Chapter 11
Sophie rushed through the hospital corridors, her wet boots squeaking against the floors. She took two hallways at a clipped pace, pressed the elevator button with more force than necessary, and barely waited for the doors to fully open before stepping inside. The moment they slid apart on the next floor, she bolted out, scanning the waiting area until she spotted her family.
Henry sat beside Sylvia with his arm wrapped around her as he stared at the floor with bloodshot eyes. Sylvia dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her face pale. Across from them, Simon gave Sondra’s knee a reassuring squeeze before pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then, noticing Sophie, he stood and went to her and she hugged him close, lingering for a few comforting moments.
“Hey, Soph.” His voice was thick with worry. “Aunt Nan and Shamus are on their way.”
Sophie pulled back and looked up into her cousin’s tear-soaked eyes. “Keefe had to deal with something at the pub but will be here as soon as he can. What’s happened? How is she?”
“We haven’t heard anything. Connor said she was bleeding pretty bad,” Simon’s voice choked, “and then she was rushed in and that’s all we know.”
Connor stepped through the doors, his face pale, his shoulders sagging. His eyes met Sondra’s, and with a slow, almost imperceptible shake of his head, the last thread of her composure snapped. A sob tore from her throat as she crumpled, and Simon was there in an instant, wrapping his arms around her, holding her together as she fell apart.
Sylvia and Henry rushed to hold him. “Son, what’s happened?” Henry asked.
Connor shook his head and pinched his eyes closed. “She’s lost a lot of blood. She’s… I thought… Dad what if?—”
Sylvia tucked herself under her son’s arms, gripping onto him as she sobbed.
There was no easy was to ask the question on everyone’s minds and he hated himself for having to do it. Henry gripped his son by the shoulders. “Connor, is Darcie alive?”
Sobbing, Connor nodded his head yes.
Henry released the breath he was holding and Sylvia looked up at her son.
Her husband had asked one hard question now it was her turn. “What about the twins, love? Are they alive?”
“Yes, but…”
Henry gathered Connor and Sylvia both into his arms and spoke with as much confidence as he could muster. “Sister is a fighter. Don’t you give up on her, son. She needs you to be strong so she can get through this.”
Connor let himself be consoled for another minute longer and then pulled away and dried his tears. “They’re taking her for surgery. I don’t know how long… I have to get back.”
“We’ll all be right here, son,” Henry assured him. He held Connor in one more tight hug then handed him to Sylvia who kissed his cheek and said to send Darcie their love prayers.
Sophie watched Connor walk away as if heading to his doom.
This was too much. She needed to get out of there. Sophie pushed through the hospital doors into the frosty morning air that slammed into her, but she barely noticed.
Her chest was too tight, her breath too shallow, her mind was spinning.
Darcie and the babies might not make it.
The thought sent a wave of nausea rolling through her. She gripped the railing by the entrance, knuckles white, fighting the sting of tears. Inside the hospital, her family waited. It was where she belonged. But right now, she couldn’t bear the weight of their fear pressing in on her. She needed air. She needed space.
She needed Liam.
Her heart ached with the want of him, of his steady presence and his quiet strength. He would know what to do, what to say—even if there was nothing to say at all. Why hadn’t she let him drive her? He would be there now, with her, beside her. She wrapped her arms around herself trying to hold herself together but it wasn’t enough.
The thought sent a wave of longing through her, one she couldn’t ignore. If Liam was the first person she wanted to call, the only one she needed in this moment, then why was she fighting so hard to keep him at a distance? She told herself it was about protecting her heart, about not making the same mistakes again. But was it really a mistake if she still felt this way? Whether it was just lingering affection, love, or warm friendship, she wasn’t sure. But she wanted to find out.
She dug into her coat pocket for her phone and dialed. It rang only once before he answered. “Sophie? Are you all right, love?”
“Not really. Liam, do you still want to give us a shot?”
“More than anything.”
“Then ask me.”
“Will you go out with me?”
“Yes.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I’m here at the hospital and,” tears burned her eyes as she choked up. “It’s awful. And the first thing I thought of was you. I wish you were here.”
“Look up, a stór.”
Liam was making long strides across the parking lot.
Sophie burst into tears as he rushed to her and took her in his arms. After a few long moments he led her to a nearby bench to sit and catch her breath. “There’s just one thing. You keep talking about the good old days and your Sophie but Liam I’m not a girl anymore. I look at myself in the mirror and I can’t find that girl.”
“I still see that girl, but you’re right. You have changed, so have I. I’ll tell you what, let’s make some new memories and get to know each other again, all right? We can take this as slow or as fast as you like. I’m not going anywhere, Soph. Not this time.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and nodded. He’d always known what to say. “Liam, what if she dies? Or the babies?”
Liam didn’t have answer for those questions. He wished to God he did. If the worst did happen it would be beyond anything he could imagine going through. “Would you like me to stay with you?”
Sophie nodded and pulled herself together. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Why don’t we go inside and wait with your family?”
* * *
Sophie stepped into the waiting room with her hand clasped tightly in Liam’s. Nan and Shamus had arrived while they were outside. Everyone was staring blankly at the floor, and Sylvia clutched a rosary between her fingers. Worry was etched into everyone’s face as they waited for news on Darcie.
At first, no one noticed them. Then, Nan’s eyes flickered to their joined hands. Her breath caught, and for a moment, the worry lines on her face softened.
“Tell me my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her chest.
Shamus looked up and smiled.
Sylvia’s head snapped up.
Slowly, the rest of the family turned, taking in the sight of Sophie and Liam together, standing close, fingers intertwined.
Aunt Nan was the first to move. She strode forward, cupped Sophie’s cheek in one hand, and Liam’s in the other. “About time too. You feckin’ eejits,” she said, her eyes misty, and voice ready to crack. “This family needed some good news.”
A small, teary-eyed sigh rippled through the group, a tiny moment of warmth cutting through the worry. And for a moment, hope filled the room.
The waiting room was a suffocating mix of silence and restless movement. Sylvia hadn’t stopped praying the rosary for even a moment while Shamus paced back and forth.
Then the door swung open.
A nurse stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable, eyes scanning the room.
“The O’Brian family?” she asked, her voice steady, professional.
The room stilled. No one breathed.
The nurse didn’t rush, didn’t soften. She gave nothing away. Her face was an impenetrable mask as she stepped forward and clasped her hands. And then she said it. “Mother and babies are doing just fine.”
For a beat, no one moved. No one spoke. Had she really said what she just said? Darcie and the twins were all fine? Sylvia collapsed into her chair, whispering a prayer of gratitude.
The room exploded with a collective breath of relief. Darcie was alive. The babies were safe.
Of course, everyone wanted to rush in at once, but the stone-faced nurse put a firm stop to that. Only a few visitors at a time. Sophie squeezed Liam’s hand and nodded toward the exit. She needed to call her brother and tell him the good news!
It had been a whole of thirty-five seconds from the waiting room to Darcie’s but they were the longest seconds in the world to the happy grandparents. Henry and Sylvia moved carefully, but their excitement was impossible to contain. They pushed open the door with more restraint than they felt, stepping inside as though they were entering sacred ground. And in a way, they were.
Darcie lay in the hospital bed, looking pale and utterly exhausted, but her smile was the brightest thing in the room. Connor was perched beside her with one arm around her shoulders while his other hand laid over one of the tiny babies she held in her arms. He pressed a soft kiss to his wife’s forehead. His expression so full of love that it stole Sylvia’s breath.
Connor looked up as they entered, his voice quiet but brimming with warmth. “Come in. Would you like to meet your granddaughter and grandson?”
Sylvia gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “One of each?”
Not able to contain his excitement, Henry let out a joyous, disbelieving laugh, but before he woke up the sleeping babies, he lowered his voice.
They approached the bed reverently. Henry’s eyes went straight to the little girl, while Sylvia reached instinctively for the boy. They were both so small and so perfect.
Sylvia ran her fingers over the baby’s tiny hand. “What is your name, my precious?” she cooed.
Darcie and Connor exchanged a look, something deep and knowing passing between them. Then Connor cleared his throat. “We wanted to name them after the people who mean the most to us,” he said. “But that meant… well, we’ll sort out nicknames later.”
Darcie smiled down at her red-haired daughter in her pink cap and adjusted the blanket gently. “This is Sylvia Sondra Nanette O’Brian. And this,” she nodded toward the dark-haired baby boy in a blue cap, “is Henry Simon Shamus O’Brian.”
With Darcie’s say so, Connor lifted his daughter from her arms and handed her over to Henry, then handed his son to Sylvia.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then Henry let out a choked breath, and Sylvia’s eyes shimmered with tears as she tried desperately not to break down.
“You named them after us?” Henry whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
Connor and Darcie both nodded.
“I wouldn’t be here without you and neither would they. You’re as much a part of them as we are,” Darcie said.
Sylvia let out a half-laugh, half-sob, clutching her grandson to her chest.
With the proudest of smiles, Henry wiped his eyes as he looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms. “Hello Sylvie, I’m your grandad,” he murmured, testing out the nickname. “I think that suits her just fine.” Henry looked to his daughter-in-law. “You gave us quite a scare, Sister.”
Darcie smiled softly, closed her eyes, and rested her head on Connor’s shoulder.