The Time Between

by Karen White

  “I always do,” I said, repeating the same thing I told Finn every time he watched me drive away with his little girl.

  I waited until Gigi had buckled her seat belt before putting the car in drive and heading down Queen Street. It was nearly five o’clock, so the cruise-ship passengers had mostly disappeared from the streets and sidewalks back into their mother ships—what Rich Kobylt at the office called the massive cruise liners—so now it was mostly rush-hour traffic as I headed out of the downtown area. Traffic seemed heavier than usual owing to the steady drizzle that burst into a heavy downpour at regular intervals.

  Gigi started chattering as soon as we reached the first stop sign. “I got a birthday invitation from my best friend, Teensy Olsen. People always get our names confused because she’s really tall, but they call her Teensy anyway probably because she was tiny when she was a baby, but aren’t all babies? Anyway, Teensy’s been my best friend since kindergarten, although there was that time in second grade when she didn’t invite me to her ice-skating party. . . .”

  I nodded and interjected syllables here and there, trying to concentrate on seeing the road with my wipers at full throttle. The driver behind me honked—obviously a Charleston transplant—because it took too long for me to turn right on Broad Street as I waited for an opening.

  “. . . I just have no idea what to wear to a boy-girl party since I go to an all-girls school so I don’t get to hang out with boys too much unless you count my daddy since he’s a boy but not really. . . .”

  I took the right and headed down Broad toward Lockwood and Highway 17, the rain so heavy now that I could barely see in front of the car. The obnoxious person behind me swerved around to cut in front and I saw the Fulton County, Georgia, license plate. Atlanta. “Figures,” I said under my breath as he sped away.

  “. . . I’d wear jeans but I don’t have a pair since my mommy doesn’t think they send the right message and I’m kind of okay with that because I have never seen a pair of pink jeans and I wouldn’t want a pair unless they could be pink . . .”

  The light on Lockwood turned yellow and I slowed to a stop while the three people in front of me sped through it. The younger me would have joined them, but then again the younger me wouldn’t have been driving a Volvo or have Gigi Beaufain in the backseat.

  “. . . and since you’re so good at picking out birthday presents, I was really hoping you could go with Mommy and me to get one for Teensy because Mommy always gets the kind of present she would have liked as a little girl instead of what my friends would like and I don’t want to hurt her feelings so maybe if you and I both said we didn’t like something . . .”

  The light for my lane turned green and I slowly depressed the accelerator, not always trusting myself with the V8 engine and erring on the side of caution. The sound of a car horn being held longer than necessary carried through the noise of my wipers, and I wondered absently if the obnoxious driver from Atlanta had somehow managed to circle around to antagonize me again.

  Gigi asked me something and I turned my head slightly to ask her to repeat the question. The earth seemed to pause in its rotation, the rain frozen in midair, as I spotted the dark blue sedan, its headlights on, barreling toward us. A graduation hat tassel swayed from the rearview mirror, twisting, twisting. Gigi’s scream mixed with that of screeching tires and shattered glass and the sickening crunch of metal against metal. I jerked to the side, my arms reaching toward her, her mother’s voice coming from inside my head—Please be extra careful with her. Something hit me in the head, the pain so sudden that I was aware of it only as an afterthought, and then I was no longer aware of anything at all.

  I was up in a tree and I looked across the road to see Eve, but it wasn’t Eve at all. It was my father, wearing his overalls and hat and beard, just as I remembered. He was far away, but I could see his eyes, and they were disappointed eyes. He didn’t open his mouth, but I heard the words he was saying to me, except they were Helena’s words. And so you honor him by dismissing the music he taught you?

  I tried to speak, to tell him that he was wrong, but no words came out. I looked down, expecting to see Eve but instead seeing only the rain-soaked asphalt of Lockwood Boulevard, the blue and red reflections of the emergency vehicles’ lights shimmering on the ground.

  I was not in a tree at all, but hovering over my corner of the world. I’ve been here before. The words threaded through me like sunlight through fog, illuminating and warming.

  A fireman pried the rear door off the Volvo and carefully leaned inside, and I was behind him, a passive bystander once again. Blood stained Gigi’s white-blond hair, her pink shirt and shorts, ran down her legs and into her pink sandals. Rain poured down on her, diluting red blood to pink.

  But she had cancer, I said, my words falling unheard with the rain, as if having survived one tragedy should make her immune to another. It was worth it. The words were in my head as I looked down to see a night-blooming cereus sprouting from the asphalt, its edges already starting to wilt. I stared at it, wanting to let it know that there were other flowers to put in my garden.

  And then I was staring at my own body, laid on a gurney, a long gash on my forehead oozing blood as one of the paramedics pressed on my chest and forced air into my lungs. I turned away, and I was now on a dock that stretched far out into the ocean. And at the very end, my father stood, waiting for me. I knew it was him; I knew from the shape of his shoulders and the beard that would tickle my cheek when he kissed me.

  I began to run toward him, but it was a dream-run, where the harder you tried to move your legs, the slower they became. When I looked again at the end of the dock, my father was walking away. Somebody else was there, somebody taller and younger, but I couldn’t see his face.

  All shut-eye ain’t sleep; all good-bye ain’t gone.

  I turned abruptly at the woman’s voice in my ear, expecting to see the old Gullah woman. Instead I saw Bernadett and Magda leaning over Gigi like guardian angels as her gurney was rolled into the ambulance.

  You ready?

  The Gullah woman held out a secret keeper toward me, the lid sealing the top. I didn’t recognize the pattern, an irregular zigzag of loops and lines that reversed on themselves and then simply stopped, the pattern unfinished. A vessel that could pour out or keep in. I looked in her wide eyes and knew she was handing me my life, the lid hiding what was to come.

  What if it hurts? My head shouted the words.

  What if it don’t? She smiled, her teeth shining light into the darkness.

  I reached for the basket and I was floating toward my body, where the paramedic was leaning back on his heels and shaking his head.

  I opened my mouth and sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cool, wet rain on my skin, hearing the startled shout from the paramedic. The pain came next, but I welcomed it as a reminder that I could still feel.

  When I awoke, my head throbbed and a thick bandage covered most of my forehead. I was disoriented at first, wondering where I was and why Glen was sitting in a chair by my bed. And then I remembered.

  I struggled to sit up, but Glen gently held me down. “It’s okay, Eleanor. You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Where’s Gigi?”

  “At Children’s Hospital.”

  “And Finn?”

  “He’s with her.” He paused. “She’s hurt pretty bad.”

  He didn’t look away, but I knew he was holding something back.

  “What aren’t you telling me? Please, Glen. What aren’t you telling me?” My head throbbed, but the feeling of panic over Gigi overpowered the pain.

  “You need to keep calm. . . .”

  “I need to know about Gigi. And if you won’t tell me, I will yank these tubes out of me and go find out myself.”

  A shadow of a smile crossed his face before he turned serious again. “She’s had severe head trauma. There’s swelling
on the brain.” He swallowed. “They’ve put her in a medically induced coma to see if they can get the swelling down.”

  The white fluorescent light above me seemed to intensify, increasing the pain in my head, pressing on my heart, and I had the image of Gigi looking at the night-blooming cereus and saying it was worth it. I struggled to sit up again. “Oh, God. No. No. I was driving, Glen. I was driving and we got hit. . . .”

  He put a hand on my arm and made me lie down again. “I know, Eleanor. We all know. It wasn’t your fault. Some idiot ran the red light and couldn’t stop because of the rain. Finn told me to make sure you knew that. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. And she’s hanging in there—no change, which means she’s not improving yet, but she’s also not getting any worse. Finn said he’d keep us posted so you won’t worry.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Almost a whole day. It’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon. They gave you some painkillers that made you sleep. You need to rest.”

  I shook my head, feeling as if my brain was sloshing from side to side. “I’ve got to see her.” I struggled to sit up again, but Glen held me back.

  “You can’t do anything for her right now. But you can take care of yourself so you can be strong for her. And for Finn.” He’d said Finn’s name with a forced reluctance, as if from an old habit instead of any real resentment.

  I closed my eyes briefly. “How soon can I get out of here?”

  “Probably tomorrow. All your vitals are fine and you don’t have any broken bones. Just a nasty cut on your forehead from the air bag. They’re just keeping you for observation, really. Your heart stopped.” His eyes met mine. “Like before. When you fell from the tree.”

  “I remember . . . ,” I said slowly, seeing my father on the dock again, and Magda and Bernadett. “Glen?”

  He leaned closer. “Yes?”

  My head throbbed as thoughts moved in and out of my consciousness, and I reached to grab hold of one before I forgot it. “Do you believe in second chances?” I closed my eyes, the pain in my head too intense for me to think clearly or to even understand what I was asking. “Or do you think we only have one shot at happiness and we’d better milk it while we have it because when it’s gone it’s all over?”

  He sat back, his slender hands spread wide on his thighs. “I think both. I think it’s what you make of it, like a choice. You can choose to move on or you can choose to dig in your heels. Why?”

  Because I died again yesterday, and then I woke up because I think I’ve been given another chance. I shook my head, no longer sure. “Why are you here? Where are Mama and Eve?”

  “Eve wanted to come, but her doctor said no—too many germs and your condition wasn’t critical. Your mother can’t drive and somebody needed to stay with Eve. So Eve sent me. Don’t worry—I wanted to come. Make sure you were all right and drive you home when they’re ready to release you.” He indicated the table next to the bed. “Eve asked me to bring you that. She actually made me come home and get it after we knew you were okay.”

  I looked at my bedside table, where instead of flowers sat a Piggly Wiggly grocery bag. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. Eve just told me to give it to you.”

  I looked into his eyes and for the first time saw only my sister’s husband, an old friend, a person I’d grown comfortable with. Eve had been right when she’d said that we would never have made it together, that we were too different. I tried to picture him flying airplanes, or climbing a tree to bring me down, but I could not.

  “Thank you,” I said, indicating the bag but meaning so much more. I shifted myself into a sitting position, pausing for a moment to quell the rising nausea, so I could open the bag. Glen unknotted the handles and pulled it open, and I leaned forward, realizing as soon as I did that I didn’t need to take anything out to know what it was.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s something Eve made for me,” I said as I reached in and pulled out the burgundy wool jacket and rubbed it against my cheek. There was no note, but I didn’t need one. In the special way between sisters, we didn’t always need words to communicate. But I remembered what she’d said when she’d given me the suit, right before I’d told her that I’d wanted her to die. You are smart, and strong, and beautiful, and brave. And that’s never changed.

  “Is it clothing?” Glen asked.

  “Sort of. More like a suit of armor and Superwoman costume done up in wool gabardine.” I pressed the fabric against my head as if it could take the pain away, then placed the jacket back inside the bag and knotted the ties closed. “Can you push the nurse’s button, please? I need to get out of here.”

  “I guess I can’t convince you to stay a little longer—just to make sure?”

  “No. And if you could just drive me to Children’s Hospital, you can drop me off—I can take a taxi home or ask Lucy to come get me.”

  “Don’t even think of calling Lucy or a taxi. Call me. And I could stay if you need me to,” he said, his expression earnest.

  “Thanks, but no. Eve needs you at home.”

  His look was unconvinced, but he pushed the nurse’s button anyway while I remembered a secret keeper basket with an unfinished pattern and wondered what was beneath the lid.

  CHAPTER 31

  Eleanor

  The Medical University of South Carolina Children’s Hospital was one of the best in the country. I kept repeating that to myself on the short drive between hospitals, my mind busy with images of a little girl who’d fought cancer and won a reprieve, and praying that she’d inherited the courage of her aunt who’d taken her sister across war-torn Europe and an entire ocean to save her life.

  Glen insisted he would come with me to make sure I didn’t pass out in the middle of the parking garage, his tight lips a silent reproach for checking myself out of the hospital before the doctors thought it wise. He’d barely slid into a space before I’d thrown open my door, then immediately misjudged the distance and stumbled onto the pavement, spilling my purse and its contents.

  Glen lifted me gently, then put my belongings back into my purse. “You’ve just been in a serious accident and have been given painkillers. Stop trying to act like you’re the old Ellie.”

  I stared at him, blinking at him through a haze of pain and old memories, recalling what Eve had said the last time we’d spoken. I liked the Ellie you used to be, and I wish she’d come back.

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to bring her back.” I indicated the Piggly Wiggly bag with the suit inside that I’d left on the seat. “Can you bring that, please?”

  He sent me a questioning look but did as I asked. I didn’t bother to explain, knowing that Eve would have understood and that was enough. Clutching the bag was like having my sister with me, the sister who believed me to be strong and brave. It didn’t take my fear away, but it made me calmer, more centered. As if all the emotions swirling around inside me had been reined in and gathered together in a single manageable pile.

  We walked as quickly as we could to the hospital entrance. I hated hospitals. Hated the antiseptic smells and the fake cheery smiles and patterned scrubs. I hated them mostly because they reminded me of my numerous trips to fix broken bones and twisted limbs—both mine and Eve’s—and withstanding my mother’s disapproving looks and reproachful sighs for me getting Eve involved in another one of my adventures.

  “I can stay,” Glen repeated.

  “I know, and I appreciate the offer. I do. But I want you to go home to Eve. There’s nothing you can do here. I still have my cell phone and I promise to call if I need anything, or need you to come pick me up—or I can always take a taxi.”

  “Don’t you dare. Call me first.”

  We were directed to a waiting area with brightly painted orange and yellow walls, the colors blurring as I scanned the empty orange chairs for Finn. Two wome
n, both knitting, sat chatting quietly in one corner. The only other occupied chair was filled by a man I didn’t at first recognize.

  The man stood. “Eleanor?”

  Finn? His sunken eyes reminded me of those of the homeless men I sometimes saw in Marion Square. He was in his shirtsleeves, without a tie, and he looked like a little boy, utterly lost and lonely. Without thinking, I slid into his arms, allowing him to bury his face in my neck.

  I looked up in time to see Glen give me a gentle smile and a wave before leaving.

  Finn and I held each other for a long moment without speaking, until he released me. Taking my hand, he led us to two chairs covered in bright orange fabric. I appreciated the idea of the crayon-hued walls and furnishings in an attempt to comfort the children with the familiar. But for the adults, no bright colors or cheery smiles could do anything to make us forget that we were in a place where sick and hurt children were brought to be put back together.

  “How is she?” I asked, holding my breath for the answer.

  He gently touched the white bandage on my forehead. “You shouldn’t have come. You’re hurt.”

  “How could I not?” I felt the press of tears behind my eyes that I’d promised myself I wouldn’t shed in front of him. “It was my fault. It was raining so hard that it was difficult to see. I should have known to pull over and wait until it stopped. Or gone a different way—it’s such a bad intersection—”

  He put a finger on my lips. “Stop. You did nothing wrong. It was an accident, nothing more. I don’t want to hear another word about it being your fault.”

  I felt a tear wind its way down my cheek, and I brushed it away, wishing he hadn’t seen it. “How is she?” I asked again, trying not to think of all the reasons he hadn’t already answered me. “Can I see her?”

  He looked down at our entwined hands. “She’s still in ICU, and they’re only allowing in immediate family members. Harper’s with her now. I had to step away to call her husband—he’s in London. And let others know . . .”