A persistent ringing dragged Faith Hyatt from a deep sleep. As one hand fanned the air above her nightstand in an effort to silence the sound, her sleepy brain insisted the call had to be a wrong number. She’d just come off two weeks of back-to-back shifts at the Boston hospital where she worked. Half the staff was laid low by flu. Maria Phelps, who scheduled shifts, had promised Faith four uninterrupted days off.
“Hello?” She said in a raspy voice, burying the receiver in the pillow under her ear. Faith covered a yawn and tried to focus on the voice at the other end of the line.
In spite of exhaustion, she shot upright. Her head and heart began to pound, and the receiver slipped from her shaking fingers. Scrambling to find it in the dark, she brought it to her dry lips again and croaked, “Gwen, you’re positive the woman admitted through E.R. is my sister? Chloe Littrell?”
Long used to being ejected from bed In the middle of the night, Faith turned on a light and found clean clothes as the caller relayed details. “Yes,” Faith said, bending to tie her sneakers, “It’s possible she’d revert to Hyatt now that she’s divorced. I’ll be there in ten minutes, Gwen.” Smack! The receiver hit the cradle. Faith’s mind continued on fast-forward as she splashed cold water on her face, brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her thick brown hair.
Her last contact with Chloe had been in June. It was now the end of August. Chloe’s husband, Brian, had thrown Faith for a loop when he’d phoned late one night in early June to inform her that he and Chloe had divorced. At the time Faith had been crushed to think that her sister hadn’t confided in her. But family ties had never meant to Chloe what they did to Faith. In fact, it was pretty typical of Chloe to arrive here in the middle of the night after months of silence, expecting her big sister to haul herself out of bed and put in an appearance at a moment’s notice. Chloe had always thought the world revolved around her needs. And when hadn’t Faith turned herself inside out for family? Sighing, she strapped on her nurse’s watch and rushed from the building.
Lopsided though the relationship was, she and Chloe were bound together by blood.
Faith set out to jog the four night-shadowed blocks that separated her apartment building from the hospital. Passing the corner deli, she realized she hadn’t asked Gwen what was wrong with Chloe. No one detested being sick more than Chloe did. As her worry increased, Faith broke into a run.
At last, lights spilled onto the street at the corner where the hospital had stood for over fifty years. Breaking her stride only long enough to press the button that operated the front doors, Faith rushed into the E.R.
“Hi, Cicely.” Breathing hard from her sprint, Faith latched onto the plump arm of a passing nurse, another friend. “Gwen phoned. About my sister.” She managed after the next deep breath. “Do you know where she is? Or which doctor admitted her?”
“Finegold. He sent her up to Three East. Said he’d do a complete workup after he finished the emergency surgery that brought him in tonight. Your sister just dropped in, said she hadn’t seen a doctor. Finegold ordered tests, which Chloe refused until after you see her.”
The nurse rolled her eyes. “The great Finegold doesn’t take kindly to anyone vetoing his edicts. I don’t envy you for having to unruffle his feathers.”
Faith gave a puzzled frown. Finegold was a senior staff gynecologist. “Uh, Cice, did Chloe say why she happened to be in Boston at this hour? She lives in New York City.” Faith frowned again. “Or she did. Perhaps she lives in Newport, Rhode Island now. Her husband, er...ex-husband, said she’d received their beach house in the divorce settlement.”
“I thought her charts listed a Boston address, but maybe not. Uh-oh. Hear those sirens? Headed our way. You’d better get out of here, girl, while the getting’s good.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Faith ran and boarded the elevator as two ambulances screeched to a halt under the portico.
Loudspeakers began to drone the names of staff who were needed in E.R. Doors opened and nurses spilled out.
By comparison to the E.R. chaos, the third floor ward was silent. Faith stopped at the nursing station and spoke to a nurse she knew. “You admitted my sister, Chloe Litt--er, Hyatt.” Shedding her coat, Faith tossed it over a rack. “May I see her?”
Two nurses at the desk appeared to be relieved. “In 312.” One of them said. “We hooked her up to oxygen, Faith. It was all she’d allow.”
“Chloe hates hospitals. Especially this one.” First their mother had been chronically ill. She was in and out of this hospital for years. Then, in college, Chloe had developed degenerative cardiopulmonary disease. Faith stared into space as memories of those unsettled years crowded in. Her sister had been terrified of their mom’s cystic fibrosis. On their mother’s bad days—-and there were many—-care of the household fell to Faith. She was just seven when she first assumed responsibility for her baby sister, since their dad could only afford part-time help. About the time Chloe hit her teens, life became doubly traumatic for Faith, who by then attended nursing school at night. Her sister rebelled and refused to help take care of their mom. In spite of everything, the family had endured—-until worse tragedy struck.
Mrs. Hyatt died and shortly after that, Chloe fell ill. Their dad folded inside himself. Only one good thing happened that year. Faith met Dr. Brian Littrell, First Memorial Hospital’s rising star of heart-lung transplant surgery.
As she turned away from the nursing desk and approached her sister’s room, Faith guiltily recalled the secret crush she’d once harbored for the handsome, brilliant surgeon. The man who’d ultimately married her sister. How fortunate that Brian had never had any inkling of how she felt. Before she’d begged him to take Chloe’s case, Faith had rarely drummed up enough courage to even smile at the man. He’d left her tongue-tied and feeling giddy. Nurses didn’t fell giddy. It wasn’t allowed.
Hearing that Brian had fallen in love with her more attractive, more outgoing sister really hadn’t come as any big surprise to Faith. The real shocker came when Brian telephoned to say that he and Chloe had split up.
Now Faith wished her shyness hadn’t kept her from asking pertinent details. Brian had volunteered nothing.
Faith, who’d observed numerous doctors’ infidelities, took for granted that Brian had ended the marriage. She knew from experience that all sorts of attractive woman stood ready to trap doctors who were as successful and good-looking as her former brother-in-law. Few men had the integrity to walk away from such easy bait. Brian had fallen off the pedestal she’d placed him on, and that disappointed Faith. She wondered if her reaction was a result of being more mother than sister to Chloe; after all, mothers resented people who hurt their kids. Chloe had probably been humiliated by Brian’s defection. That was, Faith had decided, the reason her sister had slunk off in private to lick her wounds. The reason Chloe had never returned any of her calls.
Refusing to dwell on those unhappy circumstances, Faith cracked open the door to Chloe’s room. Her legs refused to step over the threshold. Was that motionless body in the bed her once-vibrant sister? Perhaps this wasn’t Chloe’s room.
Letting go of the door, Faith tiptoed to the bed for a closer look. She gasped, her eyes lit on the patient’s swollen belly. She stumbled backward a step, not wanting to startle a stranger.
But...no. The hair, the features, were Chloe’s. Her sister was pregnant. Faith muffled an involuntary cry as the room spun wildly. It was impossible to stop statistics from running through her head. How many heart-lung transplant patients had successfully delivered babies? She battled the hysteria clogging her throat. Because of Chloe’s condition, Faith regularly sought out articles concerning organ transplants. She remembered reading in a discarded medical journal about one young woman’s successful delivery. One. And that woman’s journey wasn’t an easy one.
In spite of her reluctance to disturb Chloe, Faith must have made a noise. The dark lashes that brushed her sister’s pale cheeks lifted slowly, revealing unfocused blue eyes. “Faith?” Chloe’s voice was thin, breathless. Even with a steady infusion of oxygen, it was obviously a struggle to talk and breathe simultaneously.
“Chloe, honey.” Faith dragged a chair to the bed and sat, grasping her cold fingers. She rubbed gently, trying to share her warmth. “Brian told me you were living at the beach, Chloe. I tried calling—-left quite a few messages—-but you were never home. Or were you too sick to return my calls?”
Pulling free, Chloe groped in a bedside cabinet. “We, ah, haven’t got much time. In my purse...papers for you to sign.” There was no question that she considered her request urgent.
“Hush. Save you strength. Admission forms can wait.” Faith recaptured her sister’s hand. “I understand Dr. Finegold ordered some tests. If you’d prefer, I’ll notify your own obstetrician and the two doctors can consult first.”
“I haven’t seen an obstetrician since I moved to Boston. That was...three months ago. The papers...are from my attorney. Sign them, Faith. K-keep a copy and mail the other. Envelope is attached. I’m giving you full custody of m-my baby, in case...” The icy fingers tightened on Faith’s hand.
“Custody? Oh, hun, I know you feel rotten. It’s tough enough going through a pregnancy alone, to say nothing of getting sick.” Tears squeezed from Faith’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? Did you think I wouldn’t help? I’ll be the best aunt ever. And you’ll be a wonderful mom.”
Chloe again tried to reach the cabinet. “Sign...papers.” She panted.
Faith knew it could spell disaster to upset a patient in Chloe’s condition. “Okay, if you lie still, I’ll sign the forms.” She hurriedly found Chloe’s purse and retrieved the documents. Without reading a word, Faith dug out a pen and wrote her name beside every X. “There,” she exclaimed, tucking one copy into the pocket of her uniform and the other into the stamped envelope. “All done. Now will you please relax?”
Chloe tossed her head from side to side. “After it’s mailed.”
Faith heaved a sigh. “You always were stubborn. There’s a postal box right outside the entrance. I’ll post this after the doctor examines you.” Faith was no stranger to bartering with Chloe. Once it had been a game with them, everything from coaxing her younger sister into eating oatmeal to doing her homework.
“Now.” Chloe’s demand was punctuated by a siege of choking that turned her lips blue.
“Hey, hey. Breathe slow and easy. See, I’m on my way to the mailbox. I’ll just have the charge nurse page Dr. Finegold. Oh, and Chloe, Finegold may act gruff, but he’s the best OB-GYN in Boston.”
Once Chloe’s choking eased, Faith scurried out. After stopping at the nursing station to ask them to hunt up Dr. Finegold, she completed her mission as fast as humanly possible. Chloe’s condition frightened Faith more than she wanted to admit. She was afraid her sister needed more than an OB-GYN. She needed a pulmonary cardiologist.
Passing a pay phone in the hall, Faith was tempted to call Brian. He, more than any heart-lung specialist, had the expertise to help Chloe. But she dared not contact him, not without Chloe’s consent. Maybe now that those all-important papers were dispatched, her sister could be persuaded to listen to reason.
Inside the room again, Faith met Chloe’s anxious eyes with a smile. “Mail gets picked up from that box at six in the morning. Now let’s discuss you. I think we should call Brian. Whatever happened between you two, Chloe, he’s one of the world’s leading transplant authorities. Plus,” she said around a quick gulp of air, “he’s your baby’s father.”
“No. Well, probably not.” Chloe’s voice rose and fell convulsively. “Sit. Listen.”
Faith found that her legs wouldn’t hold her. She thought she was beyond shock. Obviously not. Recovering slightly, she sank into the chair, gathered Chloe’s clammy fingers and kissed the white knuckles. “I’m here for you no matter what. I won’t call Brian. But don’t ask me not to hate him for booting you out.”
“Brian, uh...didn’t boot me out.” Chloe’s fingers fluttered. “He...we-—he was so rarely home. He loved his work. M-more than he loved me.”
“That’s doctors, Chloe. Surgeons, especially. I thought Brian was different. The times I visited you, he seemed so devoted. I thought you had everything.”
“Isolation. Drawers full of pills. Endless poking and prodding by my follow-up team.” Chloe ran a restless hand over her swollen stomach. “I quit taking everything when I found out I was pregnant.”
“Oh, Chloe! You shouldn’t have stopped the anti-rejection pills. Your body needs them to function properly.”
“Yes, but I...” After struggling to catch a breath, Chloe whispered, “I...want her to be perfect. N-normal...”
“You know it’s a girl?”
Chloe shook her head and cradled her abdomen again.
“No. I haven’t consulted a doctor. I just call my baby Elyse. You remember my best friend in high school? Elyse?”
Faith’s flicker of a smile was soon replaced by a frown. “So, if you’re not having Brian’s baby—-then whose?” She bit her lip and glanced away. “I’m sorry to be nosey. But I occurred to me that if you cared for a man enough to have sex with him, he ought to be here seeing you through this.”
Chloe grew fretful again. “I...I—-N-Nick’s. We, uh...met the day I left Brian. After I fi-filed for divorce, I...I stopped at the club. Nick...well,” She explained haltingly, “he was lonely, too. The next day he took me sailing and we...kind of...made love on the boat. In the weeks after, we danced, sailed, combed the beach. He brought me flowers. Nick never treated me like a...a...an invalid.” Chloe took a long time to finish her sentence.
“Sounds...wonderful.” Faith didn’t want to hear more, and Chloe should rest and save her strength. “Dr. Finegold ought to be out of surgery by now. I’ll go see what’s keeping him.” She rose and started away.
Chloe plucked at Faith’s arm. “Let me fin-finish. Nick went on a week sailing trip. H-he phoned every day.” A weak smile lifted her blue-tinted lips. “I expected a visit when he returned. He didn’t. A few days before he was due back, I got sick. Flu, I thought. I went to the clinic for antibiotics.” She labored to catch her breath. “And...that’s when I learned I was pregnant.”
Again the room fell silent except for the muted puff of oxygen combined with Chloe’s raspy breath.
“Shhh…we can talk after you’ve recovered.”
Chloe’s breathing had changed. Her respiration had become shallow and erratic. It frightened Faith. “It’s obvious the guy didn’t stick around. But don’t you worry. I make enough to hire a nanny to help with the baby. Lie quiet, now, please.” Faith begged.
Chloe wouldn’t be denied. “I’d never been to Nick’s house. He always came to mine.” Color splashed her ashen cheeks. “I...I found his address and dr-drove there.” Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes.
Wanting to save her sister pain, Faith wiped the tears away with her thumbs. “Please, don’t do this, Chloe. Some men are just jerks. Forget him.”
“I...I...parked and was admiring his house. His...his wife came out to...see if I was lost. I didn’t know he was m-m-married.” Tears rolled over Faith’s thumbs and onto Chloe’s pillow.
“The bastard!” Faith couldn’t help herself. She wished she could have five minutes alone with the man responsible for causing her sister this agony.
“The...irony, Faith. Nick and his wife separated because she couldn’t conceive. They ar—argued over adoption. His dad, a bigwig on Wall Street, wants a grandson to carry on the family name. Nick...dropped by later to apologize. Seems his wife heard of a new fertility treatment. He felt obligated to l-let her try it.” Chloe’s thin body racked with sobs. “I...he...doesn’t know about the baby. I don’t want him to.”
Straightening, Faith adjusted the oxygen hoses. “Oh, sweetie, don’t do this to yourself. You’re getting all worked up and it’s sapping what little capacity you have to breathe. I’m going to get a doctor.” Increasingly worried because Chloe’s skin felt clammy and her face now had a waxy cast, Faith sprang up and hurried across the room.
She yanked open the door and bumped into someone coming in. “Dr. Finegold!” She said, tugging him into the room. “Faith Hyatt, sir. I’ve assisted you on post-op rounds. This is my sister. Chloe’s a post heart-lung transplant patient,” Faith whispered. “At the onset of pregnancy she quit taking her anti-rejection meds. Please, she needs help.”
The doctor walked to the bedside and swiftly began an exam. Each time he paused to write in the chart, his scowl deepened. “Who did her transplant?”
“Dr. Littrell. Brian Littrell.” Faith added, darting a guilty glance at Chloe.
“I only know him by reputation. Get him on the phone. Stat! Meanwhile, see if our staff cardiologist has ever assisted with a post-transplant delivery. And while you’re at the desk, Hyatt, order a sonogram.”
At each barked order, Faith nodded. Everyone on staff knew Finegold expected blind obedience. Still she dragged him aside. “You wouldn’t know, but Chloe is Dr. Littrell’s ex-wife,” She murmured. “She won’t authorize calling him.”
“She’s been assigned into my care, Nurse. I’m making the decisions.”
“Yes, sir.” As Faith turned and grasped the door handle, Finegold swore ripely. She felt the flap of his lab coat as he hurtled past her and bellowed into the hall. “Code blue. Get me a crash cart, on the double!” Racing back to the bed, her tore away blankets, sheets and the flimsy oxygen lines and started CPR.
Faith’s senses shut down totally until a cart slammed through the door accompanied by a trained team whose purpose was to restore a patient’s vital signs. For the first time since she’d become a nurse, Faith didn’t see a patient lying there. She saw her baby sister. Pictures swam before her eyes. Chloe as a newborn. Taking her first steps. Starting school. Going on her first date. Her wedding. If Brian had been more of a husband, Chloe would be well and happy and living in New York. Chloe might not blame him, but Faith did. He’d promised to care for her sister in sickness and in health—-until death parted them. Panic filled her as Finegold ordered paddles applied to Chloe’s chest.
Chloe’s body jumped and so did Faith’s. She didn’t breathe again until a technician gave a thumbs-up sign, meaning Chloe’s heartbeat had resumed.
“Dammit, dammit, dammit.” Finegold cursed, yanking the stethoscope out of his ears to let it flop around his neck. “We have a pulse but it’s thready. Clear me for an O.R. This woman doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in the tropics if we don’t take the baby. How the hell far along is she? What kind of prenatal care has she had? Get Epstein, Carlson and Wainwright into scrubs. Round up an anesthesiologist.” Finegold all but foamed at the mouth.
As he barked orders, Faith grabbed his arm. “My sister hasn’t had any prenatal care, but I’m familiar with her heart problems. Let me scrub with you.”
The doctor shook her off, never slowing his steps toward the door. “I know you’re qualified to assist, but you aren’t in any shape. Take a seat in the OB waiting room. I’ll find you when I’m finished.”
“But I want to help!”
“Pray.” He said, spinning on a heel. With that, he flew down the hall.
The hardest thing Faith had ever done, outside of burying her mother or maybe waiting anxiously through Chloe’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 the technician and kissed Chloe’s cheek.
Weighted eyelids slowly opened. Oxygen tubes from a portable tank pinched Chloe’s nose. IVs ran in both arms. “Take c-care of my, b-b-baby. L-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 roughly disengaged their hands, Faith’s wavering promise bounced off a rapidly closing door. “You fight, Chloe. Hang in there!” She cried in a fractured voice.
The wait seemed an eternity. 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 to Chloe’s family. But Dwight Hyatt had escaped into a dreamworld when his wife had 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 Chloe 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 coffee pot and poured a third cup. Through the window, she noticed pale golden threads had begun to erase a solemn grey 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 moment. Glancing up, she experienced another rush of relief in 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 coffee slipped from faith’s fingers and splashed across her feet.
Even at a distance, she recognized the look on his 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 his temples. “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 stiff voice.
“Babies.” He corrected, pulling out an adjacent chair and sinking into it. “A boy and a girl. Both underweight, but strong 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 Dr. 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 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 Chloe’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 round of tears, she groped in her pockets for a tissue to wipe the coffee. In doing so, she encountered her copy of the custody agreement. In sad hindsight, Chloe’s urgency became all too clear. Chloe 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 the notified the mortuary—-Faith took Dr. Finegold’s advice. 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 cried, letting the world knew 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 scrubs 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.” Chloe 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 their 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.
Chloe’s twins gave her the strength to go on. To take the next step, complete the next task.
