Chapter 14
Grayson
“Do something,” I yell. “Save her.”
But no one is listening to me.
Fear, unlike any I’ve ever known, has me paralyzed.
I can’t think. I can’t move. All I can do is stand there, helplessly watching as my wife fades away and the doctor and nurses struggle to get my little boy out.
My knees buckle, sending me to the ground. The concrete rises up to meet me, but I don’t feel the impact.
I don’t feel anything except this terror coursing through my veins.
The room around me is muted, my breath loud in my ears.
And in an act of desperation, I lift my eyes to the one I know can save her.
“Please, God. Please.”
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“Grayson.”
My head feels heavy when I lift it to look at the person calling my name.
It’s been over an hour since a nurse led me out of the delivery room to wait. It might as well have been a lifetime.
My eyes burn from the tears, and my throat is dry from the amount of times I’ve begged God to save my wife and son. I’ve made so many promises to him, and yet they all seem inadequate.
Blinking through the blurriness that is heavy in my eyes, I find my dad standing in front of me, worry evident in the wrinkle of his brow. His own eyes are rimmed with red like he’s been crying, and the sight of him shatters me.
My legs won’t bear the weight of my body, and my heart can’t bear the weight of my grief. Without a thought, I drop my head into his stomach like a small child needing the comfort of the parent, and then I fall apart.
He doesn’t say a word. I think he knows that words won’t make this better—that he can’t make this better. But he holds me together, being my strength when I have none left.
“Dad.” His name is the only word I can get past my lips, and it is more of a croak than anything.
“I know, son. I know.” One of his hands rests on top of my head while the other arm is wrapped around my neck, squeezing me tight.
My tears soak his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When I try to pull away, he only holds me tighter.
I don’t resist it. I need him, and I’m in no position to deny it.
We stay just like that, me sitting on a hard plastic chair with my head resting against my dad’s stomach and my dad holding me together until I lose track of time.
It may be mere seconds, or it may have been longer, but I don’t know. Time is my enemy—an entity that may only drag me closer to news I do not want to hear.
My dad’s hand begins to stroke my hair, and then I hear his deep voice rumble through his chest. “Dear Heavenly Father, I’ve failed my son most of his life, but you haven’t.
Even when we cannot see you, you are there.
Please save our Georgia girl and my new grandson, Lord. We need them both. My son needs them.”
The words sound nice, but my heart is numb.
I begged God not to take my wife in that delivery room, and now I’m sitting here, not knowing if she made it through.
I want to say that, after everything Georgia and I have been through, my faith in him is unyielding. But I can’t lie—it feels like I’m failing this test.
“Georgia Lewis’s family.”
Lifting my head, I find Doctor Madoc standing by the doors that lead back to my wife and son. She’s wearing a grim look on her face, and my heart sinks.
“I can’t—I can’t do this, Dad.”
He crouches in front of me, grabbing my hands between his and meeting my gaze.
“Maybe you don’t feel like you can, and that’s okay.
But here’s the thing: no matter what news that doctor has, Georgia is counting on you to do what’s best for her and your son.
Right now, that means finding out what that doctor has to say.
So maybe you don’t have the strength for yourself—but you have to find it for your wife. ”
My throat aches when I swallow and then nod.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Okay.” My dad repeats, clapping my shoulder and pulling me up with him.
The walk over to the doctor is like a blur in my mind. In the back of my mind, I take note of the time on the clock that rests right above the doctor’s head because no matter what news comes next, this will be a moment that changes the rest of my life.
When I’m finally standing in front of her, I hold my breath, waiting.
Her smile is grim as she looks at me, and I can only imagine what I look like to her.
“Would you like to meet your son?”