thought about knocking him against a wall and pounding my fists into his chest as if Emma’s diagnosis and death had been his doing. As if he’d believed so fervently she wouldn’t live, that she hadn’t.
I stared at his back as he walked away, wondering if it was too late for me to attack him now.
“Bernie?”
David’s voice captured my attention, shifting my focus out of the past and into the present, where it needed to be.
Where it needed to stay.
o0o
I braced myself before I stepped inside Diane’s treatment room, giving Ashley’s hand one last squeeze before she shifted to her father’s side. David tucked his arm around her protectively and reached up to touch her cheek.
The same fear gnawing at my insides glimmered in Ashley’s eyes as she lifted her gaze to her dad’s. When he pulled her into an embrace and whispered reassuring words in her ear, I realized I’d always expected the worst of David. I’d never given him a moment’s worth of credit, even though he was the man in whom my best friend had put her hope, her faith, her love.
Was I such a small person I couldn’t accept he might have a human side?
We’d no sooner stepped inside the room than footsteps sounded behind us. Without looking to see who had entered, I crossed to Diane, sharing an unspoken greeting. Her frightened gaze locked with mine. I took her hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead, moist with sweat.
“The heartbeat’s slowing with the contractions.”
I recognized Dr. Platt’s voice instantly without turning around. Apparently, fate had sent the man of my nightmares to care for Diane.
“We need to start the medication. It’s nasty stuff, but we have no choice.” He spoke softly to David, but not so softly fear didn’t splash across Diane’s face.
“But she’ll be all right.” David’s tone had gone grim, worried. “I mean, both of them will be, right?”
“We’ll do our best,” Platt answered. Binder pages rustled as he flipped through his notes. “We’re also going to administer a shot to help mature the baby’s lungs.”
“How long with this take?” David asked. “Are we talking hours?”
“We’re talking days, Mr. Snyder.”
“Days?” David’s tone morphed from worried to incredulous. “We’ve got a family business to run.”
Anger took possession of my body and my mouth at that point, and for two reasons. One, David’s expression made it clear concern for the rink had suddenly taken precedence over concern for Diane. Two, Dr. Platt and David were speaking as if Diane wasn’t in the room.
“Maybe you should include the patient in your conversation.” I spoke loudly enough to interrupt the hushed tone of their exchange.
David’s eyes shimmered with impatience and warning. The doctor merely got right to the point. “And you are?” he asked. But before I could utter a word, recognition flashed in his eyes and he pointed at me. “Trisomy 18, right?”
Beside me, Diane gasped as if she’d felt the knife go through my heart.
I shook my head, forcing myself not to go for the doctor’s throat. “My name is Bernadette Murphy.” I took a step toward the man, even though Diane had fisted her hand into my sleeve and was hanging on for dear life. “My daughter’s name was Emma Murphy and yes, she was born with Trisomy 18.
“She lived for five days. Five days--” I pointed at him sharply “--you said she’d never have.” I jerked a thumb at Diane. “This is Diane Snyder and I’d suggest you not only learn her name, but you also include her in your conversation.”
We stood in silence momentarily and I thought perhaps the man might offer an apology or ask how I’d been since the moment five years earlier when my daughter’s life had slipped away as I held her in my arms.
Instead, Dr. Platt said nothing, dropping his focus back to the chart in his hand.
“The nurse will get you set up,” he said as he headed for the door.
David scowled and turned back toward Diane, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. “I can’t believe this. We’ve got an open house tomorrow at the rink.”
Diane’s eyes closed and the pain that washed across her face was not physical.
I stepped soundly into David’s personal space and jabbed my index finger into his chest. “Do you try to be a total dick, or does it just come naturally?”
His cheeks puffed out, my question leaving him momentarily speechless.
“Bernie.” Diane’s tone rang with intensity. She’d released her grip on my sleeve after Dr. Platt’s departure, obviously not anticipating