Another Man's Child

“Let me help you with that,” Marcus said a few minutes later. Lisa’s hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t get into her scrubs. Marcus was already dressed and masked.

He was being a wonderful father. If only there was some way to make him see that, believe it.

Lisa could feel every beat of her heart as Randal approached Sara’s crib half an hour later, checked the baby over and then checked her a second time, finally turning to face Lisa and Marcus. His face looked grim.

“Her oxygen levels are up. She’s breathing well enough on her own again.” He stood by Sara’s bed, looking down at the baby. He appeared to be struggling for words.

“What’s wrong, doctor?” Marcus asked. He slid his arm around Lisa’s waist, pulling her against his side.

“She’s not responding to…” The doctor looked at Lisa, his eyes filled with sorrow. “She’s in a coma, Lisa.”

Marcus caught Lisa as her legs gave way beneath her. A rocker appeared behind him and he lowered Lisa’s limp body into the chair.

“What happens next, Doctor?” Marcus asked.

Lisa heard the conversation. There was nothing they could do but wait. She already knew that. The medical team had done everything possible. It was up to God now. They could wait hours. They could wait days. They could wait forever.

Marcus talked Randal into allowing them to remain in the nursery with Sara for the rest of the night.

Lisa dozed on and off that night, her head settled back against the bars of the rocker on which she sat. And Marcus was in a rocker right beside her, holding her hand, dozing off only when she woke up.

She prayed for all she was worth, but as time slid slowly by with no change from the baby lying so still in her bed, Lisa stopped asking for anything at all. She looked at her baby, all trussed up with wires and tubes and laboring to breathe. Was it right to let her baby suffer so?

She saw Marcus stir, exchanged tired sad smiles with him as they silently changed guard, and settled back to try to get some sleep. She honestly didn’t know which was worse. Her sleeping nightmares or her waking ones.

Marcus’s soft murmuring woke Lisa sometime in the early hours of the morning. Disoriented and frightened, Lisa struggled to sit up, only to realize that she was already sitting up. And that her neck ached horribly. The shaft of pain she felt when she tried to straighten brought her back to full consciousness. Sara.

Her eyes flew open immediately, seeking reassurance that her baby was still alive. Sara’s monitors were bleeping, but Lisa couldn’t actually see her for the man who was leaning over her crib.

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE strong now, Sara,” he said. “It’s up to you. Everyone’s pulling for you, ready to catch you, but you have to take the jump, Sara. Just take the jump.”

The baby’s eyes popped open.

Marcus’s heart catapulted into his throat when he saw Sara stare straight at him. He was afraid to move, afraid those beautiful blue eyes were a mirage, a cruel twist of his exhausted mind.

Sara blinked.

He straightened, still watching the baby, holding her gaze with his own, as if he could somehow make her consciousness real by sheer will. She blinked again, and his heart started to pound in double time. The baby was really awake.

“Lisa!” He turned, intending to wake his wife, but the minute his eyes broke contact with Sara’s, the baby started to cry, soft thin little wails.

Marcus turned back, frightened, thinking something was wrong. “What is it, little one?” he asked.

The baby stopped crying as soon as he spoke.

Freezing beside the crib, Marcus was aware of Lisa behind him. He knew she was awake because he’d heard her sharp intake of breath when Sara had cried out. But he couldn’t go to her, couldn’t leave this tiny li

ttle girl.

He heard a nurse approach and he shook himself. He was being ridiculous. He had nothing to do with the baby’s crying. It was mere coincidence that the child had woken up right when he’d started to speak to her, that she’d stopped crying when he’d turned back to her. Forcing himself to face reality, he backed slowly away from the funny little crib. Sara’s eyes followed him until he was no longer in her sight.

And then she started to cry again.

Vaguely aware of the crowd gathering in the nursery, of his wife sitting and sobbing in her rocking chair behind him, Marcus approached the crib again. As soon as Sara saw him, her wails turned into pitying little hiccups. Instinctively, before he even realized what he was doing, Marcus reached down into the warming bed and slid his hands beneath the naked little body staring up at him so trustingly. Careful of the catheter in her foot, he lifted her up to his chest. Sara snuggled against him, obviously not the least bit daunted by his awkwardness.

And in that instant, Marcus suddenly understood what being a father was all about. Just like that, he had his answers.

He’d been such a fool.