Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [103]
“You ready?” Eric asked.
“Yes.” Angela got up quickly. “Can we go to the hospital? How’s Mrs. Summers?”
“I just talked to the obstetrician,” Eric said, smiling but weary. “He said she’s doing fine. Looks like the baby could be born by early morning.”
“That’s great. They’re keeping my dad overnight for observation. I was planning on sleeping in a chair in his room.”
“Ask for a cot. They don’t mind.”
They parted company at the hospital, Eric heading for the maternity ward and Angela for pediatrics. She wanted to check on Maria.
Several floors above the lobby, she stopped at the nurse’s station and made inquiries.
“Maria Andretti? Yes, she’s here. But she’s been moved to an isolation room. Her mother’s with her.”
Angela’s heart skipped a beat. “Is she that sick?”
The nurse smiled understandingly. “Yes and no. She’s being prepared for a bone marrow transplant tomorrow. The doctor thought it would be best to keep her in a sterile environment.”
Angela’s panicked look said more than she could.
“I guess you didn’t know that she has leukemia. Isolation is standard prior to the procedure and afterward. But you could wave to her through the glass window if you like. She’s a talkative little mite. Room seventeen-D. That way.”
“Thanks. Thanks so much.” Angela rushed down the hall to where the nurse pointed. She spotted the room before she got to it—holiday cards were taped to the glass on the outside so Maria could see them.
Carol and Joe Andretti, in gowns, gloves, and face masks, had their backs to the window, bending over their tiny daughter who lay in bed. Angela watched, not wanting to knock on the glass. She glanced at the cards taped to it, smiling at one with glittering figure skates on the front and a warm message inside. Tina Twinkles had come through. Sooner or later, if all went well, Maria would have her first skating lessons. Exhausted, Angela rested her forehead on the glass and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Instantly, a vision came to her of a rosycheeked, dark-haired child running through a field of daisies, a child who was older than Maria was now. Angela heaved a sigh of relief, knowing instinctively that she was seeing spring—next spring. Maria was going to make it. Thank God.
She opened her eyes with a start when she heard the little girl’s voice, somewhat muffled by the thick glass that separated her room from the hospital corridor.
“Look, Mommy! It’s the angel lady!”
The Andrettis waved at her and Carol pointed to the masks that she and her husband had to wear. Their hellos were even more muffled.
Angela nodded in understanding. “I just wanted to see Maria again,” she called. “Merry Christmas to all of you . . .”
The remaining days of the holiday were a blur. Angela didn’t return home, if you could call it that. Neither did Murray. They were ensconced in a fancy hotel, but she hated it. However, she liked her Christmas present from him. His idea, and a surprise. Two tickets to London, one for her and one for him. An ocean away from her mother. A chance to start over.
At the airport, Angela waited in the bar area of the restaurant outside the boarding gates, not ready to go through the endless security line yet. She’d ordered plain tonic over ice to get herself in a British mood, taken one sip, and found it unpleasantly bitter. Gin wouldn’t improve it and she’d get carded if she asked for it. She hadn’t wanted the rest. The ice was melting rapidly, and beads of water trickled down the outside of the glass. It was like watching rain through a window—kind of sad, but it passed the time.
She looked up when a man entered the darkened room. Even in silhouette, there was something familiar about him.
“Angela?”
She knew that voice, had heard it in a trance, but not since then. Dr. Noel Dayton.
She got up and gave him a hug. “I guess you heard I was leaving.”
“Yes, Eric Summers told me. His wife said to say hi. Their baby girl is doing just fine.”
Angela