“Hi, Mom,” she answered.
“So, how was it?” Her mother was all singsong enthusiasm. As much as her parents had wanted to go to Honor’s graduation, Matt tended to bring out the worst in her mother. They’d decided to celebrate with her later—so there was no chance of ruining her graduation day.
The irony wasn’t lost. “It was lovely. Honor looked gorgeous, lots of smiles and—”
“What’s wrong?” her mother’s voice sharpened. “And don’t try to hide it from me, Filly. Something’s wrong, I can hear it in your voice… Shush, Herb, I can tell when our daughter’s upset.”
Felicity smiled, imagining her father attempting to pacify her mother. “Well, a lot, actually. Nick and Honor and I are fine. But Matt was in an accident. We’re at the hospital.”
“Turn the car around, Herb. Head to the hospital.” She paused. “No, no, the kids are all fine. But they need us.”
“Thank you, Mom.” Felicity’s relief was instantaneous.
“Have you eaten?” her mother asked.
“I can’t remember.” Had the kids eaten? Tonight had been such a whirlwind of activity, the pregraduation chaos, the ceremony, this…
“Well, we’ll take care of it when we get there. Have you heard from Charity? She was flying in tonight. Never mind, we’ll call the house and see if she’s here yet. Don’t you worry about a thing.” There was another pause. “Dad says to stay positive. We love you, Filly.”
In all the chaos, she’d forgotten about Charity. Her sister had so wanted to be here for Honor’s graduation. But a storm in Chicago had grounded her flight, and Felicity hadn’t checked in to see where she was or when she might arrive.
“Love you, too.” Felicity hung up, standing when the nurse carried in a few blankets. “Thank you. His little hand feels so cold.”
“This one is fresh from the warmer.” The nurse handed her the top blanket first.
It was toasty and soft, exactly what a toddler would want to cuddle up under. She covered Jack, tucking the fabric close.
“Anything else?” the nurse asked.
“I honestly don’t know. I feel so…useless.” She shook her h
ead. “Is there something I can do?”
The nurse smiled. “Talk to him. Use his name. Some studies say patients can hear us. I’m sure he’d like that.” She placed the rest of the blankets on the foot of the bed and left.
Does it work if the patient has no idea who is talking to them? Jack had never met her. He wouldn’t know who she was. Even if she had come up in conversation, he was too young to remember or care.
Realistically, Matt and Amber wouldn’t have mentioned her. Matt had been so consumed with Amber that everything before her sort of faded away, including his other kids. Their recitals and games, birthday parties and special events were no longer noteworthy to Matt. She’d tried to plead their case, remind him that Nick and Honor were great young people—well-liked, smart, respectful, hardworking… That they needed their father.
She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and shook out her arms and hands.
Stop. Those wounds weren’t healed enough to start picking at them.
Besides, there was no point going over it again. No point in getting herself worked up. Jack was what mattered right now. She couldn’t stand seeing anyone hurting, especially a baby who had done nothing to anyone.
“Your daddy will fight for you, Jack. He loves you so much…” Her voice broke. Felicity sucked in a deep breath, choking on a mix of anger and desperate sadness. Matt owed it to Jack—to all of them—to be strong. To stay.
“In no time he’ll be right here, talking to you and holding you close.” More than anything, Jack needed someone to know he existed, someone to hold him and assure him that life was a wonderful adventure he’d share with people who loved him.
Matt was that someone.
“But, since he can’t be here right now, I will be. Okay?” What choice did she have? When Matt was better, she’d walk away. Her kids, her family, didn’t need any more emotional conflict.
“I’m Felicity, Jack,” she murmured, stroking the silky-soft golden curls at his temple. “I’m…I’m a…friend of your daddy’s.” She wiped blindly at the tears she didn’t know had started. “I’ll stay right here with you, don’t you worry.” She cradled his little hand in hers, squeezing gently—hoping he felt it. The urge to hold him close, to rock him, washed over her. But he was too fragile for that now. That stark white cast was a vivid reminder of that fact. “I’m right here.”
“Felicity?” Graham stood in the doorway, a cup of coffee in each hand.
“Oh, hey.” Out of instinct, she wiped her face, stiffened her spine, and assumed as carefree an expression as possible. Positive thoughts, right? It’s not like crying would do any good.