Losing Gabriel (19 page)

D
awson bounded off the elevator on the cardiac floor and jogged to the nurses' station. A nurse looked up, offering a kind smile. “Hi, Dawson.”

While personnel and staff knew who he was, he knew few of them. “My dad. They said he was up here in the ICU.”

“Yes. They brought him up thirty minutes ago.”

“Can you take me to him?” Dawson had come straight from the construction site and he wasn't exactly clean and fit for the ICU. He didn't care. Tight bands constricted his chest, his mouth was dry, and his hands, usually rock steady with a hammer and nails, were shaking.

“Dr. Lopez is with him. I'll let him know you're here.” The nurse went down the hall and through double doors that sealed off the cardiac intensive care unit from the remainder of the floor. Posters hung in a straight line on pale blue painted walls with rules about “Ticker Care.” How different this floor was from the pediatric floor with its sunny yellow walls and images of giraffes nibbling on trees, elephants peeking over tall grass, a lion with a goofy grin.

Dawson paced. When the doors swung open again, a dark-haired man in scrubs came toward him. “I'm Tomas Lopez, your father's heart specialist.”

“How is he? I mean, he's okay, isn't he? What happened?”

Dr. Lopez started to explain. “He's stable at the moment, but in guarded condition. We have more tests to run, but I suspect it's more than one blockage in his arteries. His heart's not in good shape to start with.”

“It isn't?”

“Probably from his years of coronary heart disease.”

Dawson reeled. “Heart disease! What heart disease?”

Lopez sighed. “He's been under my care for a few years for heart issues. First at Vanderbilt, now here.”

“Years!” Dawson couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could his dad have kept this from him? And why would he? “But he does everything
right.
He doesn't smoke; he eats smart, jogs. He…he's never said a word to me about this.”

“I'm sorry to be dumping this on you in the middle of a crisis. So far his heart issues have been controlled with meds and lifestyle, but now the muscle is damaged,” Lopez answered.

“Can I…I want to see him. I
have
to see him.”

“You can, but he's sedated and won't know you're there.”

“Don't care. He's my
dad.
”

Dr. Lopez weighed Dawson's words, offered a terse nod, and led the way through the double doors and into a large room ringed with beds, each surrounded by beeping machines.
Constant vigilance.
Dawson tasted bile when Lopez halted beside the bed that held Franklin. His dad wore an oxygen mask, and IV lines ran into his arms. Electronic lead wires attached to a machine were taped to his leg and chest. Blood pressure readings stood out in bold blue numbers on another machine. Emotion clogged Dawson's throat. Franklin, who had looked so vital just that morning, kissing Gabe's tousled hair, waving goodbye to Lani and Dawson, telling them “Have a good day,” now looked dwarfed against the white sheets, and very ill. Sucking in a breath, Dawson scrubbed his palms on his pants. “Can I touch him?”

Dr. Lopez handed Dawson some antibacterial lotion and a paper towel. “Do this first.” The doctor patted Dawson's shoulder, a sympathetic expression on his craggy face. “Really sorry, son.”

“Where was he when it happened?”

“Walking down the hall, reading a patient's chart. He collapsed. We got to him instantly and were able to get meds into him fast, the best preventative for more damage. We had to defib—”

“His heart stopped?” Dawson's knees almost buckled.

“He came back quickly. If a person's going to have a heart attack, no better place than right here in the hospital.”

Standing in the cool and darkened unit, with no way to distinguish day and night, Dawson was upended. He felt useless. “I…I want to be here when he wakes up.”

“He's heavily sedated. No need for you to wait around now. We'll be running tests and then make a decision about what we'll do. Go home, see your family, and come tomorrow. We'll call you if there's any change.”

Gabe.
His son's image bloomed in Dawson's mind. He didn't argue with Lopez, only nodded and left the unit and the floor. In the lobby, he sent a text message to Lani.

Coming home early. Need to talk.

Lani fidgeted in the Berke kitchen, polishing and re-polishing the granite countertops, eyeing the clock and the minute hand that seemed to be glued in place. Dawson's cryptic message had unnerved her. Whatever was driving him home early wasn't part of the norm. Her nerves tingled. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good news. Gabe was safe upstairs taking a nap, so she had control of that much. When she heard Dawson's car pull into the garage, she resisted the urge to throw open the door and ask, “What's wrong? What's happened?”

When he came into the kitchen, the look on his face let her know her concern was well founded. Dawson braced his hands on the counter and told her about his father's condition. She may still be a student, but she knew the nature of heart attacks and of their crippling effects. “How can I help?”

“Can you stay with Gabe? He won't miss Pops right away. He's used to Dad not being here for periods of time—you know, those days Dad gets stuck at the hospital—so he may not ask for him at first, but sooner or later he will.”

Her heart went out to the family. “Of course I'll stay…all night if you need me to. I can sleep on the sofa.” Gabe had a nanny cam in his room and several monitors so that she could look in on him from anywhere in the house.

“You may have to. Right now I'm going to clean up and go back to the hospital.”

“I'll be here as long as you need me.”

“Thanks.” His dark eyes clung to hers. “He'll be all right, won't he? I mean, from what you know as a nurse.”

She didn't want to mislead him, pretend a knowledge she didn't yet have, so she chose her words carefully. “Every case is different, but I know that Dr. Lopez is very good. Your father lured him here from Vanderbilt with a Chief of Cardiology carrot.” She gave Dawson an encouraging smile. “It was the talk of the hospital, because Dr. Lopez can go anywhere he chooses, but he came to our little world…a big coup for Windemere. Your dad's in good hands.”

Her words were reassuring. He trusted Lani, was grateful for her. Dawson reached for his wallet and tossed money onto the counter. “Take Gabe for a Happy Meal for dinner. He'll like that. I'll text you when I know something.”

“I'll be right here.”

But Dawson had headed out of the kitchen before she finished the sentence, his thoughts back in the cardiac unit, on his father, and on his mind-blowing fear of losing him.

T
he party was impromptu, word sent out via social media on a sultry Nashville night to celebrate a small country AM radio station playing two songs from the Loose Change CD. Hal heard the songs first, and then Bobby while driving to work. Sloan had yet to hear either of the songs on the air, although she kept Jarred's car radio glued to the station.

The party was also an excuse to have a crowd gathered when Jarred made a midnight announcement—a game changer for their band. Sloan weaved her way through the partygoers, or as she liked to think of them, the moochers. In fairness, some of them were true supporters, having “discovered” the band months before, but most of the people were there for the booze and the joints.

She brushed past one stoner, who grabbed her butt. She slapped away his hand, snarled, “Touch me again and I'll break your finger,” and continued to the staircase. She looked up and saw that Jarred and the others were waiting on the second-floor catwalk leading to the seven-bedroom wing of the house.

She had once asked Josiah why he let strangers inside such a fine house to party when he knew they would trash it. “It pisses off my father,” he'd replied. “Dad wants me to go into finance like him. Investment banking…juggling money, stocks, investments.” He said the words as if they were crimes. “It's a world that has no soul, and I, my father's only son, have always wanted to make music. He built the studio for me when I was fifteen, thinking I'd get it out of my system.”

“But you didn't.” Sy played the keyboard, but it was his genius on the mixing board, the back dubbing and balancing, that made the band's tracks sharp and cutting edge.

“Not even close. So he gave me until my twenty-fifth birthday to either make it with music or get over it. Like I could ever get over music.”

Sy was twenty-four now, so Sloan realized how much he had riding on the band's success. “So he's betting you're going to fail?”

“He's never lifted a finger to help me with connections. He could've opened doors anytime.” He grimaced. “But now with this band, I have a shot at making it—we all do—which will really piss him off when we score.”

“It's all we've ever wanted too—Jarred and the guys. And me.”
Especially me.

Tonight as Sloan went up the stairs, she understood that all of them had a lot riding on the upcoming announcement Jarred was going to make.

“What do you mean you'll be spending nights at this guy's house?”

The sharpness of Ben's voice on her cell phone made Lani's stomach clench. “It's an emergency, Ben. Gabe's grandfather underwent triple bypass surgery this morning and is in the ICU. Dawson wants to be with his father through the crisis. I need to stay with Gabe. What's so hard to understand?” She hadn't told him about the first night she had slept over at the Berkes' that allowed Dawson to stay the night at the hospital, and now the irritation in Ben's voice reminded her why she'd held back. But early that morning Franklin Berke had gone into surgery and Dawson had asked her to stay more nights. She had quickly agreed.

“Where will you be sleeping?” Ben asked, in a tone she didn't like.

Lani was sitting in her car in front of the Berkes' house, having already explained what was happening to Melody while she packed a small suitcase. Inside the house Dawson and Gabe waited for her, Dawson anxious, Gabe excited Lani was staying another night. She wanted to scream at Ben, but she held back. “I'll be sleeping in Gabe's room. Dawson put a twin mattress on the floor for me so I'll be there when he wakes up. And we'll keep to his normal routine. He's not yet three, Ben. He doesn't really understand what's going on. It's not easy for him.” She wanted to say,
“Or for any of us,”
but didn't.

“A lot to ask from a babysitter,” Ben said, his displeasure flowing through the cell phone.

She gritted her teeth. “On top of everything, Gabe has a chest cold and I've had to administer his quick-acting inhaler several times. I need to be close by.” She didn't explain that she had to put him on his nebulizer three times a day but that his breath tests on his peak flow meter still weren't where they should be, because Ben didn't get the dangers of asthma. Ben had no idea the serious condition could actually kill a child. “Dawson doesn't need his father and his son in the hospital at the same time.”

Ben went silent, then mumbled, “Call me tomorrow, okay? Let me know what's going on. And if you'll be seeing me like we planned this weekend. I expect that.”

His last words were a dig, but she let them pass. “I will.”
No promises, though.
She cut the connection and sat brooding in the car, remembering not Ben's words but Melody's warning just before Lani had dashed out the door.

“Don't get too attached.”

“To what? Helping a child?”

“To
this
job, and
this
child, and his family. Getting emotionally involved was one of the things they warned us about in law classes. It's easy to get caught up in a case. And with a client. So we were counseled to keep our emotional distance. I'm sure they teach you that in nursing classes too.”

Lani bristled, jerking open the front door. “Thanks for the warning, but I know how to behave like a professional.” Yet even as she said the words, Lani knew she was involved up to her eyeballs. She loved Gabe. It was his father, Dawson, and her feelings for him that she fought to keep at a distance.

Sloan made her way to Jarred's side. He wrapped his arm around her waist and hiked the heel of his boot on the bottom rung of the pipe rail. “Big announcement time, babe. You ready?”

“Been ready for a long time, and you know that.”

He turned to Bobby, Hal, and Sy, who took places along the rail on either side of him and Sloan. “Whistle 'em in, bro.”

Hal placed two fingers on either side of his lips and let go with an ear-piercing whistle. People looked up. Jarred held up his hands. “Cut the music! Loose Change has an announcement to make!”

The music stopped midstream. “Hurry,” a voice from below yelled. “I got to take a leak.”

“Well leak this,” Jarred shouted. “You know our summer tour starts in a few weeks. The Big Blue Beast is gassed and ready to roll.” Cheers went up. “Some of you may even be coming on a ride-along.”

“I'll keep you warm, Hal,” a girl called.

“Promises are cheap, sweet thing!” Hal returned.

Jarred held up his hands to again quiet the crowd. “I know all of you can't come on the road with us, but on June seventeenth, I expect all of you to show up.” He paused for dramatic effect. “At Bonnaroo!”

The news electrified the crowd. The Bonnaroo Music Festival was one of the South's premier summer events. Held on a seven-hundred-acre farm off I-24 in Manchester, Tennessee, music giants and immortals played Bonnaroo. Up-and-coming groups got noticed. Careers were launched. Thousands of music lovers—the Roo community—came from all over the world, camped in tents, RVs, cars, even slept on bare ground during the four-day celebration, where the music never stopped.

In April, Jarred had sent their demo CD to Sonicbids, an online contest that would choose two bands from a slush pile and earn each a spot on the upcoming Bonnaroo venue, along with a thousand bucks. Loose Change had been selected. This was their big break…a long time coming. Sloan snuggled closer to Jarred, looked down at the throng, and told herself all the waiting and hard work had been worth it.

Bobby whooped, pumping his fist into the air. “Bonnaroo! World class, man.”

Shouts rose for the band to come down to mingle and celebrate. Jarred nuzzled Sloan's ear. “Guess we shouldn't let them down, should we?”

Sloan linked hands with the others, and the five of them made their way down the staircase and into the sea of fans below.