Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

Skye

A t the hospital, we head to the waiting room while Maddie undergoes emergency treatment. Both of us begged the paramedics to let us be with her, but they absolutely refused. Against hospital rules and regulations.

Finn ushers me to a couch, a hand splayed on the small of my back. The familiar touch of him sends a rush of pinpricks across my skin, the small affectionate gesture a painful reminder of the past. It's how he always treated me, gallantly and protectively. I take a seat on the tweed couch, thinking he'll sit on one of the armchairs. Instead, he sits down next to me, so close our knees touch. The warmth of his body radiates, heating my chilled bones. I let him take my hand in his, resting our twined fingers on his muscular thigh. On my lap is Kangy. With my other hand, I stroke the stuffed animal's soft fur and say nothing. My emotions are in a jumble. Sneaking a peek at my companion, I try to read his mind. His face is strained, full of tension like the air between us.

"Thanks for being here for me," he finally says.

"Of course." My voice is as soft as a prayer.

"I don't know what set her off. I try so hard to keep her environment controlled. I even moved to the beach so she wouldn't have to deal with pollution and pollen. And switched from oil paints to acrylics which aren't so toxic. Her quick relief medicine should have worked. I don't know what happened. Maybe I'm not doing enough."

The love this man has for our child makes my heart want to burst. So does the guilt he harbors inside.

"It's a freak thing," I tell him. "She's going to be okay."

"God, I hope so. I would give my life for her."

I would too.

"I love her more than life itself."

I do too. I fight back tears.

When a doctor walks into the waiting room, I'm spared. Both of us jump up from the couch, our fingers still laced. My free hand clutches Kangy.

"How is she?" blurts out Finn.

The doctor, an attractive Black woman in her mid-thirties, smiles. "Mr. and Mrs. Jackson..."

Not correcting her faux pas because it happens to be the truth, I hold my breath and let her continue.

"I am happy to tell you that your daughter is doing just fine."

Finn squeezes my hand and blows out a breath. "Thank God."

"Thank goodness," I echo, relief flooding every cell of my body.

The doctor goes on. "She's a fighter. And quite the feisty one."

Smiles blooming on our faces, we both let out a little laugh to release our tension.

"That's so true," injects Finn.

Maddie is not only my spitting image, but in spirit as well. In every way, we are mother like daughter. "Can we see her?"

"Yes, of course. She wants to see you both."

Both of us. My heart is again melting like chocolate.

The smiling doctor adjusts the stethoscope around her neck. "Please don't be alarmed. She's hooked up to a multitude of monitors as well as an IV, and she's got a breathing tube up her nose. But honestly, she's fine."

A few moments later we're at the entrance to Maddie's room, still hand in hand. While the doctor prepared us for the sight of her, I'm thrown off balance when I see her little body attached to all the wires and monitors. The nose tube particularly upsets me. But thank God other than these gizmos, she looks perfectly fine. Her color back, she breaks into a smile as we set foot in the small sterile room. I'm still holding Kangy though she's hidden behind my back.

"Scarlet! Daddy!" Even her voice is bright and strong.

Finn sprints up to her, and since I'm still linked to him, so do I.

"Hi, sunshine!" Smiling, he plants a kiss on her forehead. "You gave us a scare!"

Us.

"Yeah, Daddy, that was scary."

"It sure was," I chime in. "I brought you someone special." In a sweeping abracadabra move, I bring my right hand forward and hold up the worn, little kangaroo.

My sweet little girl's eyes light up. "Yay! Kangy!"

I hand over her favorite toy.

She hugs the fuzzy animal to her chest. Her joy brings a smile to my face. My heart is overflowing with happiness when a nurse walks into the room.

"I'm afraid visiting hours are over. The doctor wants your daughter to stay overnight for observation."

"What does obserbation mean?" asks Maddie, having difficulty pronouncing the word.

"It means that your doctor wants you to sleep here tonight so all the people in the hospital can watch over you and make sure you don't have another asthma attack."

"Can we stay with her?" asks Finn.

"I'm afraid not. There was a food poisoning outbreak at a local restaurant, and we're short on extra beds and loungers. However, there's a small hotel down the street that might be able to accommodate you."

Fifteen minutes later, we're at the hotel. There's only one room available. And we're sharing it.