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“And wanting a divorce?”
“Yeah. She was a little disappointed.” Katie looked wistful. “She said much as she loves Levi, he doesn’t deserve me, and she wished she’d known she had a daughter-in-law before she had to lose me.”
“Nice.”
“Supernice,” Katie said, pressing the bridge of her nose into the glass and looking down out at the lot. “I kind of wish I’d told her a long time ago. She’d have been a better mother-in-law than Levi was a husband.”
He reached across the space between them and put his hand on her arm, and she lifted her other hand to cover his fingers with her own. She’d be all right, he realized. Better for letting her secret out in the open. Maybe she could move on soon, find some peace with herself. Maybe she could eventually pick a decent guy to love her—somebody who’d recognize what a prize she was.
In the meantime, she had him. Whatever good he was to her, he was here.
She squeezed his fingers and dropped her hand, his cue to let her go.
“Did she give you an address?”
Katie nodded. “You still think it’s okay for me to call Ellen? I mean, just to find out if there’s someone she’d recommend to handle it. I know she’s not a divorce lawyer.”
“It’ll be fine.” Ellen wouldn’t hold their breakup against his sister. It wasn’t in her nature.
Katie stared at him so long, he had to look away. “You need to talk to her,” she said. “You look like you’re going to drop dead from misery if you don’t.”
“No.”
“You need to talk to me, then.”
He stood. “I need to get back to work.” The hospital’s guard shift would change soon, and he was going to
have to introduce himself and explain the drill to a new round of people.
She rose too, blocking his path out of the room. “Don’t be stubborn,” she said. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time the other day. I can see how you feel about her. I’m sure you can work this—”
“No. I can’t. It’s over.” Ellen didn’t want him. She’d said so. They’d made a mistake—he’d made a mistake, thinking he could have it all. That he’d be what she wanted, and he’d change her mind. He’d made the wrong call. That was that.
Henry walked into the room then, Nana trailing behind at her restricted pace and listening as he told her everything he’d done since arriving at the hospital. “An’ then Henry saw a chair wif wheels, an’ Ma said, ‘No, Henry! No ride in the chair!’ an’ Uncle Jamie said—Cabe! Look, Nana! Cabe is here.”
“How’s it going, Hank?”
“Hank saw a wheelie fing. An’ Nana bought you French fries.”
“Sweet.”
“That is?” Henry asked, walking over and reaching for the borrowed short-wave radio hanging off his belt.
“That’s a radio.”
“Do wif it?”
“You talk to people.”
“Show you,” Henry said, tugging at the radio in an attempt to get it into his possession.
Caleb really did have to get back to work, but he stole a few minutes with Henry anyway, showing him all the buttons and telling him how they worked.
It was against the rules, being friends with Henry. One more violation of the contract he never should have negotiated with Ellen in the first place. One more wrong call.
But he couldn’t help it. He liked the kid.
Isadora Sydney Callahan was the smallest, wrinkliest, pinkest baby Ellen had ever seen, and the second most beautiful. For such a tiny little thing—not quite four pounds—Carly’s daughter was healthy. Jamie said her hair was red, though Ellen couldn’t see it under the knit cap they’d put on her. Wee Isadora would need a ventilator, but her prognosis was good.
