The Color of Joy (21 page)

“You want me to go to her room and
talk
to her?” I asked. “To the woman who abducted my newborn baby out of this hospital’s nursery while my wife was recovering from a delivery that nearly killed her? Did you know she almost died in the OR? And do you have any idea how hard it was for me to tell her when she woke up that her baby was gone? That she’d been taken by a stranger and we had no idea where she was or if we’d ever get her back?”

Sylvie went pale. She wet her lips and stammered a reply as tears filled her eyes. “I know how it feels to lose a child, Mr. James, and so does Jenn. We’re both very, very sorry, and that’s why she wants to see you. Please, will you visit her?”

I don’t know why it happened in that moment, but something in me shook and trembled. Maybe it was because of the stricken look in Sylvie’s eyes, or the fact that she said she knew what it felt like to lose a child. I wondered about those circumstances and realized I knew nothing about these people.

My attention shifted to the husband. He was staring at me with exasperated, bloodshot eyes. A muscle twitched at his jaw.

His wife had brain cancer.

He’d just found out she’d lost their baby while he was gone. Deployed. Fighting a war for all of us.

She might die tomorrow
.

I swallowed over a sickening lump that rose up in my throat and found myself forming a careful reply. “I’ll come,” I said, “but Miller has to be there, too. I want him to hear everything so it’s on the record. Will she be okay with that? Will
you
?”

Jake and Sylvie both nodded. “That sounds fair.”

They gave me Jenn’s room number and told me to stop by as soon as I could.

I don’t know what I expected to see when I walked into Jenn Nichol’s room twenty minutes later with Miller at my side. Since the moment I’d learned my baby had been abducted, I’d had a picture of the kidnapper in my mind. It was someone who embodied pure evil, a selfish monster who came to wield great power over the fate and happiness of my entire family, without a care for anyone she hurt. I’d felt completely at her mercy. Helpless and powerless, and I loathed this monster with every breath in my body.

But here she was before me—not a monster but a woman surrounded by her family. A woman in a hospital bed who was gravely ill with a brain tumor.

“Jenn,” Sylvie said, rising quickly from her chair to take hold of my elbow and lead me toward the bed. “This is Riley James.”

The woman regarded me with a mixture of unease and relief. Neither of us said a word while I took in the features of her face, no longer concealed behind an oxygen mask. She looked to be about thirty—younger than I imagined—and had long brown hair and melancholy eyes.

“Please sit down,” she said, gesturing to the chair beside the bed. Miller stood at the foot of it.

“Will you all give us a moment?” Jenn said to her husband, sister and mother. At first they protested, then finally they gave in and filed out of the room.

Jenn reclined on the pillows, regarded me ruefully, and took a deep breath. “You must hate me.”

Her greeting took me by surprise. “I can’t lie,” I admitted. “Yesterday I did, but today, I’m trying to work it out.”

She looked down at her hands on her lap. “I can’t blame you. I can’t even imagine what you and your wife must have gone through when you found out someone took your child. It must have been terrible.”

“It was.”

She hesitated and kept her eyes downcast. “I don’t know what Sylvie said to make you come here. I didn’t think you would. You certainly don’t owe me anything. So thank you for that.” Her eyes lifted and met mine.

“I guess I was curious,” I replied, wanting, for some reason, to offer an explanation.

She let out a small breath. “I can’t blame you for that either, and I know there’s nothing I can say to make up for what I did. I hardly remember any of it, but that doesn’t matter. What they tell me is beyond comprehension—even to me—so I hope you’ll believe me when I tell you how sorry I am. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing.”

I found myself sitting forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees, staring at her with a deeper, more intent curiosity. I studied her eyes and her cheeks and her mouth, every little nuance in her facial expression.

“You really don’t remember anything?” I asked. Maybe I thought I could make her slip up and eventually confess that yes…she
did
in fact remember exactly what she had done, and that she had planned it all meticulously in advance. Every last detail.

I was glad Miller was there, watching and listening.

“Nothing at all,” she replied, “up until the seizure. I do remember when it came on. I was in the restroom changing a diaper, and just before I collapsed, I felt confused and wondered whose baby it was on the table in front of me. I did my best to move her safely to the floor so that she wouldn’t fall because I knew what was happening to me. I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

I found myself imagining the scene as she described it to me. “Thank you for that, at least,” I replied.

“No, thank
you
,” Jenn replied. “I was pretty out of it, but I vaguely remember, as I was coming out of it, hearing the sound of someone banging on the door and knowing that help was on the way, but I couldn’t respond. I don’t know how to explain it.”

As I sat and listened to her describe other aspects of her seizure, I couldn’t help but feel that she was telling me the truth—that she really had collapsed with no idea where she was or what was happening.

With that, came the first true inkling of compassion I felt. Maybe I felt it because she struck me as a reasonable, sane person with remorse, at least in that moment. There was nothing sinister about her, nor were there any veiled signs of darkness beneath the surface—something I was well acquainted with, having spent time in prison. I could spot evil in the eyes of a man at twenty paces.

Then it hit me like a brick that her sister had done the right thing to bring me here. Not just for Jenn’s sake, but for my own.

Jenn glanced up at Miller who was standing against the wall. “See? Nothing new. Same story.”

He smiled and slipped his notepad into his pocket.

Jenn returned her attention to me. “Thank you for seeing me and for finding me in that bathroom. I don’t know what would have happened if help hadn’t arrived when it did.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied.

Tears filled her eyes as she reached for my hand. I found myself accepting hers in mine. “You’re a good man, Riley James. You didn’t deserve for this to happen to you.” Then she smiled. “And your daughter’s a very lucky girl to have a father who cares so much.”

As I regarded the joyful, optimistic sparkle in Jenn Nichols’s eyes, I felt surprisingly uplifted—as if great things were awaiting me just over the horizon. I had my newborn daughter back under my protection, and my beautiful wife was alive. Not only that…my wife loved me and believed in me, despite my many mistakes in this life. That was nothing new, I supposed. I’d been saying that for years. It’s why I treasured her so deeply. It’s why my life had been forever changed.

I sat in silence with Jenn Nichols for a moment, contemplating all of these things. Then I stood. “I should get back to my family.”

Making my way to the door, I stopped when she said one more thing.

“Mr. James, will you also tell your wife how sorry I am? Please tell her it was the tumor. She certainly doesn’t owe me her forgiveness. I don’t expect it, but I need you both to know that I regret what happened. I wish I could take it back. I ruined what should have been one of the best days of your lives.”

I faced her. “I’ll tell her. And good luck tomorrow. I’ll be praying for you.”

Jenn sucked in a breath, like a gasp. Maybe she hadn’t expected me to ever say a prayer for her. But how could I not? I was no angel myself. I’d committed my own sins, many of which I can’t remember because I was drunk or high. I’d done things in my youth—destructive things—that I shudder to think of today. Was I now too arrogant to remember the life I’d once lived, the mistakes I’d made? Or to forgive others for theirs?

Jenn Nichols was no monster. She was just a victim of a cancer on her brain, through no fault of her own. It wasn’t a choice she made. What mattered now was that I had my child back in my arms, and my wife, my angel, was alive, thanks to the doctors in this place. Or maybe all of that was thanks to a miracle or two, sent from heaven.

I felt sorry for Jenn Nichols. She was in police custody for a crime she’d unwittingly committed and on top of that, she was about to undergo brain surgery. She was not as blessed as I was today.

I knew, if anyone deserved my prayers, it was this woman before me—because she was still in great need of a few miracles of her own.

“Can I ask what you decided to name your baby?” Miller asked as we stepped onto the elevator. “Yesterday morning, you and Lois said you would know the right name when you saw her. Now you have.”

I pressed the button to return to Lois’s floor. “We decided to call her Leah.”

Miller made a face. “Hmm. Funny.”

“Why?” I asked.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that name today.” He seemed to ponder the name while looking up at the lighted numbers counting down over the elevator doors. “Why did you choose it?”

I inclined my head inquisitively. “How about you tell me where else
you
heard the name? Then I’ll tell you why we chose it.”

We reached our floor and the doors slid open. “All right, then.” Miller stepped off. “When I questioned Jenn Nichols about what she remembered from yesterday, all she could talk about was her seizure coming on, but she was able to describe a dream she’d had while she was lying on the floor in the restroom, before you tried to kick the door in.”

“What was it?”

We walked past the nurse’s station, heading toward Lois’s room. “She said she dreamed there was a female doctor in the room taking care of her, telling her everything was going to be okay. The doctor picked up your baby and held her until we arrived.” Miller’s eyes met mine. “The doctor’s name was Leah.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “You’re kidding me.”

Miller stopped as well. “No, that’s what she said.”

Feeling strangely euphoric and lightheaded, I began to back away from him.

“Where are you going?” Miller asked.

“I need to see Jenn Nichols again.”

“Why?”

“I want to hear more about that dream.” Still backing up, I quickened my pace.

Miller stepped forward. “Wait a second. You still haven’t told me why you chose that name.”

I turned around and walked quickly toward the elevators, tossing him a quick answer over my shoulder. “It was my sister’s name.”

My heart beat fast as I rounded the corner, pressed the button a few times and waited impatiently for a light to illuminate over one of the doors. Miller appeared beside me.

“Which sister?” he asked, just as an elevator arrived. “The one who died?”

“That’s right.” I stepped on, pressed button number five and gave him a smug, self-satisfied look. “And Jenn Nichols isn’t a criminal,” I added as the elevator doors slid closed between us. “She’s a victim, Miller, and thank God someone realized she needed a little help from above.”

Jenn

Post-surgery

Thoughts came hazily into my mind as I regained consciousness in the hospital room. I felt confused for a few seconds, not sure where I was or what had happened to me, but at least I knew something was different. It wasn’t like before. I hadn’t suffered another seizure. Then I remembered saying good-bye to my husband and kissing him before they wheeled me off to surgery.

Now, there was a bandage wrapped around my head. I felt groggy. Maybe that’s what made me realize I must have had the surgery—and I’d survived it.

“Baby, I’m here,” Jake whispered softly, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. “You did great. I’m so glad you’re back.” He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it numerous times. I felt his teardrop fall to my wrist and roll slowly down my arm to the inside of my elbow.

“Don’t cry,” I said in a trembling voice. “Everything’s okay now.”

He shuddered with a sob and kissed me on the lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” I wanted to sit up and throw my arms around his neck, but that would have to wait. I needed to gain back some strength first.

He collected himself and sat back in the chair. “The doctor’s on his way, but he told us the operation went like clockwork. He said they got the whole thing. But how are you feeling?”

“Okay,” I replied, managing a small smile. “I feel smarter.”

Jake laughed. “Your boss will be glad to hear it.”

“Maybe he’ll give me a promotion.”

“As long as it comes with a decent pay raise.” Jake kissed my hand again, then looked up when the doctor entered the room.

“You’re awake,” Dr. Phillips said. “Welcome back, Jenn. How are you feeling?”

“All right,” I replied, though I wasn’t ready to lift my head off the pillow yet.