CHAPTER 121

Mateo's POV

The cab couldn't move fast enough for me. It was just before dawn, but there was still traffic on the streets. Ever since I'd received the call from Carlos' Army friend, such terrible thoughts and horrible images filled my head. I'd always known Carlos could be injured, and yes, even killed in service to his country. But to have this happen here, on American soil… that I'd never contemplated. And why was Carlos back in the States?

I'd left Lucia and the children on the ship and disembarked at the next port. I'd had to take a couple of puddle jumpers to reach the mainland and then take a commercial flight into Philadelphia. There were still two days left on the Disney cruise that had been a gift from Carlos. Ironic that it was because of Carlos that I'd had to cut the trip short. At least the kids would enjoy the rest of the cruise, though I doubted Lucia would, now that I was gone. I'd tried to call her when I landed at the airport here, but my cell phone needed recharging. I'd have to wait until I got to the hospital to make calls to anyone.

It had been a wonderful vacation for all of us and much needed. But Carlos needed me more. What could have happened to him that the doctors had had to induce a coma? I dreaded what I might find once I got there. Would this blasted taxi ever get to the hospital?

When I finally arrived and found my way to the information desk, I was directed to the waiting room next to the ICU unit. And there was Tío Ricardo, sitting by himself, with what looked like a notepad in his lap and a pencil in his hand. A quick glance at the notepad, before my uncle hurriedly closed it, revealed a pencil drawing of Carlos. In the sketch it looked like Carlos was sleeping. The sketch was quite good. I had no idea Tío Ricardo indulged in any artistic pursuits, let alone that he was so talented at it. But there were more important, more immediate matters to discuss.

After a brief hug, I fired off the questions that had dominated my mind ever since receiving the call from Carlos' friend. My uncle couldn't answer most of them and I could see he was becoming increasingly agitated the more I pumped him. He looked awful and I realized he'd spent the entire night here in the waiting room with no sleep and probably too much bad coffee. He was upset and not thinking clearly.

I found the nurses' station and, as luck would have it, Carlos' doctor was making early morning rounds. We went to Carlos' room together and I asked my questions while the doctor examined my 'sleeping' cousin. It was a shock seeing Carlos motionless and hooked up to all those machines. I could understand why my uncle was so worried.

In the short time I had with Dr. Livingston, I learned a lot about brain trauma and the induced coma Carlos was in. The good news was the doctor was hopeful that the brain swelling Carlos was experiencing would decrease quickly and they could stop the anesthesia and let the rest of his injuries heal naturally. I found out Carlos had a gunshot wound to the leg, a knife wound in his side, several serious bruises to his chest and numerous cuts and burns to his arms and back. As bad as they were, all those injuries would heal, but only time would tell about his brain. The doctor warned me of possible complications, including brain damage. Just the thought that my cousin, so skilled in strategic thinking and critical decision-making, might suffer a loss of mental capacity made me ill. Dr. Livingston told me he would know more when he got the results of a CT scan he'd ordered for later that afternoon.

When I returned to the waiting room, I found two imposing men standing with my uncle. Tío Ricardo introduced me to them as Carlos' soldier friends and the men who'd brought Carlos to the hospital. I recognized Bobby Brown's voice as the man who'd called me while I was still on the cruise ship. Both men had bandages on their arms and faces and their clothes were dirty and reeked of smoke. That clinched the notion that Carlos was injured not in an accident, but as a result of his military job. After exchanging a few polite pleasantries, I relayed the updated information about Carlos' condition that I'd received from Dr. Livingston. Bobby Brown and Lester Santos seemed visibly relieved. Tío Ricardo, however, sank into the nearest chair and put his head in his hands.

I sat next to him and placed my hand on his back. Tío Ricardo looked up at me and with a shaky voice asked, "How do I explain to his mother, to his grandmother, that their beloved Carlito has so many terrible injuries and is in a coma? His sisters will also be beside themselves with worry. How can I console them when… I, too, am frightened for my son?"

Lester Santos sat on the other side of my uncle and gave him a stern look. "Carlos is the strongest man I know and that's saying a lot. He didn't survive this fuckin' lousy mission to lose in the final hour. Have faith in your son, Mr. Mañoso. Superman never gives up and he always defeats the bad guy. Carlos is gonna beat this and he'll be stronger than ever. You'll see." He clapped his big hand on my uncle's shoulder and gave it a firm shake.

My uncle had listened intently and when Lester mentioned having faith, Tío Ricardo perked up a little. "Que Dios le bendiga," he said [God bless you], "for reminding me of my son's strength and determination. He has so much to live for, especially now that he has his beloved novía. And it is good to know he has such loyal and supportive friends."

And then my uncle's mouth dropped open and he briefly closed his eyes. "Dios mío! Estefania! She does not know. How do I tell that sweet innocent girl that her beloved hovers at death's door? She loves him so much and they have had so little time together. This will devastate her!" He dropped his head back into his hands and his body shuddered.

I patted his back trying to calm him. "Tío Ricardo, we'll do this together. I'll call Estefania. We must be strong for the women. They will need us."

That did the trick. He straightened up, took a deep breath and put on an expression of calm control. I could see Carlos in him in that moment. My uncle took his familial obligations very seriously, sometimes too seriously. "Yes, Mateo. We must be stoic and put on a positive face in front of the women. Last night, I convinced Teresa to wait until this morning to come here, but she and, I imagine, the rest of the family will be here any time now. I must talk to the doctors about the family being able to see Carlos. Teresa and Mama will insist on it."

"OK, but right now, you need a break. It's been a long night for you. I'll stay here and watch over Carlos while you go freshen up. You'll feel better after you splash some water on your face. And Tío, may I borrow your phone? Mine needs to be recharged." My uncle handed over his cell to me and exited the waiting room. Lester left to see to their other friend who was recovering from surgery. Bobby was kind enough to accompany my uncle as he made his way down the hall to the restroom, clutching his notepad to his chest. I'd never seen my uncle so distraught. While he readily showed his anger or displeasure, to see the vulnerable, softer side of him was rare.

I knew what was next on my list of things to do and for once, my wife was bumped down to Number 2. It was still early morning and I hoped to catch Stephanie before she left for work. I walked down the hall and stepped outside the door of the ER lobby.

Stephanie didn't answer her phone, instead the call went to voice mail. I left a message asking her to call me at her earliest convenience. I hated leaving so vague a message, but I didn't want to drop the bombshell that Carlos was back in the States and badly injured and then not be able to immediately explain the situation to her.

When I returned to the ICU waiting room, I was engulfed by a sea of Mañoso women, all clamoring for answers. Tía Teresa had brought all four of her daughters; they must have arrived just as I was trying to call Steph. Each woman fired questions at me while slipping their arms around my waist, seeking comforting hugs. I was surprised to see my own mother here, though I shouldn't have been. My mama had been a mother to Carlos when he lived with us during his teen years. She was staying close to Tía Teresa who looked scared and pale. The one noticeable woman absent was Rosa.

"Where's Abuela Rosa?" I asked Tía Teresa.

Distracted, she muttered, "She's in Hawaii with her husband." My aunt then grabbed my arm and cried, "Where's Carlos? Where is my son?" The other women in the room crowded around me, each shouting the same question.

Celia dug her nails into my forearm and demanded, "Mateo, take us to our brother. Now!"

"Ow! Celia, calm down, please." I extracted my cousin's fingers from my arm and rubbed it to take away the sting of her sharp nails. Cringing inside, I knew when I told her about Carlos' coma that I would feel the sting of her razor sharp tongue as well. Where was Tío Ricardo? He should be taking the brunt of his family's frustrations, not me.

"Please, everyone, sit down for a minute. I need to explain a little about Carlos' condition before you see him." That got their attention. Unfortunately, they just turned up the volume as they simultaneously shouted more questions at me.

"What's wrong with him?" cried a very pregnant Lena, holding her bulging belly with both hands.

Shouting over her sister, Pilar questioned, "How can Carlos be here in the States? He wasn't supposed to be home for another year."

"Is he sick?" asked Maria, "or was he wounded?" And then, ever the dramatic one, she asked in a hushed whisper, "Is he dying?" She shrank under the withering glares from her sisters.

Celia probed me for answers, "He's badly injured, isn't he? Has he lost an arm or a leg or…?" Seeing something in my face, she turned as pale as her mother. "Mat, don't tell me it's even worse?"

Even my own mother joined the fray of frightened, shouting women. "No, not Carlos. He can't be seriously hurt. Mateo, please… tell us… tell us what happened," my mother pleaded.

I held up both hands and again requested they all sit down. Tío Ricardo chose that moment to enter the waiting room and the volume of shouts increased tenfold. My aunt and four cousins rushed to him, yelling out the same questions they'd asked me.

He kissed his wife and hugged his daughters. "Querida, mis hijas, this is a terrible time, but, God willing, we will get through it soon and have Carlos back home with us, strong and healthy." [Dear, my daughters,]

"Get through what?" cried Tía Teresa and then she pushed on my uncle's chest crying, "What happened? You told me nothing last night. Why is our son in the hospital?"

Tío Ricardo turned to me. "You haven't told them?"

"I've been trying, but they won't settle down and let me explain."

My uncle took charge and got all the women quiet and sitting in the waiting room chairs, and then they all looked expectantly at me. I took a deep breath and began my explanation from when I'd received the onboard phone call from Bobby Brown. Of course, this started a new set of questions as to why I was called instead of the immediate family and then, where were Lucia and the kids. I'd already been up for more than 30 hours without sleep and my patience was wearing thin. But I knew my family was worried and frightened, so I swallowed my own frustrations and tried to explain Carlos' condition. Again, that began another round of frantic questions about Carlos' future prognosis and then, why was he back in the States and how did he get injured.

In a fit of near panic, Tía Teresa jumped up and ran out of the room. I went after her as she began searching each ICU room for Carlos. I was right in back of her when she looked into Carlos' room and saw him, bandaged and lying in a bed hooked up to a dozen machines with a tangle of wires and tubes coming out of his body. She let out a small cry and her knees gave out. I caught her just in time before she collapsed. By then, the rest of the family was crowding in behind us. I held out my hand to stop everyone from shoving into the room while still trying to support my aunt.

The hubbub attracted a nurse who immediately took charge of my distraught family. I let Tío Ricardo help his wife to the chair next to Carlos' bed while the nurse and I took my cousins and my mother back to the waiting room. The nurse explained to them that it was best to only have one person at a time in Carlos' room and to keep any talk around him positive and low-key. She was able to answer all the medical questions they had, but I knew they would turn to me to ask why Carlos was back in the States and how had he been injured and I didn't have those answers.

Rosa's POV

The business trip to Hawaii was better than I had expected. Dawson surprised me with a deluxe suite in the Rainbow Tower of the Hilton Hawaiian Village Resort and Spa. The view of Waikiki was simply breathtaking, but I had a lot of time on my own. For the first day or so, I relaxed at the beach as my body tried to adjust to the different time zone. Being on a tropical island always reminded me of my youth in Cuba. It was heavenly to listen to the ocean and smell the salty air and indulge my taste for fresh tropical fruits, such as mangoes and coconuts.

With so much free time on my hands, I entertained myself by taking a few tours to various sites on the island of Oahu. Unfortunately, when I visited Pearl Harbor and saw the USS Arizona Memorial, I could not stop myself from thinking and worrying about my grandson, Carlos. Peering down through the murky water at the sea graves of so many brave sailors, my heart clenched with fear and sadness. I said a prayer for all those souls and their families. Then I said a prayer for the sons and daughters of today's military conflicts.

For my next excursion, I decided to do something that would not remind me of my grandson. I rode the bus across the island and toured the Dole Pineapple plantation before heading to the famous North Shore of Oahu. There were several families on the beach that day and it was good to hear the laughter of the children as they played in tidal pools and frolicked in the sand. Watching the daring surfers navigate the gigantic waves of the ocean was exhilarating. My old bones could never bear such a pounding, but I knew that if I was just twenty years younger, I might have tried surfing lessons.

I truly enjoyed my solitary adventures, however, at the end of the fourth day of contract negotiations, I finally asked Dawson if he could spare Stephanie for an hour or so. There were times when I noticed her daydreaming and smiling to herself and it seemed to me she was more relaxed and at peace than ever before. This, of course, made me highly suspicious and I was sure I knew the reason. I desperately wanted to speak with her in private and my wonderful husband made it happen. He is such an understanding man!

Dawson arranged for a limousine to pick us up at the hotel and drive us over to Diamond Head. When we were done, we would meet him at the restaurant where he and the rest of the business associates had dinner reservations. Then we would return to our hotel for the fireworks display the concierge had encouraged me to view from the balcony of our room, or lanai, as he called it. I felt very much like a "woman of mystery" when I slid into the soft seat of the limo and Stephanie climbed in after me.

"Oh, Rosa!" she exclaimed. "This is so nice! I was wondering when you and I would have a chance to get away from everyone else."

Nodding, I said, "Yes, I know. We all have been so busy this week. You and Dawson and your people have been in all those meetings. And I have been enjoying myself as a tourist."

Then I told her about my various adventures. By the time I finished telling my tales, we had arrived at Diamond Head State Park. The limousine driver parked so that Stephanie and I could get out and wander up the trail to see the magnificent view of Waikiki. The lush green scenery and the blue expanse of ocean truly took our breath away. We both agreed she should bring Carlos to Hawaii someday after they were married.

"I don't know if I'd want to come here for our honeymoon, but it's definitely high on my list of future vacation spots," she admitted, her face aglow with a pretty blush.

I watched her closely and knew it was time to get to the heart of the matter. I slid my arm through the crook of Stephanie's elbow as we started to make our way back to the limousine and I leaned in to speak to her.

"I have been watching you, you know. And there is only one thing I know of that could put the twinkle back in your eye, a pretty blush on your cheeks and the occasional sly grin on your face. You have much to tell me, dear Stephanie, and I want to hear everything. How is my grandson and when did you talk to him?"

Stephanie was very quiet for a few heartbeats. I could tell she was wrestling with her conscience, but I wanted information and would not stop digging until I got it. She began to chew on her lower lip and I smiled.

"It is all right, my dear," I said and I patted her hand. "We have not had a chance to chat like this, but now that we are alone, I need you to tell me everything. You know I will not tell a soul about Carlos contacting you, not even his mother. Not even Dawson. This is just between you and me, I promise. How is he?"

"He's still on his mission," Stephanie said evasively.

"But you have talked with him recently, yes?" I pressed and we stopped walking.

She finally crumbled under my penetrating stare. Yes, it was a dirty trick, but it has been effective forever; first with my own sons and then with my grandchildren. Rarely can anyone resist my efforts at getting information, especially when I give them "the Stare."

"Yes," Stephanie sighed. "It was a … a surprise. Carlos came to see me. He was … he looked … good."

I held my breath. Carlos was back in the States? This was wonderful news! I had to know more. I continued to stare at her.

"Okay, okay, I know you want details," she held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'll tell you what I can. The rest is, um, private. Just between Carlos and me. Okay?"

I nodded, telling myself I would be happy with even a little bit of good news.

"First of all, he's all right," Stephanie said. "At least, he was when he had to leave me again."

"When and where did you see my grandson?" I asked impatiently. "It must have been a very quick visit, especially since he did not see fit to let anyone else know of his return."

She looked a little alarmed. "No one is supposed to know that he is back in the States… he promised me to secrecy."

"Of course, my dear. Of course," I nodded and motioned her to continue.

She smiled shyly and replied, "He surprised me at the hotel where we first met. This happened just a couple of days before this trip."

"Oh, how sweet!" I gushed, happy to know my grandson was still such a romantic boy.

"Well … not really," Stephanie shook her head. "At least, not at first."

Then she proceeded to tell me about her previous hallucinations in London and Japan and how she thought she was going crazy when she first saw Carlos again after so much time apart. She told me they had had an amazing reunion, but she did not need to tell me about the wild sex she and my handsome grandson must have had. I know my Carlito is a lusty, virile man and I will always remember what I witnessed in the parking lot at Rosa's.

Satisfied that all was well between Stephanie and Carlos, I linked arms with her again and we returned to the limousine. On the way to the restaurant, we chatted about her friend Tina's wedding plans. It was good to know one of Carlos' Army friends was a boy from our community. Of course, I had known of the Santos family and their jewelry business for many years. I informed Stephanie that I even owned several necklaces and rings and other pieces of fine jewelry, which had been designed by Lester Santos' very talented grandfather. Our journey to the restaurant seemed to take a very short time and I was grateful for the opportunity to speak with my future granddaughter-in-law. Little did I know that evening would be the last happy evening I would have for quite awhile.

Ricardo's POV

The bracing cold water on my face certainly helped to revive me. After I finished in the restroom, I asked Bobby Brown if he would take me to see his friend Pierre James, or Tank as he preferred to be called.

Bobby escorted me to a lower floor where we heard shouting coming from one of the rooms. We found Tank wide awake and none too happy at being confined to a hospital bed. Lester Santos was also in the room, gathering up pieces of clothing and moving them out of reach of his friend's long arms.

"The doctor hasn't released you yet, you whiner," Lester was saying. "And you're gonna stay in bed until he gives the all clear, you hear? Besides, that nurse of yours is a mighty fine looker. What are you complaining about? If you play your cards right, maybe you can get her to give you a sponge bath and then…" Bobby cleared his throat noisily and Lester finally noticed our presence and had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Mr. Mañoso, maybe you can talk some sense into this hard-headed galoot. The doctor wants him to stay in bed another day to let his wounds heal a little. They had to cut out a pound or more of shrapnel from his backside and some of those new holes in his arse are pretty deep," Lester said, with a nasty chuckle.

Tank rolled his eyes and then looked over at me, holding out his bandaged hand. "Mr. Mañoso, it's been awhile since we've seen each other."

I moved to his bedside and we shook hands. "It is good to see you again, Pierre, uh, Tank."

"I wish it were under better circumstances," Tank replied. "How's Carlos doing?" I relayed the information Mateo had told us and I asked Tank about his injuries, which he readily dismissed as minor.

I did not think I would get very far, but I had to try again. "How did you boys get injured? My son is in a coma and I do not know why. Please, tell me something, anything, that will help this all make sense."

The three men exchanged glances and Bobby reluctantly sighed and said, "I can't reveal any details, and the official story is that we were injured in a training exercise gone wrong. But confidentially, I'll tell you that our mission was successful and that your son performed brilliantly. It was his skills and abilities that kept us alive and enabled us to discover and then dismantle a serious threat to our national security. He saved a lot of lives. You should be proud of him, Mr. Mañoso. We are!"

I'd never thought of Carlos as a hero, but these soldiers were all nodding and I could feel the admiration they had for my son. I was beginning to realize that Carlos had more than earned these brave men's respect and loyalty under dangerous and harrowing situations I would never fully comprehend, never having been a soldier myself. Seeing my son through his comrades' eyes gave me a new perspective. "Thank you for sharing that with me. I appreciate the service all of you do for this great country of ours. May I ask if the threat, the mission you have been on, is finished?"

Again, the men looked at each other before Bobby spoke again. "Yes, sir. As I said, our mission was accomplished and we were successful in achieving our objectives. We now have a short break before our next assignment. That includes Carlos." My relief must have showed in my face and posture as the three men smiled at me. I stayed and talked with them a while longer and then returned to the ICU where I found my womenfolk besieging Mateo.

After I calmed the women down, I helped my worried family, one by one, adjust to seeing Carlos in a coma. Watching the tears flow so freely from my wife and my daughters' eyes broke my heart. They each became distraught seeing poor Carlos lying in that hospital bed still as death, attached to all those machines. If it had been anyone but Carlos it would not have been as shocking. But this was Carlos – my strong, fearless son who always exuded such power and vitality. For his sisters and his mother, even his aunt, to see him like that, so still, so weak and so vulnerable was disturbing, to say the least. My girls kept turning to me for answers, and for comfort, and I was unable to console them. I felt powerless and I did not like the feeling, not one bit.

I kept in touch with Alejandro by phone, informing him of his brother's situation. The calls were also to instruct him on important business matters as they regarded the running of Rosa's, but Alejandro insisted that he wanted to come to Philadelphia to be with Carlos. I told him repeatedly there was nothing he could do here except sit and I insisted he stay in Newark and manage the family business in my absence. The doctor had said we should know more about Carlos' condition after 24 hours and after they analyzed the results of special tests they would run in the afternoon. Until then, there was nothing any of us could do but wait.

I had called my mother several hours ago, and found out she was in Hawaii, of all places, with that man and with Estefania. My mother had icily informed me that Mateo had called Estefania hours earlier and they were now at the airport waiting for their flight to board. I tried to tell her I had attempted to reach her earlier, however, her phone had been turned off, but Mama was determined to blame me for everything. Would she never forgive me?

I had been with Teresa the first time she saw Carlos lying in that hospital bed. She nearly fainted. Her hand was trembling as she reached out to stroke his cheek. She seemed reassured by the warmth of his skin that he was indeed still alive. Without taking her eyes from her beloved Carlito's face, she asked me, "How did this happen?"

What could I tell her? The confidential information I had received from Carlos' soldier friends had not been terribly revealing and I knew so little about my own son or about what he did for a living. I had no answers. "We do not have the … uh… clearance to know that, Querida. Our son's work evidently brought him back to the States. We always knew what Carlos did was dangerous, we just never expected to see the results of it here. And now, our son is lying in a hospital bed in a coma. It is too much to bear. He should not be putting you and his sisters through such agony."

"Hush, Ricardo. Do not talk that way. What if he can hear us?" My Teresa ignored me and focused all her attention on Carlos. She held his hand up to her lips. "Mi Carlito, we are all here for you. We love you so much, mijo. You must fight hard and come back to us whole and healthy. My heart could not bear anything else. I want you to fight this with all your strength. Do you hear me, Ricardo Carlos Mañoso?" Her last words were said in such a loving tone, it took the sting out of using his full name, which was also my name.

I leaned over her shoulder and trying to match her parental tone, followed with, "Listen to your mother, my son. She is worrying herself sick over you. I will not have her upset, so snap out of this so we can all get back to our lives."

Before I could straighten up, Teresa dug her elbow into my ribs causing me to expel a ton of air. Jumping out of her chair, she whirled on me and shook her finger in my face. I could see the tears welling up in her beautiful brown eyes, but the set of her mouth told me she was about to let loose a string of curses upon me. With one last look at our son, she grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room. Once we were in the hall, she started my 'tongue lashing.'

"How could you? Our son is fighting for his life! And you… you just want to get back to your precious restaurant. You are just like your father. You care more for Rosa's than you do for your own son, than you do for your own family." She was trembling as she ranted, fear making her tongue harsher than she intended, I was sure.

But even so, I could not believe she just accused me of being like my father. I started to protest, but she poked her finger on my chest and continued her tirade.

"You have always treated Carlos badly just because he wouldn't knuckle under and meekly do your bidding, like you did with your father. I thought you had learned your lesson about your prideful ways, but clearly you still have a lot to repent for." My wife was just getting started as she continued to tap her finger against my chest. "Right now, Carlos needs encouraging words, not more chastisement from you. At least until he is awake and well, the only words I want to hear coming out of your mouth are positive, uplifting and reassuring words." Using her finger to forcefully jab me she tersely uttered, "Not. One. Negative. Word. Promise me, Ricardo!"

She was so beautiful, even when she was angry with me. There was no way I was going to chance her becoming so mad at me that she moved out again. And I could not deny her anything, so I did the only thing I could. "I promise, Querida," I responded. She fell into my arms and began to sob uncontrollably. My strong courageous wife broke down with worry and fear for our son and I could only hold her. I could not even tell her that things were going to be all right because I had my own doubts that Carlos could come through this unscathed. Again, I felt powerless to protect my family. It is not a feeling any man wishes to feel. My own anger started to build.

Of course, the commotion brought Carmen and our four girls out of the waiting room, each demanding to know what had happened. Teresa pushed away from me and embraced her sister who glared at me and then walked her back into the waiting room. As our daughters started to follow them, I touched Celia's arm and motioned her to follow me into Carlos' room. And one by one, Carlos' sisters took their turn sitting by his bed, holding his hand and whispering encouraging words to him while I stood in silent support, as a good father should do.

My little Lena was the last to go in for her turn to sit by Carlos' bedside. It was mid-afternoon by now and everyone was tired and stressed out. I had to be there to help her sit and to help her get back up again. My youngest daughter was nearly nine months pregnant with her first child and she should have been resting at home, not pacing here in Philadelphia, worrying about her brother. My frustration and anger grew. Lena adored her big brother and she was heartsick seeing him in this upsetting state. She started crying as soon as she entered the room. She cried as she held his motionless hand. She cried when I helped her up so she could kiss his cheek and then it happened. Her water broke. ¡Dios mio!

Lena stared up at me with such a surprised expression and I knew my face mirrored hers. This had never happened before in my presence. Teresa had always gone to the hospital before such things had happened. And it was too soon. This should not be happening now. The baby was coming several weeks early, but there was no help for it. I supported Lena – she was breathing rapidly and uttering little cries, whether the cries were of surprise or pain I was not sure. I had never felt so useless. I could not believe the terrible turn my life had taken in the last 24 hours.

I pressed the button for the nurse's station and got an immediate response. The nurse was none too pleased to have an unexpected patient to deal with, but she handled it professionally. Within minutes there was someone there with a wheelchair to take Lena to the maternity ward. An excited Teresa and the rest of the chattering females went with her, relieved to have so happy an event take their minds off Carlos' distressing condition.

I could only hope that having her first child earlier than planned would turn out well for my youngest daughter. But it heaped another burden of worry on my shoulders.

As I sat by my son's bed, I reflected on the stress my family was suffering and my frustrations took over. "Oh, Carlos," I sighed. "It was your choice of jobs that caused this terrible thing. If you had chosen a normal job, like any normal man, this would not have happened. But, no, you had to court danger time and time again and put yourself in harm's way. I have learned you are good at your job and that your men respect you, however, it did not save you from getting hurt. And now, look at what has happened. You are lying in a hospital bed in a coma. And your dear mother and loving sisters are beside themselves with worry. So much so that your little sister has gone into premature labor. If anything happens to her or to her precious child…" I said a prayer that all would go well with Lena. But it was not just Lena I was worried about.

"I fear for your grandmother's health when she sees you in this bed. She is old and frail and she worships you. She could have a heart attack or a stroke… or worse. And what about Estefania? You profess to love her and yet you left her alone immediately after proposing marriage to her. It will break her heart to see you like this. This all could have been prevented if you had only done as I had asked and come to work with Alejandro and me." I glanced around to make sure Teresa had not heard my words and then I began a series of penance prayers that Father Brady had assigned me just a few weeks ago. It could not hurt.

TBC