Page 17 of Scooter's Endgame
His words soak into my affection-starved soul like rain falling in a parched desert. In the years I’ve known him, Beckett has always been kind to Luke and me. He’s treated me with respect, paying attention when I speak, never telling me that what I have to say is trivial or irrelevant.
The tears finally begin to slow, and he loosens his hold, stepping back. Leading me over to a bank of chairs in a quieter corner of the room, he guides me into a seat. Then he drags one around to sit in front of me. I’m not sure if it’s to protect me from curious onlookers staring or just so he can see my face. Either way, I’m grateful for the buffer he provides.
Beckett leans his elbows on his knees, then reaches for my hands. The warmth of his hands feels good against the icy-cold of mine, and the restrictive band around my chest eases a little.
Drawing a bracing breath, I repeat the words Dr. Ackhurst uttered in the treatment room. “The doctor picked up a heart murmur and an arrhythmic beat. Luke’s oxygen blood saturation was too low – he didn’t say anything about that, but I saw the reading on the oximeter. I’ve spent enough time in this hospital with his asthma to know eighty-three percent isn’t great.”
“Do they know what’s causing it?”
“No. So they’ve taken him to run some tests. The doctor wants to consult a colleague of his in pediatrics. That’s pretty much all I know right now.” My voice wobbles on the last sentence.
Beckett gently squeezes my hands. “He’s in good hands here. They’ll get it figured out.” We lapse into silence for a while until the doctor comes out briefly to talk to me.
“Ms. Pierce, I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Murray. She’s the head of pediatrics here at Riverton.”
“Hi, Dr. Murray.”
“Hello, Ms. Pierce. I’m Carolyn Murray.” She holds her hand out, and I shake it. “Dr. Ackhurst has consulted with me about Luke and, after examining him, there’s a few things I’d like to take a closer look at. So, with your permission, I’d like to do some scans and a couple other tests on him.”
There’s a buzzing in my head as I hear the words but struggle to process them. How did this happen, and how the hell am I going to pay for everything? My stomach clenches at the thought. Guilt twists my heart for even thinking it. The reality, however, is that without Jeff’s health insurance, I can’t afford this. Even with the generous salary Beckett will be paying me.
But I don’t have an option. Like with everything else in my life, I’ll have to figure it out. Luke needs the treatment. Period. It’s not his fault that his sperm donor is an asshat who abandoned us.
“Ms. Pierce?” Dr. Murray gives me a sympathetic look.
“Sorry, it’s just a lot to process, you know? Of course, you must do the necessary tests.”
“Very well then. I’ll get the ball rolling and report back as soon as I have something for you. Once Luke is done, I’ll get a nurse to come collect you so you can see him.”
“Thank you very much. Both of you,” I reply. They nod at almost the same time before leaving the same way they came.
The next few hours are a blur as we sit waiting for news. Any news. We sit side-by-side barely speaking, but just having Beckett there brings me comfort. His quiet strength keeps me calm as the people come and go, the bedlam of a busy emergency room playing out around us.
At some point, I must have dozed off because I become aware of being plastered to a warm body. For a moment, I absorb the feeling of a hard shoulder beneath my cheek; the clean smell of soap teasing my senses.
“Kay? The doctor’s here to see you,” I hear Beckett say.
Jolting upright, I’m mortified to note I’ve obviously been napping on the man’s shoulder. Oh God, I hope I did not drool on him. I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth as surreptitiously as I can, breathing a sigh of relief when it comes up dry.
“Yeah, I’m awake now.”
“Ms. Pierce,” Dr. Murray greets. “Dr. Ackhurst is attending a case in the treatment room. I’m sure he’ll be along as soon as he can. In the meantime, I wanted to talk with you about the result of the scans.”
The look on her face tells me I’m not going to like what she has to say. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. So I simply nod instead.
“Dr. Ackhurst informs me that Luke was born at twenty-eight weeks, correct?”
“Yes.” This time I manage to squeeze the word out.
“Do you know what caused the premature birth?”
“Yes, my ex-fiancé accidentally bumped me down the stairs, and the doctor said it caused the placenta to pull away from the uterus – I think the term she used was placental abruption?”
“Ah, I see.” I can’t judge what she’s thinking from her neutral response. “Were there any problems during delivery? Do you remember what his Apgar test scores were?”
“During the delivery, no. I did hemorrhage afterward, but they managed to get it under control. As for Luke’s Apgar, I don’t remember exact scores. I just remember them being unhappy with them both times. And then they rushed him off to the NICU where he stayed for a while.”
Dr. Murray scribbles notes on her pad, nodding as I speak. “Based on what you’ve told me, the results of all our testing ties in. The tests have revealed that Luke is suffering from ASD or Atrial Septal Defect.
