With that, she left the office and drove to her apartment, the daze clearing enough for her to safely get there. Once inside, she stood at the door and looked around her apartment, thinking that her life consisted of only all she could see, the furniture, the small kitchen table, the stereo set and the television set. Her diploma was properly displayed above the kitchen table, a testament to four years of hard work, which now seemed worthless. Her life now revolved around a man in the hospital, struggling between life and death, and holding control over her life's happiness. It had happened so fast, she had not realized what she had gotten herself into. As the realization slowly emerged from the depths of sorrow, she slowly sank to her knees and asked for help from above, from the very Lord she had forgotten over the years, yet the very One who could assist her.
The phone rang. She looked at it, afraid to answer it, afraid of what it may hold. She let it ring until it stopped. A couple of minutes later, the phone rang again. With the timidness of a mouse approaching the mousetrap cheese, she slowly picked up the receiver, put it to her ear and said, “Hello?”
“Natalie, are you alright?” said her mother on the other end. “Yes,” said Natalie, “just thinking of things going on.”
“I have made flight arrangements. The earliest I could get there is about noon tomorrow. Is that good for you?”
“Yes, Mom, I appreciate it and will pick you up at the airport and we'll go right to the hospital to see how things are going. I really thank you, Mom. You are always there for me and I want you to know that I appreciate it. You're the best mom ever and look forward to seeing you tomorrow.
“Don't worry, dear, we will get through this together and things will be ok. Get some sleep, if possible. I'll call from the airport when we get ready to leave and give you the approximate time of arrival. We'll work on this together. Love you, dear.”
“Love you too, Mom. Till tomorrow morning.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The night was not good for the mind. It rushed here and there, drifted into areas previously unknown, screamed past the realities of the day, and settled nowhere, hanging somewhere among the points of reality, the thoughts of the future, and the current situation. It was not a good night, but somehow Natalie got through it by getting up an hour before her usual time, drinking lots of coffee, watching the news and pondering on the various paths this day will take. As the time slipped by, she cleaned up, got dressed, and went to her car to pick up her mother.
Her Mom was there, on the sidewalk in front of the terminal, waving her arms to make sure her daughter saw her. Natalie smiled, her first in a while, and welcomed her Mom with open arms, a quiet kiss on the check and a subtle “thank you” in the ear. Her Mom pushed her back a little, looked her right in her eyes and said, “No thanks needed, that is what we women are made to do. So let's go to the hospital and see what has to be done.”
Idle chatter about neighborhood friends filled the next ten minutes as they drove to the hospital. They parked the car and walked into the hospital lobby and straight to the welcome desk.
“Can you tell me on what floor the ICU is located. We have somebody there and want to visit them.”
“Well, I can tell you that normally visitors are not permitted in the ICU rooms and usually have to wait outside to speak to a nurse or doctor. Only family are permitted inside the actual rooms. Are you part of the family?”
With a minimum of hesitation, Natalie's mother said, “This is his fiancé and she would like to see him. Isn’t that right, dear?”
“Yes, please, I would like to see him,” she responded, with a look and sound of despair.
The volunteer looked up at Natalie and with a sigh of resignation said “it is on the second floor, take a left out of the elevator. You'll have to check in at the nurse's desk and ask to see him. Good luck and God bless.”
The elevator ride was smooth and short, they turned left, walked through a couple of arches and down some halls until the nurse's station loomed in front of them. Natalie walked up to the working nurse and asked what room Mr. Williams was in. The nurse, totally engaged in her work answered without looking up. “At the end of the hall on the left. There are others seated there also waiting for the doctor to return.”
“Thank you” Natalie said, grabbed her mother's arm and started to walk down the hall to the end waiting area. Natalie looked to the end of the hall and saw Margaret and another woman who she suspected was Ron's wife. They were both seated quietly and looked very somber. As they approached, Margaret raised her head and stood up to great Natalie.
“I had to come, Margaret, and find out his status. I could not just wait to hear,” she continued. “Oh, this is my mother,” she said. “She came to help me get through this situation, hope you don't mind?”
“Not at all,” said Margaret, “the more help the better. Hello, how do you do?”
“I am fine, thank you,” replied Natalie's mom. “Hope you don't mind that I came. Natalie asked me to come and provide morale support for her. She has never been in a situation like this before and could use the help.”
“Hi” said the other woman, “I'm Ron's wife. Thank you for coming. Natalie, we have never met but I thank you for calling me when you did. We got here just after the ambulance and were able to spend a couple of minutes with him as the nurses got him settled. Than we had to leave as the doctors began their examination. I appreciate your call.”
“You're welcome,” replied Natalie as she and her mother took a seat and waited for the medical report on Ron's condition.
The silence was deafening as the few minutes waiting seemed like hours until the door to Ron's room opened and the doctor walked out. He looked as the four women waiting for him stood up, anxious to hear some good words.
“Mrs. Williams?” he asked, not knowing who was who.
“I'm Mrs. Williams,” she said quickly, moving to shake the doctor's hand. “How is he?”
“Your husband has had a strong heart attack, the cause of which is still unknown. It could be some kind of medical condition or could have been caused by some outside forces like pressure at work, social conditions, home conditions, or a combination of things that his heart was unable to take and took this action to tell him, enough is enough. We don't know until we do more tests to see if there are any medical conditions that could have caused this. While we gather the information, we have sedated him, which will probably keep him unresponsive to anything you say to him. We also have hooked him up to a respirator to ensure his breathing. We have already done some tests and are awaiting the results and will be doing some more this afternoon. I will be in contact with you later this afternoon with whatever new information I have.”
“As for the moment, you can go visit him for a couple of minutes, but as I said, don't expect a response. I would go about your business as best you can and rest assured he is in very good hands. And please contact me should you have any questions before the report,” he said, handing them a card with his name and number on it. He turned and walked away before any of the women could respond.
“Thank you.” said Ron's wife. “Margaret, would you please come in with me. I could use your arm to hold onto.”
“Absolutely,” said Margaret as she helped open the door to Ron's room.
Natalie and her mom sat back down on their chairs and tried to process what the doctor had said. They were trying to read between the lines, to understand not only what was said, but was not said. It was not an easy task. There was no mention of Ron's actual condition. Was he critical, or stable, was he going to be all right, was his thought process going to be affected, his speech, his physical movement? None of that was addressed. Perhaps the answers were not known and won't be known until the test results are studied. But knowing that did not allay the fears that accompany situations of this type. Fear would always raise its ugly head when the unknown held sway. And this was one of those instances.
Ron's door opened and the two women slowly stepped out. Marga
ret was holding the other woman's shoulders, steadying her as she stumbled to her seat, weeping silently, the tissue wiping the tears away from her eyes.
“Margaret,” said Ron's wife, “please take me home. I need some time for this, but have some tea with me when we get there before leaving. I need someone to talk to and the kids won't understand.”
“Of course,” said Margaret. “But wait here, I'm going to get a wheelchair for you. I'm sure they won't mind considering the circumstances.” She stood up and went to the nurse's station, returning in a couple of minutes with a wheelchair. As she helped Lannis to the wheelchair, she said to Natalie she would let her know if and when she heard anything. Natalie nodded and watched them go down the hall.
When they turned the corner and were out of sight Natalie stood up and started to walk toward Ron's door. She looked back as her mother followed behind, struggling a little bit with a sore knee. They slowly and quietly opened the door, peered around from the outside, than slowly walked in.
There, straight ahead, was Ron lying in bed. His eyes were closed, a sheet and blanked tucked under his chin, his arms under the covers except the one punctured by the IV. A stand behind the bed held the bag of medicine meandering its way through the plastic tube into the arm, medicine apparently to keep him sedated.
A respirator stood on its metal stand, another plastic tube attached to it, the other end disappearing into Ron's nose and down to his lungs. A pressure gauge on the respirator displayed how much oxygen was being fed into the lungs, indicting how much he was breathing on his own and how much the respirator was acting as his lungs. The gauge needle was in the yellow area meaning both the lungs and the machine were sharing the duties. This was not ideal, but better than the red area which would mean he was not breathing at all and the machine was keeping him alive. That would be bad.
Natalie moved to the side of the bed and touched his uncovered hand. There was no response, but the hand was warm, which was a good sign. She stroked it a little and talked to him slowly and softly, telling him she was there should he awake and remember. Even if he did not remember, it did her good knowing she talked to him for a while.
Natalie's mom moved closer to the end of the bed and stared intently at Ron's face. Memories of long ago and faraway places raced through her mind and she gasped with the realization.
“Natalie, let's go now. That's enough for one time. We will come back tomorrow and perhaps things will be better.”
Natalie nodded her consent, kissed Ron's hand, and quietly left the room with her mother. They drove back to her place in silence and quickly opened a bottle of wine. It was gone in a flash, and thank goodness, another one appeared. Sleep was a welcome respite.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The attacking rays of the rising orb flung themselves against the shuttered drapes, sneaking around, through, and under them reaching the closed eyelids till finally there was no more resistance. Ingrid opened her eyes and looked around. The splattered light filled the bedroom like a van Gogh painting, keeping her eyes moving from wall to wall, or in this case, print to print.
Her night had been restless once the effects of the wine had worn off. She thought about her daughter and the man in the hospital, a man she had not seen in decades thinking he was dead, a man who had taught her to live, and to love. But her thoughts were not kind. The one word which kept popping up was “violate”. He had violated Natalie, whether it was consensual or not, whether it was knowingly or not, and whether it was intentional or not. And equally important as the physical violation was the taking away the thrill of the first love and the dreams of what the future would hold. This would all be gone once their relationship was revealed in whatever way. What could she do to prevent the hurt that would come to Natalie? How should she tell the truth without destroying the young spirit which defined Natalie? What should she do had been the subject of all her nightly ponderings. And among those thoughts, the remembrance of her first love had clawed its way up the ladder of human emotions. And a knowing smile graced her lips as the sparkle returned to her eyes.
The answer had been slow in arriving. It had survived the countless questions that it raised. It would free Natalie from the curse of the past and open the door to the future. Yes, there would initially be pain and sorrow, but that would wane over time. She had decided on the answer, an answer that would unlock the dreams of the future for Natalie.
“Good morning,” she said, walking into the kitchen.
“Hi Mom, just making some coffee and scrambled eggs. Want some?”
“Just coffee, black please,” she answered. “What time do you want to go to the hospital?”
Natalie said “around noon should be a good time. Should be a little quiet by then and perhaps some test results will be available.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ingrid responded sitting down at the kitchen table. Natalie joined her and they chatted for the next couple of hours till it was time to get ready and go to the hospital.
“Mom,” Natalie asked again for the umpteenth time. “Why did you not ever marry after you left Germany and moved to Chicago with Grandpa?
Ingrid had answered this questions several times over the years. She had managed to brush aside the question when Natalie was a young girl by saying that the knight on his white horse had not yet arrived. Several times when she was being picked up for a date, Natalie would look outside and ask the man where his white horse was. Ingrid had laughed to herself and thought, “Not yet,” shrugging her shoulders to Natalie as if to say “I don't know”.
As the years had passed, the question arose less frequently as though Natalie had given up on looking for the white horse and resigned herself to the family of three, her, her mother, and her grandpa. Not a bad arrangement, but something was missing.
The traffic was light on the way to the hospital and arriving there they were able to find a parking space pretty close to the entrance. Entering the lobby, they nodded to the volunteer at the welcome desk and continued walking to the elevators. At the second floor, they exited, turned left and again walked the halls till they got to the small waiting area by Ron's room. His door was shut, but they could hear some movement inside. They decided to wait till whoever was inside was done with what they were doing and came out. Perhaps they could get an update at that time.
A nurse came out of the room and they asked her if there was any information she could share. She said” he is resting well. His breathing is a little labored so we are watching that. As for test results, you'll have to wait till the doctor visits again after he finishes his initial rounds.” Looking at her watch, she continued. “About half an hour.”
“Can we see him?” Natalie asked. “Yes,” said the nurse, “but please be quiet.”
As the nurse turned and walked back to her station, Natalie and her mom entered Ron's room. It was pretty much the same as the day before. The IV was still in place and almost full, revealing it had just been hung. The respirator was still hooked up although the gauge was much more into the yellow, verifying the breathing issue the nurse had explained. The heart monitor was still hooked up. A clean blanket had been placed on the bed and tucked in at the bottom allowing for easy movement of the arms if there was a need. All in all, the scene pretty much mirrored yesterday's. After a while, they went back to their seats in the hallway to wait for the doctor.
A couple of minutes went by and Natalie said she had to use the restroom and would be back shortly. Watching her leave, Ingrid hesitated for a moment than quietly walked to Ron's door, opened it, and entered. She had thought this idea through and through but now when it was time to execute it, she hesitated. But her conviction soon won out.
She moved to the respirator and flipped the off button. The humming sound of the machine abruptly stopped and there was a slight jerk of Ron's body as the artificial oxygen ceased to flow. The heart monitor began acting inconsistently showing the heart was reacting to the lack of oxygen. Ron's lungs tried gasping for air, but they were too w
eak to inhale enough to sustain the body. In two minutes, the heart monitor flat-lined and Ingrid could hear the alert sound coming from the nurse's station.
Bending over Ron's head, she whispered in his ear “I love you, still.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out an old picture and held it tightly while reaching into the other pocket and retrieving a small derringer pistol which she always carried for self defense. “I'll be right there with you, Ron. Wait for me.”
With that, she put the pistol to her temple and pulled the trigger.
Nurses scrambled from their stations when they heard the alarm from the heart monitor, hesitating only momentarily upon hearing the sound of the pistol. Racing to Ron's room, they opened the door and found the tragedy inside. One nurse ran to Ron's side to check on him, but stood back and shook her head in response to the question. Two other nurses moved to Ingrid but in seeing the wound, realized there was nothing they could do.
Natalie burst into the room brushing aside the nurses. She quickly checked Ron and realized he was gone. Seeing her mother on the floor, she rapidly moved to her. Natalie saw the little pistol on the floor and the blood flowing from the head. There was no denying the intended result of the gunshot.
Natalie glanced at the other hand. It held a picture of a young man and woman standing underneath a sign that read “Bad Durkheim Weinfest”. The man in the picture was dressed in an old Army uniform, the woman clothed in a traditional German dress. She turned the picture over and read
Ron and Ingrid
1949
Natalie fell to her knees and wept uncontrollably, as did the tiny heart in her womb.
Epilogue
She buried them there, side by side
As they should have able to live their lives
But the world events just wouldn't let them do it
The German Triangle Page 15