Vital Signs

For an instant passion leaped across the barrier Hailey had created. She wanted to throw herself into Roy’s arms, because only there would she find peace. But a little round face swam between them, and the pain cut into her heart. The peace would be shortlived—only the length of time it took for the passion to ebb and resentment to take its place.

“I can’t.” She looked at him, shook her head and told him the bald truth. “You hurt me, and I’m scared you’ll do it again.”

“You’d end what there is between us just because you’re scared?” There was temper and challenge in his tone. “I thought you were braver than that.”

“Well, you thought wrong.” She dragged her keys out of her bag and walked around him to open the truck door. “Don’t call me, please. Don’t wait for me again. It’s over.”

“Don’t do this, Hailey.”

She was too tired to argue with him. She started the truck and backed out of the stall. As she drove away she wasn’t even crying. Her eyes were dry and burning with an echo of the pain in her heart.

Dear Reader,

Somewhere it says that the way to make God laugh is to tell Him your plans. For me and my original vision of this book, the truth of that saying grew more and more evident as the writing progressed.

The idea for Vital Signs was born when my son, Dan Jackart, a Vancouver fireman, told me about a disturbing call that involved an abandoned baby. He explained how deeply the firemen and medical personnel are affected when a baby is endangered, and how everyone wonders how such a tragedy could occur. What kind of mother could do such a terrible thing? In the beginning of this story, I admit that I felt the same way. But as I wrote, I began to see that in the heart of calamity is buried the seed of opportunity, the potential for greater growth and higher love. The story took me by the scruff of the neck and led me along paths that surprised and pleased me and, yes, forced me to change ideas of right and wrong. It became clear that I might as well give up on my agenda and let love follow its own circuitous and surprising path.

This was a book with a mind of its own. I hope it pleases you and touches your heart as it has mine.

Love always,

Bobby

Heartfelt thanks to social workers Stew Brown and Donna Miller for invaluable assistance and advice on the complex issue of abandonment and parenting.

Vital Signs is dedicated with love and gratitude to my dear and treasured friend Beverly Piebenga, who got me through this one with professional nursing advice, encouragement and, most of all, stir-fries and chocolate. From both my soul and my stomach, thank you, Bev.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

DAVID RIGGS was two years old when his mother abandoned him one hot Tuesday in July.

Shannon didn’t mean to do it. The welfare check had finally come, and she put Davie into the rickety stroller and walked to the corner grocery. The wizened Oriental man smiled at her when she paid her bill.

“No good this heat. S’posed to rain tomorrow. Good thing—too hot for Vancouver, right, missy?”

She agreed with him and bought diapers and soup and some bananas. Davie loved bananas. He chortled when she peeled one and gave it to him. Then they took the bag of dirty clothes to the laundromat, and Shannon took him out of the stroller. Davie discovered a blue plastic laundry basket someone had left behind. He climbed in and pretended it was a boat.

When they got home, Shannon fed him his lunch and he fell asleep on their bed in the bedroom, wearing only a diaper and clutching his favorite stuffed toy.

Shannon was folding clothes on the kitchen table when she heard the knock on her door. Her heart started to hammer when she opened it and saw Rudy, because she knew he was bringing news about Murphy. He had no other reason to be there.

“Somebody out in the car wants to see you.” Rudy’s acne-ravaged face twisted into a grin. She knew right away it was Murphy in the car, and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

She didn’t lock the door, because she’d only be gone a few minutes.

She had to tell Murphy about Davie—had to make him understand why she hadn’t had the abortion like she’d agreed before he got sent to jail.

Rudy opened the back door of the car, and she saw Murphy for the first time in almost three years. Her heart hammered and her knees started trembling at the familiar sight of his silky dark curls, his cobalt-blue eyes. Davie looked so much like him, right down to the cleft in his chin.

“Hey, babe, long time no see.” Murphy took her hands and pulled her into the car, and she collapsed against his chest, tears pouring down her cheeks. She forgot the times he’d hit her, the times he’d hurt her, the lies he’d told. All she remembered was that he was the first and only man she’d ever loved, and she’d been so lonely so long. When he kissed her, hard and deep, she was instantly wet with wanting him.