Honor

tell him we’re all praying for him,” he said.
Lacey nodded. She pressed the button that allowed the automatic doors to the unit to swish silently open, then stepped into a high-tech wonderland that was both magnificent and frightening.
Like the spokes of a wheel, small, softly lit rooms surrounded a central desk banked with monitors. Hushed voices competed with beeping equipment and the steady gurgle of oxygen.
She spotted Linc through one of the doorways, a chart in his hand, his troubled gaze riveted on the bed. Drawing in a deep breath, she walked to the doorway. Linc gave her a reassuring smile and motioned her in. Her steps were halting, but she finally approached the bed.
It took every last ounce of her courage to glance past the tangle of wires, IV tubes and oxygen to her husband.
Against the startling white of the pillow, Kevin’s handsome, angular face had a grayish cast. His golden hair, shot now with silver, was mussed, its impeccable cut wasted. Without the armor of his custom-tailored suit, his designer shirt and silk tie, he looked vulnerable, every inch a mortal, rather than the invincible hero she’d always thought him to be.
He was so terribly still, she thought, fighting panic. The man who had always seemed so alive, so filled with energy looked like a shadow, quiet and lifeless. Her gaze shifted desperately to a monitor and fixed on the steady rhythm. She had no idea what the up-and-down movement of the lines meant except that they were proof her husband was still clinging to life.
Lacey stepped closer and took Kevin’s one free hand, curving her fingers around his, trying to share her warmth with him. Her own heart lurched anew at his vulnerability, then filled to overflowing, first with love, then with rage—at him and at her own impotence.
Damn you, Kevin, she thought. You were always my strength. I’m not sure I know how to be yours.
She whispered, “Fight, Kevin. Dammit, you have to live. You have a grandchild on the way. You have to be here to teach him how to ride a bicycle, how to throw a ball. You know I’m not good at things like that.”
She closed her eyes and thought of all the plans they’d made. She kept her voice low as she reminded him, willed him to live to see them come true.
“Don’t you remember how we always looked forward to spoiling our grandchildren? There were so many things we were going to do. We were going to spend long, lazy days walking on the beach. We were going to read Shakespeare’s sonnets and visit Walden Pond. Don’t you dare make me do those things alone.”
She felt Linc’s hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough for now,” he said gently. “Let him rest.”
“Not yet,” she pleaded, terrified Kevin would slip away if she weren’t there to hold on to him. “Another minute, please. I won’t say another word. Just let me stay.”
Linc studied her silently, then nodded. He reached for a tissue and handed it to her. “Another minute,” he agreed. “No more.”
Lacey brushed away the tears she hadn’t even realized were there until she had the tissue in her hand. Very much aware of her vow to remain silent, she tried bargaining in her mind with Kevin and then with God.
With her gaze riveted on her husband’s face, she was aware of the first subtle blink of his lashes. Hope burst inside her. That’s it, she cried in her heart. You can do it, Kevin. I know you can.
She knew her minute’s reprieve was long over, but she didn’t budge, waiting. It was a minute more and then another before Kevin’s eyes finally blinked open and his gaze searched the room before finally focusing on her.
He managed a feeble smile that was only a faint shadow of the smile that had captivated her heart all those years ago. Even so, Lacey’s heart filled to bursting and she felt tears of relief spill down her cheeks. In that instant she knew beyond a doubt that whatever it took, her husband was going to make it. He would fight to live.
But the struggle to save their marriage was yet to come.

Chapter Three
Lacey spent a long, uneasy night in the hospital waiting room, refusing to go home, desperately needing the few precious minutes every couple of hours that Linc allowed her to visit Kevin. She couldn’t rid herself of that first sense of shock at his pallor, that initial horror that he might give up and slip away. Fear welled up inside her and abated only when she was by his side, willing her strength into him.
It had been nearly midnight when she had insisted that Jason take Dana home. She tried futilely to get Brandon to go with them. She was worried about the exhaustion that had shadowed his eyes. It reminded her all too vividly of those first grief-stricken weeks after he had lost his wife. For all that Brandon thought otherwise, he was not invincible.
Now, even though he was resting, he looked miserably uncomfortable on the waiting room’s too-short sofa. Lacey couldn’t help thinking he would have been far better off in his own bed, in his own home with Mrs. Farnsworth, his housekeeper of thirty years, fussing over him. Still, she could understand his need to stay close to Kevin. Despite all she and Kevin had been through lately—all the bitterness and recriminations—she’d felt the same way.
Though Kevin hadn’t awakened again through the long night, Lacey had been comforted simply by seeing him, by listening to the steady sound of the monitor tracking his heartbeat. Now, her throat dry, her stomach growling, she went off in search of tea and toast for herself and her father-in-law. If Brandon was going to insist on staying until the crisis passed, he would need all his strength.
Brandon was awake when Lacey returned, his cheek bearing the pattern of the sofa’s piping, his clothes rumpled to a state that would have given