A Woman of Fortune (36 page)

52

N
early an hour passed before a man with graying hair at the temples entered the waiting room wearing scrubs. He was followed by two women, one with a clipboard and deep-set eyes that scanned the room, taking inventory of those seated and waiting for information.

Jack and Garrett stood simultaneously. Garrett rubbed his stubbled chin, then quickly extended his hand. “Dr. Elliott?” His voice revealed how grueling the wait had been for him.

“Let's everybody take a seat.” Dr. Elliott gripped Garrett's hand in a quick handshake, then pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat. He pulled his surgical cap from his head. “First, Marcy is out of danger. At least for now.”

Garrett's hand went to his mouth and his eyes welled up. “Oh, thank God.”

Emily buried her head, and her emotion, in Jack's chest. He patted her, his eyes filled with relief.

“And the baby?” Claire ventured.

The doctor nodded. “She's a fighter. A team of specialists are preparing to transport her to Texas Children's. She'll be under the care of Dr. Claudia Mathis, one the most respected neonatologists in the Houston area.”

Claire clung to the doctor's words like a lifeline, letting the brief information buoy her hope. Both Marcy and the baby were alive.

Dr. Elliott explained that Marcy had coded during the emergency C-section. “We encountered a disseminated intravascular coagulation event due to increased thromboplastin.” He looked at Garrett. “In layman's terms, that means your wife failed to clot properly and hemorrhaged severely during the procedure.” His eyes grew focused. “I'm afraid we had no choice but to perform a hysterectomy.”

Garrett shook his head. “Doesn't matter. She's alive. That's what's important.”

Dr. Elliott stood and patted Garrett's shoulder before exiting.

The woman with the clipboard stepped forward from where she'd been standing. “Mr. Massey, we'll need you to sign these consent forms for the transport. It's urgent we move your daughter as soon as possible.”

Garrett nodded and took the pen she offered. Without looking over the paper, he scribbled his name. “What are we dealing with? Can I see her?” He lifted his chin as if steeling himself for a blow, which quickly came.

The woman handed off the signed consent to the other woman, who scurried from the room with the document in hand. When she turned back, she introduced herself. “I'm Dr. Liz Nyles, head of NICU here at Skyview. Your baby girl had a very rough birth. Marcy's placental abruption caused what is called asphyxia, a disruption of fetal blood flow in the womb. She was born with very low Apgars, and her umbilical arterial blood gases—another determinant of fetal metabolic condition at the moment of birth—also gave indication that she was oxygen deprived for a period of time.”

Claire's heart pounded and a dull ache formed at the back of her neck. She rubbed at the base of her skull. “What does all that mean?”

Dr. Nyles gave her a sympathetic look. “It means she's going to have to be carefully monitored to keep her out of further danger. A highly experienced staff, skilled in the latest advances in evidence-
based treatment at a level 4 neonatal intensive care unit—one of the best in the country—will be following her progress and helping her to make it through this rough start.” She turned back to address Garrett. “None of these factors are sure indicators of future developmental issues. But your infant is in what we call the danger zone. She's four weeks early, and that complicates matters. But again, I assure you she's in the best medical hands available.”

Garrett rubbed his forehead. “Thank you. And, Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“My baby girl—her name is Emmy Claire. After her grandmothers.”

Dr. Nyles smiled. “That's a great name. Now, I need to excuse myself and help the transport team.” She shook Garrett's hand and headed into the hall.

Claire moved to her son's side. “I love her name, sweetheart.”

Emily wiped tears from her eyes. “Me too.”

“Look, why don't you, Jack, and Emily check when you can see Marcy,” Claire said. “I'll head over to Texas Children's to be with Emmy Claire.” She liked how the name sounded when she said it. She had a granddaughter, and nothing was going to keep her from being near that little one.

Jana Rae gave Claire a hug, then Garrett. “When they're ready, Mike and I will take Lainie and Max with us. We'll book some hotel rooms nearby and get some sleep. You have my number if anything develops or you need us.”

Grateful, Claire agreed. Jana Rae knew better than to include her in the group that would be sleeping tonight. She looked to Brian. “Why don't you get some sleep as well?”

He shook his head. “No. Let me drive you over to Texas Children's. We'll play it by ear from there.”

Texas Children's Hospital was located forty-five minutes away by car, even with no traffic at the early pre-dawn hour. On the
way, Claire leaned back against the leather seat and closed her eyes—only for a second.

It seemed like no time at all and Brian's hand gently shook her arm.

“Huh? Oh.” Claire sat up, feeling disoriented. She hadn't meant to drift off. “That was quick.” She gave Brian a weak smile, then folded down the car's visor and smoothed her hair.

As they walked through the parking garage, Brian surprised Claire by slipping his fingers through hers. Not that she didn't want him to, only that the gesture felt . . . what? She was too tired to even put her feelings into words. Her relationship with Brian could be sorted out later. Right now her focus needed to be on her baby granddaughter—on tiny Emmy Claire.

The horizon outside the garage had turned a soft lavender, hinting that daybreak would soon follow. Claire glanced at Brian. “When's the last time you pulled an all-nighter?” she asked over the whirring HVAC system.

“Been a while,” he conceded while checking the web on his iPhone. “Looks like we need to head to the fourth floor.” He pushed the elevator button.

Even at this early hour, the hospital buzzed with activity. They made their way to the guest services desk, and Claire gave her name. Unlike the woman at Skyview, the representative quickly directed them to a bank of elevators to the left. “I'll call and let them know you're on your way up,” she said. She turned to Brian. “And you are?”

He introduced himself.

“Are you family?”

He shook his head. “No, just a close friend.”

“I'm sorry, you'll have to wait down here.”

Claire gave him a quick hug and headed for the elevators.

On the fourth floor, she followed the signs, turned left, and walked several feet down a long hall that ended with large double doors and a sign that directed her to push the button. She did and a voice responded, “Your name?”

“Claire Massey. I'm here for Emmy Claire Massey. My son Garrett called and made arrangements for me to see her.”

The door buzzed and then automatically opened to an area where Claire scrubbed in for the requisite three minutes and placed protective coverings over her shoes. With those precautions complete, she was shown into a spacious area lined with tiny Isolettes, many filled with infants. Monitors beeped, a stark contrast to the soft lighting and color schemes. To the left, a young Hispanic woman sat in a rocking chair, cradling a tiny baby with electronic cords tethered to a screen that charted the child's body functions second by second.

A woman in pink scrubs stepped forward. “You must be here to see our newest little one—Emmy Claire.”

Claire loved that this nurse knew her granddaughter's name, that she wasn't just some nameless patient. “Yes, can I see her?”

The nurse gave her an encouraging smile. “Of course. Follow me. Dr. Mathis is expected back on the floor anytime, and she'll give you a status report.”

She trailed close behind the nurse until she stopped in front of a metal Isolette. A tiny baby in a little pink diaper rested on a white baffled blanket. No booties covered her perfect, tiny toes. No cap hid the silky brown hair. Her tiny palms lay open with fingers extended.

Claire nearly stopped breathing. Emotion overwhelmed her, and her eyes filled with tears. In awe, she whispered, “Can I touch her?”

Without pulling her eyes from the perfect little being, she heard the nurse say yes. “Little Emmy Claire, let me introduce you to your grandmother.”

Like many women, Claire had never wanted to announce she'd aged with that label. But right now—no word could be sweeter.

She reached out and gently caressed the baby's palm. Immediately Emmy Claire wrapped her itty-bitty fingers tightly around her own.

In that moment, Claire lost her heart.

53

L
ainie paid for her Snickers bar and placed the change back in her purse. There were times nothing but chocolate would alleviate what she felt inside. “Thank you,” she told the gift store clerk.

She stepped into the busy hospital corridor, needing to find a quiet place to think, to sort out the last twelve hours and make sense of everything. Her current situation was a bit shaky at best. Lainie Massey always had a plan, but not this time.

She had what she now owned in her car, as well as a horse with a boarding bill that would need paid. When she painted the bottom line on this thing called her life, the fact was she was homeless. Max would let her crash at his place temporarily, but she would need a job and a place to live. She'd need to make things right with her mother . . . and eventually her daddy.

But right now she wanted to be here for Garrett. No matter what had transpired over the past months since Daddy's arrest, they were all still a family. She knew that now.

She turned left and followed a wide corridor with large framed portraits lining the walls. These were the ones with the financial means to contribute and have surgical wings and pediatric floors named in their honor.

She tried not to think about what she would have worn for a similar portrait had life turned out differently. Instead, she drilled her eyes ahead and kept walking, past a drinking fountain. Two women walked by, both in uniforms with stethoscopes hanging from their necks. The younger of the two looked at her and smiled.

Near the end of the hall, a small oblong sign mounted on the wall read “Chapel.” Lainie paused when she reached the door and peeked in the tiny window. Empty.

She looked both ways before slowly pulling the door open, then stepped inside.

The room was tiny, filled with five rows of padded benches. Bibles were placed in racks on the back of each pew. At the front, a large plain wooden cross was mounted on the wall in between two backlit stained glass windows, which featured scenes of creeks running through green meadows with large, inviting trees.
Very pastoral
, Lainie thought.
Just
like in the movies.

She moved into one of the pews and let her eyes focus on a plaque on the wall.

Come to me, all who are weary and
need rest.

Lainie closed her eyes. She knew tired. For months she'd attempted to quench a raging fire with no water. The effort had left her scorched. Her stubbornness had been her downfall more than once, but this time she'd really made a mess of things.

She needed a fresh start.

Several minutes passed before she heard the door click at the back. She turned as Jana Rae's brother stepped inside.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't see anyone. I can come back later.”

He turned, but Lainie invited him to stay. “You're not bothering me, if that's what you're thinking.”

He nodded and shut the door. “Care if I sit by you then?”

She patted the place beside her and Mike took a seat. He leaned back in the pew. “Sometimes I like to just escape to a quiet place, know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do,” she said. “It's nice in here. I was just contrasting this small chapel to the church we attended as a family, where Daddy was an elder.”

“Where was that?”

“Abundant Hills in northern Dallas. Aptly named, by the way. Large fountains in the foyer. Massive auditorium, seating over five thousand on a Sunday, with three services and a screen rivaling a movie theater. Golf carts chauffeuring members from parking lots filled with hundreds of cars.”

“Sounds . . . big.”

Lainie smiled. “Max called it a country club for Jesus.”

Mike laughed. “I see.”

“Oh, don't get me wrong,” she said. “Lots of nice people, and a lot of them loved God, I suppose. I mean, you can tell those who practice what they preach, know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I sure do.” Mike grabbed a Bible and randomly flipped through the pages.

Lainie's face reddened. “Oh yeah. Of course. I forgot—you're a pastor.”

“Soooo—do you still go? To church, I mean?”

She sighed. “No. Not for a long time.”

“Oh? Why's that?”

Lainie wondered how she should answer. Should she tell him she'd lost interest in all the rules and platitudes? Say she'd wanted to go shopping instead of listening to Pastor Richards preach about all the ways she'd never measure up? Or, yeah—update him on recent months with Sidney McAlvain.

Current-day Christians may not stone women who fell short in the purity department . . . but there would always be some holding fast to their rocks.

She stared forward. “Oh, no reason, really. Just skipped a Sunday here and there, and pretty soon—well, you know how it is.”

“After my wife died, I rarely went to church,” Mike said. “Which is a bit of a problem when you're the pastor.”

“Why did you quit going?” Lainie realized the question was a bit probing, but he'd started down that path by asking her first. “I'd think church would be the first place you'd want to be after—well, after something like that. Especially when you're a pastor.”

Mike shook his head. “Nope. Frankly, I was spittin' angry.”

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

“Sorry, did I offend you?” he asked. “I was only being honest.”

Her face broke into a wide smile. How refreshing—a gut-honest pastor. “What made you go back?”

“To church? Oh, I guess—well, when you give your life to Jesus, you're always his. Know what I mean?”

Lainie wasn't sure she did. Still, she nodded.

“That, and my big sister hounded me half to death. Jana Rae can get pretty pushy.”

She laughed. “Yeah, no kidding.”

He laughed as well, then grew more serious. “I wrestled for a long time with how someone who was supposed to love me could let me suffer like that. I didn't understand. Took a long time, and a lot of honest talking with him, to realize he didn't promise I'd never go through hard things. Only that when I did, he'd go with me.”

“What was she like, your wife?”

Mike's eyes lit up. “Ah—well, I think she was like a Tootsie Pop.”

Lainie gave him a puzzled look. “The candy?”

“Uh-huh. Her outside was sweet, but boy, on the inside?” His eyes sparkled. “At her center, she was pure sugar.”

She tilted her head. “So, you still miss her?”

He nodded. “Every day.” He clasped his hands on the seat in front of him. “I have my girls. They remind me of her in big and small ways. My ten-year-old has her eyes. Like Susan, she looks at even the ugliest situations with compassion. And my little one has her quick sense of humor and easy laugh.” He turned and looked at Lainie. “I loved Susan very much. Always will, I suppose. But, as they say, life goes on.” Mike placed the Bible back in the rack. “Truth is, I'd be open to meeting someone else someday.”

Lainie grew pensive. “I hope you do,” she said quietly.

“You'll find somebody again too,” Mike said. “The right man will come along, the one God planned for you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You mean God has a dating service?”

“Ha, good one. What I meant is God wants good things for you, Lainie.”

She didn't respond. Instead, she watched the candle on the table up front flicker, casting shifting shadows across the room. “Why?” She turned to face Mike. “Why do you think he'd want good things for me?”

“His goodness doesn't depend on yours. The moment you want him, he'll be there. Until then, he's too polite to barge in.”

Barely breathing, Lainie stared at the cross on the wall, then dropped her gaze down at the swirls in the patterned carpet. “I don't think I'm church material anymore.”

Mike reached out and covered her hand with his. “What liar told you that?”

Lainie wasn't sure if she believed him. She wasn't even sure what he said mattered. But strangely, she felt drawn to the possibility that what she'd believed might not be congruent with the truth.

Her future was wide open now. Someday she hoped to have what Mike had described—to find that kind of love. To feel that valued.

She'd always wanted more.

Her daddy had tried to give her the world and failed. On the other hand, God had created her heart.

Who was more qualified to satisfy what she craved?