A Woman of Fortune (35 page)

50

B
rian held open the door, and Claire rushed into the hospital lobby. Jana Rae and her brother Mike followed close behind.

As they approached the front information desk, a whirr of a vacuum strained from some distant hall, almost muting the voices coming from the television mounted on the wall in the nearly empty sitting area. Far across the room, near a massive Christmas tree, a young woman chased after a toddler, who stayed steps ahead of his tired-looking mother.

“Munchkin terrorist,” Claire heard Jana Rae mutter under her breath.

A round-faced woman with deep dimples and hair that formed a curly bowling ball looked up from the information counter. She lowered a coffee mug that said Licensed to Pill. “Yes? How can we help you?”

“I'm Claire Massey. My daughter-in-law was brought here this afternoon.” She fought back tears that threatened to form yet again. “Her name is Marcy.”

“Oh, you betcha. Let's take a look right here.” The woman set her mug down and swung in her chair to the computer on the left wing of the desk. She plucked at the keyboard, then cocked her
head. She made a tsking sound and turned her head back in Claire's direction. “Now, how are we spelling that tonight?”

The lady's got
to be kidding. We spell it the same way we
do every night.
Fighting to hide her impatience, Claire responded, “M-a-s-s-e-y.”

“Oh, you betcha. Here we are. Right here.” She displayed a smile ripe with satisfaction. “She's in our OCC unit—obstetric critical care. Fourth floor.”

“Thank you.” Claire turned to leave, then realized they didn't know where to go.

Before she could ask, Brian stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Can you tell us where—”

“Oh, I'm sorry. It says here they don't take visitors this time of night.”

“Well, you don't understand,” Jana Rae said. “We just drove from Dallas, and her son called and told us to come.”

Claire looked at the ceiling and back at the woman behind the desk, heaving a sigh. “It's urgent.”

“Oh, you betcha. Then let's just have a call up there and see what we can do.” She smiled and picked up the telephone receiver, leaned it against her ear, and quickly pounded out a number. Claire did her best to smile while the woman reported the urgency to the person on the other end of the line, at which point Claire noticed the volunteer pin on her sweater, decorated with holly leaves and red berries.

“Okay, honey. They're waiting for you. The elevators are over there.” She pointed past the large fake ficus tree at the other end of the waiting room.

“Okay. Yes. Thank you.” They all turned and took several hurried steps across the room before Claire caught her reply.

“Oh, honey, you betcha.”

Lainie sat in Sidney McAlvain's media room, her eyes riveted on celebrities dancing on the television screen. From her spot on the
sofa, she delved into a bowl of hot, buttery popcorn and brought a handful to her mouth.

Sitting in a large leather recliner, Sidney peeked over top his reading glasses and let the documents he'd been reading fall to his lap. He reached across the table and slid the bowl out of her reach. “Perhaps that's enough, Lainie. If you're not careful with what you put in your mouth, your legs will soon not look like those dancers.”

Her face heated, and she pulled the bowl back. “What are you? My dad?”

In a flash, Sidney's hand grabbed her wrist. His grip bit into her skin, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she glared back at him.

His eyes narrowed. “Careful, Lainie,” he said, slowly releasing his fingers. “I am a patient man, but there is an end to what I'll tolerate.”

Her breath caught.

Despite the uneasiness creeping up her spine, she continued to challenge her overly controlling benefactor in a visual duel. No matter what, Lainie would not be the first to look away.

Finally, Sidney reached over and clicked off the television. He slowly pulled his glasses from his face, folded them, and placed them in their case. Then he slid the documents back in their folder and laid the file aside.

He gave her a menacing look, drew a deep breath, and slowly raised himself from the chair. He glanced at the watch on her arm with disdain, the one purchased using his funds. “When you depart in the morning, leave the watch and the credit cards behind on the guest room bedside table.” He squared his shoulders and turned for the door. Suddenly he stopped and fished in his pocket. He pivoted and tossed a phone—her phone—onto the sofa next to her. “You'll need this to call yourself a cab.”

Lainie wanted to scream at him,
What are you doing with my phone?
She didn't need to. She already knew.

She held her breath until he exited the room. Shaking, but re
lieved to be free, she retrieved her phone, trying not to consider how close she'd come to fatally wounding her future.

Her fingers trembled as she checked her cell. There were messages. Lots of them.

She scrolled and listened to the last one—from Max.

“Lainie, where are you? You need to meet us at Skyview Hospital. Marcy's losing the baby.”

Upstairs, on the fourth floor of Skyview Hospital, a nurse nearly half Claire's age was waiting as they stepped off the elevator. “Ms. Massey?” Claire nodded and stepped forward. The nurse cupped her elbow. “I'm Heidi Strauss, the floor nurse this evening. I talked with Dr. Elliott's PA on the telephone about fifteen minutes ago. Your daughter-in-law suffered a rather severe placental abruption, followed by a significant bleed. She's in surgery now.”

Again Claire nodded. “But how are they? Are Marcy and the baby going to be all right?”

The nurse's face grew sympathetic. “Dr. Elliott is the best in his field. Your daughter-in-law is in very good hands.” She paused, the pause that tells you the person is now going to say something that reverses the good news they just delivered. “We don't know yet what any of this means in terms of outcome. But she's getting the best care.”

Claire bit the inside of her cheek, hoping to stop the quiver she felt erupt in her lower lip. Jana Rae gave her a quick hug. Brian touched her shoulder.

She thought of Marcy and sent up a quick prayer.

The nurse patted her back and led them down the hall through a large circular area. In the center was a nurses' station with bleeping monitors mounted on the counters. Beyond were individual areas cordoned off by glass walls. Those with patients were dimly lit. Some were darkened and had empty beds, neatly made up for the next people unfortunate enough to need them.

“Y'all can wait in here.” She pointed to a small private room to the left filled with mostly empty chairs. A tiny plaque was mounted on the wall near the door that read “Family.”

Claire spotted Max. He looked up as they entered. Across from him sat Jack and Emily Karstan. Marcy's parents looked wrecked with worry.

In the chair next to them sat Garrett, his head buried in his hands.

51

C
laire and the others settled in to wait. Brian and Mike passed out Styrofoam cups brimming with coffee that had been left on the Bunsen burner too long, while Marcy's mother filled everybody in.

“Marcy complained of slight cramping right after breakfast,” she said. “Garrett alerted me and I urged her to get checked, but she was reluctant at first.” She looked to her husband. “She thinks I worry too much. Anyway, we came right over, and by that time her pain had turned severe. We all knew fairly quickly our girl was in trouble.”

Jack shook his head. “Got her here as quick as we could.”

Garrett brushed his hand through his hair, leaving a strand sticking up. “She started bleeding on the way,” he added in a tired voice. Worry created deep furrows in his brow, and her son's eyes were filled with a desperation that made Claire ache inside.

Max moved to his brother's side. He placed his arm around Garrett's shoulders. “She'll be all right, Bro. You'll see.”

A commotion out at the nurses' station pulled everyone's attention to the open door. Lainie's voice drifted from the hallway. Through the open door, Claire saw a nurse point in their direction, and she watched as her daughter scurried to where they waited.

“Oh, Garrett. Is she all right?” Lainie rushed to her brother's side and clutched his hand. Her lips pulled into a tight line and her neck pulsed in the way Claire knew happened when she got stressed. “And the baby?” Lainie looked at her. “How's the baby?”

Claire moved to her daughter and gently squeezed her shoulder. “We're waiting to hear.”

Lainie seemed like she couldn't help herself. Her daughter turned and embraced her. With tears brimming, Claire hugged back and kissed the top of her blonde head.

When Lainie finally let go, Jana Rae brought her up to date on the situation while Mike poured her some coffee. “I'm Mike, Jana Rae's brother,” he said. “You take anything in it?”

She shook her head. “No, black is fine.” He handed Lainie a small white cup filled with steaming liquid. “Thank you.” She gave Jana Rae's brother a grateful smile.

Claire caught Brian watching her. She shook her head, realizing she'd neglected her manners. “Everyone, this is a friend of mine. Brian Magellen.” She didn't know exactly what to say after that, how to act. This was not the way she'd envisioned introducing him to her family. In fact, truthfully, she'd never really imagined that step. Even now it was hard to think of Brian around a dinner table with her adult children.

Max was the first to extend his hand. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

Lainie gave Claire a tentative look before she nodded at Brian. “Yes, how are you?”

Garrett stumbled through his despair long enough to shake Brian's hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw Jana Rae retreat to the corner. She lifted her eyebrows and gave a silent whistle. Clearly she'd assessed the tension in the room.

So had Mike. He clapped his hands together. “Hey, anybody hungry? I bet I can find the cafeteria.”

Jana Rae gently reminded him it was after midnight.

“I'm sure they have vending machines,” he told her. He turned
to Lainie. “I may need some help. Donuts and packages of Planters are heavy, you know.”

She hesitated. “I'm not sure I should—”

Overhead, a loud voice crackled in the speakers. “Code Blue—OCC. Code Blue.”

Garrett flew out of his chair. He darted to the open door.

Claire's throat tightened.

Outside the waiting room, medical personnel rushed past the glass windows. “Who called it?” one of them shouted.

“Surgery suite,” another said.

Garrett followed after them until a young black guy with a stethoscope draped around his neck stopped him. “You have to stay here, man.”

Inside the waiting room, Emily reached for her husband. “Oh no, Jack . . .” Marcy's mother knew, just as they all did, there was likely only one surgical procedure being performed at this hour.

Lainie and Max grabbed each other and hung on.

Mike dropped his head, his lips moving silently. Jana Rae shifted next to her brother and joined him in prayer. Claire quickly added her own.

Her heart pounded. Once again her family was in crisis. Marcy and the baby. Her sweet, tiny granddaughter. She might never get to meet her.

Claire shuddered, wrestling her mind back from dreadful possibilities. Regardless, a feeling of helpless terror slugged at her gut.

Brian moved to her side. He folded his hand over hers, sending the silent message he was there—for whatever she needed.

But in that moment, there was only one person she wanted by her side.

Tuck.