Laurel wondered if she had been a bit too optimistic when she tried to stand a few minutes later and had to discreetly hold onto the back of a chair until the world stopped spinning. Okay, so she was tired, she conceded. But she wouldn’t give it to the weariness now, not as long as Tyler needed her.
Confident that she was strong enough to get through this, she went out to the coffeemaker that was always freshly filled, and poured herself an extra-large cup of the strong brew.
The Wyzinski child took a turn for the better that afternoon. Another severely injured boy didn’t make it. Laurel found herself celebrating for the one family and grieving for the other, their situations made more personal to her because of her own child’s ordeal.
When she wasn’t sitting with Tyler, Laurel chatted with Carol Grissom. Unfortunately there was no change in Patty’s condition, but Carol continued to distract herself from her worry by monitoring all the other patients and their families. She asked several times about Tyler and seemed genuinely pleased when Laurel reported that he was improving steadily.
Laurel certainly couldn’t complain about Tyler’s care. The doctors and surgeons, nurses, aides and other staff were all professional and efficient. She heard a few muttered complaints from other families, but honestly had none herself. Kathleen O’Hara still checked in with her at least once a day to make sure there were no problems with Tyler’s care, but Laurel had nothing but praise for the hospital staff.
She couldn’t help wondering if her association with Children’s Connection, which shared board members with the hospital, had something to do with the level of service her family received. She hoped that wasn’t the case, but for Tyler’s sake, she would take any advantage she had.
Several of her co-workers stopped by during the day to see if there was anything they could do to help. None of them stayed long. Because of her unexpected absence, the caseload for the other social workers was increased. In addition to that, there had been several other troubling problems in the agency lately—an attempted kidnapping of one of the babies slated for adoption, a rumored mix-up in the sperm bank of the fertility clinic, a few whispers of involvement with illegal baby trafficking. Even the potential of scandal connected with the foundation was enough to have the board of directors and all the staff on full alert.
Since Laurel was the type to focus intently on her own cases and tended to hurry home to her son as soon as her work was finished, she knew little about the rumors or gossip—only enough to worry her, too.
Children’s Connection performed such a valuable service to childless couples and children in need of homes. Laurel was proud of her association with them, and she refused to believe there was a darker side to the foundation. She tended to agree with some of the other employees that someone was deliberately trying to smear the reputation of Children’s Connection—perhaps someone who had been legitimately turned down as an adoptive parent.
But she couldn’t worry about work issues now, she reminded herself as she rubbed her aching head Saturday evening. She had to concentrate on her child, her family. Even Jackson hadn’t mentioned his business all day, though she suspected concerns about his job had crossed his mind more than a few times.
“Laurel, are you sure you’re okay? You’re looking pretty pale.”
She dropped her hand from her temple and straightened her shoulders. “I’m fine,” she told her mother-in-law, who was sitting in Tyler’s room with her while Carl and Jackson took a break to walk outside. “What about you? You’ve been here all day. Shouldn’t you go home and get some rest?”
“I’ll leave in a little while.” Donna kept her eyes on Tyler’s face. The child was sleeping again, as he had most of the day, a result of the medications being pumped through his IV. “He’s doing well, isn’t he?”
“Yes. The doctor said he’s recovering nicely. In a couple of weeks, he’ll be running and playing again.”
“He’ll have to be careful not to overdo it.”
“I’ve been given detailed instructions about his recuperation.”
“Maybe you should have Beverly stay with you and Tyler for a few weeks after he gets out of the hospital. Just a suggestion, of course.”
“Donna, I don’t need a nanny if I’m going to stay with Tyler full-time—which I will during his recuperation.”
“Yes, but she’s a trained nurse’s aide. She was the one who noticed Tyler’s health problems in the first place, you know.”
Laurel felt the muscles at the back of her neck tense. “Yes, so you’ve pointed out. Repeatedly.”
Donna flushed. “I’m not criticizing you, of course. I’m sure if you had been with him as much as Beverly, you would have seen the signs yourself.”
That comment, of course, only made matters worse as far as Laurel was concerned. “I spend a great deal of time with my son, Donna. I work thirty to thirty-five hours a week. Certainly not that much compared to most working parents. And not nearly as many hours as Jackson works, though I don’t hear you attacking him for not knowing Tyler had a congenital heart condition.”
“I wasn’t attacking you, Laurel. And Jackson works hard because he has a family to support. It’s his responsibility as a husband and father.”
“And my responsibility as a wife and mother is to devote myself entirely to their needs, completely sacrificing my own? Honestly, Donna, what century are you living in?”
Donna started to snap back an answer, but she stopped herself with a visible effort, taking a deep, unsteady breath and holding up her right hand. “We’re both tired. And worried. This isn’t the time to talk about the differences between us. I’m hardly in a position to criticize anyone else’s mothering skills. God knows I’ve made a mess of things myself.”
“You? The perfect mother?” Laurel couldn’t resist saying.
Donna made a sound that seemed to be a cross between a bitter laugh and a choked sob. “Hardly.”
Obviously, this strange conversation had something to do with whatever had been bothering Donna for the past couple of days. Maybe Donna’s uncharacteristically open criticism of Laurel had more to do with her own insecurities than any ill-feelings toward her daughter-in-law. And maybe Laurel should try to reach out to see if there was anything she could do to make things better between them. But as Donna’s hurtful remarks echoed in her aching head, she bit her lip and remained quiet, instead.
Jackson and Carl came back into the unit soon afterward. Laurel thought again about how the hospital had relaxed the ICU rules, allowing families and patients themselves to become more actively involved in their care. As far as Laurel was concerned, it was a change for the better. She wouldn’t have been at all cooperative had anyone tried to keep her away from Tyler.
By Sunday morning, Jackson was becoming almost as worried about Laurel as he was his son. She was pale and drawn, with purple shadows beneath her eyes and a fine tremor in her hands. She hadn’t had a full night’s sleep, or a solid meal for that matter, since Tyler had been diagnosed Wednesday afternoon. The ICU waiting room was no place for a good night’s rest.