“I don’t know how we do this?”
“We’ll take it one day at a time. I know we’re traveling down a winding road in the dark, but we’ll navigate through it. That’s what we do.”
The nurse appears from around the corner and pushes Ben back into his room. “He’s a champ.” She smiles softly. “He’s ready for some snuggles.”
“So are we,” I tell her, walking toward his room. I pause and look at our friends and family, not realizing that our parents had joined us. “Thank you for being here.” I swallow hard.
“Go,” my dad says. “We’ll be here. You go.”
With a nod, I turn back toward his room and guide Reagan inside. The nurse lifts Ben out of his bed and tells us to sit. Reagan does so, and the nurse places him in her arms. “Just be careful of his IV and the cords,” she instructs.
“Hey, sweet boy,” Reagan coos.
I try to hold them back, but my tears break free. Leaning in, I kiss her and then place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Daddy and Mommy love you, Benjamin. We’re right here,” I tell him. “You’re going to be okay.” I pray my words are true.
“Look at you,” Reagan says, voice breaking. “You’re such a sweet boy.”
“He’s a fighter.” I offer him my finger. He latches on, his eyes darting from me and then back to Reagan. “You need that to stay strong,” I tell him.
“His vitals are great,” Dr. Langston says, entering the room. “Scans look good. The hole is small, and I’m confident the catheterization procedure is the right step to take.”
I look at Reagan, and she nods. “Okay,” I tell him. “When?”
“I have them booking an operating room now. Within the hour. Do you have any final questions?” Reagan and I shake our heads. Words don’t seem possible for either of us. “All right. I’ll give you two a few more minutes. Then I’ll have them come and get him, and prep him for surgery. The nursing staff will show you to the waiting area that keeps you up to date on the progress of the procedure.”
“Thank you,” I say past the lump lodged in my throat. He nods and leaves the room.
“Hear that, buddy?” Reagan asks our son. “Dr. Langston is going to fix your heart, and make it strong again,” she says, her voice cracking.
“You’re going to be home in no time,” I tell him. “Stay strong, little man.” I lean down and kiss the top of his head. “Daddy loves you.”
“We love you so much,” Reagan says, following my lead and kissing his tiny little head.
“Sorry to interrupt.” A male nurse enters the room. “We need to get him prepped for surgery. We’ll take good care of him,” he promises.
“Okay.” Reagan stands and carefully places Ben back into his bed. “Love you, sweet boy.”
We stand here and watch as they guide his bed out of the room. Our grip on one another is tight as we will him to fight. This is the scariest moment of my life. I pray to anyone who’s listening to take care of my son.
Chapter 27
Reagan
* * *
I don’t know how long we’ve been sitting here. I don’t know what time it is or what day it is at this point. What I do know is that there are ten people in this room and five at home who wait with bated breath to hear about Ben. There is no conversation as we collectively watch the monitor, tracking his patient number. Every step of the way, we keep our eyes glued to the screen.
No matter how hard I try to tear my eyes away, I can’t seem to do so. All I keep thinking about is my tiny little man, hooked up to all those machines while a doctor makes a hole in his leg and patches the hole in his heart. My sweet little Benjamin, who has always had a calmer softer personality than his brother. At just a little over three months old, they both already have their differences along with their similarities.
“I’m going to grab something to drink. Anyone want anything?” John asks.
“No thanks, Dad,” Tyler answers him. “Babe?”
“I’m good. Thanks.” My stomach is in knots. Adding anything, even a beverage at this point, is going to have a negative effect.
“I’ll walk with you,” my dad says.
I watch them walk out of the room. Then my eyes go right back to the screen just as it has since the moment we stepped into this room.
“Kendall just texted me this.” Dawn holds up her phone. I barely glance, but the image catches my eye, pulling my attention. It’s a picture of Knox holding Beck, with Everly sitting next to him. The three of them are on the couch and smiling wide. Underneath the image, she’s added the caption. “Missing our partner in crime. Get well soon, Ben.”
I smile and cry at the same time. I miss my baby, but I’m glad he’s happy and healthy. For now. That’s another obstacle we are going to have to face as soon as we get Ben better and out of here. I pray that Beck doesn’t have to face the same fate.
The door opens and a nurse walks in. You can hear a pin drop as the families scattered throughout the large room wait to see if she’s here for them. “The Robinson family,” she calls, and I deflate.
I watch the screen again. Still in surgery. Dad and John arrive back with their hands and pockets filled with bottles of water. No one asked for anything, but they brought them anyway. I’m sure it makes them feel as though they’re doing something. I wish I felt as though I could do something. Something other than watch this screen and hold my breath every time a nurse steps into the room.
Another quick glance and his status finally switches to In Recovery. I take a breath. I think it’s the first real deep breath I’ve taken since they took him into surgery. “Thank God,” I whisper, catching the attention of our friends and family. Ty pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head, relief evident in his posture.
“I wonder how long until we can see him?” I ask my husband.
“I don’t know, baby. Soon. It has to be soon,” he says, hope in his voice.
The door opens, and the room again grows quiet. “The Justice family,” a nurse calls. We all stand. “Okay then.” She smiles. “Mom and Dad?” she tries again.
“That’s us.” Ty steps forward, pulling me with him.
“I’m Tasha. I was with Benjamin during his surgery. The doctor will be out to talk to you soon, but we wanted to let you know that everything went perfectly. He’s a fighter.” She smiles kindly.
“Thank you,” Ty says while I grip his shirt, holding onto him to keep from falling to the floor. “He’s gonna be okay,” he whispers in my ear. “He’s gonna be okay.”
Before I can pull away, I feel arms and bodies surround us. Our friends and family encircle us with their love and sighs of relief as we wait to hear from the doctor and get to go back and see Ben.
“Mr. and Mrs. Justice.” A deep voice breaks our group hug.
We work our way out of the huddle to find Dr. Langston smiling at us. I’m the first to ask, “How is he?”
“Perfect. His vitals are good, and the procedure went flawlessly. We’ll keep him here for a few days for observation.”
“Can we see him?” Tyler asks.
He nods. “He’ll be in recovery a little while longer, but you should be able to see him soon.”
On impulse, I take a step forward, one after another until I reach him. I throw my arms around him in a hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I cry. I feel Tyler come up beside me, and I remove myself from the doctor and find shelter in his arms. I should probably be embarrassed, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care. He saved my baby, and for that, I will be forever grateful.
Wrapping my arms around Ty’s neck, I feel him lift me from the floor, holding me close. I bury my face in his neck, and some of the worry slips away. Our boy is not out of the woods. We know that. But the surgery went well. That’s a huge battle we fought and won.
Tyler sets my feet on the floor and kisses me softly. “He’s a fighter just like his momma.”
“He’s a Justice.” I grin up at my husband.
“Thank you all for
being here,” Tyler says, looking away from me. “You should go home and get some rest. We’ll call you with any news.”
“We’ll wait,” our mothers say at the same time.
“Once you lay eyes on him—” my mom starts.
“We’ll head home,” Helen finishes for her.
Tyler chuckles. “Fair enough. You four should go get some rest. We can’t thank you enough for being here.”
They all look at each other, then take a seat. “When you lay eyes on him—” Kent smirks.
“We’ll head home,” Seth completes the phrase.
“How did we get so lucky?” I ask no one in particular.
“Love.” Tyler smiles. “He’s going to be just fine,” he assures me. I can tell by the look in his eyes and the posture of his body he’s confident in his words.
This time I watch the clock. We settle back into our seats and instead of staring at the board waiting for Ben to be in recovery, I watch as the minutes push past. Waiting for them to tell us we can see him.
“It’s been over an hour,” I say, frustrated.