Holiday Homecoming (8 page)

“Please step aside and let us assess the situation.”

Connor rose from the couch and went to Natalie. Placing his arm around her shoulder, he urged her back out of the way so the other emergency personnel could roll a stretcher into the room. Despite her bristle a moment ago, or because of it, Natalie felt as soft and limp as a rag doll. They watched the emergency techs take Andie's vital signs.

“I don't think it's her heart,” Natalie said in a low voice the others couldn't hear. “Because it started when she held the baby, I think it was a panic attack, maybe brought on by postpartum depression.” In confidence, she shared what her mother had told her about Andie's miscarriage. “I couldn't put my finger on it before today, but to me she's acting like the wife of one of my colleagues at the last station who was diagnosed with postpartum depression.”

He felt like a heel for the thoughts he'd had about Andie earlier when he'd doubted her. “Should we say something to the EMT?”

Natalie glanced at her sister, who the EMT had sitting up on the couch. “No, not yet. It could just be me. I think she's been acting odd since I arrived. It may have been gradual, so no one else has noticed. Or maybe I'm imagining things. You know, Andie has always had her ‘moods.' If they take her to the hospital because of something I say and it turns out to be nothing, I'll never hear the end of it. Unless she stops me, I'll stay with her when the doctor sees her and say something then if I feel I need to.”

“Miss,” the EMT said, motioning Natalie over.

“They want to take me to the hospital,” Andie said. “But I've got the kids, Rob, work.”

“They just want to have a doctor check you over,” Natalie assured her.

“What if they want to keep me there?”

Natalie bit her lip.

“You should go with the medics,” Connor said, relieving Natalie of having to tell Andie what to do and risking her resistance. “Natalie and I'll follow the ambulance.”

“You'll stay?”

“Of course,” Natalie said.

“Connor, too?”

“Yes, I'll come with Natalie and stay.”

Natalie squeezed Andie's hand, and the emergency technicians wheeled her away.

Connor pulled out his phone. “I'm going to text Jack, and then we can leave.” He typed in his message and waited for a reply. “All set.”

Natalie gave him a crooked smile. “I really appreciate your help,” she said, “and I'm sorry we crashed your date.”

“Not a problem.”
More of a relief
. “I have a strong feeling Brianne is glad to have me out of the picture.”

“With some people, there's no accounting for taste.” Natalie covered her mouth with her fingertips. “We'd better get to the hospital. I have Mom's car parked out front.”

Connor placed his hand on the small of her back and walked her out of the office. An afternoon at the Glens Falls hospital wasn't exactly his fantasy of spending time with Natalie, but he'd take it.

* * *

“I'll drive,” Connor said, holding his hand out for the keys.

“I can—” Natalie began, but stopped. “No.” She dropped the keys in his hand. She was too rattled by Andie and by whatever was going on between her and Connor. Ministering to Andie was his job, but she felt—or hoped—his actions meant more.

Connor opened the car door for her before walking around to the driver's side. “Thanks again,” she said, “for coming with me, giving up your afternoon.”

“No problem.” He started the car and headed toward the county highway. “There are times when my work has to come first.”

She swallowed her disappointment and chided herself for being so selfish. Of course he was coming with her to the hospital for Andie. He'd probably be a lot more comfort to her sister than she would.

He turned onto the highway. “And as setups go, today doesn't come close to your mother's attempt the other night.”

She flushed. “You're saying that because of the cookies.” Her flush deepened. Could she have said anything more lame or self-serving?

“That and a comment Josh made about being willing to step in for me today. He said something about keeping his options open that rubbed me the wrong way.”

Connor didn't sound like she'd expect Pastor Connor to sound. She stared at the road ahead of them. He and Josh had always had a sibling rivalry, not unlike her and Andie's. She glanced at his profile as he turned into the hospital parking lot. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You did that to get my mind off Andie,” she said, breaking into a slow smile.

“I'm not telling.” He found a parking space near the emergency room and parked.

She stuck her tongue out at him in a childish gesture she'd often used when he bested her at something. It was fun to just be herself with Connor, with anyone. She'd gotten far too used to playing for the camera.

He met her on her side of the car and they walked to the building. She dragged her feet as they closed in on the emergency room. Connor held the door for her, and despite the brightly painted walls all the lightness drained out of her when she crossed the threshold. People waiting to be seen sat sporadically dispersed in the hard plastic chairs ringing the entry room. A baby cried, and Connor squeezed her shoulder.

She hurried over to the glass-enclosed desk and tapped her foot as she waited for the clerk on the other side to slide open the window. “The Luzerne Emergency Squad bought my sister in. Andie—Andrea Bissette.”

“Spell the last name please.”

“B-i-s-s-e-t-t-e.”

The clerk typed into the computer. “E7. I'll buzz you into the door on your right.”

“Thank you.” Natalie and Connor walked to the right and when the buzzer sounded, she pulled the doorknob of the heavy metal door. As it cracked open, Connor reached over her, grabbed the door edge and lifted the weight from her as he'd already done several times this afternoon—and countless times in the past.

“Oh,” the clerk said when they emerged on the other side. “I didn't know you had someone else with you. We only allow one person per patient. One of you will have to wait outside.”

“I'm the patient's pastor,” Connor said.

A commotion arose in the entry. The clerk looked through the glass and hit the buzzer. The door next to her and Connor flew open to let in an emergency technician pushing a gurney with an apparent stabbing victim, followed by two police officers escorting another man with lesser wounds.

The clerk frowned. “I guess it's okay since you're here in an official capacity.” She waved Natalie and Connor on and trained her attention on the new arrivals.

“Does that work often, using your pastor cred?” Natalie asked.

“Often enough.” He pulled at the neck of his long-sleeved T-shirt. “Looks like the Es are to the right.”

They walked by the central nursing station to E7.

“About time,” Andie said when they walked into her glass-partitioned area.

This was the Andie Natalie was used to.
She must be feeling better
. “We came as quickly as we could.”

“Has anyone been in to see you?” Connor asked.

“Only a nurse to take my temperature, pulse and blood pressure.” Andie fidgeted with the blanket that had been placed over her. “It's freezing in here.”

“Do you want your jacket?” Natalie reached under the gurney where she'd spied it. If anything, the room was too warm.

“Yes, and maybe we should leave.”

Natalie held the jacket in her hand, hesitating to hand it to her sister for fear she'd take the action as encouragement to leave.

“Andie.” Connor touched her arm as if to restrain her. “You need to stay until a doctor checks you out. You were not okay at the Folk School. What would you do if you were home alone with Robbie and you had a similar episode? I think he'd be frightened.”

Andie gripped the blanket with white knuckles. “I'd never do anything to hurt Robbie.”

What was Andie's obsession with not hurting kids? Everyone knew Andie adored kids of all ages.

“I didn't hurt the baby,” Andie said.

Confusion spread across Connor's face.

“Of course you didn't,” Natalie said after a moment of silence.

“Right. I talked with your friend and her sister before we left the festival,” Connor said, obviously thinking Andie meant her friend's baby nephew. “Your friend wanted to give me her phone number so I could let her know how you were. The baby was fine. He waved bye-bye to us.”

Her heart cracked. Connor's words hadn't wiped any of the pain off her sister's face.

“You're pregnant?” asked the nurse, who'd breezed in time to hear Andie's comment about not hurting the baby. “You didn't say that in the medical history we took when you came in.”

Natalie bit her lip.
Andie must feel she did something to cause her miscarriage
.

“No.” Andie's voice caught. “I'm not pregnant.”

“You need to tell her.” Natalie's gaze drilled into Andie's.

“You know?” Andie said in an almost inaudible voice.

Natalie nodded. “Robbie said something to me when I was babysitting him about the Christmas baby not coming and you crying. I asked Mom, and she told me.”

“I asked her not to.”

Natalie squeezed her sister's coat in her folded arms. This wasn't the time for one of their petty arguments.

Andie tilted her head toward Connor.

“I told Connor,” Natalie admitted, answering her sister's silent question.

“Great,” Andie said. “Let's make sure the whole world knows my private business.”

Natalie tried to ignore the way her sister's words slashed through her. Andie was hurting. But she was Andie's sister, not the whole world.

“Andie, Natalie told me in pastor confidence. Nothing she said or you say will go beyond me.”

“All right, then. I had a miscarriage in September.” She said it as if she was admitting to a crime.

“I'll need the information,” the nurse said. “Would you like them to leave?”

“I'll go,” Connor said. “You let me know if you need me today or later.”

“Thanks,
Pastor
Connor. I'll do that.”

“Promise?” he asked.

“Promise.”

Natalie's heart swelled with pride for the professional Connor had become. Not that she'd had any part in it. “I'll go, too,” she said, watching Connor leave. “Unless you want me to stay.”

“No, you can go,” Andie said, dismissing her.

Natalie refused to leave on a bad note. She stashed Andie's coat back under the gurney, leaned over and hugged her sister's stiff form until she relented and hugged her back. “Tell her everything,” she said for Andie's hearing only. “It will help the doctor.” Natalie felt Andie's nod. She straightened, swallowing to break the block of apprehension in her chest. “I'll call Mom and let her know what's going on.”

* * *

Connor paced the waiting room off the emergency room entryway. In the background, the all-news channel blared about a fast-moving nor'easter that had veered inland and was heading for Northeastern New York.

“Expect up to three feet or more of snow in the higher elevations,” the weathercaster said.

Connor glanced out the window at the fat flakes drifting down in winter splendor, knowing all too well how fast they could change to a blinding veil of windblown white. He sat in a chair facing away from the window.
Andie must have let Natalie stay
. His professional side yearned to counsel them to resolve their differences. His ordinary-man side wanted to align with Natalie and protect her from the hurt Andie was so good at inflicting on her.

He pulled out his cell phone and made use of the hospital's public Wi-Fi to check his email. One from an old friend from seminary caught his attention.

“Hey, am I interrupting?”

Natalie was standing right beside his chair. “You looked so engrossed,” she said.

He clicked off his phone. “Checking email. I thought Andie might have let you stay.”

She sat next to him. “No. I called Mom and talked with her a while. I think I might have made a connection with Andie.”

“Good.” He tapped his fingers on the hard plastic armrest of his chair, mulling over what his fellow seminarian had emailed him and whether to share it with Natalie. “Do you want to get coffee or something? We missed lunch.”

“I'm not really hungry.” She brushed the leg of her jeans. “Would you come with me to the chapel and pray that Andie tells the doctor the full story?” She glanced around the waiting room. “I'd feel more comfortable there. The nurse said it's just up the hall.”

“Anything you want.”

“You could get yourself in trouble with an offer like that.” She stood and grabbed her coat from where she'd dropped it on the seat next to her when she'd come in.

Looking up into her coffee-brown eyes, all he could think was in trouble might be exactly where he wanted to be. He stood and walked with Natalie to the chapel, casually looping his arm around her waist and reveling in the simple joy of Natalie not pulling away.

He lifted his arm to open the chapel door. “Do you want me to pray with you?”

She touched his arm. “Thank you, but not out loud.” She slid her hand into his. “What I want to say is too personal.”

He slid his fingers into hers, mentally contrasting the size of her hand and the softness of her skin with his. He of anyone should respect her request, and he did. But that didn't stop him from feeling shut out. They walked down the aisle to the front pew and kneeled. Connor glanced at Natalie, her head bowed, eyes closed. What was it about her that ripped open the wounds of his old insecurities? She stirred beside him, and he tore his gaze from her. Closing his eyes, he prayed for Andie and Natalie—and for strength and clarity for himself.