Marcus heaved a huge sigh of relief. He thought again of the father of Lisa’s baby, wondering if the guy would care that his daughter was lying there, so tiny, fighting impossible odds for her life. The guy was a first-class bastard if he didn’t.
Marcus was appalled at all the gadgets surrounding the tiny body, the IV taped to her skull, the catheter in her right arm, which was strapped to a board. He hated that someone so small had to endure so much discomfort. And aside from all the wires and tubes, her entire body was wrapped in what looked like a big piece of cellophane. She lay there silently, her eyes still closed. Marcus hoped she was sleeping peacefully.
He was still there early the next morning when Beth came in to see the baby.
“Beth!” He shot upright. “Oh, my God. I never even called Oliver. How’d you know where to find us?”
Beth didn’t turn from the window, her gaze glued on the box that was Lisa’s crib. “Crystal called me an hour ago. Lisa was awake and asking for you, and they couldn’t reach you at home, but she’s asleep again now,” she said. Crystal was the night nurse working Lisa’s floor. “Crystal said Lisa had the baby shortly after one. Have you been here all night?”
“I didn’t realize how much time had passed,” Marcus said, turning toward the baby again. She hadn’t moved a muscle in all those hours. He knew. He’d been watching every second for any sign that she was taking control of her life.
“Has anybody been out yet to tell you anything?”
“No.”
“Crystal said she’s holding her own.”
“But she’s not breathing on her own.”
“Not yet. But that’s to be expected for now.”
“What’re her chances, Beth?” He’d spent the night avoiding the question, but he had to know.
“Twenty-five percent. Maybe thirty.”
“That’s all?” His heart sank.
“Her lungs aren’t developed. But the machine can do their job until they are,” she told him.
“Is everything else all right?” he asked.
“It’s too early to tell,” Beth said, still watching the baby. “Her digestive system isn’t fully developed yet, either. But again, that’s expected. There’s a fairly good chance of brain damage and deafness. Mental retardation, too.” Her voice caught in her throat and Marcus knew she was- feeling a lot more than she was letting on. Her bedside manner could only cover so much. And Marcus knew Beth well.
“But isn’t there a chance she’ll be perfectly normal once she grows up to size?” He was asking for all their sakes. Including the baby’s. The baby’s most of all.
Beth shrugged. “A slight one.”
“What about her kidneys and other organs?” he asked, wondering for th
e hundredth time how a body so small could actually sustain life.
“It’s too early to tell. She’ll be fed intravenously for now, glucose only. After a few weeks, if they can, they’ll begin tube-feeding her. It’ll be a while before they know if her excretory system’s working.”
Marcus heard the qualifier. If the baby lived. They both stood silently, keeping their vigil.
“It killed her to do this without you, you know,” Beth said.
It took Marcus a second to understand what she meant. He didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He’d put all that behind him now.
“I found her in the bathroom afterward, being sick to her stomach. She said she was going home to seduce you, that her baby was going to be conceived in love one way or the other, and that you were going to be the one to provide that most necessary ingredient. The love.”
Marcus remembered that night, remembered the way Lisa had met him at the door. Desperate for him. For his love. He’d given it to her, too. Just as he’d always given her everything she wanted. Except the one thing she’d wanted most.
“How long’s the baby going to be in that special crib?” he asked, looking at the child Lisa and Beth had created that day, needing to make Beth stop talking about things that were past.
“It’s a warming bed, and that depends completely on her. One of the reasons she’s there is so they can get right at her, but also because her body’s unable to maintain enough heat to stay alive. The warming bed simulates the mother’s uterus, maintaining a temperature of ninety-eight point six rather than normal room temperature of seventy. And based on her size, I’d say she could be in there for six weeks or more before she’s moved to an incubator.”
If she lives. Damn. She will live. Watching the still form in her bed of plastic wrap, he said, “She’s going to make it, Beth.”