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Chapter Twenty-Four
Hannah woke slowly, Luke’s voice in her ears. He was reading out loud, a story she didn’t know but seemed very simple. Something about a dinosaur and a baseball bat.
Her head hurt, and a groan came out of her mouth without explicit instructions from her brain.
Luke’s voice stopped, and it came closer as he said, “Hannah? Angel, can you open your eyes?”
She could, and she did, the lights above her so bright. Too bright. She flinched away from them, and Luke said, “I’ll turn them off.” His footsteps hurried away from her and then came back.
Hannah opened her eyes before he’d fully returned, and it only took a moment for her to see the infant in his arms. Everything rushed at her then—the pain at the ranch. The fall forward. Ursula barking and barking and barking.
Flashes of other things moved through her head, including Luke’s voice asking her to wake up over and over. Nate said something to her. She bumped around in the back of a van. Or something.
Her mind fuzzed, and she focused on the present situation. “Is that—?” Her voice scratched in her throat, and she couldn’t continue, because the words got stuck in how parched she was.
“There’s a drink right here, hon.” Luke lifted a huge cup with a straw, and Hannah drank greedily. After several swallows, she looked at the baby in his arms.
“Luke,” she said. “Is that our baby?”
“Yes.” He grinned at her and then down at the tiny bundle in his arms. “Robbie, your momma is awake.” He turned the baby toward her, and Hannah took the beautiful child from her husband.
Tears pricked her eyes as she took in his baldness and his perfectly round cheeks. “Oh, I love him,” she whispered, looking up at Luke. He sat back down in the chair he’d dragged very near her bed and gazed at her.
“I love you,” he said.
“What happened?” she asked.
A wave of exhaustion crossed his face, but he gave her a smile anyway. “Baby, your placenta ruptured. They call it a placenta abruption, and it means the placenta tears away from the uterine wall. You fell down, and you were unconscious when Slate and I found you.”
Horror filled Hannah, but Luke kept talking. By the end of it, she wept.
She wept for herself, because she’d missed holding her son only moments after he was born.
She wept for Luke, who must’ve been so scared and so worried.
She wept for her friends, who’d been waiting to hear about her condition for hours.
She wept with gratitude for good doctors and nurses, for a dog who’d somehow known she wasn’t well and had stayed with her, and for the mercy of the Lord in sparing her life so she could raise her son.
“You’re okay,” Luke whispered, taking one of her hands in his. “Don’t cry, my angel. You’re okay.” He lifted her hand to his lips, but he was crying too. “I love you so much. I had no idea what I’d do without you, but you know what? That thought never stayed. It would stab at me, and then go, and I knew I wouldn’t have to figure out what to do without you.” He kissed her hand again, his smile gorgeous even if it was a bit wobbly.
“I love you,” she whispered to him.
He nodded, his smile perfect. He drew in a long breath and wiped his face. “Now, dry your tears, baby. I want to get a picture of you to send to everyone, so they know you’re awake and that you’re holding your son.”
Hannah really didn’t want her picture taken right now. She felt like she’d been run over by a truck, and she was sure she looked like it too. But one look at her baby Robert, and a soft smile filled her whole face.
“Okay,” Luke said, and Hannah glanced up, not realizing he’d taken the picture already. His thumbs flew across the screen, and once the text was sent, he tucked his phone away and focused on her again.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “They say you can’t have much, but I’ve got six to twelve people downstairs willing to bring you whatever you want.” He grinned at her, and Hannah couldn’t help but smile at him.
Before she could answer, the door opened and a nurse came in. “Dinnertime,” she said as she carried a tray with plenty of food on it. “Look who’s awake.” She set the tray down on the rolling table and moved it over Hannah’s lap.
“I’ll get you sitting up more, and we’ll need to start getting your vitals.” She picked up a remote and pushed a button. The bed moved, and Hannah tried to push herself up. A pain cut through her, and she couldn’t help the cry that came from her mouth.
“What’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?” the nurse asked.
“That’s was a ten,” Hannah said, panting. “But normally, I’m okay. Four or five.”
