salvaged our backpacks and supplies before the garden went up.'
Ross was glad they had something, even if it was only a few supplies for the journey home. He was leaving with less than he had brought with him. As he replaced Sister Chantal's crucifix round his neck he remembered their euphoria when they had first arrived, and the moment when Sister Chantal had placed the crystal in his hand and told him it would cure Lauren. He had been so full of hope then, but everything had changed. All he cared about now was getting back to his wife and saying goodbye before it was too late.
'Let's get out of here,' he said, leading Hackett and Zeb towards the sulphur caves. 'Let's go home.'
82
JFK Airport, New York, a month later Sam Kelly checked the arrivals board and saw that the United Airlines flight from Lima had landed. Although he was looking forward to seeing his son he felt apprehensive. When Ross had called from Lima to say he was coming home, the emptiness in his voice had broken his heart. When he had asked Ross if he had found anything in the jungle, his son's noncommittal answer had told him everything. It had been a wild-goose chase. The garden was a myth. There were no miracles.
Ross hadn't probed him about Lauren's condition, saying only, 'I assume there's been no improvement.'
Sam had purposely kept his response vague, volunteering little information on the phone, deciding to tell his son about the latest development face to face. However, he felt nervous now, waiting at the barrier, watching the passengers arrive through Customs. When he saw his son in the distance, lean, tanned and tired, the prospect of telling him the news weighed heavily on his heart. Ross didn't notice his father at first because as he passed a newsstand he found himself staring into the face of Superior General Leonardo Torino. According to the Vatican, he had been missing for some weeks after embarking on a fact-finding mission into the jungles of South America. The Peruvian authorities were still working closely with Rome to trace his whereabouts, but hopes were now fading that the Superior General and his escort would ever be found. The pope was already mourning the loss of a fine priest and the Society of Jesus was considering a successor.
As Ross closed the newspaper, a smaller article caught his eye and almost made him smile. According to Newsweek, Scarlett Oil had discovered large reserves of what they termed 'ancient oil' in Uzbekistan. Larger oil companies – including Alascon, which had recently terminated a partnership with Scarlett that would have given them shared rights – were now queuing up with large cheques to license Scarlett's patented technology for finding and economically extracting it.
Ross saw his father and waved. Sam was smiling, but as Ross got closer he saw strain on his father's face. Something had changed. They hugged and Ross felt tension in his father's shoulders. 'Good to see you, son. Good to have you back safe.'
'It's good to be back, Dad. How're Lauren and the baby?'
His father reached for his luggage. 'Come, let me drive you home. We'll talk in the car.'
'I want to go straight to the hospital, Dad.'
His father paused. 'You're exhausted. Why don't you go home first? Get some rest.'
'I want to see her now, Dad. I need to see her. Something's happened, hasn't it?'
His father appeared to brace himself, confirming Ross's worst fears. 'There's been a development, Ross. There's a difficult decision to make.'
83
Though still in the Sacred Heart Hospital, Lauren had been moved from the spinal-injuries unit to an isolated high-dependency room at the far end of the maternity wing. She had it to herself, except for the battery of monitors and equipment that kept her alive. She was lying in the same position as she had been when Ross had left her. The one discernible difference was the now prominent bump in her belly.
Since Lauren was no longer regarded primarily as a neurological case, Dr Greenbloom had handed over her care to an obstetrician, Dr Anna Gunderson. This confirmed to Ross that Lauren was now officially a lost cause. She wasn't even Gunderson's priority patient. The baby was. Lauren was little more than an incubator.
One small mercy, thought Ross, as he sat in her room with his father and Dr Gunderson, was that Lauren's mother was visiting her sister in New England for two days. He wasn't ready for her questions about where he had been.
'As your father's told you, Lauren's condition is deteriorating fast.' The doctor spoke softly as if she didn't want Lauren to hear. 'We're now in a critical phase. Lauren is lost to us but we're entering the period where the baby may be viable outside the womb. We could deliver it now, but the chances of its surviving undamaged are slim. Every extra day the baby stays in the womb the greater its chances.'
The doctor cleared her throat. 'We've administered steroids to develop its lungs, and medication to stop your wife going into premature labour, but I don't know how many more days we can hold on. We monitor Lauren's condition constantly and any further deterioration will mean we have to get the baby out. It's on a knife edge. We want to keep her in for as long as we can but only so long as Lauren can support her.'
'Her?'
'It's a girl.' She reached into a manila file on the sideboard beside her and handed Ross a black-and-white scan. 'This is your daughter.'
The image struck Ross with surprising force. He had always been more concerned about losing Lauren than the abstract concept of their baby. Even the earlier scan he had seen, at sixteen weeks, hadn't altered that view. This grainy picture was different, though. The baby was suddenly real.
A little girl.
His daughter.
He walked over to the bed and stroked Lauren's belly. He felt movement, which scared him. He had something to lose again. And something to gain. Raw hope was so much crueller than numb despair.
He turned back to the doctor. 'Every day my daughter stays in the womb, her chances increase?'
'Yes.'
'How much longer before she's safe?'
The doctor frowned. 'At least another three or four weeks.'
'How likely is it she'll get that?'
A pause. 'Extremely unlikely.'
'Given Lauren's current condition, how many more days do you think my daughter can stay in the womb?'
'Like I said, every day increases the odds on survival.'
'How many days?'
'It's hard to judge, Ross.'
'What's your best estimate?'
Another pause. 'Two, three. A week maximum.'
'So you want my permission to intervene and deliver the baby as soon as you think it's necessary?'
Gunderson nodded.
'Even though the chance of the baby's surviving undamaged is minimal?'
'Yes.'
Ross took a deep breath. 'Thank you for being so honest.'
Gunderson brushed a blonde hair from her face. 'Have you any more questions?'
'No, thanks. I've been away, and all I want now is some time alone with my wife. I'd like to stay with her tonight.'
