Cole’s life seemed a mad tangle of complications.
“I don’t want to live with Grandma Trixie. I like living with Dad,” Ty said, his voice small. “We have our own rooms now, which we never had before, and a yard to play in and Dad says I can even get a horse of my own after I learn how to ride better.”
“Who wants a stupid horse?” Jazmyn tossed her brother a disgusted look. “With Grandma Trixie in California, we could go to the beach every day, even in the winter, and maybe even see movie stars.”
“I’d rather have a horse and live with Dad,” Ty muttered. Devin had the feeling this wasn’t the first time the two of them had engaged in this particular argument. To keep the peace, she opted for distraction.
“Let’s go see if we can find some crackers and juice. Ty, why don’t you give me a hand?”
The agreeable boy slid off his chair and followed her to the reception desk. “Hey, Brittney. My man Ty here is hungry and so is his sister. Any chance we could grab a few of those cracker packs and maybe some cookies from the food room?”
“Sure, Dr. Shaw.” The young receptionist hopped up. “I should have thought of that. What a dope I can be. I’m sorry. Just give me a sec.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
The receptionist hurried away. While she was gone, Ty became interested in the small Christmas tree on the desk, made entirely of inflated nonlatex gloves cascading down with an elastic bandage garland.
“Are those all balloons? Did somebody have to blow them all up?”
“I would guess so,” she answered.
“I bet that took forever.”
“It’s not that tough. Here, I’ll show you.” She grabbed a glove from the box tacked to the wall and quickly showed him how to bunch the end together and blow it up, then tie the end like a balloon. “And now look.” She grabbed a Sharpie from the canister on the reception desk and doodled a face on it, with the thumb sticking out like a long nose, much to the boy’s delight.
She might not be able to knit, but who said she wasn’t crafty?
She had learned the fine art of glove creature creation during her first surgery, when she’d ended up staying ten days because of an infection. In the children’s hospital in Boise, she had met Lilah, another teenage girl with cancer. It was Lilah, she remembered, who had shown her the trick of creating creatures from surgical gloves. They used to make them for the younger kids receiving treatment.
Lilah had lost her battle just a few months later.
Devin thought a silent prayer for her friend and for the others she had said goodbye to along her cancer journey.
“Can you make one for Jazmyn?” Ty asked.
“You bet.”
In a minute, she had another inflated glove. This face she drew with long eyelashes and puckered lips. Ty quickly took it over to his sister just as the receptionist came out with a handful of treats.
The kids were eating crackers and cheese with enthusiasm—pausing every few moments to bop each other on the head with their inflated glove creatures—when their father walked back into the waiting room.
She suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room, which she was fully aware was a completely ridiculous reaction to a gorgeous man.
“Hey, kids.”
“Where’s Aunt Tricia?”
Cole glanced at Devin, looking rather endearingly uncertain, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to tell his kids. “She’s sticking around here for the night. Dr. Shaw wants to keep an eye on her and the babies a little longer.”
“Who’s going to fix us breakfast and get us on the bus?” Ty demanded. “We don’t even have Mrs. Lynn to help us anymore.”
“I can do that just as well as Tricia or Mrs. Lynn.”
“Aunt Tricia said you can’t even make toast without burning it,” Jazmyn informed him.
“Aunt Tricia talks too much,” he muttered. “Between you and me, we ought to be able to handle things for a few days, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” she said doubtfully.
“Get your coats and gather up your things so we can take off,” he ordered. “We need to get Aunt Tricia’s bag out of the car, then grab some dinner so I can get you two to bed.”
“Can we take these?” Ty asked Devin, holding out his inflated glove.
“Of course,” she answered. “I’ll warn you, they might start to lose air pretty soon.”
When they were just about ready to go—mittens found, beanies adjusted—Jazmyn turned contrary.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she suddenly declared. The girl was quite a character. She could have gone anytime in the past fifteen minutes but she had waited until she knew her father was in a hurry.
“Can’t you wait until we get home?” Cole asked.
“No. I have to go now.”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
She headed to the ladies’ room just off the lobby. “You need to go?” Cole asked his son. The boy shook his head, content to toss the rubber glove balloon into the air and catch it again.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on them,” Cole said to her.
“No problem. They’re fun kids. How old are they? I didn’t have the chance to ask.”
“Jaz is eight going on about thirty-six and Ty just turned six.”
“Those are fun ages at Christmastime. Still young enough to believe in the magic and old enough to appreciate the wonder of it all.”
“I guess. I’m not sure any of us is in the mood for Christmas this year,” he said, his tone rather bleak.
Why? What was the story here? She wanted to ask but decided it wasn’t her business. “You said you had a bag of your sister’s?”
“Yeah. I guess she’s had a hospital bag packed since before she came out to Idaho. She threw it in the truck before we left the house. Mother’s intuition or something. Apparently it contains a few necessities like magazines and slippers.”
“Handy.”
“I guess.” He looked around the empty waiting room, then back at her. “I’ve got to tell you, Doc, I’m still not convinced this is the best place for her and the twins. I can’t help thinking maybe the smartest thing would be to pack her up right now and take her to a bigger hospital in Boise.”
Devin ignored the little pinch to her pride. “I understand your concern. I told Tricia that’s a decision she can certainly make. I will tell you, we have a state-of-the-art facility here, brand-new in the last two years, with every possible advanced fetal and maternal monitoring capability and a couple of excellent specialists in the area who will be taking a look at her tomorrow. If at any time your sister feels uneasy about the care she’s receiving here, I would be the first to encourage her to transfer to a different facility. At this point, we’re dealing with a sprained ankle and contractions that currently appear to be under control. I would advise against moving to another facility far away from her family, but that’s, of course, her choice.”
“Yeah, she was quick to remind me of the same thing,” he said, his voice wry.
“Sisters. What can you do?”
He almost smiled but seemed to catch himself at the last minute as his daughter came out of the ladies’ room, wiping her just-washed hands on her coat.
He unpeeled from the wall. “Thanks