Page 100 of This Love
“This way,” the nurse said, pointing to the right. “We have to navigate the maze.”
Gram met us in the hall. “What is the status of everything?” she asked.
Time to break the news. “She had blood loss from labor. They had to do a minor surgery. They think the blood loss caused another seizure right after he was born.”
Gram’s blue-veined hand lifted to her mouth. “Tucker. Oh, no. Is she all right?”
“They said the surgery was simple. I don’t know if she’s back in the room yet or not.”
Gram tucked her phone away. The happy enthusiasm was gone. “I went to the room before the nurse told me to go to the nursery to find you. I left the duffle bag and the scrapbook there.”
“You brought the memory book?”
“Yes. I found it in her office. And her phone on the floor in the kitchen.”
Relief crashed over me. “Good. I forgot to tell you to get them. She might not even know she gave birth. We’ve never been through two restarts back to back.”
Our grim gazes locked. I knew what she was thinking, how hard all the resets had been. And this time, we’d have Tad.
My mind raced as we followed the nurse down the hall. Ava would be in no shape to take care of him alone for quite some time.
“You’ll start working with her right away, won’t you?” Gram’s voice was high with tension. She knew.
“I will. Ava made that book as airtight as possible. The mystery of her mother helps the most. She’s motivated to read and learn once she connects the book to her tattoos.”
Gram patted my arm. “It will be all right. Have faith.”
We passed the nurse’s station that I remembered from our arrival. We were nearly there.
I glanced at all the doors with their blue and pink ribbons. I should get one for Tad.
A door halfway down the hall stood open. Was that ours?
I hoped not.
I wanted to speed up, but I was pushing the baby. Tad was sleeping peacefully in his blanket burrito. I drew in a breath to fight the urge to run.
Gram noticed. “What’s wrong?”
My throat constricted. “I think our door is open.” I stopped the bassinet, and the nurse looked back at us.
“Wait here with the baby,” I said, choking on the words.
I closed the distance to the door in a mad dash.
Please be sleeping. Please let it be a nurse who left it open. Maybe the neurologist is in there.
I pushed it wide.
The bed was empty, the sheets stripped and on the floor. The blue gown sat beside them, along with the post-partum underwear. I raced into the bathroom and threw aside the white curtain.
She had been here. And now, she was gone.
When I returned to the main room, Gram had arrived. The nurse and Tad were in the hall.
“Where is she?” Gram asked.
My gut tightened. “I don’t know.” The cabinet was open. Cups and a pitcher lay on the floor.
