The door slamming rouses him from sleep. An eye flickers open and a section of tan cushion is the first thing to come into view. The scent of brewing coffee drifts under his nose. Light is flooding the room through the sheer white curtains.
Nathan blinks against sleep and the brightness. He turns his stiff neck slowly to look over at the mounted clock on the living room wall. Roughly six thirty-five.
The morning is bright and sunny, that ostensibly picture-perfect sunny day for a picnic, a lie-in or a trip to the beach. Breathing out loudly, he drags a hand over his face and swings his legs over the couch. With a hiss, he reaches around his neck to massage the sore crook, stretching until it makes a cracking noise. It feels like the morning after a night of serious partying.
The photo album is lying open on the floor. Jamie's toothy grin flashes up at him, a captured moment on their road trip to the Grand Canyon last year. The laptop is still on, humming softly as it dimly displays its most recent web pages. With a silent groan, he shuts the leather-covered photo album, and closes the lid of the warm laptop and unplugs it from the socket. Although the coffee aroma is compelling, he opts to shower first.
He heads for the stairs, stumbling a little with sleep. In knots about the day ahead, he shimmies his way into the bedroom. Haley's still out, sleeping on her side, dark strands draped across the sheet, her arms embracing her pillow like she's afraid to let it go. He watches her for a moment. She emits a sigh, her lips curving into that small smile that he still finds ridiculously cute. A slight grin touches his lips. Despite the doubts from people and their almost-breakup in high school, they made it to six years together. She has supported him in every sense of the word, from emotionally to financially.
The band she'd joined while he was in hospital, Haley's Comet, built a good reputation in a very short time. They were often hired for special events like weddings and mitzvahs, and even did a few corporate receptions. Once, they performed a cappella at a funeral.
She paid their bills with those gigs and her tutoring job at the university. He wasn't uncomfortable or threatened that his wife was the primary breadwinner; he was uncomfortable with how much work she did. She was a mother, student, tutor and band singer; she fulfilled so many roles that sometimes he worried that she would disintegrate. He pitched in more in caring for Jamie and doing housework, because when she had band practice or a weekend event, he couldn't let her do it all. She worked hard, and he in turn worked hard to make sure that he would return the favour; when the day came, he didn't want her to worry about money. That day had come, and he was getting offers from various teams that wanted him to play for them.
Not wanting to wake her, he puts away the photo album and the computer on the dresser. With a yawn, he heads for the bathroom. An invigorating hot shower is what he needs to release the tension and clear his cloudy mind.
Haley wakes up to the sound of the shower running. Blinking sleepy eyes at the bathroom door, she's aware of the cold space beside her in the sheets. She rolls over to her stomach to stretch out and flex her muscles.
A minute later, she throws back the covers, swings out of bed, pulls her hair into a ponytail and makes her way to the bathroom. Steam swirls and escapes into the air, fogging up the mirror. The shadow of his body is visible behind the frosted glass.
After brushing her teeth, she sheds her clothes and leaves them in a pile on the floor beside his. She peels back the door to join him. Her arms snake around his waist, her lips pressing tenderly on the minuscule beauty spot on the curve of his back before leaning her cheek on his wet skin. "How long have you been up?"
Nathan moves his hands over hers, and then spins around so as to face her. "Not too long." He leans forward, lightly pecking her cheek before kissing her deeply on the lips. "Did you sleep okay?"
"I think I passed out completely," she answers with a small smile, her arms going around his neck. "Did you?"
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not," she states, kissing his chin softly. She remembers the very cold side of his bed that had no lasting warmth like it usually does when he wakes up before her. "Where did you sleep?"
She peers at him intently, his face barely two inches away from hers. He looks so tired.
"I'm okay."
The hot water is certainly helping to iron out the stiffness.
"Nathan…" she starts in a strained voice, lowering her arms from his neck.
He takes a step forward, circling his arms around her, his face in her neck as his lips brush lightly on her shoulder. She worries so much about him that sometimes he finds it astonishing. It's so different from how it was when he was growing up; when Dan worried, it was about him breaking curfew, not concern for his safety.
"I'm fine, Hales. I just fell asleep looking through the photo albums. Really."
Her eyes catch a glimpse of the dark branded ink on his upper rib cage. Her hand rubs along his skin to reach the vivid decoration. She smiles as she usually does when she sees it, her fingertips tracing the detailed miniature pair of angel's wings with a halo floating above them, her name, and Jamie's name and birth date, inscribed between the wings. He unveiled the tattoo on her birthday, after she broke down asking why he had been distant with her.
"Are you having an affair?" was what she blurted when he wished her a happy birthday that morning.
He sat up quickly. "What?"
"We haven't been together in a really long time, Nathan. You've barely touched me."
She looked up at him steadily. If she blinked, she was sure the tears pooling her eyes would have run down the side of her face to hit her pillow in rivers. "I completely understand if you're bored with me, but I wish you'd just told me instead of asking me for a divorce on my birthday."
He burst out laughing, at which she growled and pulled the comforter over her head. "Is leaving me that damn amusing to you?"
"I'm not leaving you," he chuckled, dragging the covers away from her face.
"Fifteen days, Nathan. We haven't had sex in fifteen days. You won't even let me touch you. I haven't seen you shirtless for two weeks, which is very unusual for you. So you're either sick or you don't want me to see what's underneath your clothes. So which is it? Bite marks? Fingernail dents?"
He laughed again, drawing the comforter down to her waist. "Sit up. I want to show you something, you nympho."
She snorted, sitting up to lean on the headboard. "Says the man who complains after three days. Are you showing me our divorce papers?"
On his knees, Nathan laughed again at her theatricality and pulled his shirt over his head. "No."
Her eyes roamed over his chest, as if memorizing it for the last time. "What? What am I supposed to be seeing?"
Lifting up his left arm slightly, he twisted around on the bed. A shocked gasp passed her lips. She was turning giddy as her hand reached out for the stunning illustration.
Since getting it, it had proven difficult keeping her in the dark about it. Although the tattoo artist had told him that a rib side tattoo took longer to heal, he hadn't thought it would take so long.
Her eyes lifted up to his. "You…"
"Happy birthday, baby."
Palms flat on the bed, he leaned over her to place several kisses on her parted lips. "Are you surprised?" he said, teeth gently tugging at her lower lip.
She just nodded, a glorious smile crossing her face, erasing her sadness. "Holy…I love it! When did you get it? Where did—"
Before she could continue, Nathan was lying on top of her, his mouth muffling her soft delighted cry of surprise. "It's been fifteen very, very long days, Hales. And it's your birthday," he breathed impishly against her lips.
"It is my birthday," she giggled, her thumb stroking the tattoo. "And you need to make it up to me."
"Do I?"
"You do."
And he did.
Haley leans her head back, showing him a weak smile. "Maybe next time you can bring them up and we can look through together."
Her arms loop again around his neck, fingers sliding through his wet hair as the water radiates heat around them. She touches the ridge on his scalp from the brain surgery, and she exploits their closeness to press their bodies together. That instantly breaks out her lust.
She rises up on tiptoes to slant her mouth on his. As their tongues meet, he backs her up against the tiled wall, away from the assault of the water, his body pinning hers. Lifting her, he widens her position, and her legs automatically wrap around him.
He takes both her wrists in one of his hands and raises her arms over her head. With the other hand, he roams up her thigh, her hip, to her waist, to caress her naked breast. It feels like it's been so long since this kind of excitement has soared through her body. She needs strength today. She can sense his strength in the firm hands on her hips. She can feel it in his wet, muscled torso as it presses against her breasts. Yes, she can feed off his.
Their mouths feast on each other's in breathless and passionate kisses, nibbles and tugs of intent. Grinding into him, she groans in a soft purr, tearing her mouth from his for air. She's weak-kneed, her heart beating fast, her pulse roaring in her ears. His eyes are dark and brilliant with the fire she's bearing, and with their ragged breaths mingling, she rasps without hesitation, "I want you…"
His mouth is on hers again in the same fervour, his tongue sweeping into her mouth in another greedy drugging kiss. Her hips twist and move, begging him to enter her ready and waiting body. He responds by freeing her wrists, and she winds her arms around his neck, and in a smooth stroke, he pushes inside her, stretching her, filling her. They both moan aloud, drinking in each other's hungry sounds as he starts to glide in and out.
"Nathan…" she whispers, gently clamping his lower lip between her teeth.
"I'm right here," he groans, then jams his tongue into her eager mouth at the same time as he drives another hard thrust into her.
Surrounded by the heat of the steam, the basic need to be joined rivals taking it slow; they need something swift but satisfying, a frantic coupling that still establishes the connection binding them together.
She's reading through an extensive and detailed article on therapeutic hypothermia when the doorbell chimes. Allan and Deb are still out on their morning walk, and Nathan is shaving. Shoving her feet in her sandals, Haley hurries down the stairs. The bell rings rather insistently, accompanied by knocking.
The loud sounds echo around the silent house in quick succession, and at about the fourth persistent sharp ring, Haley violently pulls the door open before the person on the other side breaks down the door or jams the doorbell. "I'm—"
She gasps in surprise at the same time that the guests yelp and yell with their own surprise. A jubilant scream follows.
"Sweetheart!"
Lydia James, shell-shocked and ecstatic, throws her arms around her youngest child. It's an awkward hug between mother and daughter, with Haley's hands lying limply by her sides as her mother squeezes the life out of her.
"Oh, sweetie! Where have you been!?"
An extra body joins in the hug, clasping the two James women in a tighter embrace that lasts for a while longer.
"Are we hugging a ghost?" Jimmy James rumbles.
"I don't think so," his daughter answers, trapped in the sandwich hug, her voice muffled on her mother's shoulder. "Mom…"
The parents step back, Lydia framing Haley's face in her hands. "You're okay!"
Before Haley can react, her mother plants a drawn-out kiss on her lips. Too stunned to speak, Haley's mouth is slightly parted as her mother pulls away.
"Look at you!" Lydia cries, her eyes brimming with tears. "I thought you were dead!"
"I think she's as shocked as we are," Jimmy says, pinching Haley's cheek affectionately like he used to when she was seven before pulling her close for a tight hug. "Aren't you, lovebug?"
"Nathan!" her mother squeals again, breezing past like a hurricane, advancing towards her son-in-law to give him one of her bone-crushing hugs.
Standing beside him, Lydia looks back and forth between them. "Can someone please explain to us what is going on here? We were under the impression that you were lost in the jungle."
"It's a long story."
"Now that we're here, you can tell it to us in person. Why is it so quiet? Where is Jamie? Is he awake?"
A glance passes between Nathan and Haley. Her stomach feels like it's full of acid now.
"How about we talk over coffee?" Nathan tells his in-laws.
"What? What's happening?" Lydia asks in confusion, wiping the sides of her eyes.
"Please, Dad?" Haley sends her father a pleading look, hoping that it doesn't convey just how scared she really is.
Jimmy steps away from the doorway, shutting the door behind him. He takes Lydia gently by the elbow to lead her towards the kitchen. "Come on, Lyd."
"Wait, Jimmy, I—"
"We woke them up, Lydia. At least let's give them time to jumpstart their systems."
While Haley fixes the beverages, Nathan asks them about Europe. The small talk feels clumsy, with everyone looking quite uncomfortable by the fact that there's something going unsaid. Filling the mugs with freshly brewed coffee, Haley arranges them on a tray and carries it to the table, placing a steaming cup in front of everyone. She pushes the sugar bowl and jug of cream towards her parents. Her father gives her a quick smile of gratitude.
"Do you want anything to eat? I can make you toast or eggs," Haley says, like she needs more to do before facing this conversation.
They both shake their heads. Wiping her hands down her dress, she takes the seat beside Nathan. They sit in silence, none of them attempting to drink the coffee as they look across each other as if in cold war. The identical mugs are cradled in their hands as they exchange nervous and skittish looks.
"Would one of you please start talking?" Jimmy asks with concern.
Clearing his throat, Nathan takes a careful sip of coffee. After a while, Haley answers with a quivering voice, "Jamie's in the hospital."
"Hospital? What happened?" Lydia whispers in alarm.
"He drowned and he's been in a—" Haley chokes, going mum.
Nathan takes her hand before looking up at his in-laws. "He's in intensive care in a coma."
Lydia shakes her head slightly, reaching over to cover Haley's other hand with her own. She's pale and her eyes are welling up with tears. "Oh, honey…"
"There's a treatment option," Nathan adds. He proceeds to explain the procedure, leaving out the part where Jamie had died for a minute. Had they given up resuscitating him, they would be having a very different conversation.
"Can we see him?" Jimmy asks nervously after Nathan is done.
Nathan nods. "We're about to leave for the hospital." He was going to pack up Jamie's bag before he heard Lydia's scream.
"I have to find Jamie's insurance papers," Haley says to her parents. "Help yourself to anything, okay?"
An anxious expression crosses her mother's face as she nods. "You need us to help you with anything?"
"Um, no. Wait. You could call Viv and the others and tell them that we're all right?"
"But you're not," Jimmy argues. "Jamie…"
"Dad, please," she says firmly. "There's no reason to bring them here. We're fine."
"Haley," her mother interjects, "they're your family. Of course they'd come to see you."
Scooting back her chair, Haley stands up so fast that she bumps the table with her hip. "You mean like they did when I came home after my coma? Or when Nathan was in a coma for months? When I needed you to be there for me?" she asks, almost angrily.
Her parents look at each other for a brief moment before gazing back at her. They are confused and hurt by her outburst. Sighing, Haley presses fingers to her brow, berating herself for bringing it up.
"I shouldn't…I'm sorry. Right now I have to find insurance papers that I can't quite remember where I last put them."
With a very unconvincing smile, she leaves the room, her sandals shuffling against the floor.
"Doesn't she want us here? Does she hate us?" Lydia asks Nathan quietly, breaking the silence. "Because…"
"Of course not," Nathan responds quickly and adamantly, noting their crestfallen appearances. "Haley just misses you."
As much as his wife insists that it's okay that her family isn't the least bothered with her, or with each other, he knows she's bothered by it. She doesn't show it when it creeps up but he knows it pains her. He's caught her staring longingly at her childhood photographs, talking about how her brothers and sisters would often visit, their presence making their house warm again. The visits eventually became sporadic, holidays being spent separately in different states, minimal phone calls and Christmas cards being the prime communication tool.
"You have to understand that it gets hard on her when things happen and none of you seem all that interested. Especially when she reaches out and asks for your support."
"Have we really been that bad?" Jimmy asks incredulously.
Instead of answering, Nathan picks up both his and Haley's mugs, pushing away from the table. "It's understandable that you didn't stay around for long after we got married. I'm very grateful that you let us get married that young, but even so, Haley was still your daughter. Still is. I guess she just doesn't understand why you were so eager to leave before the ink dried on our marriage certificate."
"She had a family with you, Nathan. You, then Jamie," Lydia says, her eyes growing wide at what her son-in-law just said.
Nathan nods, unsure of why he put them on the spot like that. But he loves Haley. He wants to protect her. Every now and then fight her battles for her, from killing thick-legged spiders to having it out with parents. "I know, but sometimes, she still needs her other family. Is that so wrong?"
Neither of them replies. He could direct a query at Lydia, ask her if she felt she needed her family after getting married. Knowing what he does – what neither he nor Haley should know – about the bad relationship she had with her deceased sister Gloria, he does nothing, not wanting to sink that low.
"Haley doesn't resent you, but you've been so absent in her life that it may seem you intentionally stay away from her."
"We don't," objects Jimmy.
With a curious glance, Nathan asks, "Then why do you? You make a point of visiting everyone else but her."
Narrowing her eyes at him, Lydia answers, "There is no conspiracy here, Nathan. There are no dark family secrets that involve Haley."
Nathan turns his back to them, heading to the sink. He pours out the coffee and rinses the cups, staring out at the child's colourful swing set in the backyard. He hates to dredge up the past when it doesn't really do them any good, but this is the closest he's ever gotten to talking to them about it.
Grabbing a paper towel, he pats his hands dry as he faces them. "I meant no disrespect. I really didn't. But she's my wife. I hate seeing her hurting. I don't like it one bit. And if at one time I can change that, I will."
The monitor beeps and the ventilator hisses in room two-fourteen, keeping tabs on the patient's condition. They ease through the door quietly and into the uninviting room, as though worried they'll wake him up. The plastic tube is still between his lips, providing artificial oxygen to his unresponsive body. He's still hooked onto numerous wires, his hands hidden under the covers that are tucked neatly around him.
Haley approaches the bed, setting the small, canvas duffle bag on the floor. She presses her lips to his pale forehead for a moment. "Hi, baby. We're back."
At the collective gasps behind her, she turns her head slowly. Her parents have frightened and horrified looks on their faces as they stand mutely at the foot of the bed, staring down at the little boy's still form.
"Sweet…" her father exhales in an agonized whisper.
Haley's eyes turn watery, and looking away from her parents, she reaches the backs of her fingers to rub Jamie's soft cheek. "Grandma Lydia and Grandpa Jimmy came to see you, Jame."
His small chest rises mechanically as the artificial breath paces air into his lungs. Her fingers are shaking as she brushes his hair lightly, that damaging sense of dread and fright remaining where it is in her very core. Her eyes meet with Nathan's momentarily as he settles into the chair on the opposite side of the bed.
"I bet they have a cool gift for you from Europe," Nathan says, reaching under the blanket for his son's hand. Small and warm.
"We sure do, Jamie," Jimmy croaks gruffly from the footboard, his hand running up and down a sniffling Lydia's arm.
"Grandpa J-Jimmy picked it out, peanut," Lydia snivels from beside him.
"You hear that, bud? It's not even your birthday and you have an awesome present waiting for you." Nathan smiles to himself, remembering that they planned to buy him a scooter. He can almost hear Jamie's ecstatic yell, and at that moment, more stress catches up with him. His little boy has him wrapped around his finger, and it's still hard for him to deny him what he wants.
The bathroom door opens, and out walks Lucas. His eyes widen some in surprise at the sight of Haley's parents. The trio hugs silently before Lucas walks around them towards Haley.
"Hey," he greets her quietly with a hug.
She looks up at him with a shaky smile. "Hi. Thank you for staying with him."
"No problem." Staying with him is the least he could do, when he considers it his burden that their son is in a coma.
"I was told you had arrived," Dr. Harris says cheerfully as he saunters into the room, followed by a nurse.
On opposite sides of Jamie's bedside, Haley and Nathan stand to face the doctor. "Dr. Harris, was there improvement last night?" she asks nervously after he greets her parents.
The doctor adjusts his glasses, sliding them back up his nose. "No. He is still the same as yesterday."
Haley sighs faintly, stealing a glance at Nathan. He's gazing down at Jamie, his thumb rubbing against the little fingers.
"Everything is ready. Shall we begin?" Dr. Harris asks. Eyeing Haley's parents, he says, "We need to clear out the room before we bring in the equipment."
Jimmy nods. "Oh. Of course. We'll just get out of your way." He throws Haley a thin smile as he guides Lydia out of the room, and they shuffle out behind Lucas.
Once they're gone, Dr. Harris takes out his trusted penlight. "Shall we get started?"
"Wait."
They all turn to Nathan. "What are the chances he'll develop pneumonia from this?"
Haley's eyes are slightly wide as she stammers, "Pneumonia?"
Her parents showed up, and she didn't get a chance to read about the risks and side effects of the treatment in the article.
Dr. Harris smiles kindly at them. "He is on antibiotics to prevent that."
"Is that enough?" Nathan raises, mentally going through the dangers of the procedure that he read about.
"This treatment will not worsen his condition."
"Are you sure?" Haley asks hesitantly. She's becoming apprehensive about proceeding.
He smiles again, not the least bit ruffled that they're questioning his credibility. Parents, after all, want their children in the safest hands. "Absolutely."
Turning to the nurse, he spews out medical terms about blood gases and acids, using unpronounceable terms that only the two comprehend. Moving to the cot, Haley takes Nathan's hand in both of hers and squeezes it repeatedly. The moment they had been dreading has arrived.
The nurse pulls away the blanket carefully, and then reaches for the hem of Jamie's gown. Haley rises to her feet in alarm. "What are you doing?"
The nurse turns to look at Dr. Harris. Hands in his pockets, he faces Haley and says, "We have to strip him of his clothes."
"Why?" she counters anxiously.
"Mrs. Scott, this is how the treatment is done," Dr. Harris clarifies. "We need to be able to apply the cold packs on your son's upper body and we cannot do that unless he's out of the gown."
She sits back carefully on the cot. The room feels chilly. She shudders, feeling goosebumps rising on her flesh.
"Are you okay?" Nathan whispers from beside her.
Nodding, she answers, "I just feel cold."
He gives her a small reassuring smile, sensing a chill in the air, too. They observe as equipment is brought in, listening quietly as Dr. Harris explains every device. Cold-water mattress. Cooling blankets. Helmet.
"…thermometer will help us monitor his core…infusion of cold fluids…cold saline in the catheter…endovascular…femoral vein…"
After what feels like an epoch of listening to incomprehensible medical terms, the procedure is underway.
Dr. Harris straightens, removing his gloves as he moves away from the bed. "Our objective is to reach a temperature of between thirty-two and thirty-four degrees within twenty-four hours."
Tilting his head towards Nathan, he continues, "You mentioned pneumonia and I assure you that we will observe Jamie closely to watch for any potential complications, okay?"
Giving them a brief smile, he follows the nurse out the door.
It feels like a long time later when Nathan is aware enough to push up from the cot and walk slowly towards the hospital bed. The machines continue their daunting humming, beeping and whistling tunes.
He sits in the chair next to the bed, feeling helpless as he stares down at his son, dazed about every horrible thing that is placed into and onto his little boy. He looks smaller, more fragile and frail, his entire body covered with one form or another of cooling apparatus.
Nathan puts his hand on the small bit of Jamie's arm that is free of wires. He quickly jerks his hand away. "He's so cold. Is he…is he supposed to be this cold?"
Wrapping her arms around her middle, Haley moves from the cot to fall into the chair on the opposite side of the bed.
Her heart pounds madly as she lifts a hand to touch Jamie's own. She breathes out the lungful of air she had been holding in. Her hands are shaking as she brings them up to her mouth, struggling to compose herself.
"No…"
He's chilly, like they've shoved him into a meat locker.
Pushing out of her chair wearily after a long stretch of time, Haley says, "I'm going for a walk. Do you want anything?"
Nathan doesn't answer, staring down at Jamie thoughtfully. "Nathan?"
His head jerks up, finding her looking at him with concern. "Yeah?"
"I'm stepping out. Would you like something to eat or drink?"
Recovering himself, Nathan replies in a mumble, "I could use some coffee."
The fact that the room feels as cold as a tomb does not sit well with him. Even thinking the word makes him shudder inwardly.
"I won't be too long."
Grabbing her purse, she turns towards the door and out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She slowly moves down the hallway to the nearest elevator, pressing down on the call button. With a ding, the chrome doors open almost immediately. She steps in alone, punching the button again repeatedly for it to begin its descent.
It's a slow ride as the elevator stops and lingers at every floor, hospital personnel and visitors filing in. Ignoring the chatter of voices ringing around her on the ride down, she listens to the beeping as the elevator announces each stop. With a soft whoosh, the doors swing back and she disembarks with the remaining passengers.
She strides past the gift shop, the pharmacy, and the open and closed rooms off each side of the stark white hallway with the sleeping patients and their anxious visitors. She walks farther down the long corridor, weaving around conversing doctors, nurses and orderlies, and patients in wheelchairs and gurneys, until she finds what she's looking for.
Walking down the aisle, she counts five people scattered in pews around the room. At the sight of the wooden cross, she's unsure of what gesture to make. She wasn't raised Catholic to make a sign of the cross, and her parents were latent Methodists who hassled the family to church periodically, specifically on Christmas Eve every other year or so.
She makes her way to the small altar, slips out five dollars from her purse and slides it into the donation box. She then picks up the thin elongated matchstick to light one of the candles before settling into a pew. Her eyes shut slowly as she starts to pray. The last time she expressly bowed her head down to pray was at Thanksgiving dinner.
She prays for her son, she asks for strength for all of them to bear the pain they're in right now, and she prays for a miracle. She promises to find absolute pleasure in the repetitive playing of "Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" when Jamie wakes up. Mostly, she prays for him, for him to get better, for the treatment to work, for him not to be adversely affected by any of it.
Someone settles in beside her and without having to look, she knows who it is. The whiff of gardenias is her signature scent. Haley slides closer and leans her head on Peyton's shoulder. Her eyes are fixated on the white iPod in her friend's hand as they both sit quietly for several minutes.
"You want to talk about it?" Peyton asks in a soft voice.
Haley says nothing. Finally, she answers, "He's so cold, Peyt. It's as if they put him in a freezer."
Peyton can feel her trembling all over.
"The doctor said that he won't catch pneumonia from the treatment but if you saw what they're doing…" She shuts her eyes, flashing back to the scene upstairs. "He's so little and they've covered him up with all manner of cold stuff."
Peyton leans her cheek on Haley's dark hair in comfort. "It's going to be okay, Hales. He'll survive this."
She's saying it for Haley's sake as much as her own. Since Jamie was admitted, she can't help but shudder every time she walks into his room. He looks so tiny and completely helpless encircled by all those tubes and machines. And Luke's guilt is heart-breaking to see.
"At least twenty-four hours," Haley says in a monotone.
"What?"
"He'll be like that for at least a day before they rewarm him."
Grasping Peyton's hand, she holds onto it as she begins to sob, the tears gliding down her cheeks mercilessly. She can't count the number of times over the years she's cried on Peyton's shoulder. She opens her mouth with intent to apologize and say thank you, but more cries pass through. Her little boy is fighting for his life…
"I-I don't know what t-to do, Peyton," she whimpers as her cries quieten.
"You're doing it already, Hales. You're there for your husband and your son and right now, it's the only thing you can do."
Lifting her head, Haley releases her hand from Peyton's and wipes at her eyes with her fingers. "Things sound so much better when you say them."
"It's a gift."
They both laugh lowly.
"Thanks, Peyt. I mean it. Thanks for being around when I'm a mess."
"You do the same for me."
With a deep breath, Haley leans back on the pew, her eyes raised up to the cross. She hopes that her prayers do not go unheard.
"Wanna listen to something?"
Nodding, Haley takes the small white earbud that Peyton is holding out. The first beats of "Red Red Wine" blare out, making her chuckle.
"That was a good night, wasn't it?" Peyton grins, bopping her head gently to the music.
"It was," Haley responds nostalgically.
The night before their second wedding, they had a girls' night in at Peyton's house. Buzzed from glass after glass of wine, Peyton had cranked up the song, and for the entire duration it was playing, they were lost in its rhythm, giggling, slurring and tripping over words. It was definitely different from that summer night back in high school when her friends had thrown her a belated bachelorette party. Then, there was a lot of hard liquor, several male strippers, and a ten-minute blackout for Haley. That night in spring was not the least bit close to raucous. After a day at the spa owing to Deb, it was a modest and light get-together, just what she wanted, a luau party with her Tree Hill friends, minus Brooke. They drank plenty of wine, ate a lot of gooey Hawaiian pizza, laughed, played games, and made it a girly bonding party. Nathan, on the other hand, had a raucous night with his teammates and friends.
"Is it appropriate that we're listening to it in a chapel?" she asks in a whisper, pulling out the bud.
Peyton takes a glance around and replies in a low voice, "Wine is used in Communion so I guess it's okay."
"As long as it's not "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off" we're good, right?" Haley grins.
Peyton breaks out into a shrieky laugh, clamping a hand over her mouth when the sound echoes in the chapel.
"Shhh," Haley giggles beside her, turning her head to scan the faces of the other occupants, who are looking on at them reproachfully.
"I should be the one cheering you up, not the other way round," Peyton gasps as their amusement dies down.
Tucking back the earbud and linking her arm through Peyton's, Haley rests her head back on her friend's shoulder. "You already did."
A soft knock on the door and a turn of the handle reveals Brooke. "Hey, Na—"
The greeting dies on her lips when her gaze falls to the bed, seeing the gear on and surrounding Jamie.
"Holy crap," she cries out in shock.
Something tremors inside her. She makes her way slowly to Jamie's bedside, draping her sweater over the empty chair. Falling into the chair, her eyes rake over the motionless child with tubes poking out of his skin under the thin bed sheet.
To break the silence that has lingered on for a while, Nathan leans back in his chair and says, "It's good to see you, Brooke."
Brooke looks up, the look on her face still one of complete horror.
"I wish it were under different circumstances," he continues as her face starts to resume its usual colour.
She blinks out of her daze, nodding faintly and saying quietly, "Me, too."
Shifting in the seat nervously, Brooke clears her throat. "Nate, I just want to say I'm sorry that I never came to see you when…"
He shakes his head, rubbing his hands together. "I understand." He gives her an encouraging smile. "You've got to stop apologizing. It's okay. Really."
Neither persuaded nor comforted, Brooke smiles back weakly, her eyes drifting to the machines and poles by the bed. She can't begin to imagine what Nathan and Haley must be feeling, but they both look absolutely devastated.
"Are you here with Peyton?" Nathan asks. The sounds from the equipment are making him antsy, every punctuated bleep like a gun going off in his ears.
Brooke nods, her eyes fleeting over to his before they're back on the green lines of the heart monitor. "She's at the chapel. Everyone else is down at the cafeteria."
Nathan cocks his head to the side. "Everyone?"
"Your folks, Haley's, and your grandparents."
With a slight rise of an eyebrow, he repeats, "My grandparents?"
"Yeah," she says with a nod.
"Everything okay?" he asks after a quiet moment, noting the repetitive pulling at her fingernails.
She nods yet again, but it's more of a bob, a cross between a nod and a shake of the head. Nathan regards her quizzically.
"I was at the chapel and I saw Peyton and Haley and…it's irrelevant and I…I shouldn't…" Her voice trails off as she looks at Jamie.
"We're friends, Brooke," Nathan insists. He needs a distraction from his heavy thoughts.
Brooke breathes out loudly. "A lot has changed since high school, Nate."
The truth is that seeing her two friends sitting so comfortably with each other sent a pang of jealousy through her. She knows she's not the glue that held them all together but for that moment they were laughing over something she had no inkling of, she was jealous. She knows that they're closer than she is with Peyton, and she was jealous. It wasn't helping when yesterday, she overheard Peyton refer to Haley as her best friend when they ran into a crowd she was with at UNC. Most of all, she's jealous of the closeness that everyone seems to have without her, the lives they have carved out for themselves even without her in it.
"Everything has changed and I just wish I had been a part of it."
"You've changed, too, Brooke."
She exhales. "You know what I mean. I never made it home for any holidays, I missed my friends' birthdays and graduations. I didn't even get to finish college to have a graduation. When I finally make it home, it's to find Jamie in hospital, hearing that you and Haley were stuck in a desert, and then Peyton telling me that she's getting married—"
Nathan's eyes widen. "What? Peyton is getting married?"
Her mouth clamps shut and she grimaces. "Don't tell her I told you, okay?"
She would deny this vehemently under oath but back then, seeing Peyton and Luke together was painful to be around. The way she saw it, he chose Peyton over her, and it hurt her pride more than anything when they broke up.
With Peyton being her best friend, sometimes it was inevitable listening in on her phone conversations with Lucas and seeing them together around town. Their relationship had changed something in the dynamic of her and Peyton's relationship, but they both chose to ignore it rather than talk it out. It took her a long time to finally get past Lucas, to realize that love was either there or it wasn't. Truthfully, she'd always had one foot outside the door while with Marvin, as if waiting to bolt if he showed signs of leaving her. Their last fight was a wakeup call to get her act together. She loved Marvin, and being a half-ass girlfriend wasn't doing them any good.
With a small smile, Nathan says, "I won't."
His brother finally proposed. Took him long enough.
At the centre of the three, Brooke, Lucas and Peyton, was a love triangle that had always been a mystery to him. Perhaps it's because he had never really been involved in something so messy, considering he started dating Haley after breaking it off with Peyton. There are no begrudging or unpleasant expressions on Brooke's face to show her displeasure at their engagement. She must really be over Lucas.
"Jamie will probably jump at the chance of being the best man again," he says proudly, looking down at his son.
Although he and Lucas served as co-best men at the wedding, Jamie was always quick to claim seniority at the role.
"What's he like?" she asks uncertainly in a low whisper.
They do have a good rapport when she visits, she's seen the numerous pictures they send her, but she really doesn't know her godson. She makes an effort to call when she can but time has gone by so quickly that she feels she hasn't caught up with him.
Nathan studies her oddly for a moment and then the look is gone. "He's a great kid. As his father I'm biased, but he's a really amazing kid."
He gazes down at Jamie, his eyes transfixed on the breathing tube. "He's smart, sweet, funny, goofy, cheeky, vocal, stubborn, easy-going, sometimes dramatic. He loves school but I don't know how that will turn when he starts full-day kindergarten."
Brookes laughs softly. "I hated school after that."
"Me, too. Maybe he'll be like his mom and secretly work on his homework even when he has the flu."
"She did that?"
"And more," Nathan smiles, his hand reaching for Jamie's. "The first time he saw my tattoo, he didn't understand why I didn't ask him to draw it for me. He actually wanted me to take him to this person who didn't use crayons like he did."
"Let me guess, it has something to do with Haley and Jamie?"
He gives a soft laugh. "Haley and Jamie."
He tried his best to answer every one of Jamie's numerous questions, from "did it hurt?" to the recurring "can I get one?" And then Jamie was quick to shout for his mother and brag about the tattoo.
"Mama, come see this! Daddy's got my name on his body!"
Brooke doesn't miss the expression of complete adoration on Nathan's face. She wonders what it must feel like, to have such a little person mean everything to you.
"Listen, Brooke," he begins seriously, looking back at her, "no one holds it against you for working or travelling. All we've cared about is knowing that you're happy and that you're doing what you've always wanted to do."
"I was. For some time anyway. And then it all got so crazy. I lost myself along the way. It became too much to handle and I opted to walk away."
"You quit?"
Haley did give him titbits about Brooke's current status this morning but he'd rather not show her that he already knows.
"I took French leave," she grins smugly, like she's just admitted to doing something scandalous or participated in a heinous crime.
"What are you going to do?"
She thinks for a moment, clasping her hands together. "Peyton has a project in mind and I was thinking I could stick around and pitch in until I've sorted myself out."
Nathan nods agreeably, glad to see that she's genuinely excited about whatever they're planning. Brooke's approach to her projects has never been short of fiery. Her campaign for student president back in high school was akin to something that would be seen in an actual political campaign. Brooke Davis had a strategic campaign team when the other contenders made do with a minimalistic approach. Brooke Davis had campaign headquarters, which were really her living room, stacked with professionally reproduced posters and buttons when her opponents used printed posters on A4. Brooke Davis had made pre-arranged 'appearances' and 'meet-and-greets' in the local hangouts that their classmates were likely to be found in. It was quite an impressive, memorable and legendary operation. She had the money and she'd made proper use of it.
"So you'll be here for the summer?" he asks.
"Looks like it. What about you?" The look on her face tells him that she's about to apologize but he shakes his head to stop her.
"It's fine, Brooke."
She confided something and he could return the favour. Taking a glance at the door, he lowers his voice and says, "To be honest, I think we'll be gone before the summer is over."
Her face scrunches up in confusion. "Back to Durham? I thought you were moving back permanently."
"That was the plan before…" He sighs, his thumb running tenderly over Jamie's knuckles. "I've had a few offers from some teams but I'm not sure I want to play for them. Nothing is concrete yet so I want to explore the options and see the possibilities."
"Okay?" she says, still unsure as to where this is going.
"Thing is, there are some good teams in the West Coast league that are interested and I want to move my family there."
He's been toying around with the idea since the chat with his mother last night but he has fully come to a decision. After Dale, the NBA was the next step, but where in the NBA wasn't the most logical answer. Initially, playing far from North Carolina was to get away from Dan Scott but his reasoning had changed after Haley became a part of his life. He wants to give his family the best, and he's capable of doing it by making the right choice from an option of many.
Brooke appears shocked, and she's a little panicked about what Nathan is saying. Nathan and Haley have been her solid thought when she thinks of home and if they're moving away…Things are definitely changing.
"It's just a thought. Besides, the West Coast is far enough away from all this…trouble. It seems like the answer we need."
This place is a reminder of both good and bad, and the bad right now far outweighs the good.
"What does Haley think?" she mumbles curiously.
He taps a finger to his chin. "I haven't talked to her about it yet. But if she refuses, I wouldn't push it."
"She won't. She's committed to you, Nate, and to Jamie. If this is what you really want, she'll go along with it."
He shakes his head. "I don't want her to go along with it. I love her, Brooke, and I wouldn't coerce her into doing something she doesn't want to do."
Brooke nods and then there's a deep silence between them. For Brooke, the relationship between Nathan and Haley is something off a book; their complete devotion and unconditional love for each other isn't something you encounter every day. It was so strong back when they met that they got married at sixteen. She thought it had something to do with a pregnancy, but it had been the real deal. She struggled to understand it, and part of her is still struggling to understand a love like that.
Considering all he's said, Brooke grins and then says, "Coerce, Nate? Your wife rubbed off on you?"
Her humour is an attempt to deal with the fear. It has scared the wits out of her thinking of them leaving. Things won't be the same when they do, with everyone here and them…elsewhere.
He chuckles softly, lifting his head. "You should hear her making basketball commentary. She's becoming a pro."
She recently became the proud owner of a copy of Basketball for Dummies. He sure does love Haley James.