Cindi Myers - Lullaby for Two / Child's Play - Lullaby for Two

“As often as I can.”

“You would have made a good cheerleader,” Vince joked.

“I wanted to try out, but…” She stopped, not delving into that territory.

“But your dad wouldn’t let you because of the short skirts?” Vince guessed.

“Something like that. I think he was more afraid I’d climb to the top of one of those pyramids and then break something. You can’t let your concerns hold Sean back.”

“I know that. Right now I’m trying to decide whether or not I should tell his great-aunt that the surgery is scheduled. I could just wait until it’s all over.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“I’m not sure. I can save her worry if I call her after the fact to tell her it was successful.”

“On the other hand…”

“On the other hand, Janet is his only living relative. She deserves to know what’s happening with him,” he admitted to himself and to her.

Caring about both Vince and Sean in spite of the warnings she’d given herself, Tessa offered, “Would you like me to come to the hospital Tuesday morning? I have office hours in the afternoon and evening.”

“Only if you want to.”

Want to. Need to.

Tessa wasn’t sure what was going on with her and Vince, what was in the past and what was in the present. But from her experience as a pediatrician, she knew how parents felt when their children went to surgery. They usually had family support. Vince and Sean were alone.

“I’ll find you after rounds.”

“I’ll understand if you get tied up, Tessa.”

When she closed her phone, she knew she was getting involved again. She couldn’t help herself. But she’d make sure her defenses were firmly in place. She’d make sure she kept her heart safe.

Vince was determined to stay by his son’s side while the nurses prepared him for surgery. For the most part, they let him. He touched Sean often—a hand on top of his head, fingers stroking his baby arm, his expression as calm and serene as he could make it for his son. For a while, he had no idea that Tessa was standing in the doorway watching him, but when he looked up, there she was.

She was all business today, in green linen slacks, a cream blouse, with a white lab coat over it all. A little of his attention slipped from Sean to her. She made his heart jump, damn it.

Tessa crossed the room and stood beside Vince, smiling at the nurse who was putting a little paper cap on Sean’s head.

“They have to take him now,” she murmured to Vince, meeting his eyes.

Had Tessa known how very difficult this moment would be? Vince wrapped his fingers around Sean’s little hand. Tessa must have understood his sudden panic because her expression was full of empathy.

“Trust Dr. Rafferty,” she encouraged him.

“This isn’t just about putting my trust in a surgeon,” Vince returned in a low voice. “It’s about Sean being separated from me, the one anchor he’s got in this world right now. It’s about any pain he might experience. If I could go through this instead of him, don’t you think I would?”

As his gaze held Tessa’s, so many emotions rushed through him. Even though they’d been teenagers at the time, they’d known each other as intimately as a man and woman could. That intimate knowing was still there whether or not either of them wanted to admit it.

Tessa succumbed to it as she stepped closer and clasped his arm. “You have to see the outcome in your mind. You have to believe Sean will handle surgery easily, heal quickly and have use of his arm for years to come. Concentrate on that, not on the rest.”

When she released his arm, Vince wondered if he’d deluded himself about a bond between them. Tessa must have given this same speech to countless parents. “This is old hat for you, isn’t it?”

A shadow of vulnerability passed over her face. “Never. Believe me, Vince. Seeing one of my patients go into surgery is never easy and it never ‘doesn’t matter.’”

“You’ll burn out, caring so much,” he predicted, again pushing away pictures of the shy seventeen-year-old she’d once been.

“You mean I’ll burn out if I don’t stop caring, so I should detach myself and walk away? I can never be that kind of doctor. For me to help people, compassion is as important as skill. And I’m not so different from Francesca and any other doctors who work at Family Tree and in this hospital.”

The nurse, also wearing a paper cap and scrubs, said to Vince, “I have to take him now.”

Vince knew this wasn’t life-and-death surgery, but he also knew anything could go wrong. He concentrated on the picture of Sean throwing a baseball, touched his son’s cheek, whispered to him, “I love you. I’ll see you soon,” and then stepped back from the gurney.

Tessa gently touched Sean’s cheek.

As the nurse pushed the gurney down the hall, Vince balled his hands into fists and all of his control held him back from running after the stretcher.

Tessa touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get some coffee.”

Vince focused on her, thinking coffee was the last thing he needed. His stomach was burning with worry.

Then she made another suggestion.

“Or we could go to the chapel.”

“I was in a church for Scott and Carol’s funeral. That was the first time since I was a kid. My next-door neighbor had taken me when I was around eleven.”

“It’s a place to find peace and comfort,” she offered in a quiet voice that wasn’t coaxing but rather sure.

“Do you still go to church?” She had when they were teenagers.

“Yes, I do. Every Sunday. The same church I was christened in.”

How had they ever gotten together with their different backgrounds, with their opposite lifestyles? “All right,” he agreed. “We can try the chapel, but I doubt if I’ll worry any less while we’re there.”

Ten minutes later, they were seated in the pews and Vince didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He glanced at Tessa and saw she had folded her hands in her lap and her eyes were closed.

If he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, maybe he could relax…if nothing else. He tried it but without much success.

Tessa must have sensed his restlessness. “Do you ever just go outside at night and look up at the sky and feel the…immensity of everything?” she asked softly.

He knew what she was getting at. “I think that’s why I stayed in Albuquerque. The sky there—during the day and at night—just seems to lift you up. The cliffs and the mountains even more. Sometimes I’d just stop by the side of the road, get out of the car and stand there in the sun looking into the sky, or into…I don’t know, something much bigger than me.”

“Can you think about that now? Can you think about the best for Sean and you?”

“Are you saying that’s praying?”

“Yes, I think it is.”

Their shoulders were touching, and so were their hips and thighs. But at the moment, he wasn’t revved up because he desired Tessa. He was revved up because this closeness, this talking about something as intimate as prayer seemed so right. Tessa amazed him. There was always a deeper place he could go with her, where he could always find what he needed.

He did as she suggested and, in a while, realized his breathing had slowed. Hope for Sean’s future drove the fear from him.

After a while, they both sat back and he covered her hand with his. “Thanks for being here.”

She gazed at him but said nothing. He knew that was best. They were just here in the moment and that’s the way it had to be.

Dr. Rafferty was somber as he stepped into the waiting room later Tuesday morning after Sean’s surgery.

Vince stood immediately, Tessa close beside him. He was grateful she’d gotten him through this three-and-a-half-hour waiting time by talking about Sean, pulling stories from Vince about his stint in the Air Force, relating how she and Francesca and Emily had met and lived in a house together. She’d kept conversation rolling to keep him from thinking.