Second Chances

by P. D. Cacek

  “You don’t have to worry, Mr. Pathway, the damage was too severe.”

  Jess closed his eyes and wept in relief.

  “I’ll leave you alone with her.”

  “Thank you. Could you…. Her sister’s in the lobby. And I….”

  “I’ll sit with her,” the doctor said, walking to the door. “One body, one soul.”

  “One body, one soul. Thank you.”

  Jess waited until he heard the door close before opening his eyes. When he did all he saw was a shape beneath a pure white sheet. It could have been anyone under there and that made it easier to do what had to be done.

  The doctor had said there’d been too much damage, and maybe there was, but he couldn’t take the chance, not after their last conversation.

  As Jess walked back to the gurney, he reached into his coat pocket and took out the syringe. It was lucky he always carried extras in the car. He left the sheet in place as he turned the head to one side, only pulling it back enough to expose her still perfect, undamaged ear.

  “I’m so sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that and I didn’t mean it. I love you, sweetheart.”

  Jess inserted the needle and slowly injected the bleach into his daughter’s brain.

  “The one who dwelled within this body is gone and has taken with her a soul that was hers and hers alone. We who are left behind ask that her soul be kept only unto this body and not return. As it was and always shall be, one body, one soul for now and all eternity. One body.” Taking a deep breath, he withdrew the needle and covered her. “One soul. Now and forever. Amen.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  June 23

  Haverford, Pennsylvania / 4:32 a.m.

  “Where’s my dad?” Her voice sounded so low and grumbly she could barely recognize it.

  The face looking down at her was young and male, just Abbie’s type.

  “I don’t know, but we can find out. Hi, I’m Dr. Leader and I’ll be your anesthesiologist.”

  The anesthesiologist reached over and touched the tube that was still sticking out of Jessie’s throat. They’d capped the end so she could talk – and breathe normally through her nose, thank God – but decided to leave it in. Just in case. It still turned Jessie’s stomach whenever she accidentally brushed against it.

  “They’ll be taking you down to surgery in a few minutes to remove your trach tube, so the next time you see me will be in the OR.”

  Jessie nodded as carefully as she could and tried to sit up.

  “Hey, whoa, pardner, you’ve already been prepped, so don’t be pulling out your IVs, okay? Besides, you have nothing to worry about, it’s a very minor procedure and I’ll be right there monitoring every breath you take and making sure you have a pleasant sleep. Unless you’d like to stay awake and watch.”

  Jessie shook her head. “Sleep.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. Okay. Remember the next time you see me I’ll be in a mask. A little nervous?”

  Jessie nodded again.

  “Well, you’re allowed to be, but only a little. Now, I’m just going to give you a little something to take the edge off. Ready?”

  Jessie felt something warm race up her arm and the world got fuzzy and comfortable.

  * * *

  4:43 a.m.

  “Hey there.”

  Jessie pried her eyelids apart.

  “See…I told you I’d be the one in the mask. Didn’t I tell you that would take the edge off? And if you thought that was good, you’ll love this.” Jessie felt a slight tug on the inside of her left elbow, “Now, count backward for me from one hundred.”

  “100…99…98…9—”

  * * *

  5:32 a.m.

  “And…you’re back. Can you open your eyes?”

  Jessie was getting really sick of people asking her that.

  She opened her eyes. The face looking down at her now was female and not so young, but nice. She was wearing a green scrub cap.

  “How do you feel? It’s okay, try and say something.”

  Jessie swallowed. “Hurts.”

  “Good! I mean, it’s not good that it hurts, but just trust me, it’s all good. Okay, you can go back to sleep now.”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  6:04 a.m.

  “Jessica. Jessica, can you open your eyes for me, please?”

  Jessie groaned and gave them one eye, but it seemed enough.

  “Sleepy.”

  “I’m sure you are, but I need to know how you feel. Remember what I told you about the numbers?”

  Jessie frowned. Numbers?

  “Okay, I guess you were still a little out of it. Pain scale, one for no pain, ten for a lot. Are you in any pain and if so how bad is it?”

  Jessie held up three fingers.

  “Good. Now, do you think you could swallow for me?”

  Jessie swallowed and flashed all five fingers three times.

  The nurse laughed. “Well, your reflexes are good. You’ll still be a little raw for the next few days, but once the incision heals you won’t even notice the scar and….”

  * * *

  6:14 a.m.

  “Hi. How’re you feeling?”

  It was a completely different face: male, about her dad’s age, with a beard.

  Jessie blinked awake and held up two fingers.

  “Great. Okay. Go back to sleep.”

  Jessie closed her eyes.

  * * *

  6:26 a.m.

  Jessie opened her eyes and jumped. The new nurse had ash-blond hair and hazel eyes and looked like Carly. And for a moment Jessie’s heart skipped a beat until she remembered that Carly was dead and her body stolen because Jessie had kissed her instead of calling her dad.

  She should have called him, but he should have killed it.

  It wasn’t as if it was a real person.

  Jessie tried to sit up and felt something tighten around her arms.

  “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? It’s okay, calm down. You’re fine, just try to relax. Sometimes patients have a reaction to the anesthetic. It gives them nightmares.”

  Jessie blinked. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was her fault, all her fault.

  And she couldn’t even manage to kill herself.

  “Where’s my dad?”

  The nurse shook her head. “I don’t know, but how do you feel?”

  Jessie lifted two fingers then touched them to her throat. All she could feel was a thick bandage.

  “All gone and in a few months you won’t even notice the scar. Do you think you feel up for a visitor?”

  A little of the fear she’d felt earlier came back. “My dad?”

  “No. It’s a very nice lady who works with some of our special patients. She’s not here but she will be soon and she’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

  Jessie shrugged and the nurse smiled.

  “You’ll like her and she’ll help you figure things out about…you know.”

  Jessie nodded. Oh, she knew all right…she knew that the very nice lady who worked with the ‘special patients’ had to be a shrink who wanted to talk about why Jessie’d tried to kill herself. Maybe her father wasn’t there because he was busy signing papers to have her committed to a loony bin. Jessie tried to swallow.

  “Can I have some water?”

  “Might be a little too soon. Anesthetic can also give you the tummy wobbles. I can get you some ice chips or would you rather have a Popsicle?”

  “Popsicle.”

  “Kid after my own heart. Any preference on flavor?”

  “Cherry.”

  “Okay.” The nurse walked to the end of the bed and stopped. “Is it okay if the lady talks to you?”

  Jessie nodded.

  “Great. Okay, hang o
n and I’ll be right back with your cherry Popsicle.”

  The nurse left through a curtain that fluttered open just enough for Jessie to see her reflection in the room’s sliding glass door.

  She screamed, inside and out.

  ABBIE!

  * * *

  Arvada, Colorado / 4:26 a.m.

  JESSIE!

  The scream followed Jess into consciousness and for a moment all he could do was sit up and try to remind himself it was only a nightmare and that he was awake – sitting bolt upright on the couch, disoriented, heart pounding and staring bug-eyed into the semidarkness, but awake.

  Jess took a deep breath.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, or even remember falling asleep; all he remembered was helping Abigail to bed and then standing in the hall and not being able to move until her sobs ended and she fell asleep. He would have stayed like that all night, guarding her, his only child now, if there hadn’t been so much to do, so he went downstairs and started making phone calls.

  Not to his parents or his wife’s; he’d tell them in person later that morning, but he’d left messages for the church secretary and at the funeral home that had handled his wife’s service, and told those friends he thought needed to know.

  But not the Wingates.

  Jessica was dead because of them.

  Jess rubbed his eyes as the room brightened and glanced down at the small flashing light on his cell phone. Someone had returned his call. Was that what he thought he heard? The phone’s ring getting scrambled in his head to sound like a—

  “Jessie!”

  It wasn’t a nightmare, it was Abigail.

  Jess barked his shin against the side of the coffee table as he ran from the living room and took the stairs two at a time, not feeling the pain until he was standing in the doorway of his daughters’ room.

  His daughter’s room.

  Abigail was standing next to her bed, hair disheveled, wild-eyed, reaching for him. Jessica’s bed was empty.

  “Dad! Dad, it’s Jessie!”

  Jess’s leg throbbed and almost buckled under him when his daughter ran to him, sobbing against his chest.

  “It’s Jessie.”

  Jess pulled her closer, stroked her hair. “I know, baby, I know.”

  “I heard her. She’s screaming, Dad.”

  God, help us. “She’s not in pain anymore, baby, Jessica’s dead.”

  She looked up at him. “No, she’s not. I can still hear her screaming. Jessie’s not dead, she’s alive!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Haverford, Pennsylvania / 8:35 a.m.

  Millie said a small prayer and smoothed down the front of her blouse before opening the door. It was only three flights, hardly enough to put a hitch in her breathing, let alone mess her up any, but she’d seen the looks folks gave her every time she walked out of a stairwell, be it one flight or ten, instead of taking the elevator. The new time might be filled with marvels she’d never have imagined in the before time, but stepping inside a metal box that carried folks up and down like a monkey on a stick just to save a little shoe leather seemed like pure foolishness.

  Of course, she might have thought different if she’d taken to the gaudy, narrow, pinch-toed shoes modern fashion claimed every woman couldn’t live without. One flight of stairs in shoes like that and her feet would have been as bloody as if she’d walked across a field of cotton barefoot.

  Millie was perfectly happy with her comfortable lace-up shoes, thank you very much. They might not be as pretty as some, but their style was familiar and the leather so soft it made her feel like she was walking on clouds.

  The metal door closed behind Millie with a thud that was just loud enough to catch the attention of the nurse sitting at the desk.

  “Ms. B.!”

  “Hey, Mrs. Huff.”

  Visiting hours wouldn’t start for another half hour or so but visiting hours and time on a clock didn’t mean a hill of beans. Whenever they needed her Millie came a’calling. It’d taken two years of hard work and a whole lot of getting her head to rethink everything she’d thought of as gospel in the old times, but all the troubles and tribulations had been worth it the first time she helped a Newcomer step out of the old time and into the new. Getting certified as a Transitional Therapy Counselor had been the second most proud moment of her life right after becoming a teacher in the before time.

  The first time was a little boy, drowned when he got swept into a storm drain, and a soldier who died in a field called Flanders screaming for his mama. That had been so hard Millie’d almost turned around and ran from the room, but she didn’t.

  The little boy’s family had been more than willing to take in the young soldier. They still sent Millie emails about how well he was doing, with attached pictures. He was growing up to be a fine young man, they said, but he still had nightmares sometimes.

  But they all did, all the Newcomers, Millie included. Sometimes the before times just wouldn’t stay where it belonged.

  The morning nurse, Mrs. Huff, closed the book she was reading and gave her a sad look. Millie could understand that. One of her own greatest joys was to crawl beneath the sheets at night or find a nice quiet spot during the day and lose herself in a good story. It always made her a little sad when she had to stop.

  “Oh, Ms. B., when are you going to get a cell phone?”

  Millie shrugged and shook her head. It wasn’t a new query, seemed like everybody asked her the same thing, and she could have told them the truth, which was never, but a shrug and head shake seemed to work just as good. Truth was that while she’d gotten real good at things like television and computers and driving automobiles – and she loved driving almost as much as reading – and even though the wonder of talking to folks miles and miles away would probably never get old, Millie liked having time to herself when no one could get hold of her. She’d come from a before time that hadn’t allowed her any privacy and she wasn’t about to give up an ounce of it now.

  “It would make things easier,” the nurse said, “especially for you. I called the school to tell them we had to reschedule your appointment.”

  Millie felt the cool hospital air settle down over her shoulders. “Did something happen to the Newcomer? Did something happen during the operation?”

  It would have also made things easier on her if the hospital could do more than just get the Newcomer’s name, but protocol only required them to notify every Transition Counselor within a twenty-mile radius after a confirmed arrival and provide copies of whatever medical records they had on the donor body. Since Millie had worked with the hospital before, they always called her directly.

  “No,” the nurse said, “the decannulation was picture-perfect and there’s no sign of post-op infection….”

  Millie took a deep breath. “But?”

  “The Traveler….”

  Millie and the others preferred the name Newcomer, and she’d mentioned that to nearly every medical man and woman she met, but they never seemed to remember, just like they never seemed to remember to use the Newcomer’s name. Maybe that was because a name made them too real.

  It was a hard thing for some people to learn, almost as hard as learning to use a computer, but if she could do it, dammit, so could they.

  “Jessica, right?”

  The nurse caught on and nodded. “Jessica accidentally saw a reflection and became agitated to the point that one of the sutures ripped out. The Trave— We had to sedate Jessica and I’m afraid…she’s still asleep. Did anyone tell you anything about…her?”

  There was something in the way the nurse paused that tickled the hairs at the back of Millie’s neck.

  All they’d told her was the name and the time of awakening, and Millie preferred it that way. She’d learn more about the donor if she needed to, but for right now her main concern was for the
Newcomer.

  Reaching into the large toting sack that never left her side, Millie took out the notebook she’d used for scribbling notes.

  “Only that her name is Jessica Faith Pathway…isn’t that just lovely?…and she seems young and responded well to verbal commands. Her vision and hearing tested at one hundred per cent, but she was having some trouble speaking because of a problem with the donor?”

  The nurse nodded. “There was an injury to the neck.”

  Millie took a pen from the cup on the desk and wrote that down. “Was that the cause of death?”

  “It helped.”

  “Poor thing. We couldn’t find a death record for Miss Jessica Faith Pathway in any of the CTPS database records, but we’ll keep looking. Did she give you any idea of when she passed?”

  “No, and we’re not supposed to ask,” the nurse said. “That’s your job.”

  “That it is,” Millie said and took a pen from the holder on the desk and held the tip above the page. “So when do you think I can come back?”

  The nurse glanced at the notebook. “And they didn’t say anything about the donor?”

  “No. What aren’t you telling me, Mrs. Huff?”

  The nurse looked up and sighed. “How much time do you have, Ms. B.?”

  “As much as the good Lord’ll give me.”

  “Well, I don’t want your trip to be a total waste and this way you won’t be surprised when Jessica wakes up and you come back.” Pushing back from the desk, the nurse stood up and pulled a medical chart from the holder. “The donor’s file. You need to read it. I think Conference Room A is empty.”

  Millie closed her notebook and slipped it back into her tote before taking the chart. It was thicker than most and heavier, even with the nurse still hanging on to it. Millie cocked her head to one side.

  “Look at the name, Ms. B.,” the nurse said, and let go.

  Millie opened the chart cover and only needed to read the patient’s name. She closed it, cradled the chart against her chest and nodded.

  “Now there’s a fly, isn’t it?”

  “Has this…ever happened before?”

  “Stands to reason it must have.” Somewhere. Keeping a tight grip on the file, Millie put the pen back into its holder and backed away from the desk. “Thank you, Mrs. Huff. Conference Room A, you said.”