Loving You (36 page)

But they included Tasha and Jonas.

And without them, the plans alone would be meaningless.

The four-hour flight seemed to take forever. At the airport, he'd sprinted for the front door and grabbed the first cab he saw. Now all he had to do was survive the forty-minute ride to the hospital. Tasha's voice repeated over and over in his mind, breaking up until only certain words echoed through his brain.
Jonas. Hospital. Spinal tap. Meningitis
. Nick closed his eyes and mentally hurried the damn cab.

*   *   *

The Candellanos circled the wagons.

Just like in those old westerns you could catch on late-night TV, Tasha thought. They drew together, protecting each other with a strong line of defense.

And for the first time since losing Mimi, Tasha was on the
inside
of a tightly drawn circle of love. From her seat on the mint green Naugahyde couch in the waiting room, she shifted her gaze across the people waiting with her.

Tony, still in his sheriff's uniform, was standing in the far corner, talking to Nick's twin brother, Paul. Their sister, Carla, was making yet another coffee run with Stevie, Paul's wife. Tony's wife, Beth, since she
was pregnant, and Tony didn't want her near the hospital with its sea of germs, had been left at home to watch the kids. But Mama hadn't left Tasha's side since the family arrived, responding to a long-distance call from Nick.

Nick.

Come home, she thought, wishing he were there already. Knowing all of this would be easier to bear if he were there beside her. Love? Yes, she loved him. And whether he really loved her or not, she wanted him there. With her. With Jonas. His family was kind and supportive and … wonderful. But they weren't Nick.

Tasha pushed up from her chair and paced. She already knew the dimensions of the waiting room where a handful of people—besides their group—sat, reading, watching the muted TV in the corner, and drinking god-awful coffee. Thirty paces long, ten paces wide. She walked it again. Then one more time. Nerves jumped inside her. She was supposed to be on a break. Since Jonas was sleeping, everyone said there was no need to sit beside his bed.

But she needed to be there.

She
needed
to watch each shallow breath rushing in and out of his chest. Besides, if he woke, she didn't want him to be alone.

“I'll be with Jonas,” she muttered to no one in particular, and headed across the sparkling cream-colored linoleum, her tennis shoes squeaking like tiny screams. Tony and Paul came away from the wall as one unit, each of them turning toward her, concern etched into their features.

Tasha smiled tightly but kept walking, headed for the long brightly lit hallway. Outside, it was twilight,
a cool November evening. Here, in the hospital, time meant nothing. Day and night blended together beneath the glare of fluorescent lights. The air smelled of disinfectant and fear. Tasha hugged herself and drew a tight rein on her imagination. Televisions in the rooms she passed flickered in weird flashes of light. Someone moaned and her eyes squeezed briefly shut in sympathy.

She stepped into Jonas's room and paused just inside. Shadows crouched in the corners, but from directly over the bed where the boy lay sleeping, a bright light poured down on him. His sweaty hair clung to his forehead. Needles attached to IV poles were stuck into his arms. Machines measuring his heart rate, blood pressure, and blood oxygen levels blinked in a series of numbers designed to confuse worried families. And beneath the blankets, his narrow chest lifted and fell in a regular rhythm. Tasha drew in a long, shuddering breath and didn't even turn when a voice spoke up from behind her.

“He will be all right.”

“You sound so sure.”

Mama sighed heavily, then walked up beside her, taking Tasha's hand in hers. “I
am
sure,” she said. “Jonas is young. And strong. And the doctors are good.”

Tasha stared at the child who meant so much. Outside, clouds were gathering for a storm and families gathered for dinner. Life moved on in the universe beyond the hospital corridors. But here, in this one corner of the world, everything felt as if it had been frozen. As if clocks had stopped. As if the world had taken a breath—and held it. “He's never been this sick before.”

“Children get sick, families worry.” Mama's hand
squeezed around hers. “Is the way when you love.”

“It's hard.” Tasha closed her eyes briefly and felt a stray tear snake down her cheek.

“It is.”

Tasha appreciated that Mama hadn't tried to buoy her up by saying, “Don't worry.” Her words were simple, quiet, and filled with a sympathetic unity that made Tasha feel a little better despite the fear curled in the pit of her stomach. She'd done the right thing by admitting Jonas to Chandler. Here she wasn't alone. Here there were people who cared—and though Nick wasn't here, it was a comfort to at least have his family standing beside her.

She took a breath and shifted a look at the older woman beside her. Stoic, she thought. Unflappable.
Mimi would have liked her
. “Nick thinks he loves me,” she blurted in a harsh whisper, and couldn't imagine, after it was said, what had prompted the words.

Mama only smiled. “This I knew.”

“You knew?”

“I can see it in him.”

Tasha watched the woman's eyes for signs of disapproval, and when she couldn't find any, she felt compelled to make Mama understand. She pulled her hand free. “Well, he has to stop.”

Mama's smile darn near glowed. “You love him, too.”

“That's not the point.”

The older woman chuckled. “Love is
always
the point.”

“Not this time,” Tasha murmured. “It can't work. Nick has to stop this.”

“Why?”

“Because…” What was the use? Tasha threw her
hands up. “You guys are impossible to argue with.”

“Is nothing to argue about. Tasha,” Mama said, reaching for her hand again, “the heart knows what it wants. What it needs. Listen to yours, as Nicky listens to his.” She gave her hand a squeeze, then said, “You're a good girl, Tasha. Strong. Smart. Don't turn your back on love. Is a gift that only gets bigger and better with time. When love comes, embrace it.” Mama handed her a clump of neatly folded tissues. “Now dry your eyes and blow your nose. Your family will be here when you need us.”

Tasha's vision blurred as Mama left the room. Turning her gaze heavenward, she whispered, “Hurry, Nick, I need you.
We
need you.”

“Now that's what I call timing.”

“Nick?” Tasha whirled around and saw him, standing in the doorway. His hair stood on end, no doubt from hours of him jamming his fingers through it. His eyes were tired, and a shadow of whisker stubble dotted his jaws. And no one had ever looked better to her.

Hope and joy and relief clashed together in her chest and Tasha surrendered to the wonder of it. Her breath left her in a rush and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Just hearing his voice had made everything easier. Less terrifying somehow. Now all she needed was to hold him and be held.

He took one long step into the room and met her as she threw herself at him. Nick's arms came around her and he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “How is he?”

She burrowed in closer to him, as if trying to climb inside his skin. “Not good. His fever's still high. He doesn't seem to be responding to the antibiotics.”

His hands stroked up and down her back, soothing,
comforting. “Do we at least know what we're dealing with?”

“No.” Tasha pulled her head back and looked up at him. Worry glittered in his eyes, and seeing it made Tasha come out of her own fears to try to help ease his. “I mean, we know it's meningitis. We just don't know if it's viral or bacterial.”

He sighed and shot a look at Jonas. “When will we know?”

She shook her head. “The lab's been backed up. Dr. Weston says we should know soon, though. They did a spinal tap, Nick.” She swallowed hard. “They stuck a needle in his
spine
. Jonas cried.”

“I know, baby.”

“I couldn't help him.”

“You did that just by being here, Tasha.”

Nick shifted his grip on her, cupping her face in his palms, scraping the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks. His gaze moved over her and he took his first easy breath in hours. He knew no more than he had when he'd left Texas—but being here, with Tasha, made the uncertainty more bearable. He hadn't felt
whole
until he'd stepped into this room and found her waiting. Now that they were together, he knew they could beat anything. “He'll be okay.”

One corner of her mouth quirked briefly. “That's what your mother said, too.”

“Well then,” Nick said, pulling her close for a hard hug as he swallowed back his own fear, “that settles it. Mama's never wrong. Just ask her.”

Tasha held on to him, wrapping her arms around his middle and looking back over her shoulder at Jonas, so still and quiet. “I'm so scared, Nick.”

“Me, too, baby,” he said, keeping one arm around
her shoulder as he moved her closer to the bed. Jonas looked pale and small and so damn young. Nick's heart ached as an unseen fist gave it a squeeze. Spinal taps and hospital gowns. Some things no kid should have to know anything about. But he would be okay, Nick reassured himself. Jonas was tough.

He
had
to be all right, because Nick couldn't imagine his life without the small boy who'd turned it upside down.

Seconds ticked into minutes and minutes into hours. Time crawled past, with Nick and Tasha sitting side by side in the darkness. Nick held her hand tightly and watched Jonas's chest rise and fall with each shuddering breath. Nurses came and went with silent steps and glances filled with empathy.

Candellanos drifted in and out of the room in a show of solidarity—then leaving Tasha and Nick alone to stand guard.

The boy's cheeks and forehead were flushed and dry. Machinery positioned on the other side of Jonas's bed flickered with lights and readings that Nick couldn't understand. All he heard, all he concentrated on, was the steady
beep
marking each of the child's heartbeats.

He heard the music in those beeps and clung to the steady hope of them. Jonas would be fine. He
had
to be. It couldn't all have been for nothing. Jonas had found Nick. He'd brought them all together. He couldn't
die
. Not now. Not ever.

“How does this happen?” Nick said, and was almost surprised to hear his own voice. He swallowed hard. “I mean, a few days ago, the kid was great. Touring the stadium, planning Thanksgiving—the camp-out next month. And now…”

Tasha's grip on his hand tightened. “I don't know. I don't know why. Or how. I don't know why
any
kid has to get sick.”

“It sucks. Big-time.” Nick's back teeth ground together. “He looks so damn little. And helpless, damn it. I want to do …
something
.”

“You did,” Tasha whispered, and leaned into him. “You came home.”

Home
. She was right in the most basic way. Wherever she and Jonas were, that was
home
. Nodding to himself, Nick held on to Tasha's hand as if she were a lifeline. “He's got to be okay, Tasha. He
has
to be.”

And reaching through the metal railing, Nick caught Jonas's limp, dry hand in his and linked the three of them. As they were meant to be.

*   *   *

They all gathered in the waiting room.

“It's viral,” Dr. Weston said, that comforting smile back in place.

Tasha's heart quickened, grasping at the relief she saw shining in the older man's eyes. Behind her, the Candellanos took a collective breath and Nick choked out a short relieved laugh. “And that means…?”

“You can take him home in a couple of days.” The doctor reached out and patted Tasha's shoulder. “I want to keep him another day or so, rehydrate him and get his fever down. Then he'll be good to go.”

The air left her in a rush. Turning in to Nick, she was swept up in a hug that nearly broke a rib. But it was worth it. Relief bubbled through her veins like fine champagne. She heard another quick burst of laughter and a back being slapped, but she dismissed it all as
the doctor started talking again. She turned in Nick's arms to face the older man again.

“We've got him on a strong antibiotic IV now, and I want to keep him a day or so. But he's going to be fine, Tasha.”

She nearly melted against Nick and was grateful for the strong arms that wrapped around her middle. “Thank God.”

“Amen.”

For the first time in too many hours, Tasha relaxed. Everything was fine. Good. As it should be. Nick's hands stroked up and down her spine and she only half-listened as Nick spoke to the doctor. She didn't
have
to be in charge now. She could share the burden. And the joy.

Minutes ticked past, but she wasn't counting anymore. It was enough to know that Jonas would be all right again. Shifting slightly, she rested her head on Nick's chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. It soothed her jangled nerves and steadied her racing pulse.

Moments later, when Tasha finally eased out of his embrace, she found they were alone in the waiting room. “Where'd everybody go?”

He grinned. “Where all good Italians go to celebrate. To get food.” He stroked her hair back from her face, his fingertips lingering on her skin. “They'll be back.”

“Good.” She couldn't stop looking at him. “I'm so glad you were here today, Nick. I …
needed
you with me.”

“Glad to hear it,” he murmured, then blew out a breath. “The doctor said Jonas won't wake up for a while yet. So take a walk with me.”

Nodding, Tasha walked to the couch, picked up her
purse, and as she did, her gaze dropped to the manila envelope tucked inside. She hadn't even thought about it in hours. But now that the crisis was over …