Page 74 of Waiting for Devon
“I couldn’t resist it. The top hit the ceiling so we had to forego an angel.”
“I noticed you kept all of our ornaments.”
Devon took a sip of her cocoa. “Not everything in our marriage was terrible, Jack. We had six good years together before it went downhill.”
“Devon, you know I’ve changed. I’m not the vain man who took the world and everything in it for granted. Living without you has made me realize what’s really important. My life, my career, all the money I could possibly make are meaningless without you, without the woman I love more than life itself. I love you, sweetheart. Please believe me. I now know what it means to say those words. I love you, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life proving it to you. I swear I will take care of you and your child if you will let me.”
Sorrow and regret filled Devon’s eyes. “Jack, I don’t know what to say. You’ve caught me off guard again.”
“I know you don’t love me anymore,” he acknowledged. “But perhaps in time, we can find our way back to each other.”
Jack leaned forward and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. She didn’t protest. Perhaps Jack was right. Perhaps with time she could learn to love him again.
Ten days before Christmas one tragedy after another besieged the doctors and nurses in the ER at SFGH. Car accident victims, gun-shot wounds by the score, attempted suicides, and a variety of illnesses and ailments kept the staff running from cubicle to cubicle.
Devon had her hands full in the pediatric unit, shouting orders as she hurried from one emergency to another. A sixteen-year-old teenager strung out on PCP created a dangerous situation. It took several nurses and the strongest orderlies to restrain him. As Devon approached the addict in order to examine and evaluate him, the boy broke free in an instant and attacked her. One hard kick to the stomach sent her flying backward, and she crashed into steel instrument trays and carts. Before she could catch her breath, severe pain shot through her midsection.
Ignoring it for the moment, she yelled for security as the teenager ran through the ER, bumping into the staff and upsetting the patients. A barrel-chested security guard caught him, and Devon jabbed him with a sedative. The boy was taken to a cubicle to await further evaluation.
When Devon felt blood trickling between her legs, she cried out for help. “Page Dr. Taylor!” she gasped. “And Dr. Warren. Hurry!” And then she fainted.
Jack’s heart dropped into his stomach when he answered his page. He rushed through the pediatric unit and found Devon lying unconscious on a gurney. Blood pooled beneath her. “What happened?” he asked Jill.
“A kid kicked her in the stomach.”
“We need an ultrasound stat!” Jack ordered.
As they wheeled Devon into an empty room, Dr. Warren joined them. After Jack brought Devon’s doctor up to date, she said, “I know you’re worried, Dr. Taylor, but you need to step back and let me do my job.”
Jill took him by the arm and maneuvered him away from Devon. “You know Dr. Warren is the best OB/GYN on staff. She’ll take good care of Devon.”
Jack allowed Jill to lead him outside the room as Dr. Warren examined Devon. He paced the corridor as he waited for news and prayed that she wouldn’t lose another baby.
When Devon awokesometime later, she found herself in a private room. Jack sat next to her and held her hand in a tight grip. “You’re awake.”
Abject fear coursed through every part of Devon’s body. “Oh, God!” she moaned as she squeezed Jack’s hand. “Oh, God, Jack! Please don’t tell me I lost the baby! Not again! Not like this! Not Reed’s child!”
“Shh.” Jack smoothed stray strands of hair from her forehead. “Don’t panic. You didn’t lose the baby.”
Devon sobbed as Dr. Warren entered the room. “Is the baby all right?” she asked through her tears.
“For now. We’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but you sustained a partial placenta abruption when you were kicked in the abdomen. It’s a miracle you didn’t miscarry.” Dr. Warren paused. “I’m not going to lie to you, Devon. You still might miscarry. In order to maximize your chances of carrying this baby to term, I’m recommending complete bedrest for the duration of your pregnancy. Any physical activity at this point could be fatal to the fetus. I’m admitting you to the hospital for the next week so I can closely monitor you. If all is well at that time, I will send you home.” She excused herself after promising to check on Devon later.
Devon’s heart burst with this solemn news. She could still lose her baby. “Jack!” she cried in pain. “I can’t lose this baby. I can’t! It’s all I have left of Reed. If I lose this baby, I’ll die, too. I swear I will!”
“Devon, you’ve got to calm down. Getting hysterical isn’t going to help. You heard what Dr. Warren said. With bedrest you can carry the child to term.”
She shook her head as tears slipped down her cheeks. “It’s too late,” she whispered as if Fate had already determined her future. “I feel it slipping away, Jack. I feel it slipping away like before.”
During the nextforty-eight hours, Devon fell into such a deep depression that Jack could not convince her she was healing. She turned her face toward the wall and refused to listen to him. Concerned by the fact she had given up, certain she was going to miscarry, Jack took matters into his own hands. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Even if it meant sacrificing his own desire to be the man Devon needed and wanted.
Jack took the first available flight out of San Francisco and landed in Dallas a few hours later. He hired a taxi to drive him to the Barringtons’ homestead, and when he inquired from Mrs. Peters where he might find Reed, the housekeeper directed him toward the stable.
Reed was grooming a magnificent horse. When he glanced toward his visitor, first surprise then annoyance glittered in his eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’re doing here,” he said in a voice crisp with dislike.
“No, I don’t suppose you can.” Jack’s tone equaled Reed’s.
“Cut to the chase. I have work to do.”
