Baby Makes a Match Page 18

  Hub reached out and clapped a supporting hand on Chandler’s shoulder, saying, “Put your faith in God, son. He’ll see you through.”

  Chandler nodded. “I know. I know. It’s just…I should’ve been here! I’ve mucked up everything.”

  Placing both hands on Chandler’s shoulders, Hub captured his gaze and held it for a long moment before softly saying, “No. No, you haven’t. In fact, I’d say you’ve done very well. The fact is, I’m proud of you, Chandler.”

  Chandler shook his head. He’d waited a long time to hear that, but now that it had been said, it hurt more than it helped, for he knew the truth. “No, no. I—I’ve been holding out on God, Dad. It’s not just that I refused to see what Kreger was doing. I enabled him. And I’ve been so angry, blaming him for everything, when the truth is that I’m as responsible for how it all turned out as he was. I didn’t take care of my business, and I wasn’t the man, the Christian, I should have been. You were right about that, too.” He looked his father in the eye then, confessing all, “And the very worst part is that I never found a way to bring Pat around. I didn’t even try. I never once told him, point-blank, what Christ did for him, for me.”

  Hub gulped, his chin trembling. “I may have been right about Patrick Kreger,” he said, “but I was wrong about you, and neither case pleases me.” Hub clamped his hands down hard on Chandler’s shoulders, saying, “You’re a better man than I realized. Bethany told me, you see. She didn’t mean to. She was frightened and in pain, and she cried out that she wished you really were her baby’s father.”

  “But I am!” Chandler insisted, alarmed. She wouldn’t go back on that now, would she? He thought wildly that there had to be some way to keep that from happening.

  “Of course you’re his father,” Hub agreed, nodding. “By choice. She told me everything. When the whole town, me included, I’m ashamed to say, just assumed you were the father, you could have denied it, but that would have exposed her to criticism, so you kept quiet. You could have walked away at any time and been fully justified in doing so, but you chose to give Bethany and Matthew your name and protection.”

  But he hadn’t chosen to give them his heart. That had just happened.

  The door swung open again, and Garrett rushed in.

  “How is she?”

  “I called him after I called you,” Hub explained. “Bethany asked me to, in case you were still on the road.”

  Chandler told him what little he knew. Garrett made a fist and smacked it into his other palm. “If I could get my hands on that Jay Carter…”

  “You know?” Chandler said, surprised.

  Garrett sent him a sideways look. “I figured it out. What I’m not sure about is why you stepped into his shoes.”

  “I’ll explain it for you, then,” Chandler replied smartly, “right after I explain it to your sister.”

  The door opened once more. Chandler pushed past his father and brother-in-law as the head of a hospital bed appeared, only to step back again as the bed rolled into the room and a man in green scrubs maneuvered it into position. Bethany lay there, shivering and silently weeping.

  The first words out of her mouth were, “I didn’t get to see him! They wouldn’t even let me see Matthew before they took him!”

  “It’ll be all right, sis,” Garrett offered, but she ignored him, her gaze fixed on Chandler.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so frightened!”

  Fear unlike anything Chandler had ever felt before swamped him, but he went to the bed smiling as brightly as he could manage and bent to smooth back her damp hair and kiss her clammy forehead. “Garrett’s right, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “If I could just see him.”

  “We’ll see our little Matthew soon, I promise.”

  Two nurses, the heavyset one and another who was quite young, swept into the room. Chandler took Bethany’s hand, his thumb smoothing over the cool surface of her wedding band. He stayed at her side while the nurses did their thing, then before they left he asked, “Can you tell us about our son? When can we see him?”

  “The doctor will be in,” the heavyset one said tersely.

  Bethany immediately began to sob.

  Chandler looked at her crumpled face and made an instant decision. “Forget that.” Bending, he scooped her up, bedcovers and all, and started for the door. “Where is he? We want to see our son right now.”

  The nurses went into a tizzy of scolding and urging, but he couldn’t even hear them. “Right now,” he repeated.

  Garrett pulled open the door. Hub pointed the direction. With Bethany clinging to his neck, Chandler carried her out into the wide, gleaming hall, both nurses hot on his heels. The older one turned toward the nurses’ desk. The other ran past them toward a solid metal door.

  Behind him, Chandler heard his father whisper, “Gracious Lord God, please, I beg You…”

  Chandler joined his prayers to his father’s as he strode after the nurse. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing little Matthew now, and neither could he bear the pain and fear of this woman who held his heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The nurse turned to face them as if she would physically block their path. Chandler prepared to bully his way past her, if necessary, but then her brow beetled, and she swiped the ID card hanging about her neck through a card reader on the wall.

  “Thank You,” he whispered, knowing Who had surely changed her mind.

  The wide door swung open, the edge coming to rest next to a sign that detailed the nursery visiting hours. Chandler didn’t even bother reading it. Instead, he strode through that door and followed the nurse, Bethany cradled against his chest.

  The frantic nurse hurried past a pair of large windows with blinds drawn and went through a smaller door marked, “Medical Personnel Only.” Chandler went after her, catching the heavy door before it swung closed.

  Another woman in scrubs and a puffy cap rushed toward him. “Sir! Sir! You cannot come in here!”

  “I can if my son’s in here. Where is he?”

  Chandler looked around, turning in a wide circle in what was essentially a glass-walled hallway. The clear plastic cribs in the viewing room were all empty, though several showed signs of recent habitation. Those infants were probably with their mothers at that moment. In fact, so far as Chandler could see, there were only two infants currently in residence. One, a squalling girl, if the pink wristband was any indication, was being weighed. The other was ominously silent, a pale, tiny body in a closed, brightly lit incubator in a separate room. A young man with a dark complexion and a long lab coat came to the door and nodded them over. He introduced himself as the pediatrician and led them to the incubator.

  Pulling a hard plastic chair forward, the doctor informed them, “He’s small and jaundiced and his lungs are not fully developed.”

  Chandler stood for a moment with Bethany in his arms, staring at the tiny, wrinkled body covered with tubes and tape and a tiny diaper that seemed much too large. Chandler bit his lips, but still the tears trickled down his cheeks. Swallowing, he managed to say to Bethany, “He has your dark hair.”

  Bethany reached out a hand, touching the incubator. “Why are his eyes covered?”

  “To protect them against the light.” The doctor explained that phototherapy was used to help the bilirubin in the blood break down so the body could eliminate it. The feeding and hydration tubes would increase eliminations, as well as help the baby gain weight. At four pounds, he could use the help! A third tube was used to inject medication to help with the development of the lungs.

  “Is he going to make it?” Bethany asked in a quivering voice.

  “He’ll make it,” Chandler said, clutching her tighter.

  “We’ll know within twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” the doctor answered honestly. “If he loses ground, we’ll transfer him to an NICU in a larger hospital.”

  “He’ll make it,” Chandler decreed flatly.

  “I
’ve seen smaller, sicker babies pull through,” the doctor went on, “but it depends on his organ development.” Indicating the chair, he added, “If you’ll wait thirty or forty minutes, you can hold him.”

  Chandler sat down in the chair with Bethany in his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he kissed her temple. She closed her eyes, but Chandler knew that she wasn’t resting; she was praying. He pressed his cheek to the crown of her head, closed his eyes and joined his heart to hers, as together they silently begged for the life and well-being of their son.

  An hour later, Chandler followed as a floor nurse wheeled Bethany back to her room. He hadn’t wanted to let her go, but the nurse had quietly insisted. Bethany had eased off Chandler’s lap and into the wheelchair without a word, her gaze following little Matthew as the neonatal technician returned him to the incubator, reconnected his tubes, covered his eyes. He seemed lethargic and weak to Chandler, and the fear that had lodged itself in his chest would not ease.

  Once they reached the room, Chandler lifted Bethany from the chair and tucked her safely into bed. “I had to see him,” she whispered, clasping Chandler’s hand.

  She, too, seemed alarmingly weak, completely exhausted. “Of course. Rest now. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Bethany closed her eyes, and Chandler moved toward his father and Garrett, who sat side by side on the sofa. The nurse came in then, the young one who had opened the security door for them. Chandler caught her by the sleeve.

  “Thank you,” he said simply.

  Nodding, she moved toward the bed and made Bethany swallow pills. Hub rose then. Garrett followed suit an instant later.

  “We’ll go so she can rest.”

  “Will you tell the aunties and everyone for us?”

  “Spoke to them a while ago,” Garrett said. “Everyone sends their love.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be praying for you all, son.”

  “Never doubted it for a minute. Counting on it, in fact.”

  Hub patted Chandler’s arm, then went to the bed and bent to kiss Bethany’s brow. “Don’t you worry now.”

  “I’ll try not to,” she murmured wearily.

  Garrett took his turn, hugging her and kissing her cheek. “I’ll check on you later. Call if you need anything.”

  Bethany nodded and closed her eyes.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Chandler said.

  Garrett smiled wanly. “I know you will.” He shifted his weight and admitted, “I had my doubts, but not anymore.” With that, he moved toward the door.

  Hub followed, but then he paused and turned back. “I wasn’t right about Kreger,” he said. “To have been right, I’d have had to do everything in my power to win that boy to the Lord, but I was too busy blaming him for pulling you away from me.”

  “And I was too busy defending and using him,” Chandler admitted. “This is a failure we share.”

  “Then it’s one we’ll have to rectify together,” Hub said. “We’ll pray, and when the time is right, we’ll go together to speak to Kreger. He needs to know that God loves him.”

  Chandler nodded, his eyes swimming. “I’d like that.”

  Hub smiled and left them.

  Chandler pulled the recliner around, took Bethany’s limp hand in his and sat down at her side, where he wanted always to be.

  Watching the nurse return Matthew to the incubator, Bethany wearily sat back in the chair. Most babies stayed in their mothers’ rooms, but all through the night, she and Chandler had made the journey down the hallway to the nearly empty nursery to hold and talk to Matthew. They’d tried to doze between visits, but neither of them had gotten any real sleep, and it showed.

  Chandler pushed away from the wall and reached for her hand, pulling her up to her feet. He looked like she felt, much the worse for wear. His hair was mussed and falling over his forehead, and he needed a shave, his beard glinting dark gold in the light. His clothing, a faded green, long-sleeved, button-down shirt and jeans, was rumpled and creased. She thought him the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

  Sliding his arm about her shoulders, he urged her toward the door. Her head felt so heavy that she wouldn’t have been surprised if it fell off and rolled across the floor, so she laid it on Chandler’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist. They walked out of the nursery and down the hall to her room, where someone named Kelli had signed her name with a smiley face in the place of the dot over the i on the whiteboard mounted on the wall. Apparently, the nursing shift had changed.

  Bethany’s breakfast tray sat upon the rolling bed table; the congealing food looked anything but appealing. Chandler announced that he would go down to the cafeteria for something more tasty. He took the tray with him.

  Bethany made herself go into the bathroom to clean up. She brushed her teeth, then swiftly washed her hair by bending over the tub and using the handheld showerhead. Feeling better, she dressed in the frilly pink nightgown and flowered robe that Garrett had brought her the previous evening and sat on the edge of the bed to comb out her hair. She had just put away the comb and climbed into the bed when the mysterious Kelli came in with a laptop computer and a printer on a small rolling stand.

  As she plugged in her equipment, the young nurse explained that, though the state required birth certificates be filed within five days, hospital policy dictated that the paperwork be done within twenty-four hours. She had already input the data required of the hospital. Once she got Bethany’s information, she would print the form and witness Bethany’s signature. After the doctor signed, the hospital would file with the state.

  Bethany settled back and answered several questions, her own name, age, place of birth and address. Chandler returned then with hot coffee, cold milk, fresh fruit and quiche.

  “Can’t get that served on the floor,” Kelli noted with a wry smile before turning back to her business. “Father’s full name?”

  Bethany opened her mouth, but the words did not come out. All she could think was that the moment of no return had arrived. If Chandler’s name went on that birth record, he would forever be committed to Matthew. It just didn’t seem fair and at the very same time wasn’t nearly enough to keep from breaking her heart. Helplessly, she looked to him, and found that he had frozen in the act of arranging their food on the bed table, an expression of wary disbelief on his face.

  “Bethany,” he urged softly.

  The nurse spoke up. “I should have said, ‘husband’s full name.’”

  “Hubner Chandler Chatam the third,” Chandler said loudly.

  “You’ll have to spell that.”

  “H-u-b-n-e-r C-h-a-n-d-l-e-r C—”

  “That’s okay, I’ve got the Chatam part.” She winked at Bethany, adding, “Everyone in Buffalo Creek can spell Chatam.”

  Gulping, Bethany asked, “What if the husband is n-not the f-father?”

  “Bethany!” Chandler hissed.

  She looked up, tears in her eyes. “It’s just not fair for you to take on all this responsibility!”

  “Honey, don’t do this,” Chandler urged softly. Glancing at the nurse, he reminded her, “HIPAA laws prevent you from revealing anything about your patients, right?”

  “Absolutely.” She cleared her throat and briskly informed them, “In Texas, the husband’s name always goes on the birth certificate. If the mother is unmarried, she alone names the father. Anyone who disagrees has to file a paternity suit.”

  Bethany closed her eyes. So, it was already too late. She had unknowingly locked Chandler into fatherhood that day in the office of the Justice of the Peace in Oklahoma.

  “What have I done?” she whispered. It would be different if he loved her, if the marriage was real, instead of the kind act of a truly caring and generous man.

  “You’ve given me a son,” Chandler answered softly.

  “And me a grandson,” said another familiar voice. Bethany opened her eyes to find a whole host of people filing into the room, Hub in the lead. He had his B
ible in hand and a smile on his face.

  “And us another nephew,” Magnolia stated firmly, coming to stand between her sisters at the foot of the bed. She carried a vase full of flowers, naturally. Hypatia held a small, sturdy basket by the handle. Its contents, covered by a white cloth, gave off a mouthwatering aroma. Odelia, Bethany couldn’t help noticing, was dressed in baby blue with little stick people dangling from her earlobes and a baby rattler corsage pinned to her chest. She held a blue-and-yellow gift bag, as if they hadn’t already given her and Matthew enough! Kaylie carried another.

  “Uh, I believe that’s grandnephew,” pointed out a dignified-looking man with twinkling eyes. Handsome and urbane, with streaks of gray at his temples, he had the Chatam chin, as did the older, rotund fellow in expensive pinstripes next to him.

  “My brothers Morgan and Bayard,” Chandler said, waving a hand between them. Bayard, a banker who lived in Dallas, had to be the heavy, older one. Morgan, as Chandler had told her, was a history professor at Buffalo Creek Bible College.

  Morgan went on speaking to Magnolia, “Matthew Chandler would be your grand-nephew and our nephew.”

  A tall, grinning young man who was undoubtedly Kaylie’s hockey-playing husband, Stephen, leaned forward and cheekily remarked, “I believe he’s my nephew as well, if only by marriage.”

  “Well, I’m blood kin,” Garrett said, pushing past him to the bedside.

  “Good grief,” Chandler said with obviously feigned disgust, “we’ve brought the whole family down on us.”

  “Hardly,” Hypatia retorted with a chortle. “Just the immediate, as you well know.”

  The nurse wisely unplugged her equipment and beat a hasty retreat. Hub, too, slipped away, Bethany noticed.

  “We apologize for interrupting your breakfast,” Hypatia said.

  “That’s okay. We can eat later,” Bethany told her.

  “No, no.” Morgan flipped back the cloth covering the contents of the basket in Hypatia’s hands. “Go ahead and eat. We’ll join you.”