Read His Bundle of Love / the Color of Courage for Free Online Page A
Authors: Patricia Davids
goodbye and she hated knowing that he was going away. She felt safe when he was near.
Something soft and warm touched her cheek gently. The fog grew light and pale around her. She opened her eyes and the image of a man with deep auburn hair and a kind face swam into focus for an instant, then the fog closed over her again.
“She opened her eyes!” Excited, Mick stared at Caitlin and prayed he hadn’t imagined it.
“What did you say?” The nurse, who’d just entered the room, looked at him in surprise.
“She opened her eyes! She looked at me.”
It’d been five days since Caitlin had slipped into a coma, and for the last two days Mick had divided his waking hours between sitting with Beth, whose condition was slowly worsening, and sitting with Caitlin. This was the first sign of any spontaneous movement from her.
“Caitlin, open your eyes,” the nurse coaxed. Nothing.
Mick leaned close to Caitlin’s ear. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. I know you’re in there. Give me a sign.”
Again nothing. The nurse pinched the skin on the back of Caitlin’s hand, then lifted her eyelid. Turning to him the nurse asked, “What were you doing when she moved?”
A flush heated Mick’s face. “I was getting ready to leave, and I kissed her cheek,” he admitted, feeling foolish.
Giving him a sad smile, the nurse touched his arm. “Sometimes we see the things we want to see, even if they’re not really there. How is her baby doing?”
Mick glanced at Caitlin’s still form and motioned with his head. The nurse followed him from the room. Once outside, he raked a hand through his hair and said, “Beth isn’t good. Her heart hasn’t responded to the medication they’ve given her. It looks like she’ll need surgery.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you Mr. O’Callaghan?” Mick turned to see an overweight man with thin gray hair standing in the hall. His ill-fitting, dark blue jacket hung open displaying a wrinkled white shirt stained with a dribble of coffee. He held a scuffed black briefcase in one hand.
“Yes, I’m O’Callaghan,” Mick answered.
“I’m glad I finally caught up with you. I’m Lloyd Winston, the social worker for the NICU.”
“What can I do for you?”
Mr. Winston glanced at the nurse, then said, “Why don’t you come to my office. We can speak in private there.”
Mick held out a hand. “Lead the way.”
* * *
“Have you got a minute to help me change this bed?”
“Sure.”
Caitlin heard voices clearly this time—they were right beside her. Cool hands touched her body. She struggled to open her eyes, and for a moment, the blurred forms of two women came into view. Abruptly, they pulled her onto her side, and the movement sent waves of dizziness and pain crashing through her.
“Isn’t she the saddest case?”
“No kidding.”
“I heard the baby might not make it.”
“I heard that, too. Hand me the lotion.”
One of them smeared cold liquid across Caitlin’s back. Were they talking about her baby? She fought to concentrate.
“My cousin had a little boy that was born prematurely. He’s five now, but he’s blind and deaf. She feeds him through a tube in his stomach, and he takes round-the-clock care.”
“That’s awful.”
“It’s awful to see my cousin tied her whole life to a child who’s so damaged that he can’t even smile at her. At five, he’s hard to move and lift to change his diapers. Think what it’s going to be like when he’s twenty-five.”
My baby’s not damaged. She’s perfect. Caitlin wanted to shout at them. She wanted to cover her ears with her hands, but her arms were deadweights.
From the moment she suspected she was pregnant, she had wanted a little girl. Her daughter was going to grow up to run and laugh and give her mother a dozen hugs a day. They would have each other forever. Caitlin would never leave her baby hungry, or hurting, or scared and alone in the dark the way she had been treated as a child.
Without
Something soft and warm touched her cheek gently. The fog grew light and pale around her. She opened her eyes and the image of a man with deep auburn hair and a kind face swam into focus for an instant, then the fog closed over her again.
“She opened her eyes!” Excited, Mick stared at Caitlin and prayed he hadn’t imagined it.
“What did you say?” The nurse, who’d just entered the room, looked at him in surprise.
“She opened her eyes! She looked at me.”
It’d been five days since Caitlin had slipped into a coma, and for the last two days Mick had divided his waking hours between sitting with Beth, whose condition was slowly worsening, and sitting with Caitlin. This was the first sign of any spontaneous movement from her.
“Caitlin, open your eyes,” the nurse coaxed. Nothing.
Mick leaned close to Caitlin’s ear. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. I know you’re in there. Give me a sign.”
Again nothing. The nurse pinched the skin on the back of Caitlin’s hand, then lifted her eyelid. Turning to him the nurse asked, “What were you doing when she moved?”
A flush heated Mick’s face. “I was getting ready to leave, and I kissed her cheek,” he admitted, feeling foolish.
Giving him a sad smile, the nurse touched his arm. “Sometimes we see the things we want to see, even if they’re not really there. How is her baby doing?”
Mick glanced at Caitlin’s still form and motioned with his head. The nurse followed him from the room. Once outside, he raked a hand through his hair and said, “Beth isn’t good. Her heart hasn’t responded to the medication they’ve given her. It looks like she’ll need surgery.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you Mr. O’Callaghan?” Mick turned to see an overweight man with thin gray hair standing in the hall. His ill-fitting, dark blue jacket hung open displaying a wrinkled white shirt stained with a dribble of coffee. He held a scuffed black briefcase in one hand.
“Yes, I’m O’Callaghan,” Mick answered.
“I’m glad I finally caught up with you. I’m Lloyd Winston, the social worker for the NICU.”
“What can I do for you?”
Mr. Winston glanced at the nurse, then said, “Why don’t you come to my office. We can speak in private there.”
Mick held out a hand. “Lead the way.”
* * *
“Have you got a minute to help me change this bed?”
“Sure.”
Caitlin heard voices clearly this time—they were right beside her. Cool hands touched her body. She struggled to open her eyes, and for a moment, the blurred forms of two women came into view. Abruptly, they pulled her onto her side, and the movement sent waves of dizziness and pain crashing through her.
“Isn’t she the saddest case?”
“No kidding.”
“I heard the baby might not make it.”
“I heard that, too. Hand me the lotion.”
One of them smeared cold liquid across Caitlin’s back. Were they talking about her baby? She fought to concentrate.
“My cousin had a little boy that was born prematurely. He’s five now, but he’s blind and deaf. She feeds him through a tube in his stomach, and he takes round-the-clock care.”
“That’s awful.”
“It’s awful to see my cousin tied her whole life to a child who’s so damaged that he can’t even smile at her. At five, he’s hard to move and lift to change his diapers. Think what it’s going to be like when he’s twenty-five.”
My baby’s not damaged. She’s perfect. Caitlin wanted to shout at them. She wanted to cover her ears with her hands, but her arms were deadweights.
From the moment she suspected she was pregnant, she had wanted a little girl. Her daughter was going to grow up to run and laugh and give her mother a dozen hugs a day. They would have each other forever. Caitlin would never leave her baby hungry, or hurting, or scared and alone in the dark the way she had been treated as a child.
Without