Tom snorted but clutched the tiny wand tight. The pad of his thumb caressed the tiny window with the blue stripe. She settled against him once again and he hugged her a little tighter, resting his chin atop her head. “
A-okay
, little mama.
A-okay
.”
****
Maggie blinked at the darkened ceiling. “Are you going to tell her?”
“Hmm?”
She turned her head, a smile curving her lips. “I know you’re not asleep yet, and you know what I’m asking.”
Tom dragged in a breath and rolled onto his back, resting his hands on his stomach as he exhaled in a gust. “No.”
“No?” She propped herself up on her elbow. “You’re not going to tell her?”
He cut her a look. “Asked and answered. Next question.”
She cocked her head and stared at his impassive expression. His attitude boggled her. She was stunned by how callous and dismissive he was of the woman who gave birth to him. “How can you be like that?”
He turned his bland stare on her. “Really? You’re asking me this about my mother?”
“I’m just…I’m not accusing you, or saying she doesn’t deserve it. I’m just,” she shrugged and held up a helpless palm. “I don’t have any parents, so what do I know, right?”
“You know my mother. You’ve met her. She’s cold and cruel. She uses people, and she doesn’t care who she hurts.” He covered her stomach with his hand, pressing his warm palm to the sweet curve that concealed their child. “I know it’s horrible for me to say it, but I can’t help thinking our baby will be better off without her around.”
“Tom,” she chided.
His hair rasped against the pillowcase. “Maggie, I hate to break this to you, but on the rare occasions you’ve been around my mom, she was using her company manners.” She made a face, and at last he cracked a smile. “Scary, huh? I can’t subject an innocent baby to that, now can I?”
She settled in, pillowing her cheek on his chest. “Maybe when we get closer to time.”
Tom chuckled and gathered her hair, pulling it back from her face. “There’s my cockeyed optimist.”
Sliding her fingertips along his leg, she tickled the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. “See, I was thinking your cockeyed optimist was something entirely different.”
He branded her with a searing kiss, but within moments his lips gentled. His breath mingled with hers. She tasted her name on his tongue. Smiling, she wrapped herself securely around him as he covered her. Her fingers slipped through the crisp waves of his hair.
“I think you should tell her,” she whispered as he trailed hot kisses down her neck.
“
Shh
.”
“Tom.” Her breath snagged when he cupped her breasts and buried his lips deep in the valley of her cleavage.
He nuzzled the rounded curves then glanced up at her with a wicked smile. “Nobody here but us sinners, Maggie.” He began to kiss his way down her belly, tugging at her nightshirt with his teeth. “No one matters but you and me. And our baby. No one at all.”
Chapter Seventeen
Gloom cloaked the frigid February morning. Oblivious to the frost clinging to her windows, Maggie snuggled into the warm spot Tom left behind. She hummed softly when he kissed her goodbye but refused to open her eyes as he fumbled his way to the door. The muffled juggling act of curses, coat, keys, and cat wrangling was her morning lullaby. He liked to start his day early and she liked the snuggly spot he left behind. The arrangement worked for both of them.
She dozed until her phone jitterbugged across the nightstand. The ungodly-early calls didn’t even annoy her anymore. That’s how pathetic she’d become. She actually looked forward to these feeble excuses to talk. He couched them in the pretext of pre-natal vitamin reminders, solicitous inquiries on the state of her appetite, or a sheepish apology for some domestic disaster he’d left behind. Lame or not, she loved these calls. She loved Tom. God help her.
“
Mags
?”
His husky voice crumbled and trailed away and she shot straight up in bed. This wasn’t the usual call. That wasn’t his normal tone. As much as she hated to admit she looked forward to his morning calls, it didn’t take a genius to know this one was different. Little pangs of fear tweaked her tummy. This could be the call. This could be the day he decides he’s had enough. She pressed one hand to her belly and pushed the anxiety down. Nothing had changed from the moment he walked out her door. If he was done with them, there would be nothing she could do to change his mind.
Resolved, she indulged her pride by attributing the tweaks of apprehension to morning sickness and made a mental note to heap a few extra complaints on him. It wasn’t hard to gather the ammunition—the guy was disgustingly chipper in the morning. More cheerful than any sane person should be. At least, he was usually chipper. Tom didn’t sound very perky at the moment. He did any number of things to irk her in the early morning hours, but he definitely didn’t croak her name like a heartbroken frog.
“Are you okay?” she asked, breathless.
He cleared the frog from his throat. “Maggie, my mom….”
The low, hoarse, unnaturally calm tone of his voice catapulted her from the bed. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure. I’m on my way to the…” His voice caught on a hitch.
“Is she okay?” Silence sizzled on the line. She lunged for the dresser and yanked open a drawer. “Tom?”
“No.”
“Where are you?” She pawed through her underwear.
“I’m, uh…at the house.”
Her heart leapt into her throat. “The house? Your mom’s house?”
“She was at six o’clock mass.”
The tremor in his voice shook her to her core. “Her house?” She snatched a pair of panties and a bra from the drawer when he grunted an affirmative. Tucking the phone against her shoulder, she danced her way into the underpants. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I guess she just collapsed. They’re saying it’s an aneurism.”
She stumbled to the closet and yanked a clean top from a hanger. Confused by his location in the context of his mother’s diagnosis, she paused for a second. “And they took her home?”
“She’s at Little Company of Mary.” His voice broke on the hospital’s name. He cleared his throat again and made a valiant effort steady his voice. “George and Sean are on their way.”
“And you’re at the house? Are you waiting for them there?”
“I didn’t make it to the office.”
He sounded bewildered and more than a little lost. Maggie clenched her shirt and bra to her stomach. “Tom? Do you need me to come?”
“Oh, no… No. Sean and George… I think George was going to call Tracy.” He sucked in a breath. “I just have to…the paperwork.”
She sank to the edge of the bed, knotting the clothes in her fist. “Paperwork?”
“She didn’t want any machines,” he murmured. “I need to get the papers.”
Tears prickled her eyes and her stomach sank to her toes. “Oh, Tom….”
“They already have her on the ventilator. She didn’t want that, but I wasn’t there, and my copies are at my office. I don’t know why I kept that stuff at the office….”
Maggie started to wrestle her way into the bra. “I’m on my way.”
“No, don’t. I’m okay. I just have to get the papers. Medical power of attorney.…”
“Tom, I’m coming.”
“No. Don’t come.” The car chimed, and she heard the clatter of keys against the phone. “Don’t…I’ll just…I’ll call you later,” he promised before disconnecting.
In just over an hour, Maggie canceled her appointments, hopped a train to the south suburbs, and wrangled a cab ride to the hospital where she’d been born. Her heels clicked on worn tile. As she jabbed the call button for the elevator, she wondered if Tom was born in the same maternity wing. He probably was. More than likely Sean and Tracy too.
In so many ways, their little world within the great big Chicago metropolitan area was very small. The volunteer at the information desk once served in the Altar and Rosary Society with Maggie’s grandmother. The nurse manning the station had a daughter who was a beauty school graduate who interned at The Glass Slipper. She flashed a wan smile as she directed Maggie to the empty chairs across the hall from Katie Sullivan’s room.
The edges of the molded plastic chair bit into her butt. Maggie stared at the extra-wide door across the hall. A man wearing a white lab coat over teal scrubs hurried from the room. A moment later, a nurse wearing silent crepe-soled shoes followed. A full minute passed before the door opened again and Tom’s uncle, George
Angelini
, appeared.
She stood and took a hesitant step toward the older man. “Hello, George. I’m Maggie
McC
—”
Tears brimmed in his dark eyes. His mouth trembled. “I remember you, Sweetheart,” he murmured, clasping her hand between his.
She opened her mouth to speak and the door swung wide again. Her gaze was automatically pulled to Tom as he worked one finger into the Windsor knot at his throat and stepped into the corridor. He caught sight of her, his forehead puckering in confusion and his lips parting in shock. Before he could voice the question, she extricated her hand from George’s grasp and rushed to fold Tom into her embrace.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, cupping the nape of his neck.
He held himself stiff for a moment then gave way. His shoulders shook as a torrent of hot, moist emotion rushed against her neck. He whispered her name in a ragged rasp. “You came…” he murmured into her hair. A sigh shuddered through him. “You came.”
“Of course I came.” She smoothed the stubborn cowlick at his crown and offered his uncle a weak smile before pressing a soft kiss to Tom’s ear.
The door opened again, and Sean appeared. The taller brother stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted them. Maggie looked up to find Sean’s vivid blue eyes filled with a pain so stark it stole the breath from her lungs. Tracy peered around his arm and gasped.
Wetting her lips, Maggie raised her head to meet their curious stares head-on. “I’m so sorry, Sean.”
As if shaken from his trance, Sean gave a jerky nod. “Thanks.” He stepped aside, letting Tracy slide out from behind him as he turned to George. “You okay to drive?”
“I got you here, didn’t I?” his uncle grumbled. Tom chuckled as he straightened, surreptitiously wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. Clapping a hand to his uncle’s shoulder, Sean nodded. “You did.” He turned to Tom. “What do you need me to do?”
Tom shook his head and pulled his shoulders back. He slid his hand into Maggie’s. “I’ve got it.”
George gave Sean’s arm a squeeze and moved to Tom’s side. “You two go on home and get the kids. I’ll help Tommy take care of the other stuff.”
“But I can—” Sean began.
Tom held up his hand to stop him. “We can take care of this. You’ve got the tougher job,” he said with a wince. “Go home. Kiss the kids and hug them.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I’ll call you in a little while, and we’ll sort the rest out.”
“Okay.” Sean’s nod was stiff, each movement jerky. “Okay.”
Without a word, he began to walk away. Maggie met Tracy’s gaze for the first time, and her friend wet her lips. Tracy nodded to Tom. “You’ll take good care of him,” she said, a statement more than a question.
“I will,” Maggie answered.
Tracy kissed George’s cheek then Tom’s, but Maggie caught the envy clearly etched into her friend’s frown as her gaze lingered on Tom and Maggie’s clasped hands. Tracy sucked in a sharp breath then trotted down the hall in search of her husband.
Tom’s fingers wound around hers. He turned toward her, misery shimmering in his eyes. “I can’t believe you came all the way down here,” he murmured. “What about your appointments?”
“Don’t worry about that,” she shushed him, fussing with the already smooth lapels of his suit jacket.
George cleared his throat and their heads swiveled toward the older man. Offering a pale imitation of his usually roguish smile, he gave her arm a quick squeeze. “You’re a good girl, Maggie. Keep an eye on him for a few minutes. I’m going to go talk to the administrator.”
As George wandered down the hall, she nudged Tom toward the hard plastic chairs and they dropped into the seat. “What happened?”
He raked a hand over his face. “Just what I told you on the phone. She collapsed at six o’clock mass. They called an ambulance.” He freed his hand from hers and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Tucking his chin to his chest, he wove his fingers together. “She was on a ventilator by the time I got here. I had to… I had the legal papers.”