21 Shades of Night, page 389
The rest of the night and next morning slipped by in a blur. Harding and various nurses came in and out, running tests, changing out IV bags, all of the various things that go on in a hospital room. We waited and waited, but he never woke up.
Around ten-thirty in the morning, Ben tried to get me to eat an apple from a lunch box he'd grabbed in the cafeteria.
I nudged his arm away and pulled my legs up onto the chair. “I can't eat right now,” I whispered, a fresh wave of tears threatening to overflow.
“You need to eat, Allie. You need to keep your strength up.”
“For what?”
He shrugged and placed the apple back in the little cardboard box. “I’m just trying to help.”
““I appreciate your trying to help. I just can’t eat. You should go home. I’ll be fine.”
The lab results had come back inconclusive, and Harding had requested more testing. Papa still wasn't awake. Nothing had changed. It was my job, and my job alone, to sit there and wait for something to change.
“I want to stay here, with you.”
“You don’t need to stay with me. I'll let you know something as soon as I can." I turned away from him and looked at my grandfather, searching for some sign that he was coming around. I was grateful that Ben had stayed by my side, but a tiny little part of me wanted to do this alone. For a long time, it had just been my grandfather and me. Other people had come and gone, but he was the one constant in my life. If this was his time to go, I felt like it should be just the two of us.
“I know that. Like I said, I want to stay.”
My expression hardened as I turned to face him. The hours of waiting had heaped weariness on my shoulders. “Maybe I just want to be here by myself. Be alone with him. I don’t need you here.” A sob caught in my throat as I spoke, wishing immediately I could take back my words. He didn't deserve that, didn't deserve what the mess I brought to the table.
He pushed back from his chair, hurt etched on his face. I thought he was leaving, but he pulled my chair around and knelt down in front of me. Cradling my face in his hands, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. "You don't have to do this alone, Allie, but if you need some time with him, I get it."
I didn't deserve his kind, sweet words, but I soaked them in. Not knowing what else to say, I wrapped my arms around his neck and let the tears fall again. He pulled back, settling onto the floor and bringing me with him. He cradled me in his arms and rocked me until I didn't have tears left.
* * *
I AWOKE LATER to the sound of someone entering the room. By the time I opened my eyes, Laura was standing over me.
“Wake up, Allie, wake up,” she whispered, shaking my shoulders.
“I'm awake. I'm awake,” I replied, my voice rough in my throat. I tried to figure out how much time had passed since Ben had settled me into a large green recliner and left me alone with my grandfather. Sunlight peeked around the corners of the light-blocking window shade, but it was tinged red. I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes and gave Laura a weary smile.
She returned it and looked over at my grandfather. He still hadn't regained consciousness, but a nurse had come before Ben had left to move him in the bed. He lay on his side, his breath much shallower than it had been earlier.
Laura sat on the armrest of the recliner and reached down to grab my hand. "We're going to get through this, Al."
"I know." I took a shaky breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. “How did you know I was here?"
“Ben." Her voice was thick. I wondered what she knew, or guessed, about why he'd known what was going on and she hadn't. "He met me at the train station and took me to your place so I could pack a bag for you. I'm glad he's got his head on straight; I was a mess when he picked me up."
"He was with me when Harding called," I said, answering a question she didn't ask. "We came out together, and he stayed with me all night."
She gave my hand another squeeze, but we didn't speak after that, not for a long time. Laura was probably one of the few people who remembered my grandfather as he'd been. She had known my grandparents since she'd been nine. She and her mother had lived alone across the street, and my grandparents treated Fallon, Laura’s mother, like a daughter. We had been best friends for so long that my grandfather often thought she was my sister.
“Rose?”
My head shot up and I spun around. My grandfather looked groggy as he opened his eyes.
Harding was in the door before I even had a chance to react. I made eye contact with him as I gripped my grandfather’s hand.
“Papa?” I said his name loudly, hoping it would be enough to anchor him for a little while.
His gaze turned toward me, but his eyes still struggled to focus. “Rose?”
I held myself from sighing and watched as Harding began doing various tests. “It’s Allie. Laura and I are here. You’re in the hospital, but you're okay.” Harding was nodding as he checked my grandfather’s blood pressure. I wondered why a nurse wasn’t running through the tests, but decided not to question him.
“Allie, you girls shouldn’t be here without your mother. Where’s the baby?”
“There’s no baby, Grandpa. It’s just me and Laura.”
“What do you mean, there’s no baby? Where’s Ava?” He was growing agitated and coughed as he tried to push himself up in the bed. The force of the coughs wracked his whole body. Harding placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back down.
I held my breath as I watched him. Even through the coughing fit, he still looked at me as if he thought something was very wrong. I hated these bad times with him, when he couldn't even remember what year it was. He jumped through time, regularly revisiting some of the various nightmares of my childhood. The death of my baby sister was one of the big ones. I remember her frailness, striking to me even at the age of four. She'd been a year old when she'd died and my mother had never recovered from the shock of it. Ava's death had been the beginning of the end for our family. Even as an adult, I couldn't imagine the pain it had caused my grandparents. As I watched my grandfather struggle to match what had happened back then with the words I was saying now, I cursed the disease and what it had taken from him.
Laura stepped around the bed and grabbed my grandfather’s other hand. He turned to look at her, his eyes still dazed, but the coughing subsided. “Harry, listen to me,” she said, her voice quiet. She had been the only person aside from my grandmother to call him Harry, a nickname he usually wouldn’t tolerate. “You’re in the hospital, alright? It’s just Allie and me here. You don’t need to worry about anyone else, okay?”
He nodded and began to pull his arm away from the prodding hands of Harding.
“Allie, you need to bring your mother here. I need to see her.”
Harding nodded at me and I looked steadily at my grandfather. “She’s not coming.”
“Where’s my wife?”
The agitation is his voice rose and I feared another coughing fit would come. “It’s just us, Papa. Me and Laura.”
“Enough of this, Allie. I’m tired of this fighting with your mother. She and David need to come back. You need to tell her, she’ll only listen to you.”
I closed my eyes, wondering if there was anything else we could dredge up from the dark years of family history. My mother and stepfather had died over ten years ago. At least we were moving closer to the present. "It's okay. We'll see what we can do."
Chapter 18
THE SNAP OF the screen door echoed through the night like a gunshot as I let it shut behind me. I jumped at the sound as I stood on the porch, distracted momentarily from my goal. I took a deep breath to calm myself and mapped out my route again. Four long strides to the edge of the woods. From there, the path through the trees was familiar– I had made the run daily for years. Not in any recent years...exactly, but I couldn't think of a better way to relieve stress that didn't involve a bottle of wine and someone male.
The only thing racing faster than my pulse was my mind. The last three weeks had been day after day of hours logged at the hospital, hours logged running various errands for my grandfather. He had pulled through those first scary days after his fall, but it hadn’t exactly been easy street after that. He was confused, sometimes terrified, and still quite sick from the pneumonia that had developed. For all the nurses did, I was still bone-tired, and after leaving the hospital each night, I crawled in to bed to rest up for the next day.
Tonight had been different. I had fallen asleep early, and had been plagued by nightmares. Now, just after three in the morning, I couldn't seem to shake myself out of it. I had tried the usual methods: a long bath, hot tea, and a thick research book on multi-organelle defects. Even an hour-long stretch of late-night, re-broadcasted golf tournaments hadn't netted me any shut-eye.
After spinning my wheels on a new article for MadScientia, I'd finally given up on resolving the stress and worry in any conventional manner and had turned to a preferred method from my past. I'd pulled on a pair of shorts, laced my worn out running shoes and struck out into what remained of the night.
These were my woods; this was my land. If there was any place left in the world untouched by the strangeness that had woven itself through my life in the past weeks, it was here.
I jogged in place a moment before propelling myself down the steps and across the yard. A brief surge of adrenaline coursed through me and I launched myself into the dark trees, not hesitating as the ground beneath my feet changed from dormant grass to thick undergrowth.
Whip-like branches lashed at my shirt, scratching the soft skin of my upper arms. I ignored the jabs of pain starting in my abdomen, focusing only on pushing my arms and legs through the brush. Leaves and branches crunched underfoot and I heard the small, rushing tributary to the west. My entire body now campaigned against the forced exercise. I gritted my teeth, steeling myself to maintain my speed, but failing. A stabbing pain shot through my side and I slowed my pace again, this time to a light jog. The sheer effort of it kept my mind gloriously blank.
I almost collapsed into the tall, damp grass of the clearing as soon as I reached it. Unable to pull in enough oxygen, I took useless, gasping breaths and closed my eyes, blotting out the star-strewn sky above me. When my breathing and heartbeat regained similar rhythms, I gulped in air. With each breath, an uneasy calm settled over me. The despair of uncontrolled circumstances threatened to unmoor me again.
I sighed at my own dramatic internal monologue and began moving in place, ready to head for home.
A large crash echoed through the woods and I whipped around, crouching low and moving closer toward the cover of the undergrowth. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness but I couldn't make out anything that would be responsible for the bizarre noises ripping through the trees. The sounds were coming from my left, and heading straight for the river. I moved further away, keeping my back at an odd angle between the forest line and the river.
It was closer, whatever it was; I crouched even lower, as I made out the first flash of a strange shape. The next instant, a young doe burst onto the riverbank, limping and wild-eyed, its right flank slick with blood. Her injuries were not enough to slow her down even a little. With a small leap, she landed in the river, thrashing some before steadying herself and swimming across the cold, deep water. After she pulled herself onto the opposite bank, she turned and looked back, standing stock still for just a moment. Whatever she saw, or didn't, seemed to calm her and, after a moment, she collapsed onto the rocky ground in silence.
I stared at her, stunned. After a long glance, I turned back to the woods, waiting for whatever had chased her to appear. The silence stretched on and, after an eternity of waiting and held breath, I began picking a slow path back to the house, listening for the predator. I kept off the path and stayed low to the ground, turning back only once–at the last possible spot–to check on the doe.
She hadn't moved.
The woods remained silent and I made it back to the house in one piece. Whatever had chased down the deer was hopefully long gone. I slid the deadbolts into place on both the front and back doors and retreated to my room, hoping for some rest. Hospital visiting hours were early.
* * *
I PULLED A small tote bag loaded with things for my grandfather from the passenger seat and locked the car behind me, anxious to get out of the sweltering summer heat. The hospital observation unit was peaceful on Tuesday mornings, something I had come to appreciate. Having spent most of my time here over the past few weeks, the schedule and routine of the place had become intimately familiar. Mondays and Tuesdays were the slowest days, lacking the burst of visitors that the weekend brought. By Wednesday, the patients had recovered from the onset of guests and doctors seemed to schedule lots of tests and follow-ups. Thursdays and Fridays brought an assortment of bright, youthful volunteers who brought books to read and dogs to pet. Tuesdays were good days.
As I waited for the elevator to the sixth floor, my phone rang. I fished it out of my purse and didn't even have to look at the screen. The custom ring tone let me know it was Ben.
"Hey." Even after three weeks of careful tap-dancing and negotiation, trying to figure out what this was and what we were doing, I couldn't think of a more creative way to answer the phone.
"What are you up to?" I relished the tone of familiarity in his voice that hadn’t been there weeks before, not until after that night in his apartment. "About to go up and see my grandfather. What's up?"
"You're going to hate me."
My stomach dropped. We had plans, the first time we'd been able to work anything out since my grandfather had been in the hospital. He was driving in after work, while I slaved away in the kitchen preparing a meal of salmon and mushroom gratin and little pain-in-the-ass tarts that involved tomatoes and goat cheese. "Why?"
"I can't come out tonight."
"Why?" What was it with men? Why did everything have to involve multiple tiers of questions? Couldn't he just tell me what was up in one go?
There was a pause on the line. "I've got a business meeting tonight. Last minute."
I bit my lip and leaned against one of the brick pillars that flanked the door. "Oh."
"I ran into Colin last night."
"Oh." I stared down at my feet. "This is never going to work out, is it?"
"We don't seem to work so well when we try all this planning."
I chuckled, trying to hide the hurt that was squeezing my chest. The warning bells clanged in my ears. "What happened with Colin?" I managed. As far as I knew, it was the first time they'd seen each other.
"Nothing really. Just–nothing." He paused. "We worked it out."
I twisted the tote in my hand, wondering what that meant. "Did you fight?"
"Don't worry about it, okay?"
"Fine," I replied. I pushed a hiss of air through my teeth. "Let me know when we can reschedule. I need to go anyway."
"I'm sorry, Allie."
"It's okay. I'll talk to you later."
He ended the call and I tried to push past my disappointment. We had tried to find time together and failed. I leaned my head back and banged it on the brick a couple of times, gritting my teeth at the dull thud. There were more important things to deal with now. Untwisting the tote, I opened the door to the observation unit and plastered a smile on my face.
More important things.
* * *
CELIA, THE YOUNG nurse at the station, waved at me when I came out of the elevator on the third floor.
"How are you today?" she asked.
"I'm good - tired though." I pushed the phone call and my cancelled plans from my head one last time and forced a smile over my face.
"Well, he's having a good day today. A friend from the nursing facility came by and played checkers with him this morning. She said he was talking more than he has in weeks."
A wave of relief washed over me. I could have hugged her. My grandfather had been eerily quiet during his hospital stay; it had been like pulling teeth to get answers to the simplest questions. I didn't bother hiding that relief as I excused myself and went to his room.
Another first: he was sitting in a recliner, fully dressed. Getting him out of bed each day was an ordeal and the nurses hadn't tried to get him to change into normal clothes since his first day back. Each day, when they finally got him out of bed, he had simply exchanged his pajamas for a fresh pair. He repeated this before going to bed each night; I had been doing more laundry than ever before.
"Hello, Papa," I whispered as I leaned down and kissed his cheek.
"Hello," he replied, grabbing my wrist. "Which one are you?" There was no anger or meanness in his voice and his eyes were bright.
"It's Allie. I brought you a few surprises today."
"What did you bring me?" He reached for the bag I set on his bed and a little smile played across his lips. Like a curious child, he rifled through it. I knew when he'd found the best surprise of all.
"Cherries!"
"They're the last of the season; I picked them up down at Wilbur's."
"These are my favorite," he said, as he picked a few from the bag. He looked at me for a long moment, cupping them gently in his hand. "Is it ok–?"
"Of course, enjoy," I said as I took the tote from him. "I brought a book to read too, if you'd like."
He nodded and began rocking the chair as he ate the cherries. He put the pits into a tissue from his pocket and talked to himself between bites. I watched him for a moment before I turned my attention to the tote bag. I set aside the bag of cherries, open so that he could take more, before I took the rest of the objects out of the bag, laying them out on the tray table: a fresh tube of toothpaste, two prescription refills to drop off with his nurse, and the book, a hardcover about a young boy and his dog. I also had a deck of cards (though he couldn't remember how to play anything, he liked to shuffle them) and a small notebook. He stopped rocking and surveyed the items.
