingers and shook his head. “You just happened to be here?”
“Gideon volunteers in the cafeteria. I come in here and think. And pray. Got in the habit when my wife was in the hospital. Now I like the quiet.” Emmett cupped the end of his cane, then leaned down to retrieve Nick’s keys. He ran a thumb over Superman. “Ross calls you Super Nick.”
“The kid doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I think he does.”
Nick swiped the keys from Emmett, jumped to his feet and shoved them in his front pocket. “Are you crazy? I’m nobody’s hero. M-my daughter is fighting for her life because of me. Josie never wants to see me again. My brother can’t remember one day to the next because of me. The kid’s freaking out right now because he c
an’t find his camera. And now I have no job. Some hero. I can’t even take care of my own family.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, disgusted with himself to find his fingers damp.
“For someone with a Ph.D., you can act pretty stupid at times.” Emmett studied him a moment. Leaning on his cane, he shuffled to his feet. “How about I tell you what a real hero looks like?”
Nick wanted to stomp out of the room where the dimly lit walls wouldn’t feel as if they were closing in on him. He wanted to turn back time. Rewind the past sixty minutes. Or even the past ten years. Defeat weighing heavily on his shoulders, Nick sat in one of the chairs at the front of the room.
Emmett cleared his throat. “I’ve been watching you. I see the way you are with that pretty little girl of yours. And your brother. Gideon tells me how you visit Ross every day and look at his pictures or do puzzles. When you’re around, Josie has a skip in her step.”
“That’s not heroism.”
“Listen, son. I know all about feeling sorry for yourself. Did it plenty of times, especially after my wife died and I rattled around in our big old house by myself. Christopher Reeve said a hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles. He knew a thing or two about being a superhero.”
Groaning as he angled his body next to Nick, Emmett stretched out a leg, rubbed his knee and sighed. “I may be the grumpy codger who snarls about bran muffins and hogs the morning paper, but I know a good guy when I see one. You’re the family glue. Ross isn’t perfect, and you love him completely. God doesn’t expect perfection. He has that in His Son. He expects people to step up and accept His gift of grace. You’ve stepped up. Now you need to accept His grace. In my eyes, that’s a hero, son.”
Emmett’s words washed over Nick, soaking into every pore. Was it true? God didn’t expect him to be a superhero? Nick hadn’t leaned on anyone in a long time. Usually he was the strong support for others. And right now, he felt about as weak as melted candle wax.
Lord, I’m tired. Tired of not living up to expectations. Tired of feeling like a screw up. I need Your grace and help to put my family back together. Help me to lean on You.
