Isandro came out of Zac’s room for a moment, to make a quick call to Hernán and instruct him as to what time to come and pick them up in the morning, and that was when he saw her. He reeled. Rowan was staring straight ahead, her hands shaking in her lap, and she was so pale that he was surprised she was still sitting up. He quashed his immediate reflex to demand to know why she hadn’t left.
‘Rowan …’
No response.
‘Rowan?’
No response. He moved closer and sat down. Eventually took her hands in his.
Rowan felt warmth coming from somewhere. But she was locked in a living nightmare. She knew she wasn’t asleep. She was surrounded by white walls. Eventually something pierced her consciousness.
‘Rowan.’
Someone was pulling her head around. Forcing her eyes to meet … blue ones. The only ones she’d ever dreamt of. The warmth of his hands was seeping through to her chilled bones and body. Like a life-giving force. And with that sanity and reality returned.
‘Rowan?’
Isandro was looking at her, and it wasn’t his usual impatient look. It was something different. Assessing. Speculative.
‘I couldn’t leave. I’ll just sit out here and wait, if that’s okay?’
Isandro willed down the concern rippling through him. She was in shock. Of that there was no doubt. But it was a shock so deep and raw that he’d never seen anything like it.
‘Will you be okay if I leave you for a second?’
Rowan nodded, and watched as he put her hands back in her lap and walked away. She felt like calling out after him. But just as swiftly he returned and put a steaming hot cup of tea into her hands, encouraging her to drink. The tea burnt its way down her throat into her stomach and warmed her.
As he watched the colour slowly come back into her cheeks, Isandro remembered coming out onto his balcony and seeing her with her head tipped back, eyes closed … there had been something intangibly vulnerable about the lines of her body. Then he remembered the way he’d felt when he’d come to stand in front of her. All that had been on his mind was that he’d wanted to kiss her. How could he think of that at a time like this?
‘How did you know what was wrong with him?’
Rowan looked at Isandro warily. ‘I read about febrile convulsions in one of my baby books while I was pregnant.’
His eyes speared her, intensely blue against the white background. ‘You read about it in a book?’
She nodded. ‘They’re not uncommon in children his age.’
Isandro stood up and stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘And yet not I nor María knew what to do—and I am his father and she is his nanny. Dammit, that woman was meant to be the best of the best—trained to deal with anything.’
Rowan rushed automatically to María’s defence. ‘It’s all very well to know something in theory, but when you’re faced with a child in a convulsion, turning blue … She knew what it was, Isandro, she just got a shock.’
‘And yet with no training you knew exactly what to do.’
Silence hung heavy and awkward. What could she say? Sorry? She looked down at the ground and saw Isandro’s feet come into her line of vision. She suddenly felt tired.
‘I never said thank you.’
She looked up and shook her head, hiding her shock at his apology. ‘You don’t have to. I’m just glad I could help.’
And I couldn’t. The words reverberated in Isandro’s head. He’d never felt so impotent in all his life, never so much at a loss. He’d had to let someone else take control, and it had almost killed him.
Rowan could feel him looking at her. What was he thinking?
He stretched out a hand. ‘Come on.’
She looked up. His face was inscrutable. She stood up and let him take her by the elbow. He steered her into Zac’s room, where he lay sleeping, and made her sit down in the comfy chair in the corner. He took the upright chair beside Zac. She started to protest but he shushed her.
And in the half-light of the hospital room, with her son’s chest rising and falling easily, Rowan let herself relax … She fought it for a long time, her eyes going from father to son, but finally she slept …
Back at the house the next day, María appeared, still looking shaken and shamefaced as she greeted them and took Zac for his morning nap.
Isandro looked at Rowan. ‘You should get some rest. You can’t have slept well on that chair.’
And what about you? she wanted to ask. But he’d already gone to follow María and check on Zac.
He didn’t go into the office those first couple of days after the weekend, clearly still shaken by the experience. Rowan was aware of a subtle softening in his treatment of her, but knew it was far too dangerous to allow any feeling of complacency to creep in.