Sean refused to leave her side, holding her left hand almost the entire time. Her naked ring finger mocked him while he absently ran his finger over the bare spot. Jill silently prayed by her daughter's bedside while Mike surprised him by constantly brushing Beth's hair off her face, holding her hand, kissing her cheek, and talking to her, though she would never hear a word. Those were such tender moments between a father and his daughter, Sean felt like a voyeur watching them.
"I love you, baby girl," Mike said softly. "I remember the day you were born, holding your tiny body in my big hands." He smiled at the memory. "The best day of my life, holding my daughter." His eyes swam with tears he didn't bother to hold back while he gently stroked her arm. "The most precious gift is a baby girl, and I got one handed to me bundled up in a pink blanket."
Jill cracked the air with a sob that escaped. Sean had to look away. Silence descended upon the family with the sound of the ventilator breaking the hush of the room. Every day was like that. Every day they wondered if Beth would improve, or if that was the day the doctors would come in and suggest to end the mechanical help of her breathing.
While Sean stayed vigil by her side, Ryan took over getting his new clinic ready. Well at least accepting the deliveries. When Mike and Jill went to the cafeteria for coffee on a Tuesday, Ryan stepped into the room.
"How's she doing?" his brother asked. Sean watched Ryan approach Beth, lean down and kiss her forehead, then whisper something unintelligible into her ear. For some reason, it eased the people close to her to speak to her, even though she couldn't possible hear a single word professed.
"Her oxygen levels are the best they've been to date. They're talking about possibly taking her off the vent in the next few days if her carboxy hemoglobin levels keep improving," Sean said.
Ryan eyed him. "You look terrible. You need to shower, shave, and get some sleep. I'll stay with her.
"No," he bit out.
"Sean, you're no good to her if you're exhausted." Ryan took a step towards him.
"I will not leave this hospital room until she does," he said firmly.
Sighing, he knew his brother understood that the argument would be a losing battle. "All right, but if you need to leave, I'll stay." Ryan pulled up a stool and sat next to him. "You're equipment came today."
"Shit," he mumbled.
"Courtney signed for it."
Sean's head snapped to his brother. "I don't want her involved in my business."
Ryan sank back, almost deflated. Really looking at his brother, dark circles under his eyes along with red rims showed Ryan was as exhausted as he felt. "Sean, I can't do everything, and she offered to help. You have to stop this. She loves you and is scared to death you're gonna lose Beth. She doesn't want that for you." He said softly, "She doesn't want you goin' through that kind of pain. She understands it all too well."
He couldn't respond because he wasn't gracious enough at the moment to forgive her. More pressing issues controlled his thoughts and emotions, those all belonged to Beth and the anxiety that he might lose her.
"Don't mention her name to me again, Ry," he growled.
"I talked to the fire marshal today," his brother said after a loud, long sigh.
His head snapped up. "What did he say," he breathed.
"Electrical fire, said it started in the kitchen. Something about the refrigerator and the outlet it was plugged into wasn't updated with the rest of the house when her security system was put in. The house was very old, and apparently whoever did the original work did a shoddy job," his brother answered.
"What about the security company, can they be held liable?" Sean growled.
Shaking his head, Ryan said, "It was just one of those odd situations where looking at all the wiring wasn't needed. Her phone system was set up in the living room. The fire alarms were set up in the ceilings as well as the lights flickering for the doorbell and the strobe lights."
Sean wasn't happy about that answer. He wanted someone to pay for Beth's condition and the terror she must have gone through.
"It was an unfortunate accident, Sean," Ryan said empathetically. He probably knew what was rambling in his head. "She's alive. You need to concentrate on that."
Yeah, if only it were that easy.
Two days later, seven days after the fire, Beth's oxygen blood levels were within limits that the hospital could attempt to take her off the ventilator.
When the staff came into the room to take out her tube, Sean and Beth's parents were asked to step out of the room until they were finished. Reasonably, he understood why. Taking the tube out of someone's throat wasn't the prettiest sight, and if something went wrong, they couldn't have family there in case they had to quickly put the tube back in or other drastic measures were needed. But it still didn't set well with him to be tossed out of the room. He was a doctor. Shouldn't there be allowances that granted him access?
As they stepped into the waiting room, Sean was surprised to find Courtney seated in the corner. Alone. Staring out the windows at the bright, sunny day, she didn't notice him. Still he couldn't find it in himself to approach her.
Sean paced that damn room that was far from comfortable. Outdated furniture, old magazines, the scent of stale coffee, and cheap wall art reminded him of exactly where they were.
For forty-five minutes, they impatiently waited. Mike wanted to kill someone. Literally. He muttered about taking out the entire hospital staff if someone didn't give him good news on his daughter soon. Jill didn't bother with the impossible task of containing him.
Finally a doctor and nurse came out to the waiting area.
"You'll be able to go back in a moment, once the nurses and respiratory finish," the doctor said.
"How is she?" Sean quickly asked.
"She's doing well," the man answered. "She did good coming off the vent. Respiratory is keeping a close eye on her. We're going to get an updated CT scan as soon as possible. She's still on oxygen and will be for a few more days at least, and she'll receive breathing treatments, but we're pleased with her progress."
Jill flung her arms around her husband and outright cried for the first time in his arms. Sean wanted to feel elated, but they still didn't know if there was any permanent brain damage. There was still a waiting game, but as parents, their daughter was alive and that's all that mattered to them. Sean feared if there was damage, he still might lose his girl.
Sagging into the nearest sticky chair, Sean ran an exhausted hand down his face. This waiting game made him feel like he aged ten years, but he'd take it if Beth would just be all right.
20
After the doctor left, they waited for a nurse to return and tell them they could go back into the room. That was the agonizing part. How was Beth? Since she'd be awake, off the sedation and ventilator, the hospital staff would be in there questioning her to get her responses, see if she was able to communicate, and overall evaluate her. Was she responding? Was there brain damage?
Finally, a nurse who was all smiles, walked into the area. "You can go back now. She's asking for all of you."
Jill cried out, while Mike yanked his wife past the nurse, through the doors. Sean glanced over his shoulder to find his cousin watching the scene, tears streaming down her face. But she remained seated and didn't say a word. Such a rarity for her. She didn't try to steal the spotlight or make it all about her. Maybe she was genuinely concerned about Beth. Subconsciously he noted her normal entourage was mysteriously missing.
Spinning on his heels, he marched straight back to Beth's room to find her mother sprawled across her daughter, hysterical. Mr. Connors didn't bother to hide his sheer relief with his own tears sliding down his face as he held his daughter's hand.
Feet planted in place, Sean was unable to move. Beth was alive. His chest constricted, and had to catch himself, throwing a hand out to the wall to keep from falling over. Finally she looked over to him. Those big blue eyes were now dull with tears spilling down her gaunt cheeks.
"Sean," she croaked. It would be days before her voice got back to normal, but at least she could talk.
As if he was drawn to her by a string she held in her hand, own their own accord, his legs went to her. Her mom slipped out of the way. Their eyes locked into each other, Sean gently grabbed her face in both hands and placed gentle kisses on every inch.
"Beth," he breathed. "Oh, god, Beth." Falling into the crook of her neck, Sean fell apart, sobbing unmanly tears. Those soft, fragile hands of hers tried to wrap around him, but her grip was weak and tired. He didn't care.
"I love you," she said hoarsely. "I was so scared."