healthy.”
The baby lay beneath the incubator’s warm lights, but he was breathing on his own. It was a scene Landon hadn’t expected to see. After Reagan’s blood loss it was truly a miracle either of them were breathing at all. He looked from the baby to Reagan’s mother again. “Reagan’s okay?”
“She had a partially ruptured uterus.” Tears swam in her eyes again. “The rip was too jagged. They…they couldn’t save it.”
Landon had enough medical training, enough experience in emergencies to understand, and the knowledge kicked him in the gut and left him sick to his stomach. The doctors had performed an emergency hysterectomy. Reagan would never have another baby.
Reagan’s mother dabbed at the wetness on her cheeks and sniffed hard. “She doesn’t know yet. The doctor’s going to tell her tomorrow, unless—” she looked at Landon—“do you think you could tell her?”
Landon wanted to look over his shoulder to see whom the woman was talking to. Certainly not him. He hadn’t talked to Reagan in eight months! How could he tell her the worst news of her life? He coughed again, and the reality became suddenly clear. In the past nine months Reagan had been dealt one blow after another.
Obviously she and Luke went against their convictions about saving sex for marriage. And, given the dates, September 11 and the death of Reagan’s father came right after that. She probably no sooner got back in New York City than she realized she was pregnant. She’d gone through the entire ordeal without ever telling Luke. If her mother was right, if she’d tried to call him, then she knew how he’d changed. That he had chucked his faith and was living with some girl he’d met at school.
Now this. Landon thought about the damage to Reagan’s body, and a long breath eased from his throat.
No wonder Mrs. Decker wanted her to hear the news from him. The poor woman trembling before him probably couldn’t handle sharing one more bit of tragedy. With Reagan’s father dead, the other option was for a doctor—a stranger—to tell her what had happened to her body.
He shifted his gaze from Mrs. Decker to the baby in the incubator. How had everything between Luke and Reagan gotten so twisted? She must feel so alone, lying in a room down the hall with no husband, no support, no words of comfort or congratulations to mark the birth of her firstborn child.
The only child she would ever bear.
Landon looked at Reagan’s mother. “Is she awake?”
Her mother gave a dainty sniffle. “Off and on.”
“Tell you what…” Landon gritted his teeth for a moment. “Let her get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll tell her in the morning.”
Mrs. Decker hesitated, and for a moment Landon thought she might reach out and hug him. Instead she clutched her purse more tightly to her waist, her smile falling far short of her eyes. “Thank you. I…I couldn’t bear to do it.”
“I know.” Landon put his hand on the woman’s shoulder again. “What room is she in? I’ll say hi before I go.”
The woman told him, and Landon found it easily. A person didn’t need to work FDNY long to become familiar with the layout at Mt. Sinai Medical Center. He took slow, quiet steps as he made his way to the side of her bed. A light moan came from her, and Landon clenched his teeth. He couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger. His anger at Luke for not trying harder, not flying to New York and forcing her to deal with the tragedies that had nailed them. Or his compassion for Reagan, so young and beautiful and heartbroken.
That probably was how Ashley felt when she came back from Paris.
“Reagan…” He took her hand in his and leaned over the bed. “It’s Landon Blake.”
She rolled her head a few inches in each direction before her eyes opened. For a while she said nothing, only squinted at him. Then another moan sounded from her throat, and she squeezed his hand.
“You’re okay, Reagan. The baby’s okay.
The baby lay beneath the incubator’s warm lights, but he was breathing on his own. It was a scene Landon hadn’t expected to see. After Reagan’s blood loss it was truly a miracle either of them were breathing at all. He looked from the baby to Reagan’s mother again. “Reagan’s okay?”
“She had a partially ruptured uterus.” Tears swam in her eyes again. “The rip was too jagged. They…they couldn’t save it.”
Landon had enough medical training, enough experience in emergencies to understand, and the knowledge kicked him in the gut and left him sick to his stomach. The doctors had performed an emergency hysterectomy. Reagan would never have another baby.
Reagan’s mother dabbed at the wetness on her cheeks and sniffed hard. “She doesn’t know yet. The doctor’s going to tell her tomorrow, unless—” she looked at Landon—“do you think you could tell her?”
Landon wanted to look over his shoulder to see whom the woman was talking to. Certainly not him. He hadn’t talked to Reagan in eight months! How could he tell her the worst news of her life? He coughed again, and the reality became suddenly clear. In the past nine months Reagan had been dealt one blow after another.
Obviously she and Luke went against their convictions about saving sex for marriage. And, given the dates, September 11 and the death of Reagan’s father came right after that. She probably no sooner got back in New York City than she realized she was pregnant. She’d gone through the entire ordeal without ever telling Luke. If her mother was right, if she’d tried to call him, then she knew how he’d changed. That he had chucked his faith and was living with some girl he’d met at school.
Now this. Landon thought about the damage to Reagan’s body, and a long breath eased from his throat.
No wonder Mrs. Decker wanted her to hear the news from him. The poor woman trembling before him probably couldn’t handle sharing one more bit of tragedy. With Reagan’s father dead, the other option was for a doctor—a stranger—to tell her what had happened to her body.
He shifted his gaze from Mrs. Decker to the baby in the incubator. How had everything between Luke and Reagan gotten so twisted? She must feel so alone, lying in a room down the hall with no husband, no support, no words of comfort or congratulations to mark the birth of her firstborn child.
The only child she would ever bear.
Landon looked at Reagan’s mother. “Is she awake?”
Her mother gave a dainty sniffle. “Off and on.”
“Tell you what…” Landon gritted his teeth for a moment. “Let her get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll tell her in the morning.”
Mrs. Decker hesitated, and for a moment Landon thought she might reach out and hug him. Instead she clutched her purse more tightly to her waist, her smile falling far short of her eyes. “Thank you. I…I couldn’t bear to do it.”
“I know.” Landon put his hand on the woman’s shoulder again. “What room is she in? I’ll say hi before I go.”
The woman told him, and Landon found it easily. A person didn’t need to work FDNY long to become familiar with the layout at Mt. Sinai Medical Center. He took slow, quiet steps as he made his way to the side of her bed. A light moan came from her, and Landon clenched his teeth. He couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger. His anger at Luke for not trying harder, not flying to New York and forcing her to deal with the tragedies that had nailed them. Or his compassion for Reagan, so young and beautiful and heartbroken.
That probably was how Ashley felt when she came back from Paris.
“Reagan…” He took her hand in his and leaned over the bed. “It’s Landon Blake.”
She rolled her head a few inches in each direction before her eyes opened. For a while she said nothing, only squinted at him. Then another moan sounded from her throat, and she squeezed his hand.
“You’re okay, Reagan. The baby’s okay.
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