Page 29 of Fractured Reunion

“Thanks. Whatever you can do that doesn’t take you away from Shannon and Jillian is great.”

“You got it,” Alec said. “Later.”

“Later.” He pocketed his phone as he entered the intensive care unit. Jamal was standing at Grace’s bedside, his expression somber. The six-month-old baby girl was connected to monitors, but he looked at her first, looking at her cute face and the way her chest rose and fell with each breath before lifting his gaze to the blood pressure and heart rate readings across the screen.

“She’s tachy, and her BP is low,” Jamal said, stating the obvious. “I’ve been watching her closely but wanted to make sure you were in the loop.”

“I appreciate that.” From his perspective, the baby’s condition was stable, but if the bleeding didn’t slow down soon, she’d fall into the critical category. “I’ll stay here for a while if you have other patients to see.”

Jamal hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks. You know how weekends are. My pager has been going off a lot. I’ve done most of the troubleshooting over the phone, but there are a couple of patients I should see in person. Although none as sick as Grace.”

“Go ahead, I’ll watch Grace.” He frowned. “If she needs to go back to the OR, I’ll let you know.”

Jamal looked relieved until his pager went off again. With a sigh, the resident left the PICU, no doubt needing to check on yet another crisis.

He settled in beside Grace, debating the pros and cons of giving the baby a blood transfusion. Normally, he avoided going down that path. In his experience, kids typically recovered fairly well without them. And transfusions were not without risk; he’d seen his share of transfusion reactions. He’d had one young patient who’d nearly died after experiencing a transfusion reaction. It was a case where he’d decided at the last minute to stay in the room to watch over the patient himself. If he hadn’t? He was convinced the little boy wouldn’t have survived.

Hence why he tended to wait before ordering what some surgeons considered a routine treatment. Yet he didn’t like how pale Grace was. Or the way her vitals teetered on the verge of crashing.

He settled in to wait and watch. He’d give her another thirty minutes before making his decision. Unless her condition changed to the point he had no choice.

At times like this, he wondered why he’d become a pediatric cardiac surgeon.

This level of responsibility—holding the life of a six-month-old baby in your hands—was not for the fainthearted.

* * *

Maggie didn’t see Aaron again for the rest of Saturday night, which ironically bothered her. Not that she’d wanted to rehash the circumstances of their divorce, but the fact that he’d accused her of walking away stung.

She hadn’t seen it that way. She’d told him to move on and to have the family he deserved. He hadn’t, and now she wanted to know why.

Did he still have feelings for her?

The way she still loved him?

Sleep didn’t come easy. By Sunday morning, she would have given a lot for a giant cup of coffee. Joey was doing better, but he still woke up crying in pain when the medication wore off. She was exhausted yet relieved to see Joey was eager to try some pudding. He’d handled the Jell-O and popsicles well last night, which enabled him to move on to a full liquid diet. Hopefully by dinner time, he could try solid foods.

She’d tried to get him to eat the oatmeal, but he was not having it. Hard to argue, as oatmeal was no match for chocolate pudding.

When he was finished with his breakfast, she stood and stretched her sore muscles before setting the empty tray aside so he could color. It was nice to see him doing something other than watching Disney+. With a yawn, she blinked the exhaustion from her eyes. She’d slept on the cot in the room between rounds of holding Joey in her arms to help him drift off to sleep.

She’d always known the hospital setting wasn’t the best place to get rest. Frequent interruptions during the night prevented that. Experiencing it firsthand was a whole new level of frustration. She’d finally convinced the nurse to not wake Joey to take vital signs, but to wait until he needed more pain medication. If it wasn’t exactly every four hours, too bad. The nurse had reluctantly agreed. That one change had provided her almost three full hours of sleep.

Not great, but better than nothing.

“Where’s my mommy?” Joey’s innocent question was like a knife slicing through her heart. She’d explained this several times, but he was only four and likely couldn’t comprehend the concept of death.

“Your mommy is up in heaven with God and Jesus,” she said.

“When is she coming back?” Joey asked, glancing up from his coloring book. “I want her to come see me.”

This was the hardest thing she’d ever done, and no matter how she tried to say the words, she couldn’t soften the blow. “Your mommy can’t come back, Joey. She’s in heaven forever.”

His lower lip trembled. “I want my mommy.”

“I know, sweetie. I know.” She sat on the edge of his mattress and cuddled him close. Now that the IV tubing had been removed, he could move more freely. He wrapped his arms around her neck, holding on tight. “Your mommy loved you very much,” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything in response but buried his face against her chest. This was why she’d submitted the paperwork to become a foster parent. And why she’d uproot her life and her career to relocate here to Milwaukee if that helped her get custody of Joey.

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