“Your child appears to be fine.”
“Thank God.” Bruce closed his eyes, so grateful for his wife’s health and his child’s that it felt as if his knees might go out from under him. He slumped into a chair.
Jolene sat down next to him. “Why did Rachel come with us if she was sick?” she asked.
Bruce placed his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Because she wanted to be with us—to do something together as a family. Rachel never had this opportunity as a child. Her aunt didn’t ever buy a tree. At Christmas she gave Rachel money and had her buy her own gift.”
Jolene dropped her head. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“I know.”
“Can I get Rachel some flowers and apologize?”
Bruce squeezed her shoulders. “Flowers are a nice idea, but what’s more important to Rachel, and to me, is bringing her and the baby into our family. That’s where they belong.”
Jolene considered this over for a moment and then nodded. “At first, when I was afraid Rachel was in labor, I thought she might lose the baby. I’m looking forward to when the baby comes and I felt sick inside because I know it’s too early.”
“We could have lost more than the baby,” he said, pressing his cheek against Jolene’s hair. “We could have lost Rachel.”
She covered her face with both hands and started to weep. Her shoulders heaved convulsively as she buried her face in Bruce’s side and gave way to her tears. “I’m so sorry,” she gulped. “So sorry.”
He patted her back and whispered soothing words. He’d give anything to make things right between his wife and his daughter. Counseling had helped a little, but for every step forward they seemed to take two back.
After several minutes of comforting Jolene, Bruce stood and approached the nurses’ station. “Can I see my wife?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ll take you and your daughter back. We’re getting her a bed right now. It shouldn’t be long.”
“Thank you.” Bruce and Jolene followed the woman to a cubicle, where Rachel lay on a gurney. She was on her side, doubled up in almost the same position as she’d been in the backseat of the car. An IV bottle was attached to her arm.
“Rachel,” Jolene whispered, touching her hand.
Rachel’s eyes fluttered open. “Hi,” she whispered back, and attempted a smile.
“The doc says they want to keep you overnight,” Bruce said, putting his hand on her forehead, needing to touch her, needing reassurance that she was going to be all right. Rachel and their baby.
“I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas tree outing.”
“We’ll go again when you’re not so sick, okay?” Jolene said as if talking to a child.
Rachel smiled again. “I’ll help decorate the tree, too.”