His chest tightened with misery and guilt. And god-awful hope for which he hated himself. Except, if Jason was the man he thought he was, he wouldn’t want to live for thirty years in a coma. If he had passed, death had been welcome for him.
Tory quietly said, “What’s wrong?”
“Jason had a stroke last night.”
Tory said, “Oh!” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God.”
“He’s stable,” Nate said.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Chance quietly cursed. The last thing that man wanted was to hang on. This time the misery he felt was misery for Jason.
Needing something to do, he filled four cups with coffee, then removed the plates from the bed tray he’d used for Tory’s breakfast and set the coffee, cream and sugar on it.
As he walked toward the sofa, Nate said, “I’m sorry, Tory.”
Sobbing quietly, Tory said, “Don’t feel sorry for me. It’s Jason I worry about.”
Nate reached across the coffee table and caught Tory’s hand. “Honey, the reason Emily and I are here isn’t to tell you about the stroke.” He swallowed then cleared his throat. “This morning the doctors talked to us about turning off life support.”
She gasped. Tears that had been hovering on her eyelids spilled over. “No!” She bounced out of her chair. “No!”
Chance set the coffee on the table between the chairs and the sofa. He drew Tory into his arms. “Hey. Don’t say anything. Just cry for a minute.”
His own throat closed. He could not imagine what she was going through, but he did know that if somebody had told him they were considering turning off Tory’s life support, he probably would have punched them.
Emily and Nate rose. Nate said, “We wanted to tell you in person. Damage from the stroke was extensive. He’s at Mercy Hospital where they did the testing. They’re saying he’s gone, Tory. Really gone this time.”
Holding sobbing Tory, Chance pressed his lips together and nodded to them.
Emily began to cry too.
Nate wrapped his big arm around his wife’s shoulders. “And no decision has been made yet.”
Chance caught Nate’s gaze. The look they exchanged was very telling. The decision might not be final, but it had been made.
And it had been made because they had no choice.
* * *
Nate and Emily left quietly as Tory clung to him. When she pulled away, the tracks of her tears shimmered on her cheeks. “I better get dressed.”
“You can stay in your pajamas as long as you want today. I’ll stay home with the kids.”
She gazed up at him. “But I have to go to the hospital to see Jason.”
Of course she would. How could he not have thought of that? “I’ll drive.”
“You have the kids.”
“Mom or Cook will take the kids.”
But after Tory had dressed in jeans and a pretty red sweater, and returned to the great room, she immediately reached for Sam and hugged him. Sam let out with a yelp, as if she’d squeezed him too tightly and she laughed.
Laughed.
On a day when her heart had clearly been shattered, she had laughed because she loved these kids. And they loved her and maybe they were enough to remind her that one part of her life might be ending, but she still had the twins—still had him.
He ambled over. “Mom has a lunch date and Cook has somewhere to be this morning. So I thought we’d take the kids.”
She peered over at him. “Really? To a hospital?”
“Hospital rules are a lot less strict than they used to be. And who knows? Maybe seeing them might cheer up Jason, too.”
She brightened at that, helped him stuff the babies in their snuggly snowsuits and snap them into their car seats. He followed her into the hospital, as she wove down corridors and switched elevators and finally went into a room so quiet there was no sound but the beeps and swishes of the machinery attached to the man on the bed.
Holding Cindy, Tory walked in first. “Hey, Jason, look who I have! It’s one of the twins I’ve been telling you about.” She ambled to the bed. “This is Cindy.” She kissed Cindy’s cheek. “Say hello, sweetie.”
Cindy let out with a sound halfway between a coo and a bark. Tory laughed.
Chance would have laughed too, except he couldn’t stop staring at the man on the bed. Tubes were everywhere. IVs and breathing tubes. Little pasty things were attached to his head and chest. His eyelids didn’t even flutter.
He had to turn away, but Tory brightly walked around the room. Still holding Cindy, she straightened the few items on the tray table beside the bed and then the bedside table itself.