Hawk: (27 page)

FEBRUARY

Hawk beat feet home at the end of the workday and jumped in the shower. Everything was ready, the reservations, the flowers- but he was still a mess. He fumbled the hair dryer twice and wasn’t quite done when Tildy came through the front door. He dressed quickly in black slacks and a black cable-knit sweater, then pulled on his boots. He found her in the kitchen with her face in the bouquet of roses, breathing deeply. She grinned when she saw him.

“They’re beautiful!” she squealed and threw herself at him. Hawk kissed her firmly but backed away when Tildy’s tongue swiped playfully at his.

“Nope,” he admonished.

Tildy pouted. “Why not?” Then she noticed his clothes. She raised an eyebrow at him. He grinned at her.

“We’re going out,” he informed her. She opened her mouth, but he raised a finger. “Don’t even ask where. Don’t ask anything.” He pointed to the bedroom door. “Go put on something I’ll like. Hurry up. Reservations are at six.”

Tildy squealed again, just as Hawk’s phone rang. He recognized the ringtone and slid the phone out of his pocket. He frowned at the screen. Shooter knew they had dinner plans, but Hawk answered anyway.

Shooter didn’t wait for a greeting. “She’s unconscious!”

Hawk’s stomach twisted into a hard knot, and he looked at Tildy. She could tell by his face something was very wrong.

Sarah?
she mouthed silently. He nodded gravely.

Tildy was already pulling her coat back on. She snatched her purse off the back of the chair, and Hawk followed her to the truck. Tildy got in on the driver’s side and revved the engine as Hawk listened intently.

“I came home, and she was on the floor. She’s not waking up this time.”

Sarah had been diagnosed with severe pre-eclampsia early on in her pregnancy. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to be done about it. She had dangerously high blood pressure and had passed out three times previously, the first time at Thanksgiving. Things had only gotten worse.

Tildy gunned it and headed for the hospital. Shooter was waiting for the ambulance to get to the house and would follow.

Hawk disconnected the call and dialed the Cowboy. “It’s Slick,” he told him. “It’s bad this time.” Tex didn’t need to hear more than that. He promised to meet them in the Emergency Room in fifteen minutes. Hawk didn’t bother to call Caleb; with his medical training he would’ve been the first person Shooter alerted.

It was icy, even for February, and Tildy took the turns a little fast. Hawk said nothing though; he simply braced himself on the dashboard. They made it in record time. Chris and Sarah lived outside the city limits, and everyone watched the automatic doors, waiting for them to arrive. When they did, Tildy cried out. Sarah was still unconscious, laid out on a gurney. She looked sickly and pale. Caleb was with the paramedics as they wheeled her in. No longer a paramedic himself, he stopped escorting Sarah when they were fully inside the ER admit area. The paramedics continued on, taking her through the swinging double doors. Caleb spotted the group and headed over.

“Where’s Chris?” Tildy asked, glancing anxiously at both sets of doors.

“Right behind,” Caleb told them. “He gave up a spot on the bus. He wanted me with her instead.”

“She’s going to be okay, right?” Abby demanded. “When will she wake up?”

Caleb rubbed his face with his hand. “There’s no way to know.”

At that moment, Shooter came through the automatic doors, searching for a familiar face.

“You’ve got to go,” Caleb said, gesturing toward the swinging doors. “You’ve got to prep while they anesthetize her.”

“Anesthetize her?” Abby demanded. “For what? She’s already unconscious!” Then understanding dawned on her, and she covered her mouth with her hands. “Chris,” she said quietly. “You can’t. It’s too early.”

Shooter glared down at Abby, making her shrink back from him. “There’s a chance,” he insisted. “
Lots
of babies have made it this early.” He didn’t wait for the rest of the argument. He spun away from them and headed through the doors.

“
Can
she survive?” Tildy asked Caleb quietly. Hawk put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

“She could,” Caleb replied. “The steroid shots should’ve strengthened her lungs. She could make it.”

She
was the baby, still unnamed. Sarah wanted to meet her daughter first.

They sat in a somber group in the waiting area. No one spoke. In the corner, the TV was tuned to reruns of an old sitcom. Tex turned it off though. None of the other people in the waiting room argued with him.

Tildy sat next to Hawk, rubbing her St. Christopher medal between her fingers. “It’s the wrong Saint,” she whispered miserably. “They’re not lost.”

Hawk squeezed her shoulder. “God will listen anyway. She’s been through too much for Him to abandon her now.”

Hours later, Chris came out. He looked tired. Everyone got to their feet. “She’s still not awake,” he told them. “But then she wouldn’t be. The baby’s in the NICU in an incubator. They say her oxygen level is pretty good, considering. There’s a window; you can see her. You can see Sarah when she wakes up.”

Despite his exhaustion, he said this firmly, as though there were no other option. Sarah would wake up. She had to. She had to meet her baby.

Tildy couldn’t sit and do nothing. She’d said her prayers; now it was time to be useful. Two hours had passed, and Sarah had not yet woken. Tildy was now convincing Chris to take care of himself, since there was nothing he could do for his wife.

“I don’t
need
a break,” he snapped at her.

Tildy didn’t flinch. “The nurses do,” she replied.

Chris had not settled down for a moment, since he’d entered the hospital.

“Chris,” Tildy said quietly.

“No,” he insisted.

“Chris, your baby needs you.”

The man Tildy had come to know as strong and stoic now looked stricken. “She needs her mother.”

“She needs her father too,” Tildy told him.

“I love her,” Chris whispered and glanced through the glass at his wife. She looked peaceful, as though she were merely sleeping. “She’ll know,” he added.

Tildy frowned. “She’ll know what?” she asked, following his gaze to Sarah.

“She’ll know I didn’t choose her.”

Not Sarah, then, but the baby. “She won’t,” Tildy replied. “Not unless you tell her. She’ll never have to know.”

“I do love her,” Chris insisted.

“Then tell her
every day. Starting now. I’ll wait with Sarah. Go meet your daughter.”

Chris struggled then finally nodded. He turned and walked down the hall, as Tildy entered the ICU. She washed her hands and headed across the large, open room. She brushed her friend’s hair back then sat in the chair that Chris had moved closer to the bed. She took up Sarah’s hand and squeezed it.

“I’ve seen her, Sarah,” Tildy whispered. “She’s beautiful.”

Sarah did not stir.

“My parents never wanted me,” Tildy admitted quietly. “Not really. If I existed or didn’t exist, it made no difference to them. But I see you and Chris, and I can’t imagine what her life will be like with so many people who loved her before she was even born. You’ve got to wake up, honey. It’s time.”

As if she’d heard, Sarah’s hand moved slightly. Tildy’s heart leapt. “Sarah?” she prodded. “Sarah, wake up now.”

Sarah tugged on Tildy’s hand then let go.

“Oh please, God,” Tildy whispered fervently. “Sarah,” she repeated.

Sarah opened her eyes. Tildy felt tears welling up in her own. Sarah looked confused, first staring at Tildy then around the ICU. Tildy bit her lip. There was some possibility Sarah had suffered a stroke before she collapsed.

“Sarah, can you hear me?” she asked, because
Do you know me
wasn’t something she could bring herself to ask.

Sarah grabbed Tildy’s hand again. With her other hand, she pressed against her now empty belly. She made a strangled noise. Tildy jumped up, shoving the chair back so hard it slammed against the wall. The racket garnered the attention of the nearest nurse.

“Move back,” the nurse ordered, but Tildy stood her ground.

“Sarah, listen to me,” Tildy said firmly. “She’s alive. Your baby is alive. She’s just down the hall. She’s in the NICU. She’s alive, Sarah. I swear to you.”

A ragged noise tore from Sarah’s throat, as she struggled to get up. Tildy couldn’t be sure she understood until Sarah rasped, “I want her. Bring her to me!”

Tildy breathed a sigh of relief and squeezed Sarah’s hand again. “We can’t. We can take you there though.”

The nurse again tried to get Tildy to move. “First we need-”

Tildy whirled on the older woman, still not letting go of her friend’s hand. “
Take her to her daughter,
” she demanded.

It didn’t happen as quickly as either Sarah or Tildy wanted, but they did move Sarah’s recovery bed from the ICU to the NICU for a visit. Sarah’s mobility was severely hindered from the C-section, but Tildy watched from the hallway, as Chris moved out of the way so Sarah could put her hand in the incubator.

Tildy felt two large hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned back into Hawk’s larger frame. “Maybe it wasn’t the wrong saint,” she whispered.

Hawk leaned down until his lips brushed her ear. “Maybe it was an Angel.”

In the waiting room, Abby cried into Tildy’s shoulder. Hawk thought even the other brothers looked to be on the verge of tears. God knew he almost was.

Tildy announced she was getting everyone coffee and brought Abby along with her to the cafeteria. Hawk smiled as he watched her go; then his gaze caught the large double doors swinging open again, and Shooter emerged. He took the empty chair next to Hawk and collapsed into it. He looked as ragged as Hawk had ever seen him, even in the desert. “You’re not staying?” Hawk asked, nodding to the doors.

Shooter rubbed a hand over his stubble. “I’ll go back,” he vowed. “But... she’s mad at me. I mean,
pissed as hell
.” He frowned and looked across the large room, as though it was a distance he’d never be able to cross. “I lost her,” he said quietly. “I fought like hell to keep her alive and in the end I lost her in a different way.” He seemed almost afraid to speak out loud. Hawk shifted uncomfortably in his own chair. Shooter was never afraid of anything- not even death. It seemed committing yourself to a woman and a child could change all that, make the toughest, hardest man afraid.

Hawk put his large hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The baby’s looking good, they said. Better than they thought. She’ll be okay, and Slick’ll come back. She’ll understand you did what you had to do.”

“I’ve never seen her look at me like that before.”

“You’re staying together,” Hawk declared. “The two of you, nothing can break you up. Nothing has; nothing will. She’s just scared- same as you- only she doesn’t want to be scared, doesn’t want to think about the baby being in danger. So she’d rather be pissed at you, instead.” Hawk nudged him and smiled. “You can take it.”

Shooter looked over at him.

“Your woman’s pretty scary,” Hawk admitted. “She’s a lot of sass in a little, tiny package. But you can handle her being pissed at you, because she’s not really mad, not in her heart. She’s terrified. And she’s just dealing with it the only way she can.”

The corner of Shooter’s mouth quirked up. “She is very bossy.”

“Worse than a Drill Sergeant,” Hawk concurred.

“And mouthy,” Shooter added.

“Oh, yeah.”

“God, I love her.”

“You’re in it for the long haul,” Hawk replied. “You two are forever.”

“You think so?”

Hawk nodded. “I’m counting on it.”

Shooter frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Hawk hesitated then reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, red velvet box that looked tiny in his large hand. Shooter blinked at it. Vegas gasped.

“Because if you two can’t make it, then I haven’t got a chance,” said Hawk.

“Holy...” Easy started but seemed to remember that they were in public and held back the less polite portions of his sentiment.

“I love her,” Hawk declared quietly. “What you felt when Slick was in danger, I felt that when I couldn’t find Tildy. Like you can’t breathe. Like it’ll all end if she does. Took a long time to admit that I don’t want to be without her.” He looked down at the small box in his palm. “She’ll make a better wife than I will a husband. That’s for sure. I’m hoping she loves me enough to put up with me forever.”

“I do.”

Hawk turned to see Tildy, coffee tray in hand, staring down at him.

“Think you’re skipping ahead,” Easy teased her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Hawk cursed himself silently and stood up. He looked down awkwardly at the box and then back to Tildy. “Damn,” he sighed. “This was not how I wanted it to go. We had dinner reservations, dessert, flowers. I was going to do it right.”

Tildy shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “You did.”

“No,” he insisted. “Damn it. You deserve better. If I can’t get the proposal right, how’s the marriage going to be?”

Tildy set the tray of drinks on the only empty seat and stepped toward him. “I would have liked dessert and flowers,” she told him.

Hawk shook his head, angry at himself.

“But this is better,” she said. “Our family’s here. And they need something good right now.”

As always, Hawk was touched by her spirit. She put everyone else first. Tildy was a good woman, good in a way that he was damned lucky to have. He didn’t worry about cheating on her anymore. He may not be the best husband, but he’d never stray. How could he look at someone else without comparing them to her? No one was like Tildy. He loved her,
made
love to her. Every time he was inside her and looking into her eyes, he saw himself the way she saw him- worthy. He could never have that with anyone else.

“Well, it may not be perfect,” Hawk declared, “but I can get some of it right.” He went down on one knee and opened the box.

The ring was smaller than the one Tate had given her, a single solitaire set onto a gold band. The saleslady had told him gold was out of style, but it matched her St. Christopher medal perfectly. Months ago, he would have pawned everything he owned to get her a bigger ring, just to boost his own ego, but something inside told him she wouldn’t have wanted it.

Tildy might come from the north side, but she didn’t care that Hawk wasn’t as rich as her parents. She never minded that he gave Raina and the kids a cut of his pay. She was happy in their little house, which would have to go soon anyway, because they needed more space for kids of their own. Hawk had thought a down payment on a larger house was a better investment than a ring. He would have told Tildy all this, except one look at her face told him she already knew. She knew exactly what kind of life she’d have with him, and she was hap
py.

All of this assured him that he’d chosen wisely, not just the ring
, but also the woman who would wear it.

The End