Chapter 192
Claire drifted slowly into
wakefulness, and as she became aware of her surroundings, her thoughts came one
by one.
I’m in France… in Jenn’s apartment… on Jenn’s couch. My head hurts… ugh… what’s wrong with
me? Oh yeah… went out drinking last
night. Drank a lot. No wonder.
I’m hungover. Why’d I do
that? Oh yeah… Nick. Nick…
Nick’s in Germany.
Munich. He’s performing there
tonight. And I’m going to be there.
She sat up, ignoring the fact that her
head was killing her and the morning light was too bright. She couldn’t remember everything that had
happened last night – not after a certain point, anyway – but she remembered
most of the conversation that had led to that decision.
“Look,” Jenn had said, on
the sidewalk outside the club, “You just
have to go after him again and find him.
He’s going to Munich? Then you go
to Munich. Track him down and talk to
the guy. You’ve already chased him to
Europe – why turn around now and go back home?
You’re already here. You might never
get this chance again. You gotta make it
count, girl.”
In the fog of booze, it had made
perfect sense. It hadn’t worked out in
Paris, so she had to go to Munich and catch him there. She couldn’t leave Europe until she’d made
things right.
They’d toasted and drank to that
decision… then drank some more. Claire
was regretting it now, now that it was morning and she had to get up and think
about how she was going to get to Munich and how she was going to find Nick
once she got there. She had no plan… but
at the moment, she was unconcerned. Who
needed a plan? She hadn’t had a plan
when she’d hopped on a plane to come here either, and that had worked out…
okay, not so well. But she’d learned
from her mistakes. This time, it would
go better. It had to. As Jenn said, this was her last shot.
Her head was pounding, so she lay back
down on the couch and closed her eyes.
She could think better this way. Think… think… Nick’s face swam in her mind.
And then it was Jenn’s face that was
coming into focus, saying, “Claire… Claire…”
Claire jerked awake, realizing she had
let herself doze off again. “I’m up,”
she mumbled groggily, lifting her head from the throw pillow she’d slept on.
“Claire, it’s your mom. On the phone,” Jenn added, and as she thrust
a cordless phone at Claire, it finally clicked.
The phone. Her mom was on the phone? She gave Jenn a confused look, and Jenn
pushed the phone into her hand. “Take
it; it’s important.”
Claire was still too out of it to read
the sharp look in her friend’s green eyes, but when she raised the phone to her
ear and murmured a sleepy hello, the urgency in her mother’s voice snapped her
into alertness. “Claire, thank God. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get a hold of
you. Your cell phone just goes straight
to your voicemail.”
“Yeah, it’s out of range. What’s going on?” she asked, instinctively
aware that something was wrong. She
hadn’t actually spoken with her mother since leaving in the middle of the
night, but she had made sure her parents would know where she had gone. She’d left a note. Ironic, she’d thought it at the time, for she
had written a note when she’d left Nick, and now, she had written one before
she left to get him back. Maybe it
wasn’t the best way to go about such things, but in her haste, it was easier
than trying to explain herself in person, knowing she’d never be able to.
Her parents knew vaguely where she
was, and she’d only been gone a couple of days, so it couldn’t be able
that. Immediately, her mind jumped to
the twins. “Are Cait and Lainey o-”
“They’re here with me,” her mom cut
her off, her voice short and tense.
“We’re at the hospital.”
In Claire’s mind, this confirmed her
fear that something bad had happened to one of her daughters, and her blood ran
cold. But before she could find her
voice to ask, her mother spoke again.
“It’s your father.”
***
Her plans to take a late morning train
to Munich were immediately thrown aside, as Claire headed straight for Charles
de Gaulle Airport instead.
All through the seven-hour flight back
to the States, she mentally abused herself for all the bad decisions that had
gotten her here, thirty-six thousand feet in the air and thousands of miles
away from both Nick and her
family. It was the worst possible place
to be at that moment. All she could do
was gaze out at the endless clouds and think, wondering and worrying about what
was happening at home.
It was another heart attack, her
mother’s tearful voice had crackled over the phone. More severe than the last. Her father’s heart had actually stopped in
the emergency room. Cardiac arrest. Through the grace of God, the doctors had
managed to resuscitate him. Now he was
undergoing bypass surgery, the last resort treatment they had managed to avoid
the last time.
Claire eyed the air phone tucked
neatly into the back of the seat in front of her. She wondered if her dad was still in
surgery. The realization that she was so
far away and had no idea what was going on at the hospital terrified her. She kept thinking of Jamie and his father,
who had been sent to the OR for the same procedure and died hours later. A tear slipped down her cheek, mirroring the
beads of moisture that clung to the outside of her window. That couldn’t be her dad. It couldn’t happen… it wasn’t his time yet. His granddaughters barely knew him…
She felt sick to her stomach, both
from the fear and the homesickness. More
than anything, she wished she were by her father’s side right at that moment,
holding his hand… or holding her daughters.
This was the longest she’d been away from them since they were in the
NICU. How thoughtless she had been, to
leave them all like that.
She clutched the flimsy airplane
pillow she had been given, wishing it was the warm little body of Caitlin or
Delaine, and thought to herself, I’ll
never leave you again…
***
Her carry-on bag smacking against her
side in perfect cadence, Claire jogged through the hospital halls. She turned her head right and left, keeping
her eyes peeled for anyone she knew inside the various waiting areas. When she saw a flash of red hair, she skidded
to a stop and ducked into a room with a TV, magazine rack, couch, and
chairs. Typical hospital waiting
room. She’d spent too much time in
these, though she knew the person in front of her had spent even more.
“Hey, there you are…” he said when he
noticed her, standing up to look her over.
Claire dropped her bag and rushed into
her brother’s arms. “How’s Dad?” she
asked breathlessly.
Kyle released her. “He’s out of surgery. The doc said it went well; they cleared out
the blockage. He’s in recovery; Mom’s
with him.”
Claire nodded, weak with relief. Now that her adrenaline had stopped pumping,
she suddenly realized how exhausted she was and sunk wearily into the chair
beside Kyle. “Where are Cait and
Lainey?”
“Amber’s got them and Kamden back at
the house. She can watch them until
you’re ready to take them.”
“Thanks,” Claire murmured. “I want to see Dad, and then I’ll go pick
them up. I miss them.”
“I’ll bet,” said Kyle, though he gave
her a strange look, and there was a definite tone in his voice. “So… what happened with Nick? Was it worth the trip?”
Claire felt the pressure build in her
temples as the emotion welled up again, making her headache worse. She should have known that even in the midst
of a family crisis, she wouldn’t get out of explaining herself.
“No,” she said shortly, “it was a huge
mistake. I don’t really wanna talk about
it now, though, if that’s okay. I just
wanna check on Dad, go home, and see my girls.”
“Glad to hear it,” replied Kyle, and
he left her alone. She got the
impression that no one was very happy with her for taking off the way she had,
but she supposed she couldn’t blame them.
She was glad to drop the issue for now.
They sat in an awkward silence for
awhile, until Kyle finally said, “Well… maybe you should go find Mom and let
her know you’re here. Then you can pop
in on Dad.”
“Okay,” said Claire, eager to get out
of that room. Kyle told her how to get
to the recovery room, though the directions were worthless because she forgot
half of them once she was out of the waiting room. Her short term memory sucked these days. She asked a passing nurse which way to go,
and the nurse escorted her all the way to a set of doors marked Recovery.
She walked through the doors into the
dimly-lit room, altogether eerie with its rows of motionless patients on
gurneys adorned with monitors that beeped and flashed. And as she did, she was hit with an
overwhelming sensation of déjà vu. She
had been here before, in this very recovery room, not for her father, but
Nick. It was here that she had stood
next to his bed and held his hand, wishing silent thanks to God for bringing
him through the delicate lung surgery that could have killed him.
She touched his hand; it was like ice. Feeling a surge of nurturing love for him,
she picked his hand up and wrapped hers around it, trying to warm it. “God, it feels so good just to hold his hand
again. I was so scared…” she whispered.
Across the bed, Brian gave her a grim smile and a nod. “We all were.
I still am. It’s so hard to see
him like this. I mean, to think not even
two days ago, he was on stage, singing his heart out. And now…”
He trailed off.
A shiver ran through Claire as she pictured Nick collapsing back
stage, only minutes after the show had ended.
He’d coughed up blood, they had told her. She couldn’t imagine how terrifying it must
have been, for the guys and especially for Nick himself. He must have known that something was wrong,
but no one had realized how bad it was.
“I know. Isn’t it scary to
think how quickly your whole life can change?
All it takes is a few seconds… a few words… and suddenly, everything’s
different.”
This she knew from experience.
“Don’t I know it,” said Brian, and she remembered that he’d had
the experience too.
They fell into a silence, albeit not an awkward one. Claire was content to just stand there and
drink in the sight of Nick. In a way, it
was an alarming sight; he was ghost pale, with dark circles under his eyes from
the strain of the surgery, and the hose of a ventilator taped to his
cheeks. Tubes ran out from under his
covers every which way, some draining, others filling him with painkillers and
medicines. His every bodily function was
being monitored, yet the sight of the steadily peaking lines and unchanging
numbers on the monitors were a comfort.
Nick was alive, and soon the machines would be gone, and he could go on
with his life.
His hand felt warmer now, as if her body heat had radiated through
her skin and into his. She wove her
fingers in and out of his, ran her thumb gently across his knuckles. She wished he could squeeze her hand back,
but it remained limp and heavy in hers.
He was completely unconscious.
And now that he was out of danger, she could bring up what had
been on her mind since the day before.
“Bri, have you ever said anything out of haste…”
Momentarily lost in the memory, Claire
felt a lump rise in her throat. In her
haste, she’d told Nick she loved him when he’d said it to her, not completely
sure how she really felt but caught up in the fear of losing him. Now, five-and-a-half years later, she knew
how she felt. She knew her feelings were
right. So why had she acted out of haste
again and run out of him? Now she was
worried of losing him again, not to death but to her own stupidity.
She sighed. Now was not the time to start thinking about
this again. Her father was somewhere in
this room, and she had to focus all of her thoughts on him. Her family was all that mattered now.
Near the corner of the room, she
spotted the silhouette of her mother, sitting in a chair beside her father’s
gurney and holding his hand, much the way Claire had held Nick’s. She approached them slowly, swallowing hard.
“Mom?”
Her mother turned, and the artificial
twilight was enough to capture her relieved smile. She stood up, motioned Claire over, and
pulled her into a rib-crunching hug.
“Thank God you’re here.”
***
It was almost dark by the time Claire
pulled into the driveway of Kyle and Amber’s small house in St.
Petersburg. She had borrowed her
mother’s car to go pick up the twins; Kyle would drop their mom off at the
condo when she was ready to leave their father’s side. Claire suspected that wouldn’t be anytime
soon; she’d probably stay until the hospital staff kicked her out.
When Claire had left, her dad was
awake and talking. In a voice that was
weak and gravely, he had told her how glad he was to see her, making her feel
even guiltier for leaving than Kyle had in the waiting room.
And now she had to face her
sister-in-law, who probably thought her a horrible mother for running off on
her infant daughters the way she had.
Steeling herself, Claire shut off the ignition and climbed out of the car. She told herself it didn’t matter what Amber
thought. Who cared? Not her.
All she cared about was seeing her girls.
She walked up the path to the front
stoop, her flip-flops slapping against the pavement, and knocked lightly on the
door. While she waited, she played with
her mother’s keys, swatted at the mosquitoes swarming around the porch light,
and wondered if the kids would all be asleep by now. It was after eight.
Finally, Amber came to the door,
dressed in a pair of light, summer pajamas.
“Hi, Claire, come on in,” she said, holding the door open. “How’s your dad doing?”
As they walked into the living room,
Claire filled her in, all the while scanning the room for any sign of her
daughters. The three little ones must
have all been in bed, but there were the twin infant seats and diaper bags and
a blanket spread out with a few baby toys.
“Did everything go okay with Cait and Lainey?” she asked Amber.
“They were alright. Fussy, though, and they didn’t want to
eat. They’re having trouble feeding from
the bottle. Your mom said the same
thing. I think they missed their
mother.” Amber gave her a meaningful
look and went on, “I finally got Cait to drink about half of hers, but Lainey
hardly got anything in her, and it took me an hour to rock her to sleep. I just finally got them put down in our
room.”
Feeling incredibly guilty, Claire
followed her into the master bedroom, where both of her babies lay, side by
side in the middle of Kyle and Amber’s bed.
Their heads were turned towards each other, and in their sound sleep,
the twins formed such a beautiful picture that Claire couldn’t bring herself to
disturb them. She stood at the edge of
the bed and just gazed at them, feeling herself relax for the first time in
days.
She had left them in the night three
days ago, gone on a whirlwind trip across the Atlantic on a mission that had
failed miserably, and now she was back, where she belonged. With her daughters, with her family. In the weeks to come, she would return to the
feeling that something was missing from her life, but at that moment, she had
all she needed and wanted right here.
Reaching out, she stroked first
Delaine, then Caitlin, on the cheek, much the way she had when they were both
lying in incubators in the hospital, and whispered, “It’ll be alright. Mama’s back now.”
The mere sight of her babies had made
her breasts grow hard with milk that desperately needed to be pumped, and it
didn’t take long for Claire to settle into her old duties, fishing her breast
pump out of her bag in the car, moving the car seats from Amber’s car to her
mother’s, and strapping her daughters into them under the glow of moonlight.
As she drove them home that night, she
tried to pretend that her weekend in Paris had all been a dream, a dream she
had awoken from and would not dwell on again.
If only it could be that easy.
***