A Family of Their Own(7)
Three rings. Four. Leave a message or not? His question vanished when he heard the connection. “Kelsey, this is Ross.”
“Ross.”
He waited, the sound of her surprise ringing in his ears. “I called to set a date for dinner.” Maybe he should have suggested coffee. “Whatever time is best for you.”
Silence. Ross could almost feel the electrical current zinging in her brain.
“I—I’m not sure this is a good time to make plans.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Is Lucy ill?”
“No. But things are hectic here.”
Hectic? He could read her thoughts as he listened to silence.
Kelsey cleared her throat. “Lucy’s decided to get more involved at school, and between my job, running her places and keeping an eye on her health, I—”
“You’re tired.” He knew the routine, and he didn’t want to hear her excuses. She’d done what he suspected and had second thoughts. “I’ve been sitting at the hospital for nearly two hours waiting while Peyton has some tests.”
“I hate waiting. Time drags horribly.” The tension in her tone had eased.
Ross shifted in the chair. “Magazines aren’t great company.”
“So true.”
Silence.
“Ross, I’m sorry we didn’t finish our conversation about Peyton. I don’t even know what kind of illness she has.”
The word stuck in his throat. He sucked in air. “Cardiomyopathy.”
A gasp echoed into the receiver. “I’m so very sorry. How bad is she?”
“I try to be hopeful.” He’d been optimistic during his wife’s illness, too. Ruthie had been so sure she would live to be a mother to her daughter. “These tests will let me know how she’s progressing.”
“More waiting.”
The line hummed with silence, and he lifted his shoulders, knowing he needed to say goodbye.
“Let me know what the doctors say, okay?” Her voice breezed from the line, a different spirit than he’d heard earlier.
“Sure.” He’d have Ethan tell her. “I need to—”
“Ross.”
His flesh prickled. “Yes.”
“About dinner. I can get a sitter for Friday, I think, if that works for you.”
He stopped breathing. “Friday?” Confusion skittered along his frame, but he gathered his wits. “Works for me. How about if I pick you up at six?”
“Six is good.” She gave him her address.
His gaze drifted to the clock. “I’ll see you then.”
She said goodbye, and he tucked his cell phone into his pocket as he rose. The wait addled him, but not as much as it did Kelsey. He lifted his shoulders and eyed the volunteer at the desk. Maybe she’d have some information on Peyton’s status. As he strode toward her, a nurse called his name from the doorway. When he turned, she beckoned him to follow.
Though relief washed over him, he also succumbed to dread. He followed the young woman, knowing he could hear good news or bad from the doctor, or maybe today nothing at all. Life seemed like one long delay.
The nurse paused outside a consultation room. “You can wait in here with Peyton. The doctor will see you soon.”
He thanked her and stepped inside.
Peyton sat in a chair, looking so young despite her constant reminders. “I’m almost twelve, Dad. I’m not a baby anymore.”
To him, she’d always be his baby. But he knew better than to say that to her. “How did it go?”
“Same thing every time. Don’t move. Hold my breath.” She shrugged. “You know the drill.”
He nodded and sat in the only other chair in the room. “But you’ve been doing well, right?”
She shrugged again. “I guess.”
Attitude grew with age. He realized that. His daughter was on the cusp of her teens and nearly a woman in so many ways.
“Mr. Salburg.”
He looked up as Dr. Timmons stepped through the doorway. The doctor closed the door and leaned against it. “We’ll need to read the results more thoroughly, but for now, things look pretty much status quo.”
Ross’s pulse skipped. Status quo was better than a decline in her health, but he so longed to hear the word improvement. “That means no real changes.”
“My main concern is Peyton’s recurring arrhythmia. She is taking her blood thinner as directed, right?”