Page 34 of Saving Emily

As they rush back toward Noah to check his vitals, Dr. Kirkpatrick recommences his compressions.

While a nurse pumps air into Noah’s lungs with an oxygen bag, I peer up at the ceiling of his room. “Please, I’m begging you; please don’t take him away from me. You can’t be so cruel. He doesn’t deserve this.”

A few seconds after my plea has left my mouth, I hear a beep. It is closely followed by another and then another. As my tear-filled eyes shoot back to Noah, his heart monitor stops alarming. His heart is once again beating—unaided.

“Normal cardiac rhythm returned,” advises a nurse who’s wiping the sweat on her brow.

Dr. Kirkpatrick stays kneeling beside Noah for several long seconds before he eventually climbs down. As he walks to my side of the room, I seek his gaze. “What happened?”

"I honestly don't know," he answers, clearly shocked. "Patients usually go into cardiac arrest before they're comatose, not after." He bounces his eyes between Jacob and me as he scrubs at the stubble on his chin. "I'll have a heart specialist come check on Noah. They'll assess if the lack of oxygen caused any damage to his brain. The fact he went into sudden cardiac arrest in a hospital is a good thing. It means his brain shouldn't have been denied oxygen for a long enough period to cause any permanent damage."

After offering Jacob and me a smile, he paces to the nurse monitoring Noah at his bedside. He’s barely halfway across the room when Jacob bands his arm around my waist. “He just scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“Me too,” I reply while silently praying this will be the last scare I’m faced with today, or even better, the rest of my life.

24

“Thank you,” I murmur graciously to the heart specialist Dr. Kirkpatrick brought in to assess Noah after his heart attack two weeks ago.

Dr. Boyle is as baffled about Noah’s sudden onset cardiac arrest as everyone else. Although Noah’s body shows signs he’s been in a coma for three months, his heart is as fit as an ox.

The tests Dr. Boyle conducted gave no indication as to why Noah went into cardiac arrest, and every test he’s done since show no signs of heart stress or disease.

It appears as if Dr. Miller was right. Noah’s cochlear nerve is working as it did before he was comatose, meaning he didn’t have a heart attack because he was unwell. It was because his heart broke when Dr. Miller wrongly expressed sympathy for the loss of our baby.

My heart broke that day, so why would Noah’s response be any different?

Once Dr. Kirkpatrick and Boyne enter the corridor outside of Noah’s room, I shift my eyes to Jacob. “Would you mind giving us a minute? I think it’s time for us to havethe talk.” I air quote my last two words in a way that would make Jacob’s dad proud.

Jacob’s smile is too gentle for a man of his size. “Not at all.” After drifting his eyes from Noah to me, he says, “Go easy on him. It’s been a while since he’s been lectured about the birds and the bees. I’m sure he’s missing it as much as me.”

He noogies Noah’s head before slipping his cell phone out of his pocket and exiting Noah’s room. I know who he’s calling without needing to see the screen of his phone. His devilish grin reveals every sordid detail.

For two people who have barely seen each other the past three months, Jacob and Lola have had no issues burning the candle from both ends the past two weeks. Although I’ve never seen Jacob more tired, I’ve also never seen him so happy.

With the room silent, the healthy beat of Noah’s heart is unmissable. It alters my plans as quickly as it fills me with love. I had planned totellNoah about our baby, but now I’m going toshowhim what’s waiting for him.

Even if he can’t hear me, I’m certain he can sense me.

After slipping out of my ballet flats, I crawl onto Noah’s bed, then snuggle into his side. The last three months, I’ve spooned him, but tonight, I mix things up by rolling onto my opposite hip, so he can be the big spoon.

Careful not to annoy the IV canula in his arm, I curl it over my body until his hand is nestled over the tiny bump in my stomach. Like magic, the fluttering movements of our baby register near Noah’s hand only seconds later.

“Do you feel that, Noah? That’sourbaby.” I bite on the inside of my cheek to lessen the urge to sob before continuing, “We’re here waiting for you…bothof us. You just need to wake up.” I snuggle in closer to him as my eyelids commence drooping. “Come back to us, baby. Come back to the only place you’ve ever belonged. It’s time for you to come home.”

He does precisely that the very next morning.

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