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Chapter 192

Claire drifted slowly into wakefulness, and as she became aware of her surroundings, her thoughts came one by one.

I’m in France… in Jenn’s apartment… on Jenn’s couch. My head hurts… ugh… what’s wrong with me? Oh yeah… went out drinking last night. Drank a lot. No wonder. I’m hungover. Why’d I do that? Oh yeah… Nick. Nick…

Nick’s in Germany. Munich. He’s performing there tonight. And I’m going to be there.

She sat up, ignoring the fact that her head was killing her and the morning light was too bright. She couldn’t remember everything that had happened last night – not after a certain point, anyway – but she remembered most of the conversation that had led to that decision.

“Look,” Jenn had said, on the sidewalk outside the club, “You just have to go after him again and find him. He’s going to Munich? Then you go to Munich. Track him down and talk to the guy. You’ve already chased him to Europe – why turn around now and go back home? You’re already here. You might never get this chance again. You gotta make it count, girl.”

In the fog of booze, it had made perfect sense. It hadn’t worked out in Paris, so she had to go to Munich and catch him there. She couldn’t leave Europe until she’d made things right.

They’d toasted and drank to that decision… then drank some more. Claire was regretting it now, now that it was morning and she had to get up and think about how she was going to get to Munich and how she was going to find Nick once she got there. She had no plan… but at the moment, she was unconcerned. Who needed a plan? She hadn’t had a plan when she’d hopped on a plane to come here either, and that had worked out… okay, not so well. But she’d learned from her mistakes. This time, it would go better. It had to. As Jenn said, this was her last shot.

Her head was pounding, so she lay back down on the couch and closed her eyes. She could think better this way. Think… think… Nick’s face swam in her mind.

And then it was Jenn’s face that was coming into focus, saying, “Claire… Claire…”

Claire jerked awake, realizing she had let herself doze off again. “I’m up,” she mumbled groggily, lifting her head from the throw pillow she’d slept on.

“Claire, it’s your mom. On the phone,” Jenn added, and as she thrust a cordless phone at Claire, it finally clicked. The phone. Her mom was on the phone? She gave Jenn a confused look, and Jenn pushed the phone into her hand. “Take it; it’s important.”

Claire was still too out of it to read the sharp look in her friend’s green eyes, but when she raised the phone to her ear and murmured a sleepy hello, the urgency in her mother’s voice snapped her into alertness. “Claire, thank God. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get a hold of you. Your cell phone just goes straight to your voicemail.”

“Yeah, it’s out of range. What’s going on?” she asked, instinctively aware that something was wrong. She hadn’t actually spoken with her mother since leaving in the middle of the night, but she had made sure her parents would know where she had gone. She’d left a note. Ironic, she’d thought it at the time, for she had written a note when she’d left Nick, and now, she had written one before she left to get him back. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to go about such things, but in her haste, it was easier than trying to explain herself in person, knowing she’d never be able to.

Her parents knew vaguely where she was, and she’d only been gone a couple of days, so it couldn’t be able that. Immediately, her mind jumped to the twins. “Are Cait and Lainey o-”

“They’re here with me,” her mom cut her off, her voice short and tense. “We’re at the hospital.”

In Claire’s mind, this confirmed her fear that something bad had happened to one of her daughters, and her blood ran cold. But before she could find her voice to ask, her mother spoke again.

“It’s your father.”

***

Her plans to take a late morning train to Munich were immediately thrown aside, as Claire headed straight for Charles de Gaulle Airport instead.

All through the seven-hour flight back to the States, she mentally abused herself for all the bad decisions that had gotten her here, thirty-six thousand feet in the air and thousands of miles away from both Nick and her family. It was the worst possible place to be at that moment. All she could do was gaze out at the endless clouds and think, wondering and worrying about what was happening at home.

It was another heart attack, her mother’s tearful voice had crackled over the phone. More severe than the last. Her father’s heart had actually stopped in the emergency room. Cardiac arrest. Through the grace of God, the doctors had managed to resuscitate him. Now he was undergoing bypass surgery, the last resort treatment they had managed to avoid the last time.

Claire eyed the air phone tucked neatly into the back of the seat in front of her. She wondered if her dad was still in surgery. The realization that she was so far away and had no idea what was going on at the hospital terrified her. She kept thinking of Jamie and his father, who had been sent to the OR for the same procedure and died hours later. A tear slipped down her cheek, mirroring the beads of moisture that clung to the outside of her window. That couldn’t be her dad. It couldn’t happen… it wasn’t his time yet. His granddaughters barely knew him…

She felt sick to her stomach, both from the fear and the homesickness. More than anything, she wished she were by her father’s side right at that moment, holding his hand… or holding her daughters. This was the longest she’d been away from them since they were in the NICU. How thoughtless she had been, to leave them all like that.

She clutched the flimsy airplane pillow she had been given, wishing it was the warm little body of Caitlin or Delaine, and thought to herself, I’ll never leave you again…

***

Her carry-on bag smacking against her side in perfect cadence, Claire jogged through the hospital halls. She turned her head right and left, keeping her eyes peeled for anyone she knew inside the various waiting areas. When she saw a flash of red hair, she skidded to a stop and ducked into a room with a TV, magazine rack, couch, and chairs. Typical hospital waiting room. She’d spent too much time in these, though she knew the person in front of her had spent even more.

“Hey, there you are…” he said when he noticed her, standing up to look her over.

Claire dropped her bag and rushed into her brother’s arms. “How’s Dad?” she asked breathlessly.

Kyle released her. “He’s out of surgery. The doc said it went well; they cleared out the blockage. He’s in recovery; Mom’s with him.”

Claire nodded, weak with relief. Now that her adrenaline had stopped pumping, she suddenly realized how exhausted she was and sunk wearily into the chair beside Kyle. “Where are Cait and Lainey?”

“Amber’s got them and Kamden back at the house. She can watch them until you’re ready to take them.”

“Thanks,” Claire murmured. “I want to see Dad, and then I’ll go pick them up. I miss them.”

“I’ll bet,” said Kyle, though he gave her a strange look, and there was a definite tone in his voice. “So… what happened with Nick? Was it worth the trip?”

Claire felt the pressure build in her temples as the emotion welled up again, making her headache worse. She should have known that even in the midst of a family crisis, she wouldn’t get out of explaining herself.

“No,” she said shortly, “it was a huge mistake. I don’t really wanna talk about it now, though, if that’s okay. I just wanna check on Dad, go home, and see my girls.”

“Glad to hear it,” replied Kyle, and he left her alone. She got the impression that no one was very happy with her for taking off the way she had, but she supposed she couldn’t blame them. She was glad to drop the issue for now.

They sat in an awkward silence for awhile, until Kyle finally said, “Well… maybe you should go find Mom and let her know you’re here. Then you can pop in on Dad.”

“Okay,” said Claire, eager to get out of that room. Kyle told her how to get to the recovery room, though the directions were worthless because she forgot half of them once she was out of the waiting room. Her short term memory sucked these days. She asked a passing nurse which way to go, and the nurse escorted her all the way to a set of doors marked Recovery.

She walked through the doors into the dimly-lit room, altogether eerie with its rows of motionless patients on gurneys adorned with monitors that beeped and flashed. And as she did, she was hit with an overwhelming sensation of déjà vu. She had been here before, in this very recovery room, not for her father, but Nick. It was here that she had stood next to his bed and held his hand, wishing silent thanks to God for bringing him through the delicate lung surgery that could have killed him.


She touched his hand; it was like ice. Feeling a surge of nurturing love for him, she picked his hand up and wrapped hers around it, trying to warm it. “God, it feels so good just to hold his hand again. I was so scared…” she whispered.

Across the bed, Brian gave her a grim smile and a nod. “We all were. I still am. It’s so hard to see him like this. I mean, to think not even two days ago, he was on stage, singing his heart out. And now…” He trailed off.

A shiver ran through Claire as she pictured Nick collapsing back stage, only minutes after the show had ended. He’d coughed up blood, they had told her. She couldn’t imagine how terrifying it must have been, for the guys and especially for Nick himself. He must have known that something was wrong, but no one had realized how bad it was.

“I know. Isn’t it scary to think how quickly your whole life can change? All it takes is a few seconds… a few words… and suddenly, everything’s different.”

This she knew from experience.

“Don’t I know it,” said Brian, and she remembered that he’d had the experience too.

They fell into a silence, albeit not an awkward one. Claire was content to just stand there and drink in the sight of Nick. In a way, it was an alarming sight; he was ghost pale, with dark circles under his eyes from the strain of the surgery, and the hose of a ventilator taped to his cheeks. Tubes ran out from under his covers every which way, some draining, others filling him with painkillers and medicines. His every bodily function was being monitored, yet the sight of the steadily peaking lines and unchanging numbers on the monitors were a comfort. Nick was alive, and soon the machines would be gone, and he could go on with his life.

His hand felt warmer now, as if her body heat had radiated through her skin and into his. She wove her fingers in and out of his, ran her thumb gently across his knuckles. She wished he could squeeze her hand back, but it remained limp and heavy in hers. He was completely unconscious.

And now that he was out of danger, she could bring up what had been on her mind since the day before. “Bri, have you ever said anything out of haste…”


Momentarily lost in the memory, Claire felt a lump rise in her throat. In her haste, she’d told Nick she loved him when he’d said it to her, not completely sure how she really felt but caught up in the fear of losing him. Now, five-and-a-half years later, she knew how she felt. She knew her feelings were right. So why had she acted out of haste again and run out of him? Now she was worried of losing him again, not to death but to her own stupidity.

She sighed. Now was not the time to start thinking about this again. Her father was somewhere in this room, and she had to focus all of her thoughts on him. Her family was all that mattered now.

Near the corner of the room, she spotted the silhouette of her mother, sitting in a chair beside her father’s gurney and holding his hand, much the way Claire had held Nick’s. She approached them slowly, swallowing hard.

“Mom?”

Her mother turned, and the artificial twilight was enough to capture her relieved smile. She stood up, motioned Claire over, and pulled her into a rib-crunching hug. “Thank God you’re here.”

***

It was almost dark by the time Claire pulled into the driveway of Kyle and Amber’s small house in St. Petersburg. She had borrowed her mother’s car to go pick up the twins; Kyle would drop their mom off at the condo when she was ready to leave their father’s side. Claire suspected that wouldn’t be anytime soon; she’d probably stay until the hospital staff kicked her out.

When Claire had left, her dad was awake and talking. In a voice that was weak and gravely, he had told her how glad he was to see her, making her feel even guiltier for leaving than Kyle had in the waiting room.

And now she had to face her sister-in-law, who probably thought her a horrible mother for running off on her infant daughters the way she had. Steeling herself, Claire shut off the ignition and climbed out of the car. She told herself it didn’t matter what Amber thought. Who cared? Not her. All she cared about was seeing her girls.

She walked up the path to the front stoop, her flip-flops slapping against the pavement, and knocked lightly on the door. While she waited, she played with her mother’s keys, swatted at the mosquitoes swarming around the porch light, and wondered if the kids would all be asleep by now. It was after eight.

Finally, Amber came to the door, dressed in a pair of light, summer pajamas. “Hi, Claire, come on in,” she said, holding the door open. “How’s your dad doing?”

As they walked into the living room, Claire filled her in, all the while scanning the room for any sign of her daughters. The three little ones must have all been in bed, but there were the twin infant seats and diaper bags and a blanket spread out with a few baby toys. “Did everything go okay with Cait and Lainey?” she asked Amber.

“They were alright. Fussy, though, and they didn’t want to eat. They’re having trouble feeding from the bottle. Your mom said the same thing. I think they missed their mother.” Amber gave her a meaningful look and went on, “I finally got Cait to drink about half of hers, but Lainey hardly got anything in her, and it took me an hour to rock her to sleep. I just finally got them put down in our room.”

Feeling incredibly guilty, Claire followed her into the master bedroom, where both of her babies lay, side by side in the middle of Kyle and Amber’s bed. Their heads were turned towards each other, and in their sound sleep, the twins formed such a beautiful picture that Claire couldn’t bring herself to disturb them. She stood at the edge of the bed and just gazed at them, feeling herself relax for the first time in days.

She had left them in the night three days ago, gone on a whirlwind trip across the Atlantic on a mission that had failed miserably, and now she was back, where she belonged. With her daughters, with her family. In the weeks to come, she would return to the feeling that something was missing from her life, but at that moment, she had all she needed and wanted right here.

Reaching out, she stroked first Delaine, then Caitlin, on the cheek, much the way she had when they were both lying in incubators in the hospital, and whispered, “It’ll be alright. Mama’s back now.”

The mere sight of her babies had made her breasts grow hard with milk that desperately needed to be pumped, and it didn’t take long for Claire to settle into her old duties, fishing her breast pump out of her bag in the car, moving the car seats from Amber’s car to her mother’s, and strapping her daughters into them under the glow of moonlight.

As she drove them home that night, she tried to pretend that her weekend in Paris had all been a dream, a dream she had awoken from and would not dwell on again.

If only it could be that easy.

***