“She might have a heart problem, her organs might not be fully developed,” I say out loud, ordering all the tests she needs.
“We should concentrate on the boys. They have a better chance,” Billie suggests.
I glare at her. “Get the machines, now. Get the OR ready. You took an oath to save lives, and even if there’s little hope, we’ll make this happen. She’s not dying.”
Billie scrambles and begins to throw orders around. I step close to the tiny little baby and squat. I put my hand through the hole in the incubator and touch her tiny hand. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. I’m here to take care of you.”
I feel an arm on my shoulder. “Sorry.”
“She’s going to be okay,” I mumble. “Keep pumping that, please. Don’t stop.”
I beg him as if my own life depends on what he’s doing. We can’t lose this little ray of sunshine. We won’t lose her.
When I turn around, I see Cory next to a crib talking with one of the boys. Rys is with my other son.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” I mumble, trying to understand how I’m just finding out I was going to be a father.
Rys looks down at one of the boys, avoiding my gaze. So she definitely knew about it. Cory is the one who answers, “She tried calling you several times.”
“You knew?” I glare at her. “You two knew and didn’t tell me. What the fuck?”
I turn to look at Lysander, who shrugs and shakes his head. “This is the first time I’m learning about my niece and nephews, but I don’t condemn Atzi’s or our sister’s actions. You’ve had your head shoved inside your ass for months—if not years.”
“Don’t come and act like we offended you. If you recall, you took off and abandoned everyone. You didn’t give a shit about any of us.” Cory mumbles the last words.
“But she could’ve told me,” I insist.
“Did you ever answer her calls?” she asks with defiance in her gaze.
“No, because I wasn’t ready.”
Lysander tsks. “If you keep waiting to be ready for life, you’re screwed, little brother.”
“If I had been—”
“Shut up, and don’t start thinking about things you could’ve done to fix your past. It’s over, move on and stop making so many fucking mistakes,” he says.
He’s right. I’ve had this conversation with my therapist for months. Learn from my fuckups and move forward.
Since I need to keep my head straight, I focus on the boys’ charts. One is bigger than the other by a few ounces and a third of an inch. We need their prenatal history. I ask Cory if she knows about her doctor. She leaves the NICU to ask Cécile for the doctor’s number.
I held each of my boys for a few minutes, promising they’ll be fine—and so will their mom and sister. I know how to keep that promise, but I have no idea how to create a future for all of us. I broke everything.
Can I make that happen?
Chapter Forty
Heath
Not surprisingly, my little girl has tetralogy of Fallot. My guess is that Atzi’s womb was too small, and the technician didn’t take the time to look into her organs to make sure all of them were working properly. I’m relieved that just last week, I operated on a pregnant woman to correct the congenital defect of her son. He’ll be able to grow up without any issues.
Operating on someone so small is hard, but I want to believe I have the experience. So far, I haven’t breathed a word that this is my child. Technically and ethically, I’m not allowed near the OR. However, the only people I would trust with this surgery are six hours away.
“Their mom is out of surgery,” Billie says as they’re getting the OR ready for my little girl.
“Do you know how she’s doing?”
“She’s in the ICU in critical condition.”
“That can mean anything,” I growl.
“I feel like you’re too close to this case, Dr. Spearman. Are you sure you should be operating on the baby?”
No, and I’ll probably lose my license after this, but I don’t see any other option.
“Is there anyone else in the hospital or the Bay Area who’ll do it?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“There’s your answer.”
“But their mother is your friend,” she states.
She’s much more than my friend, but I won’t be telling her that. I’m thankful no one paid attention to my earlier conversation with Cory and Lysander, or Billie would have me suspended.
At that moment, Ben enters the room.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. He’s showered, changed, and even looks ready to start a shift.
“I’d like to ask the same question. Cory mentioned something somewhat disturbing. Would you like to explain what the fuck you’re thinking?”
Billie frowns. I move him away from her and quietly I explain to him what’s happening. He shakes his head, giving me a disapproving glare.
“I have to do it.”
“No. You won’t lose your license because you’re a stubborn ass. I’ll do it,” he says.
“You’ve never performed a surgery of this magnitude.”
“I agree, but even though you can’t operate, you’re allowed to supervise the procedure,” he says. “You’re a great teacher.”
“You’re not learning on my baby.”
“You could lose your license if you do it.”
“But I have to save her.”
“And we will. Do you trust me?”
He’s a great doctor. The only reason he’s slowing down his career and changing gears is because of Bernie. Bernie who’s been able to spend the last six months with her father. The little girl who coos when I read to her and loves to go out for walks.
If I want to do the same with my baby, I have to trust him and myself. We’re a great team and we can make this happen.
“Okay,” I sigh.
“Good, then check on Atzi while I scrub in. Once you’re done with her, come over so you can guide me.”
Everything sounds perfect, until I remember a huge inconvenience. “You don’t have permission to operate in this hospital.”
He grins. “That’s the beauty about knowing Derek. He got it for us—you didn’t have it either, asshole.”
I sigh with relief, but then I have to ask. “What does your brother do again?”
Ben shrugs. “It’s a ‘don’t ask, just go with the flow’ kind of situation.”
Don’t I know that. For years, I’ve been patching people he brings to the ER. I can’t ask questions, and even if I do, Derek Farrow doesn’t breathe a word about it.
Ben squeezes my shoulder. “Let me hurry so I can see Atzi before the surgery.”
When I get to the ICU, I spot Dr. Schneider and sigh with relief. He’s one of the best trauma surgeons in the city and one of my mentors.
“How is she?” I dare to ask.
“If I had known you were around, I would’ve asked you to scrub in with me.”
I shrug and ask again, “How is she?”