Angel's Rest(101)

Blindly he signed whatever papers she put in front of him. Fear was a cold stone in his gut. Nic. The babies. What if I lose her? Lose them?

He dragged his feet returning to the ER. He was cold, wet, frozen. Terrified. Spying a men’s room, he detoured into it. He ran hot water into the sink, leaned over, and splashed his face. Words echoed in his mind. So sorry for your loss, Mr. Callahan. Such a tragedy. She was such a joyous spirit. Our condolences, Gabe.

He looked in the mirror, but didn’t see himself. He saw the fear in Nic’s eyes. The fear in Jen’s eyes. She knew she was dying. What about Nic? What about the babies?

He reached for a paper towel and dried his face, dried his hands. Saw blood on his hands, both real and imagined.

Someone else walked into the men’s room, so he walked out. He walked past the exit and found room three. He stood outside the curtained enclosure, numb, cold, and alone as he listened to Nic’s obstetrician asking a series of questions.

On the other side of the curtain, he heard Nic murmur a question he couldn’t make out. The doctor responded by saying, “I won’t lie to you, Nic. If you are in labor and we can’t stop it, the babies won’t survive.”

The babies won’t survive.

The boy has a traumatic brain injury. It’s only a matter of time.

The doctor continued, “We don’t have the facilities here to accommodate babies born at twenty-four weeks.”

But the words didn’t register. All Gabe heard was …

The babies won’t survive.

Your son is dead.

My family didn’t survive.

“My babies won’t survive,” he whispered.

Breathing heavily, his fists clenching and then releasing at his sides, Gabe backed away from the curtain and … broke.

He walked—almost ran—to the hospital exit. Dashing out into the rain, he climbed into the Jeep, started the engine, and shifted into gear.

Gabe drove away. Leaving his wife, his babies, and his self-respect behind.





EIGHTEEN





“Nic? Honey? What’s wrong?”

Nic tore her gaze away from the monitor and looked up to see her best friend in the world standing at the opening of the ER’s curtained cubicle. “Honey? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Sarah.” She burst into tears.

Sarah rushed to the bed and put her hands on Nic’s shoulders. “Honey?”

“You came. You’re here.” Nic buried her head against Sarah’s chest and sobbed. Sarah held her tight, cooing, “It’s okay, Nic. I’m here. It’s okay.”

Nic cried and cried and cried. Sarah hugged and cuddled and comforted. When Nic finally wound down, Sarah softly asked, “The babies?”

“They’re okay.”

“Thank God. What happened? We were so worried—Celeste and Sage are with me, they’re parking the car. What happened? Gabe called me and said you were here and that you needed me. Then he hung up and hasn’t answered his phone since. I must have called twenty times.”

“He did it again, Sarah. He ran away from his feelings, only this time I needed him. I really, really needed him. I can’t believe he …”

“He what?”

Nic closed her eyes. What could she say? He’d hurt her? That didn’t begin to explain the devastation. Gabe had ripped her heart out. He’d left her here alone, maybe losing her babies alone. These hours had been the worst of her life, this fear the worst she’d ever known. How could he have abandoned her? How could he have left her to face it alone?

Nic told her about the tension-filled drive to Gunnison, and Sarah said, “You hit an elk? And slid off the road? Oh, Nic. You’re lucky you weren’t killed!”

“I know it scared him. I know he has ghosts riding his shoulder. But that’s no excuse for this!”

“No excuse for what?” Sage asked as she and Celeste entered the cubicle. “What has Gabe done?”

“He left me. He basically kicked me out at the ER door to miscarry our babies all by myself.”

Sage’s eyes flew to the monitors. “You didn’t lose the babies.”

“No, thank God,” Nic said, blinking back angry tears. “But Gabe didn’t know that when he abandoned me here.”

“He left you?” Celeste clarified, her brow furrowing in concern.

Nic nodded. “I thought … we both thought … that I was losing the babies. I’d had a backache and a general sense that something was wrong. Then I started feeling contractions, and I called Dr. Marshall and she told me to come in. CareFlight couldn’t come, so he drove me. He signed the admission papers, then he left. Didn’t say good-bye or anything. He just left.”