A Holland and a Fighter Page 17

  “Our lives get more surreal every day. How are our kids this old?”

  “I don’t know. How are we this old?” My thumb brushes against laugh lines next to her pale green eyes as I admire her smile.

  “You think he’ll be okay?” She takes my hand and leads me to two seats in the waiting area.

  “He’s been healthy in every checkup, Poppet. And the nurses just said he’s doing well. The next few days will tell us more. We just have to be strong for Liv and Jon. If they need to be at the hospital, we’ll keep the girls with us. Baby Jonny can get everything he needs here.”

  “You know, I don’t think they’re going to name him that,” she tells me.

  “What?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “What do you know?”

  She looks away, a blatant show that she’s hiding something. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  I stare at her, but she keeps her secret. I check my watch, noting the time. “They did an emergency C-section on you, too, and it was… quick, right? It didn’t take this long.”

  “It didn’t seem like it, but… like you said, I was a little out of it.”

  “I’m going to go ask the woman at the counter.” I squeeze her hand and start walking toward the front of the room when a doctor and two nurses come out of the secured doors. He’s clearly looking for someone else, but when he sees me, he recognizes me.

  “Mr. Holland,” he says, extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Irving. I was the attending doctor when Livvy was brought into the emergency room tonight.” I glance behind me at Emi, who quickly comes to join us. “I assisted with the delivery of your grandson.” His smile is faint, and I can hear him swallow before he speaks his next word, a very somber “Congratulations.”

  The look on his face stops me from thanking him. “How is my daughter?”

  He doesn’t hesitate. “Please step through these doors with me.”

  “Oh, god,” Emi says, faltering where she stands. One of the nurses rushes to her right side while I hold the weight of her as she tries to recover.

  “Em, come on.” We follow the staff into the secured area to a small office where the five of us barely fit. “Where–” I have to clear my throat, as fear has taken residence there. “Where is she?”

  “Mr. Holland, where is your son-in-law?”

  “He’s with his son in the NICU. Where is my daughter? She’s my number one priority, and if you don’t answer me, I will start looking for her.”

  “Sir, as you may know, Mrs. Scott was brought in with severe hypertension. After the dose of hydralazine didn’t have the desired effect on her, and appeared to put her baby in distress, we knew the only option to save either of them was to deliver the baby.”

  “Is she okay?” Emi chokes out.

  It feels like hours go by before anyone speaks again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, god.” I fall into the seat behind me.

  “No,” Emi cries. “No no no no no no…”

  “After the baby was delivered, we were suturing the wound, and she went into cardiac arrest. We tried everything–we had seven doctors down here, and our full staff of nurses, Mr. and Mrs. Holland.”

  Sobs erupt from my chest. “Not Contessa. Not my Contessa!” Emi’s arms are around me quickly, her tears hot on my neck. “No. It can’t be happening. This cannot be happening.”

  “We couldn’t revive her.”

  “No. Oh, god, no. Where is she now?”

  “She’s still in the delivery room.”

  “Take me to her.” The doctor nods and I stand up, but Emi holds on to my arm, keeping me from moving.

  “Jacks, I can’t,” my wife says. “No, she can’t be gone! No. This is a dream, right? We’re in a horrible, horrible dream, but this isn’t happening.”

  “I don’t believe it. Let me see her.”

  “Jacks, I don’t want to see her. She’s not gone. Nooooo,” she sobs. I embrace her, and we hold on to one another so tightly, it’s difficult to breathe. But I don’t care. Breathing seems a luxury if my daughter can’t be here anymore.

  “Em, I have to know,” I whisper. “Please come.”

  Two doors down, a dim room is in disarray. An eerie silence fills the space, and a thin sheet covers a body on the table. Let this be a cruel joke. Let her be hiding under there, waiting to surprise us. I don’t care if it’s sick and twisted. I’ll hug her first and reprimand her for nearly destroying us later. But please, let it be a joke.

  “I’ll wait here,” Emi says, standing just outside the door. “I can’t go in.” She continues to cry as I slowly enter, following the doctor to the head of the table where she lies. He puts his hand on the edge of the sheet and looks me in the eyes. Ready? he asks me without words.

  In twelve lifetimes, I will never be ready for this. Tears thud onto the sheet beneath me. Carefully, he folds it down, revealing thick, dark hair. Pale skin. She never had pale skin in her life. No matter how sick she was, or scared–never was she pallid. And there are her beautiful, long, brown lashes.

  I break down.

  “Can I have a moment?” I ask him.

  “Of course.” His footsteps mark the way to the door, and then I hear it close. It’s only me and my Contessa. I find her hand and hold it in mine, surprised at the difference in our body temperatures. It’s not a cruel joke.

  “Oh, god, Tessa, what happened?” I cry over her. I find the handkerchief I’d expected to use when I got to see my grandson up close and personal for the first time. “This isn’t how it works, Livvy. I can’t take this. Your mother–she can’t take this, either. You can’t do this to us. What about your girls, and Jon? Huh, Contessa? And your little boy? Oh, god. How are we going to live without you? I don’t–I don’t know how to do that. You made me a father. Don’t you know that?”

  I choke out more tears. Some fall on her skin. I dab at them gently. I think about what she went through and realize I don’t want to go there. I will destroy myself if I do that. To die without anyone she loved by her side? She must have been so scared. Did she feel our love? Did she know we were right outside?

  And suddenly I’m angry. The fact that they could have gotten us. The fact that we were right outside while they made futile attempts to save her. Maybe we could have said goodbye. Maybe seeing our faces could have revived her.

  And maybe they truly did everything they could. Seven doctors, he’d said. They know who she is.

  Who she was.

  “God, Livvy, no.” I lean down and wrap my arm around her, lifting her torso from the bed, holding her head in my hand, hugging her into my chest. “Come back, Contessa. Please, come back to Daddy. Please, I’m begging you. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I can’t bear not seeing your beautiful smile again. Seeing you with your girls. How they look up to you. Seeing you raise your son. He’ll never know you. How can that be? Come back… please, come back.”

  Her body is limp in my arms. Cold and lifeless and limp. Supporting her head like a baby, I settle her back down onto the bed. Her arms are tucked back under the sheet. I make her comfortable. Appear comfortable. I know it’s just for my benefit. She’s not here anymore.

  “I don’t know myself without you, Contessa.” I kiss her forehead and wipe the lingering tears from her skin. “I love you more than life itself. Thank you for the life you gave me. But I don’t know how to go on.”

  I walk away, but turn back to see her, her face still exposed, before I open the door. How do I let go? How do I go on?

  Emi looks up at me from a bench in the hallway, and I catch a glimpse of hope on her face before her expression crumbles into devastation. I guess she was wishing for a miracle, and although I feel we’ve experienced many in our time together, I have failed her this time.

  The little girl we met in this exact hospital 31 and a half years ago will not be leaving with us today, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I join Emi, and she cries into my chest as I stroke her hair and let my own
tears fall where they may. I have never felt such loss in my life. I don’t know how Emi has lived through so much of it and maintained her sanity. It makes me respect her even more in this moment as I realize the strength she really has. It’s a quality I doubt I will ever match; nor will I want to.

  “I love you so much, Emi. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

  My wife gasps, looking up. “The girls,” she says, covering her mouth and shaking her head.

  “And Jackson. We have to tell our son.”

  “Jon first,” she says, unable to stop the flow of tears.

  I look away from her, unable to imagine the pain he will feel. The shock. “Emi, he’ll be devastated. Absolutely destroyed.” I start sobbing again, but in truth, I haven’t stopped. “If I ever lost you…” I’m not sure she can even understand what I’m saying to her.

  She squeezes my wrists. “I’ll talk to Jon.”

  I look at her, displaying all of my weaknesses to her. I’ve never felt more inadequate. “Do I call Jackson?”

  “No, love,” she says, soothing me by running her fingers through my hair. “I don’t want him to hear this in a phone call. Call your brother. Matty can go over to Trey’s to tell him in person. And see if he and Nolan can also call the rest of our brothers and sisters.”

  “And our parents?” How do people deliver such news?

  “We’ll handle them in a few hours. It’s too late at night… or early? I don’t even know what time it is. We’ll wait until the morning.” She says, hugging me again. “It’s okay.”

  “What about her friends? Shea? Jon’s brothers?”

  “Shhh, Jacks.” She angles my head to face her. “Let Matty work all of that out. Maybe Coley can help; she can go to Shea’s. We don’t want her to be alone in her condition, and Will’s at Jon’s apartment right now with the girls.”

  “Oh, god… Will. How do you think he’ll handle it?” I ask her.

  “I think it’s going to be horrible for all of us. In my experience, some people become pillars of strength for the others who need it.” Her voice is calm and assuring when she says it. “Do you think you can make the call to Matty?”

  It’s about the only call I think I could make, even though I know she was his favorite niece. Matty has always been able to handle anything. His work has prepared him better than any of my life experience has. “I can. How… with Jon?” I look into her eyes, greener because of the tears she’s been crying.

  “Gently. With all the love I have.” We embrace again and I walk her to the beginning of the hallway, watching as she makes the dreadful trek to deliver the worst and most unexpected news, what will destroy one of the happiest moments of my son-in-law’s life.

  Going back to the front desk, I ask if I can have a private room. Immediately, I’m led back through the secured doors, back into the office just two doors away from where my daughter now lies, lifeless and alone. I dial the phone quickly, hoping to get that thought out of my mind. I can’t stand to think of her like that, but I also don’t think I can see her again. Not without completely falling apart.

  “Everything okay?” my brother answers, having never received a call from me at this time of night.

  I exhale slowly, unable to speak and trying to tame the sobs that want to choke out of my tightened throat.

  “Jacks, are you okay?”

  Chapter 15

  MATTY

  “It’s Livvy,” my brother says. His voice sounds foreign to me–weak and strained. “My Contessa.”

  “Nolan, wake up.” My heart pounds in my chest as I shake my husband in the bed next to me, startling him to alertness. “Is she sick? Did something happen?” I ask quickly, needing more information. My brother stalls for more seconds than is comfortable. “Jack, say something.”

  “She passed away tonight, Matty.” I feel like someone just cold-cocked me in the stomach. “They did a C-section, and… uh… she went into cardiac arrest?” His breaths are shaky; emotions he’d been trying to hide from me begin to gush out. “They couldn’t save her, Matty. They couldn’t save my little girl. Oh, god.” I pull my knees into my chest, hugging them into me and wishing they were my oldest brother. Wishing I could be comforting him in his obvious pain.

  “Jacks. No. Not Little Liv. Nolan,” I turn to see him staring at me with worry, “Livvy’s gone. Cardiac arrest?” I whisper. He covers his mouth in shock. “Jacks, just, out of the blue?” I ask my brother, putting him on speakerphone.

  “She went in complaining that she couldn’t calm down,” he explains. “Her blood pressure was high and endangering them both, so they had to deliver the baby.”

  The baby. “Is he okay? Please say he’s okay.”

  “He’s tiny, but they’re optimistic.” Nolan and I look at one another and smile, although it’s bittersweet. Definitely more bitter than sweet. “After the surgery, the doctors say she went into cardiac arrest and…”

  “Oh my god.” And suddenly it hits me. I imagine her in distress, my beautiful niece that I feel like I helped raise for the past 30 years. I begin to cry; to wail. I let it out for a good minute or two but remember that what I feel is likely only a fraction of the pain my brother must be experiencing. Nolan hands me a couple of tissues, and I wipe my nose and eyes, taking some deep breaths.

  “I know,” Jacks says softly.

  “I don’t even know what to say. I don’t believe it.”

  “I know,” he repeats. “I have to ask some favors of you, and Nolan… I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you couldn’t handle it.”

  I clear my throat and sit up a little straighter. “I’ll do anything for you. Nolan and I both. Do we need to make some calls?”

  “Yes, I need you to call Kelly, Steven, Chris and Jen for us. But before that, I need you to go to Jackson’s apartment… and be there when you tell him. We don’t want him to find out over the phone,” I explain.

  “Trey doesn’t know?”

  “No, Matty. We just found out. Emi’s telling Jon right now. We need to be very thoughtful about how everyone gets the news, okay? Shea’s seven months pregnant and home alone right now because Will is watching the girls. Will’s going to take it very hard, and it can’t be in front of Edie and Willow. I think Jon will want to be there when they find out, either from him or… Emi…” I notice my brother doesn’t offer to deliver the news to his granddaughters. “We need to bring them here somehow without giving too much away.”

  “Nolan and I can handle it. Just do me a favor and let me know if there’s any news on the baby. If his condition… you know…” I don’t want to say worsens. I don’t want to put that out into the universe.

  “I understand.”

  “Hang in there, Jacks. We’ll all be there soon. I want you to do me a favor and go find your wife now. Don’t let her tell Jon alone, and please. I don’t want you to be alone, either.”

  “You’re right,” he says. “I know.”

  “I love you,” I tell him. “And we all love her so much.”

  I hear him gasp into the phone, like he was trying to say something, or maybe just to breathe. “I have to go,” he finally manages to say, his voice not one I’ve heard before. The line disconnects.

  When I hang up, Nolan is there to comfort me. He holds my hands in his as he lets me deal with the news in my own way and my own time, but I know we have to act quickly.

  “What do you need me to do?” He’s calm and steady, although I know this news hurts him as much as it hurts me.

  “I’ll go to Trey’s.”

  “Alone?”

  I nod my head. “I can do it.”

  “I know you can.”

  “They need us to call my brother and sister, and Em’s brother and sister. Can you do that for me while I’m gone?”

  “Of course, I can.” I get up and put on some clothes, giving him all the details I know. “Have them get down to the hospital. Jon and Jacks and Emi are going to need all the support they can get… and if word gets out–and it will, p
eople at the hospital will talk–we’re going to need to protect them as best as we can.”

  “Understood. I’ll just start heading down there and make the calls on my way. Should we… wake up Max and Cal? They’re right across the hall.”

  “Not before telling Trey… or Will. We’ll… figure it out after.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I’m going to go to Trey’s,” I say, thinking this out, “and then Shea’s, and to Jon’s place, where Will is. I have to bring the girls with me so they can somehow… tell them.”

  “Those poor babies,” he says, the tears finally falling from his eyes. “Jon’s going to need so much help from us. As Edie’s godparents. As their great-uncles. You need to be strong, Matthew.”

  I nod my head. “I know. I just loved her so much. She had my heart the moment I met her.”

  He hugs me again. “You can cry alone with me anytime,” he whispers. “Anytime.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for doing this… making the calls.”

  “It’s part of my job as your husband. I’ll take great care.”

  “I know you will.” We kiss before I head out of the apartment, barely saying hello to the doorman when I leave.

  The New York City streets seem unusually quiet, but it’s been awhile since Nolan and I were out past midnight. I take a cab around the perimeter of Central Park to Trey’s penthouse, just above Morningside Park. The doorman of his building senses the urgency of my visit and rings the apartment immediately.

  It takes about a minute for anyone to answer.

  “Yes?” Trey’s voice is tired.

  “Trey, your uncle is downstairs. Matty Holland?”

  “It’s two-thirty in the morning.” My nephew doesn’t sound awake.

  I’m silent as I watch the man do his job. “Shall I bring him up?”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter 16

  TREY