A Touch of Grace

"Doesn't seem so," Claire answered, staring into the coffee mug. "She looked better yesterday."

"Oh, that's good." Peter joined them with a big plate of pancakes. She had been feeling low that morning so her brother had asked her to come over for breakfast. She didn't see much point bothering Bryan with her troubles when he was already trying his best to hide his worries.

"She'll be alright," Pauline patted her arm and nodded. Claire looked at her, nodded back.

"I hope so," she said, thanking Peter when two big pancakes were served on to her plate. "She's such a brave girl. She gets annoyed sometimes because everyone's fussing over her, but she's never sad. The other day when she realised I was low, she snuggled in my lap and comforted me." She smiled fondly at the memory, biting into a piece of pancake. Pauline reached out a hand, gave her a one-armed hug.

"Have they found a donor yet?" she asked. Claire shook her head.

"It isn't easy to get a child heart. Grace has a negative blood group, making it harder." She fisted her hands together, rested her forehead against it. "I've worked with so many kids, many of them suffering from life-threatening conditions, some winning, some losing their battles... But this time..."

"Claire, she falls sick because she's weak," Pauline said. "Once the transplant is done, she'll be better, stronger."

"Yes, and if you break down, Grace will think something is really wrong with her," Peter added. "Children find strength in adults."

"I know. I'm fine..." Claire trailed off when the sound of a ringing phone started coming from somewhere.

"My phone," Peter said, leaving his chair to walk over to the living room. He started talking a moment later.

"How're you doing?" Claire asked Pauline.

"I'm fine, yeah." She rubbed her belly. "Little bugger's kicking like crazy." She winced. "God, I can't believe I'm doing this."

"You're not excited?"

"I am." She looked down, a shy smile crossing her face. "Honestly, I'm so happy I can't stand it. I'm just..." She shifted uncomfortably. "If my feet could stop swelling out of my shoes, it'd be fantastic. I also need to pee about every four seconds. It's driving me crazy."

"Did you try the drapes? Are they the right size?"

"Oh, they're brilliant," Pauline beamed, stuffing her mouth with pancake. "They are just what we were looking for. And the toys you made...aww..." She threw her head back, the expression on her face making Claire smile. "You'll be an amazing aunt. I know it."

"Yeah, I can't wait," she nodded, taking another bite of her pancake.

"How're things between you and Bryan?"

"Okay," Claire shrugged. "He's just stressed. I understand. I now know why he had so long kept relationships away." She wiped her mouth, took another swig of her coffee. "It's hard for him. I wonder how he remains so strong."

"He has no other choice, Claire. Only parents know what they endure for their kids." She leaned back, caressing the swell of her stomach. "Ooh, baby's got the boot in. Want to feel?"

"Yeah, okay." Claire reached forward, laughing when she felt the jolt under her palm. "How much longer?"

"Five weeks, if I'm lucky. Should be natural, though I'm not sure I'm excited about the pain." She bit her lip, shifting in her seat. "Right, I need the bathroom again." She heaved herself up, pecking Peter on the cheek when he returned to the room. Claire smiled absently, felt her brother's arm around her.

"Don't worry," he said to her. "Everything will be fine."

Deep inside, Claire hoped for the same.

*

It was five-thirty when Claire rang the doorbell at Bryan's house. Through the window, she could see Grace on the sofa in the living room, clad in a denim jumpsuit, surrounded by toys and blankets, nodding her head to the CD of nursery rhymes.

She looked pale, was coughing often, rubbing her nose with her hand sometimes. Claire had got her favourite chocolate. She loved having it.

"Hi," Bryan opened the door with a smile. "Come in."

"Everything okay?" she asked, reaching up to meet his lips when he leaned in to kiss her.

"Yeah." Bryan closed the door. He looked like he was cooking from the kitchen towel on his shoulder and the delicious smell of steak cloaking the house. "Grace has been asking for you."

"How's she?" She took off her jacket and bag, put them on the small table next to the door.

"Better. She has eaten well today."

"Oh good." She sighted the little one, who looked up when she sensed her around.

"Miss Claire!" she waved at her, beckoning her to sit with her. Claire smiled, fished out the chocolate from her bag, and went up to her. She hugged her, kissed her cheeks, felt her ribcage vibrating as she breathed.

"This is for you," she handed her the chocolate, saw the delighted grin on her face. "Are you better now?"

She nodded, putting the chocolate aside. Bryan smiled fondly at them, returning to the kitchen.

"Can I make you some coffee?" he asked her.

"Umm..no, thanks." She looked down at Grace, picked her up and sat her on her lap. "I heard you were asking for me..." she said to her. Grace nodded, then coughed. Claire stroked her back, reached for the flask of warm water on the table. Grace took a sip of water, swallowed hard. Claire wiped her mouth with her hand.

"So, what is it?" she asked. Grace tugged her closer. Claire leaned, bringing her face close to hers.

"Daddy loves you," she whispered, giggling. Claire stared for a while, then smiled.

"Yeah? How did you know?"

"I heard him talking to uncle Rory last night. He told him he loves you."

Claire looked in the direction of the kitchen where Bryan was busy cooking. She smiled to herself, feeling her cheeks getting hot. Even if Bryan himself never said that to her, she'd know he loved her. Grace couldn't be wrong.

"Do you love him?" she asked, tugging at Claire's sleeve. She looked down at Grace, nodded shyly.

"I do. But not more than you do." She hugged her close, heard her chest wheeze. Grace giggled, then coughed. This time, Bryan looked over from the kitchen.

"You okay, Grace?" He asked, a ladle in his hand. Grace nodded, grabbing the chocolate again and reading the label. Claire kissed her forehead, got up to head over to the kitchen. Bryan looked like he was waiting for her, pulled her in for a kiss when she came in.

"God, I miss you every moment you're away," he sighed, hugging her tight, kissing her neck. Claire giggled quietly, enjoying the closeness. They'd had a few moments of stress between them, had been away from each other until one of them had given up and called. But it was okay now. She knew what Bryan was going through. She didn't think she could handle a fraction of that stress.

"The smells are delicious," she peeked into the pan when Bryan turned off the stove. It was Grace's dinner. On the grill was the steak, all juicy and brown and tempting. "Are you self-taught?"

"Totally." He nuzzled her hair, his arms wrapped around her waist. "I do watch MasterChef sometimes. It's my guilty pleasure."

"I don't know how you live life under such stressful conditions," she murmured. "You're incredibly strong."

"Claire, I'm sorry about the last few days," he said. "I didn't—"

"It's okay." She patted his chest, smiled up at him. "I understand. Anything for Grace."

"Claire, I—"

His words were interrupted by Grace coughing. It sounded bad, like she couldn't breathe.

"Grace!" Bryan rushed out of the kitchen, took Grace in his arms. "What's happening? Grace, are you okay? Sweetie—"

Claire stared as Bryan tried to calm down her coughing fit. Within moments, she was heaving, gulping air, her body turning limp. Bryan held her face, horror filling his eyes. "Grace...." he murmured, his voice trembling. Then he looked at Claire.

"Call an ambulance," he said. "Hurry!"

Claire shook herself into action, reaching for her phone.

*

Bryan watched through the glass barrier of intensive care, his expression unreadable. The doctors and nurses were flitting in and out of the cabin, their faces serious. Claire was beside Bryan, her eyes fixed on the small form on the bed.

Grace was on oxygen support, a number of different machines attached to her small body. The ride to the hospital had been anxious and panicky, with an unconscious Grace being put on oxygen support and saline by the medics. Her lips and hands had become bluish, which had prompted Bryan to call an ambulance. She was still unconscious, her chest rising and falling mechanically.

"Are you going?" Bryan asked quietly when she turned around. Claire touched his shoulder, shook her head.

"No...I'll just come from the restroom, okay?" she said, giving Grace another glance before turning to walk off. She found the restroom, locked herself in a stall. Then she fished out her phone, pressed her brother's number.

"Hey li'l sis," the voice answered. "What's up?"

"Peter..." She sat down on the toilet lid, pressed a hand to her quivering lips.

"Claire?" Her brother sounded alarmed now. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Grace has been hospitalized," she choked up, tears overwhelming her. "Her...blood oxygen has plunged...she cannot breathe..." She sank back against the wall, bit her lip. "She is unconscious..."

"Calm down, Claire. Please." Peter's voice poured into her ears. Pauline had appeared, was asking him what was wrong. "Where's Bryan? Is he okay?"

"No." She now knew they were only pretending to be strong around each other, around Grace, when in reality, it was killing them. It was more serious than Bryan had said it was. She knew he'd just been trying to play it down, trying to keep her from being afraid. Now...she didn't know.

"What are the doctors saying?" He asked.

"She's in intensive care. They're monitoring her. She had turned blue, so..."

"Claire, have faith." It was Pauline. "Give it some time, everything will be okay. The doctors are trying, right? You just have to be patient."

"Can we do anything, Claire?" It was Peter again. "Do you want me to come down there?"

"No...You don't need to." She was not sure if Bryan would like that. They hadn't even met each other. "I'll be okay...I'm just a wreck right now..."

She sobbed, the sound of little hiccups filling the stall. She had never thought she'd become so attached to Grace. It hadn't been the right thing, she knew. She worked with so many kids, it wasn't fair to get attached to any of them. Then Bryan had crept into her heart, and it'd become impossible to keep emotions out of it anymore.

Peter and Pauline stayed on the line until Claire had calmed down. They assured her they were always there and she should call them if she needed anything. When she was back under control, she got up from the toilet lid, went outside, and washed her face. Then she proceeded to face Bryan again.

"Are you okay?" He frowned when she reappeared, walking slowly. She nodded. Bryan came closer, held her by her arms, studied her face. "Were you crying in the toilet?"

"I'm fine, Bryan," she said. Her voice gave her away. Bryan hugged her, stroked her head.

"I've informed mom and dad," he said. "They're on their way. Do you want to go home?"

"No. I won't be at peace anywhere." She looked up at his face, saw the pain in his eyes. Her eyes welled up again. "I love her, you know. She makes me feel maternal..."

"I know." He dropped a kiss on to her hair, hugged her close to his chest. "We can only pray, Claire," he sighed heavily. "Pray that she pulls through..."

"Mr Fielding?"

They broke apart, saw a doctor standing behind them.

"Yes, Dr Butler?" Bryan went forward. "Is Grace becoming okay?"

The doctor stared at him, then at Claire, then back at him. "Can I have a minute with you?" he said to him. "We need to discuss something."

"Sure." Bryan turned to look at her. "I'll just come, okay? My parents will be here shortly. Don't worry."

Claire nodded dumbly, watching him walk away with the doctor. She knew it was ominous. Grace had shown no improvement yet, so it wouldn't be about that. It was something else... But what?

She stared through the glass barrier of intensive care, wishing she could go in there, sit with her, tell her she'd be alright. Bryan lived for her. If anything happened to her...

No. She wouldn't-couldn't-think of that possibility. She needed to be strong. For Grace. For her dad.

The sound of footsteps made her look around. Bryan was coming back, his face grim. Claire walked up to him anxiously.

"What?" she asked as he held her hand. "What did he say?"

Bryan took her to the bench, made her sit, took a place beside her. Claire stared at his face.

"Why are you quiet?" she shook him by the arms. "What happened?"

"Grace needs a transplant immediately," Bryan said. He looked at her, nodded. "Her heart isn't pumping enough blood anymore and her blood toxicity is rising. When she recovers a little, she'll be placed on a mechanical heart until the transplant."

Claire's jaw dropped. She covered her mouth with her hands and shook her head, tears filling her eyes. Bryan pulled her close, hugged her again.

"It's for the best, right?" he tried to comfort her. "She'll be so much better after the transplant. Yeah, she'll have to stay here for a bit, but that's okay...."

Claire couldn't tell if he sounded hopeful, desperate, or afraid. She clung to him, her eyes closed, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest.

"There's he!" The familiar male voice behind them made them look up. It was Bryan's dad, along with his mom and brother. Bryan rose, met them midway.

"How's she?" His mom asked, sounding panicked. Rory was already looking through the glass window, a hand rising to cover his mouth.

"Still the same," Bryan looked at Claire, who didn't think she could stand. His mom looked kind of relieved when she saw her.

"I'm so glad you're with him," she said to her, coming up to the bench. Then she sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "We're in this together. She'll be alright."

"What did the doctors say?" Rory asked. Bryan sighed, and Claire saw him steeling himself. Then he told them what he'd just told her, their faces mirroring horror, desperation, and panic.

They waited together, for any news, any improvement. Grace was still unconscious, but there was the comforting green waveform on the monitor. Bryan was with the doctors, discussing the transplant, getting in touch with organ banks and other hospitals to arrange for a donor. Claire was slumped in a corner of the bench, head resting against the wall. It had been hours, would be morning in a while. And there was nothing she could do other than wait and pray that she'd wake up.

"What's the time?" she asked sleepily when Bryan arrived at the bench. He sat down, looking tired.

"Seven in the morning." He put an arm around her, dropped his head back and closed his eyes. His dad was pacing up and down, his mom and brother were on the other bench. "You hungry?"

"No." She looked up at his face. "Any news?"

He shook his head. "You can go home if you want," he said. "We're here."

"Don't you want me here?" She asked quietly. She wasn't Grace's mom. She wasn't needed there. Her family was there and that was enough. Claire was really no one.

"I didn't mean that. You look tired and sleepy..." He opened his eyes, looked down at her. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to shoo you away..."

Claire nodded, sat up, pulled away from him. "I'll go then, if I'm not needed anymore," she picked up her bag and jacket, got a surprised glance from Bryan's mom.

"What happened?" She asked. "Where are you going?"

"Home." She rose from the bench, felt her legs were wobbly. Bryan held her hand, pulled her back down on to the bench.

"I'm sorry. Please." He cupped her face with a hand, pulled her closer. "I didn't—"

"I know. It's okay." She rose again, wore her jacket. "You've asked me four times so far to go home. I'm not dumb. I understand."

"Claire―"

She pressed two fingers to his lips and shook her head. Then she leaned in and pecked his cheek.

"Call me if you want," she murmured, turned to look at Grace through the glass. A couple of doctors and a nurse were in there, discussing something among themselves. She moved closer, trying to read their faces.

"Bryan..." She called out. Bryan was next to her in a moment. "What are they talking about?" She asked him, pointing inside. "Is it something serious?"

"I'll find out." Bryan scooted, met one of the doctors. Claire saw him shaking his head, looking over at Grace. She dropped her bag on the bench, then joined him.

"No!" There was panic in his voice. "This can't be, right? She...she needs to recover... She's got to make it till the transplant..."

"Mr Fielding, we're trying." The doctor looked sympathetic. "Her heart is getting weaker. Given her present condition, we cannot operate on her to place a mechanical heart. She'll never make it."

"Patient's not breathing!" The nurse announced, checking the breath monitor.

"What?!" Bryan shrieked, rushing inside the cabin. "Grace!"

The doctors stopped him, held his arms and tried to drag him away. Bryan's dad and brother rushed in, tried to calm him down.

"Grace!" He shrieked again as his brother dragged him outside. "Daddy loves you, Grace. Daddy cannot live without you. Grace!"

"Bryan." Claire held him. It calmed him down a little. He was still in front of the cabin, the door slightly ajar. Claire tried to read the monitors, then tried to see Grace's face through the crowd of medical staff.

"It's a cardiac arrest!" One of the doctors shouted out. "Start CPR, immediately!"

They watched a nurse clear tubes out of the way, then a doctor start CPR on the small, frail body. Bryan had slowly walked back into the cabin, was watching the lines on the patient monitor. Claire pressed her hands to her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes. Little green peaks wobbled up and down on the screen, growing weaker and weaker. After two minutes of CPR, there was a flat, green line on the screen.

"Grace..." Bryan pushed the people aside, kneeled beside the bed. He held her face, her hands, as if his touch could do something. In the meanwhile, a few more families of other child patients had gathered there, comforting Bryan's mom, who was crying. Claire watched like a stone, unable to move or talk.

One of the doctors checked her eyes with a torchlight. Then he turned slowly, placed two hands on Bryan's shoulders, and shook his head.

"We're sorry, Mr Fielding."

*

The room was filled with airplanes. There were cardboard gliders, plastic airplane models, life-like replicas of an Airbus or a Boeing. Amid the display of the colourful toys, Claire spotted the ones she had got Grace at Christmas and the ones she had taught her to make.

Claire stared at the toys hanging from the ceiling and from the windows, her vision turning cloudy. The room was small and neat, the bed made and the storybooks kept beside the pillow. Like Grace would finish her meal, hop into bed, and urge her dad for two stories. Maybe three.

But Grace wasn't there. She was asleep in the casket, dressed in her favourite princess dress.

"Claire." The gentle female voice behind her made her quickly wipe her tears away. She felt a hand on her shoulder, saw Bryan's mom beside her.

"We're leaving," she said. "Come on."

"I don't want to go," Claire croaked, her voice breaking. She looked around the room, tried to find Grace in the things that had belonged to her. "Can I...can I just stay here until you get back?"

"Bryan needs you, Claire," she said, a hand cupping her cheek.

"Does he?"

Things had been quiet between them the last day or two. Bryan still didn't look like he had overcome the trauma. He wasn't speaking to anyone unless very necessary, wasn't going about life with his usual calm and strength. He needed space, Claire understood, but she only wished he'd talk, or cry, or grieve openly.