rolled down her daughter’s flushed cheeks and she fought the tightness in her own throat.
“Your mom will be right back, kiddo. And I bet the two of you will share a brownie.” Samantha eased in next to Emma. “I’ll stay with you until she gets back.”
Jamie nodded, her eyes closing as Samantha trailed fingers through her hair. Emma stepped into the hall where Dr. Jacobs waited. The elevators at the end of the hall opened. Her grandfather stepped out and headed her way. Daron McKay followed. The fear that had cascaded over her gave way to relief. The tears she’d fought fell free and she sobbed.
“Let’s take a walk.” Dr. Jacobs inclined his head, directing her away from Jamie’s room.
Her grandfather, his hand bandaged from the cut she’d been called about, and Daron, fell in next to her. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. Now she wasn’t. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks and she swiped at them with her hand until her grandfather handed her a clean, white handkerchief from his pocket.
Dr. Jacobs led them to a conference room with a table, bright fluorescent lights and molded plastic chairs. “It isn’t comfortable, but there’s more room if we’re going to have several of us. Unless you’d prefer just the two of us having this conversation?”
“No, of course not.” Her gaze skimmed past her granddad to Daron, standing in the doorway, his cowboy hat in his hands as he waited. “They can join us.”
Dr. Jacobs motioned them all to the table. “Let’s have a seat.”
She sat down, the chair scraping on the tile floor. Daron sat at the end of the table, several chairs away. Her grandfather sat next to her. He put his arm around her, giving her a light squeeze. The gesture was as familiar as her own reflection in the mirror. From the very beginning, that had been his way of comforting a lost and hurting girl. She was a woman now, and sometimes felt responsible for him, but he was still her strength.
Dr. Jacobs sat across from them. He was youngish, with dark hair and dark eyes, the smooth planes of his face covered in five o’clock shadow. Yes, he was older than her twenty-eight years. But he was still too young.
“Isn’t Dr. Jackson in today?” she asked.
Dr. Jacobs smiled, because of course she’d made it obvious that she was worried. “Not today, but don’t worry. I’m smarter than I look.”
“I’m sorry,” she started to apologize, and he stopped her.
“Don’t be. I know I look young. I also know that your daughter is the most important person in your life and you want only the best for her. I’m the best. I wouldn’t be here if Dr. Jackson didn’t think that I was qualified for the position. So let’s figure out what we need to do for your daughter.”
“Okay.” She met his steady gaze. “What do we do?”
He glanced over the file in his hands. “We start with an echocardiogram. I’m worried about the ventricular septal defect, but I also think she has pneumonia. We’ll do blood tests, start her on IV antibiotics and get her hydrated.”
He listed it off, as if it were a shopping list. But it was her daughter. It was Jamie’s heart. It was her life.
“She’ll be okay,” Emma heard herself say. Not a question. A statement of faith. God hadn’t gotten them this far to let them down.
“She’ll be great. I think she should stay in the hospital for a few days. And I also think we need to take a careful look at her heart because it might be time to repair the VSD.”
“Open-heart surgery?” For years she’d dreaded those words.
“I hope not. We have options other than open heart. I’m an optimist.” Dr. Jacobs gave her a steady look. “I’m also a man of faith. We’ll do everything we can. And when we’ve done all we can, we stand on faith.”
She nodded, closing her eyes against the fear, the hope, the onslaught of emotions that swept over her. A chair scraped. A hand settled on her shoulder. Without looking she knew that it was Daron. That he was there, standing behind her, the way he’d been doing since he got back from Afghanistan. It was guilt that kept him in her life. But today she didn’t mind. Today his presence felt a lot like friendship and she wasn’t going to turn that down.
Somehow she would get through this. Jamie would be okay. They would have the surgery, and she would be healthy. But it was good to have people to depend on.
“When will the surgery take place?” Daron asked, his voice deep, strong.
“I think sometime after Christmas. I want to know that she’s strong enough before we send her down to Austin.”
“Austin?” Emma asked, the reality of what he’d said hitting home.
Dr. Jacobs leaned a bit, making eye contact. “I’d love to tell you we could do the surgery here, but we can’t. We’ll contact specialists and she’ll have the best of care.”
“But you do believe we can wait until after Christmas?” Daron asked, his use of the pronoun we not lost on her.
“Yes, I think so. Unless there’s a change, she isn’t in any immediate danger. For now our main concern is this infection.” Dr. Jacobs cleared his throat. “I know this is a lot to take in. What we want right now is for Jamie to rest, and for Mom to not worry.”
“I think we can make sure that happens,” Granddad said, patting Emma’s hand.
“And we’ll do our best, as well,” Dr. Jacobs responded.
“Can I go back to her now?” Emma needed to see her daughter. She needed to hug her and to reassure herself that Jamie was okay.
“Yes. I ordered the blood test. We’ll give her a little time to relax and then we’ll take her down for the echocardiogram.” Dr. Jacobs stood, the file in his capable hands. He handed her several printed copies. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Emma looked down at the files in her hands, the words swimming as she blinked away tears. Ugh, she didn’t want to cry. No more tears.
The doctor left, the door closing behind him.
Her grandfather steepled his hands on the table and cleared his throat. “I reckon you ought to tell Andy’s parents about their granddaughter.”
“I’m not going to call them. They don’t want anything to do with her.”
“They might want to know about this,” her granddad pushed in his quiet way. “Em, she is their granddaughter.”
“No, she isn’t. She’s your granddaughter. There’s more to grandparenting than a title and DNA. I’m not going to call them.”
“Forgive—” her grandfather started.
“I will forgive,” she conceded in a softer tone. “But I’m not through being angry.”
She pushed back, the chair hitting Daron. She’d forgotten he was behind her. He grunted and rubbed his knee.
“I’m
