maybe waiting anxiously through Lacy’s long and tedious heart-lung transplant, was to step aside while they wheeled her out of the room. Even though Faith heartily disliked clingy relatives who impeded the progress of staff readying a patient for surgery, she doggedly kept pace with the squeaky cart. At the elevator, she elbowed aside a technician and kissed Lacy’s cheek.
Weighted eyelids slowly opened. Oxygen tubes from a portable tank pinched Lacy’s nose. IVs ran in both arms. “Take c-care of my b-baby. L…li-like you did me.” The dark pupils of her eyes swallowed all but a narrow ring of blue. It took every ounce of her energy to breathe. Still, she reached feebly for Faith’s hand.
Faith closed the icy fingers between her palms. “We’ll take care of your baby together.” Hardly aware that the elevator door had slid open and someone on the team had roughly disengaged their hands, Faith’s wavering promise bounced off a rapidly closing door. “You fight, Lacy. Hang in there,” she cried in a fractured voice.
THE WAIT SEEMED INTERMINABLE. At about five in the morning, Faith walked to the phone to call her father, just to hear his voice. He and she were all that was left of Lacy’s family. But Dwight Hyatt had escaped into a dreamworld when his beloved wife died. Though only fifty-six, he resided in an assisted-living facility. He played checkers with other residents, watched TV and occasionally went on supervised outings. He recognized Faith at her weekly visits, but he rarely asked about Lacy unless prompted. More times than not, he didn’t know Faith when she telephoned.
Fighting a sense of disorientation, Faith did as Dr. Finegold ordered. She prayed—until she ran out of words and tears. Three hours had passed when she wandered over to the waiting room coffeepot and poured a third cup of sludge. Through the window, she noticed that pale golden threads had begun to erase a solemn gray dawn. The promise of a sunny day lifted Faith’s spirits and gave her hope, the first she’d had throughout her long, lonely vigil.
Muffled footsteps intruded on her optimistic moment. Glancing up, she experienced another rush of relief at seeing Dr. Finegold striding toward her. He untied his mask and dropped it wearily as he drew closer, still wearing full blue scrubs. The cup of muddy coffee slipped from Faith’s fingers and splashed across her feet.
Even at a distance, she recognized the look on Fine-gold’s face. “No, no, no!” The scalding coffee seeped through her socks, but Faith felt nothing until a crushing pain descended and great, gulping sobs racked her body. She stumbled and fell heavily into the nearest chair. She wasn’t aware that tears obscured her view of the approaching man or that they dripped off her cheeks when she stared mutely up at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said brokenly. “We did everything we could. Her heart and lungs had been overtaxed for too long. Without anti-rejection drugs…” The doctor shut his eyes and massaged the closed lids. “God, I’m sorry,” he repeated, as he continued to loom over Faith’s shuddering frame. “This part never gets easier,” he said quietly, shifting from one foot to the other.
“And the baby?” she finally asked in a wooden voice.
“Babies,” he corrected, pulling out an adjacent chair and sinking into it. “A boy and a girl. Both under-weight, but scrappy as hell. My best guess is that your sister was seven to eight months along. The male baby weighed in at four-two. The female, an even four. I put in a call to Hal Sampson. If you want a different pediatrician, I’ll cancel him.”
“Two?” Hysteria tinged Faith’s tearful voice. “Twins?”
“Yeah. None of us were prepared. With no history, we were flying by the seat of our pants.” Leaning forward, the doctor clasped his hands between his knees. “You’ve got a lot to deal with. I suggest visiting your niece and nephew before you tackle the unpleasant chores that face you. I think they’ll give you the will to do what needs to be done.” He stood then, and gripped her shoulder briefly. “Well, I have to go complete the paperwork.”
“I, uh, thanks for all you did.” Dazed, Faith rose. Automatically blotting her eyes, she stood and held on to a chair back. Order and organization had always been her greatest strengths. Dependability ran a close second. In an isolated portion of her brain, Faith knew she could get through this ordeal by focusing on one task at a time.
Task one: Mop up the coffee she’d spilled.
Task two: Welcome Lacy’s babies into this harsh, cruel world.
Task three: See her sister properly laid to rest.
Only after she’d done those things would Faith allow herself to think about the future. Struggling with a fresh surge of tears, she groped in her pockets for a tissue to wipe up the coffee. In doing so, she encountered her copy of the custody agreement. In sad hindsight, Lacy’s urgency became all too clear. Lacy must have sensed how badly off she was if she’d had custody papers prepared. Oh, why couldn’t she have had the care to preserve her own health?
She hadn’t. And Faith had promised to be the babies’ guardian. She would do a good job of it, even if right now her loss seemed too great to bear.
Once she’d mopped up the spill—but before she notified the mortuary who’d handled her mother’s funeral—Faith took Dr. Finegold’s suggestion. She made her way to the nursery. With her first glance into the isolettes, she lost her heart to these two tiny scraps of humanity. The baby swaddled in blue screwed up his red face and bellowed, letting the world know he was a force to be reckoned with. His sister pursed a rosebud mouth and slept on, the barest hint of a sigh raising her chest.
A pediatric nurse placed a bolstering hand on Faith’s shoulder. “I’ll get you a mask, gown and gloves if you’d like to hold them.”
“May I?” Faith’s heart fluttered with both joy and sorrow. Joy for herself. Sorrow for the sister who’d never comfort these little ones with her touch.
She made an effort to curb her sadness and concentrated on counting the babies’ fingers and toes. “Oh, aren’t you sweethearts? It takes both of you together to weigh what your mama did at birth.” Lacy had been a solid eight pounds. Faith rocked them and talked on in a low murmur, determined that they should start life hearing about the good, fun-loving side of their mother. “Your mama loved you,” she whispered. “She gave up her own life for you. I’m going to make sure I bring you up the way she would have wanted….”
Soon after, Faith fed both babies with special tubes the nurses prepared, tubes designed to teach the babies to suck properly.
By staying, rocking the dear little bodies and holding them close, Faith was able to delay dealing with her loss. Dr. Finegold was right, she decided, staring at the babies who were now curled up, sleeping peacefully.
Lacy’s twins gave her the strength to go on. To take the next step, complete the next task.
CHAPTER TWO
THE TELEPHONE WAS RINGING when Faith walked into her apartment the next afternoon. She’d spent most of the morning attending to the numerous details associated with Lacy’s funeral. The cloying scent of funeral-home flowers remained in her nostrils. Although she’d walked home in the late-summer sunshine, she still couldn’t warm up.
Physically and mentally drained, Faith considered letting her machine take a message. The red light already blinked, so there were others. News traveled fast in a hospital. It was probably someone from the staff wanting to express condolences. But what if it was the funeral home? The director had said he’d be in touch if any problem arose. Maybe she’d neglected something
