Michael stilled. “Your daughter?”
“Chloe. Oh, Michael! She’s so sick!”
Michael’s whole being was on point. “I’m here at the house. Tell me where you are, Winter. I’ll come right now.”
“I’m—Michael, I don’t know if—” Listening closely, Michael heard the unmistakable rumble of a male voice. She came back online, her voice breathy. “The doctor. I’ve got to go. I’m wanted.” The connection was broken.
Michael took the phone away from his ear. She had hung up on him. Yet the simmering anger and yes, fear, that had ridden him for days had suddenly disappeared.
She’s so sick.
His mind replayed the breathy, shaken timbre of her voice. Winter was frightened. The conclusion was inescapable. Her young daughter, young enough to like teddy bears, was seriously ill.
He paced restlessly, hoping that she would call him back, but knew that she would not. Worry for her, and for the unknown child, rode him. He thought over the phone call again. There was something that he was missing. Then he had it. He had heard what sounded like an intercom. Like at a hospital.
Michael snatched up his keys and slung on his jacket. He left the house, slamming the door behind him.
“I’m not scared anymore, Mommy.”
Cathy tried to smile. I’m scared spitless. She was glad her daughter couldn’t read her mind. “You’re not?”
“No—I’m tired. Very, very tired.”
Cathy’s breath hitched. She looked closer at her daughter. There was a new awareness in Chloe’s eyes. She swallowed the gathering lump in her throat. She was barely able to speak. Her heart was thumping. “Tired?”
“I want to sleep and get better now.” Chloe’s unclouded gaze was locked on her face. “Is that okay, Mommy?”
Comprehension was slow, but then it burst full-blown. Cathy’s heart cracked. She loved Chloe so much. Hot tears blinded her, spilled, overflowed. She said, thickly, “It’s okay, baby. I’m okay with that.”
Chloe smiled, beautifully, gave a tiny sigh and closed her eyes.
Cathy held her daughter. She felt the frail flutter of Chloe’s breath, followed by the next, and the next. The methodical ping of the heart monitor continued. She sat immobile, holding Chloe, tears streaming down her face.
At last someone gently drew her away. Dr. Richardson met her just outside the hospital room to speak a few brief words, words that only confirmed what she had already sensed. “She’s turned the corner.” He briefly squeezed her shoulder before he hurried away.
Frozen with shock, Cathy walked into the waiting room. As soon as she entered, her sister and brother-in-law leaped to their feet.
With one look at her wet face, Pam burst into tears. She flew at Cathy, almost knocking her down. If it hadn’t been for her sister’s arms swooping tight around her, Cathy would have fallen. Automatically, her own arms came up to wrap around her sister. Her brother-in-law enfolded them both in a comforting, strong brace.
Cathy was utterly numb, incapable of speech or thought. She heard the jagged burble of her sister’s grief. She understood the disjointed words, but she wasn’t really taking them in. She was so dazed. She struggled to get free of her sister’s clinging arms, her clutching hands. She gasped, hyperventilating. “Let go.” She had managed the merest whisper, but her brother-in-law heard her.
“Pam, that’s enough. Give her some air.” He drew his wife back against him. Pam instantly burrowed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Over her head, John Thompson’s eyes were dark and searching. “Are you going to be all right?”
It was so odd, she thought dispassionately. His voice seemed to echo from such a very long way. Everything appeared surreal, distant. “She’s going to be all right.”