“He was so tiny,” she said, daring for once to remember details. “Just under six pounds. And too thin. But they let me feed him. Every time.”
She’d had to learn to nurse him surrounded by tubes and monitors, but they’d managed just fine. She’d have continued on forever if Braydon had been able to sustain life.
“My father tells me he had your eyes.”
Braydon had had his own eyes. Big and bright and filled with recognition when she talked to him.
Over the next hour she relived those days, sharing memories, things that stood out, with the man who should have been there back then, sharing it all with her.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, Lil. You had to do all the hard work alone,” Kirk said again as they sat down on a bench at the foot of the mountain. The midmorning sun shone brightly down on them, taking the chill off.
Maybe a little piece of Braydon wrapping his parents in his warmth.
“You know,” Lillie said softly, giving Kirk a sad smile. “I’m not as sorry as I was,” she told him, feeling better, lighter, than she had in forever. “I’m realizing that I was the lucky one of the two of us,” she told him. She’d known Braydon. Had held him, smelled his fresh baby scent, even in the midst of all of the medicinal hospital surroundings. She’d seen his gaze as he stared trustingly up at her.
“Thank you for introducing him to me.” Rubbing his hands together, Kirk looked over at her. “I didn’t deserve it.”
Life wasn’t about people getting what they deserved. Otherwise, Braydon would be five years old, healthy and happy.
Her parents would still be alive.
And Abraham would have a mother.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DR. HILLCREST, ABRAHAM’S pediatrician, had offices at the clinic where Lillie worked, but as it turned out, he only saw patients in Shelter Valley two days a week?Monday and Wednesday. Jon wasn’t waiting four days to have his son’s hearing checked.
Hanging up the phone half an hour after flying out of bed late Thursday morning, he poured a little more farina in Abe’s bowl, made sounds behind the boy’s back to see if he’d notice and dialed Mark Heber. Abe didn’t notice. Hopefully Mark would find someone to cover Jon’s shift at the plant. He could access any schoolwork he missed through his student portal online.
After leaving a message for Mark, Jon washed the pan he used to make Abe’s cereal. A voice on the other end of the line, as opposed to a recording, would have been nice.
Assurances that his son was going to be fine would have been better.
Abe going deaf? He couldn’t fathom it.
But if it was true, they’d deal with it. Together.
Putting the box of cereal back in the cupboard, he remembered the day he’d purchased it. The way Abe had screamed bloody murder when he’d ducked under the shelf to retrieve that last box in the back. Right after he’d told him what he was going to do.
Abe hadn’t heard him. He’d screamed because he’d thought Jon was gone.
Lillie had been right. She’d seen the signs that Abe had been giving them.
He hadn’t.
As soon as Abraham finished breakfast, Jon took the boy into the shower with him, cleaned them both up, got them both dressed and carried his son out to the truck.
The doctor would tell him what to do next.
* * *
LILLIE HAD JUST come from the MRI and was heading toward her office when she was paged to the clinic’s waiting room.
An emergency? Usually they came through the urgent care wing.
Her hair falling out of its ponytail, she pushed through the doors. Jon was standing there, Abraham on his hip.
“Illie! Illie!” The toddler reached out to her and Lillie took him automatically.