*
The next coupleof hours were the slowest and most excruciating of her life. Someone had tried to decorate the ICU waiting room in warm colors, providing comfortable chairs and a vending machine, along with potted plants, a television, and windows to the outside world. They had to space to themselves and for that Miranda was grateful. She’d hate for anyone to witness their family falling apart or to have anyone try to make small talk. Lucas had remained a silent sentry while Cole left to handle things at the office and keep the media quiet. It should have been her job but she was numb and could barely speak. Miraculously, Gwen had settled quietly into her chair, hands twisting in her lap occasionally, but she had stopped crying and seemed focused inward. Miranda, on the other hand, felt brittle, her skin pulled tight over her bones. One wrong move and she could shatter into a thousand pieces.
A movement next to her jarred her out of her thoughts. A coffee cup appeared in front of her, steam wafting out of the sipping opening. She shook her head.
“It’s tea,” he said quietly.
She stared up at him, comprehension slowly dawning, along with gratitude. “How did you know?”
“In my office. Your assistant brought you tea, not coffee.”
She smiled and sipped the hot liquid. Perfect. She wanted to be angry at his presumption but she needed the tea. She glanced at her mom to see her sipping coffee and nibbling on a pastry.
“She got a pastry and I didn’t?”
He held up a bag. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted it.”
She caught a whiff of chocolate. “Are you kidding? If there’s chocolate in there, I want it.”
He grinned, looking more like the boy she remembered than the distant, controlling consultant. He settled in the chair next to her. She bit into the Boston cream donut and moaned as the flavors hit her mouth. He leaned back and stretched an arm behind her, lightly stroking her back. Her back tingled with the light contact of his hand and she tried to ignore it.
“How are you doing?”
She sighed, his warm hand stroking her back distracting her from her present situation. “Hanging in there. My mind is whirling with everything I’ll need to do in my father’s absence.”
“Maybe he won’t be out too long.”
She frowned. “He’s had heart issues before. He probably shouldn’t come back to the office for a while.”
“Good luck keeping him down.” He gestured to her mother. “She seems to be doing okay.”
“She is. I didn’t expect that, to be honest. She always seemed so dependent on my father, looking to him for direction.” She paused then spoke, the words sticking like peanut butter in her mouth. “I’m sorry I was rude before. Thank you so much for being here for my mom, for me.”
“I understand. You were under extreme stress. And I shouldn’t have snapped either. My momma taught me better than that.”
Miranda grinned, a faint ghost of a smile. “How’s your mom doing?”
He sighed, his face taking on the look of a sad memory. “My mom’s a rock. When my dad got sick, I was away at college and my brother and sister were still in high school. She had to handle everything. She refused to let me come home at all and took care of everything. Honestly, I felt completely useless. She’s in Florida now, with a more active social life than I have.”
Miranda looked at him, his strength radiating to her. “Sounds like your mom. Say hi next time you talk to her.”
The doors to the ICU opened and the doctor stepped out. They all stood, Miranda going to her mother and taking her hand. Despite her mother’s show of strength, she gripped Miranda’s hand so tightly Miranda thought her fingers would lose all blood flow. Lucas came and stood next to her, a steadying presence, his hand low on her back, silently offering his strength. A stray thought tickled her mind. She could get used to his strength and she reminded herself why he was really there.
“We finished the procedure and he’s resting now.” The doctor gestured to a few chairs and they all sat back down. “I’m afraid he has significant damage to his heart. We put a stent in and did the angioplasty, but he’s going to need a bypass, at least a triple, but more likely a quadruple.”
“Why didn’t you do it now?” Miranda asked, trying to focus on the words and not the implications.
“We need to let his heart recover a bit from this heart attack before we can do it. We’ll keep him in ICU for a few days then do the bypass.”
“Doesn’t a stent have the same impact as a bypass?” Lucas asked.
The doctor frowned at him. “There are studies that indicate that, however, with the damage Mr. Callahan has suffered, a stent may not be enough.”
The doctor stood. “You can visit him now, but only for a short visit. He needs rest and no stress.”
Lucas’s hand was warm against her lower back, pushing her towards the doors. He leaned in and said, “I’ll wait out here.”
Miranda ushered her mother after the doctor through the maze in the ICU. The beeping of machines and hushed voices reinforced the almost church-like solemnity to the unit. She wrestled down the fear threatening to choke her, and focused instead on her mother who was leaning heavily on her. The doctor led them into a semi-private room where Seamus lay on the bed, tubes and monitors coming out of everywhere on him, his white face almost the same color as the sheets. As they stepped in, her mother let out a sob. Miranda grabbed Gwen’s shoulder and turned her around, not allowing her to bury her head in Miranda’s chest.