Come Back To Me

by Melissa Foster

  Kevin thought his heart might explode. Emotions bubbled up within him. Beau was alive, there, standing right in front of him. He walked past the little gray-haired woman with his arms open wide. “Beau!” he gushed.

  Tears welled in Beau’s eyes as he pushed into Kevin’s arms.

  “Man, I can’t believe you’re here. Hell, I can’t believe you’re alive,” Kevin said.

  “I’m very much alive,” Beau laughed, then hugged Kevin again.

  “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  Beau turned back toward Samira, who stood silently behind him, holding Athra, Edham, and Zeid at her side. His smile faded, the reality of what being home meant coalesced with the joy of his long-awaited arrival. He put a protective arm on Samira’s lower back.

  “Samira, this is Kevin. Kevin, this is Samira, and Zeid, Edham, and Athra.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he smiled. “You met on the plane?” Kevin was anxious to leave. He’d had a hard enough time keeping Beau’s secret from Tess, the last thing he wanted was a delay.

  “I have so much to tell you,” Kevin said, oblivious to Beau’s quandary. He felt as if he might burst with happiness and wanted nothing more than to give that excitement to the woman who deserved it the most, Tess. She hadn’t been the same since the news of Beau’s death, and this was sure to make her world right again. “Wait until you see Tess, she’s show—”

  Kevin caught a worried look that passed between Samira and Beau.

  Beau’s hand rested on Edham’s shoulder, his other arm still around Samira, a tender look on his face. The smile faded from Kevin’s lips.

  They’d spent forty-five minutes settling the children in the van with Samira and Sandra, whom Athra had immediately taken a liking to. Zeid hadn’t spoken a word, glaring at Kevin with a scowl on his face. It had taken fifteen minutes for Beau to pry Edham’s arms from around his neck. Kevin watched with interest as his friend lovingly maneuvered around what appeared to Kevin to be a newfound family.

  Route 495 was bumper-to-bumper. Beau explained what had happened after the helicopter crash. He told Kevin about how Suha had found him and nursed him back to health, about their travels through the desert, and the danger his presence had brought to the group. He told Kevin about the camps, and eventually, about their escape and Suha’s death.

  It was almost too much for Kevin to digest. It explained Beau’s loss of weight, the crisp, leathery tone of his skin, his limp, and even the weariness in his eyes—like a POW that’d finally been rescued. What Kevin didn’t understand was the part of Beau’s journey that had brought him and Samira together like a couple. What exactly had happened in the desert between the two of them that Beau was not telling him? He’d watched Beau’s smile fade when they’d left the airport, and he’d hoped Beau wasn’t thinking about the woman and her children.

  ***

  Tess sat in her Prius with the engine running, windows rolled down. The cool afternoon breeze tickled her cheeks. She turned the radio up loud, mapping the quickest route to Louie’s office in her mind. Her resolve strengthened. She was ready to apologize to Louie and tell him she wanted to move forward, to date him. Date. The word sent a tingle of excitement up Tess’s arms. She lowered her hands to her belly. “We’re gonna be just fine,” she whispered.

  Tess put the car in reverse, reaching across the passenger seat, feeling for her cell phone. She reached behind the seat, feeling with her fingers along the floor. The Prius rolled into the street as she thought, Trunk. She placed her foot on the brake pedal, glancing over to her right as she righted herself on the seat, then she glanced over her left shoulder. Kevin’s truck moved slowly up the hill toward the house. As the truck neared, and the passenger came into focus, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Her eyebrows pressed together as she leaned forward, straining to see more clearly, her heart galloping against her chest. Tears filled her eyes. “Beau?” escaped her lips like the wind. An engine roared somewhere in the distance. A red car flew over the hill, catching air beneath its tires.

  Tess heard them scream and turned to look the other way just as the car careened into the rear of the Prius, spinning it into the air, throwing Tess against the door. Her head smacked against the window, shattering the glass like spears into her face. The world grew blurry. Tess’s eyes rolled back in her head. The airbag hit her jaw and neck, slamming them back milliseconds before the car smashed into the trunk of the large weeping willow.

  Just before the end, just before the car came to rest, just as the weeping willow grasped the Prius in a twisted embrace, there was a moment. There was a moment in which a wisp of consciousness flowed like vivid electricity through fluttering synapses, a moment that whistled into eternity—Beau—then flittered into a nothing that ever was.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Beau pushed through the large double doors and into the bitter air of the intensive care unit, his facial muscles twitching. Kevin steered Beau toward the waiting room. Beau took two steps into the waiting room, then turned and walked back out.

  “This is where we wait,” Kevin said.

  Beau shook his head, walking toward the double doors that separated the patient care area from the waiting room.

  Kevin grabbed him by the arm. “Beau, this is the waiting room,” he said, reading disorientation in Beau’s eyes. “C’mon, buddy,” he urged and guided him back.

  Beau stared straight ahead, his body numb.

  A gray-haired woman sat knitting, stopping every few seconds to wipe her eyes. In the seats next to Kevin, a young woman sat with her head on the shoulder of an older woman, her face drawn, her eyes rimmed in red. Lives held on by strings, family members hoped for miracles.

  Where was his goddamned miracle, Beau wondered? Had he already used it up? Was returning to the United States his one chance at good fortune? Did he somehow steal Tess’s chance at survival? Was this his penance for his loyalty to Samira? Each unanswered question tightened Beau’s chest. Minutes passed like hours.

  “Do you want me to call your parents?” Kevin asked.

  Beau shook his head. “I can’t…don’t.”

  “Want me to get you a drink?” Kevin nervously played with his keys.

  Beau heard the words Kevin spoke but couldn’t comprehend or focus on them. If only he’d called Tess, she wouldn’t have been driving. She’d have been in the house waiting for him, or she’d have met him at the airport. Goddamn it. The accident was his fault. He’d been selfish to want to surprise her. Beau paced, crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned his head against the door jamb, then turned and lifted a fist above his head, poised to strike the wall.

  The old woman stopped knitting and shrank back in her chair.

  “C’mon,” Kevin tried to bring him back to his chair.

  Beau twisted out of his grip. “This is my fault,” his spat. “Me and my goddamn five-year plan,” he seethed. “What the fuck makes me so special?” He turned and walked to the nurses’ station.

  Kevin followed.

  The nurse looked up from the desk, “Yes?”

  “My wife is in there. How is she? What’s happening?” Beau demanded.

  The nurse’s eyes softened, “What’s your wife’s name, sir?”

  “Tess, Tess Johnson,” he said with hope.

  She looked down at the schedules before her. “The doctor is still with her. If you’ll just have a seat, they’ll be with you as soon as they’re done evaluating her.” Her voice left no room for negotiation.

  Beau was not going to be dissuaded. “I want to see her,” he said. “Where are they?” He took two steps to the right.

  The nurse rose quickly and stood between Beau and the doors.

  “Sir, you can’t go into the operating room. I know you’re upset, but please wait in the waiting room. I assure you, the doctor will see you as soon as they are finished.” She gestured toward Kevin and escorted them back to the waiting room.

  ***

  Two hours later, a tall woman wearing blu
e scrubs and a surgical cap came into the waiting room, “Mr. Johnson?”

  Beau sprang to his feet, his heart pounding, “Yes?”

  “I’m Dr. Kelly,” she extended her hand.

  “How is she?” Beau couldn’t slow his mind or his mouth, “What’s happening? Is she alive? Is she o—”

  Dr. Kelly spoke calmly, “She’s undergone a great deal of trauma. She’s in a coma.”

  A pain, greater than any pain he’d endured while in Iraq, ran through Beau’s heart. Coma?

  Practiced at speaking with grieving families, Dr. Kelly urged Beau to sit and continued with her explanation. “Head trauma can cause the brain to swell. When the brain swells, the fluid pushes up against the skull. The swelling can cause the brain to push on the brain stem. We’re controlling the swelling and hoping to reduce it with a drug called Mannitol.”

  “What if the swelling doesn’t go down?” Beau’s voice quivered.

  “Let’s hope it does,” she said matter-of-factly. “This medication takes fluid from the brain and passes it through the kidneys. We’ll monitor her closely.” She paused, letting Beau digest the information. “The baby is fine, so far, but we’ll have—”

  Beau grabbed her forearm. “Baby? My wife isn’t pregnant.” A rush of relief swept through him. “That’s the wrong person.” Beau turned to Kevin with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

  Dr. Kelly flipped through her chart.

  Kevin took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. The doctor beat him to it. “Tess Abigail Johnson?” She looked to Kevin for confirmation.

  He nodded.

  Beau’s legs weakened, he backed into a chair and sank into it.

  Kevin went to him, “I didn’t say anything at first because I thought Tess would want to tell you,” Kevin’s face reddened, “and then, I just didn’t think of it.”

  Beau ran his hand down his face, then lowered his face into his hands, his elbows propped on his knees.

  “I’m sorry,” Dr. Kelly drew her eyebrows together in confusion. “You didn’t know?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Monitors beeped in irregular rhythms. Tess lay unconscious, a ventilator mask strapped to her face, its ominous pump and suck echoed in the stark room. Sickeningly-dark purple and red bruises covered the left side of her jaw, disappearing beneath the bandages that covered all but her eyes and ran beneath the brace wrapped around her neck. Tubes ran from her arm to an intravenous fluid bag which hung beside her bed on a metal pole. Across her chest were small plastic circles with metal nubs on the top, like faux robotic nipples, each one connected to a wire that ran to another monitor, beeping in a constant tempo.

  Nausea rose in Beau’s throat. He stood above Tess, his hand resting upon hers, his eyes drawn toward her swollen belly and the fetal heart monitor strapped across it. Beau tensed with each approaching footstep.

  “She’s a very lucky woman, Mr. Johnson.” Dr. Kelly’s voice was soft and thoughtful as she checked the monitors. She reviewed the chart as she spoke, “The next twenty-four hours are critical.”

  Beau’s body revolted against the words, standing stiff, refusing to turn and face her. His throat grew dry. He tried to find his voice and failed. Beau didn’t want to hear about the next few hours and what could happen. He wished he could cover his ears like a child and create a silent cocoon. He wanted Dr. Kelly to tell him that everything would be fine. He needed her to assure him that his wife would be okay. He wanted assurances that he knew the doctor could not give.

  Beau covered his face with his hand, trying to block the antiseptic smell that settled around him and failing to discern the stream of information that Dr. Kelly spewed. Everything felt wrong. Beau’s face reddened, his breathing came in fast bursts. The sun shouldn’t be shining. People in the hall shouldn’t be walking around as if his life were not falling apart. The damn doctor should be hovering over Tess, making her better, not watching and waiting and speaking in terms of statistics.

  “Mr. Johnson?” she touched his shoulder.

  Beau bristled.

  “Perhaps you should sit down. This is a lot to digest.” She guided him to a chair. “Take a few deep breaths.”

  He did, the redness slowly drained from his face.

  “That’s better,” she said. “The good news is that the Mannitol seems to be working, and her kidneys are draining appropriately.”

  ***

  Beau sat in the chair next to Tess’s bed and laid his head on her hand and wept.

  Darkness seeped through the blinds. A nurse came in to check on Tess, smiling at Beau in a way that said, You’re the poor husband.

  “Mr. Johnson?”

  Beau lifted his head in response to the high-pitched voice. There was that pitying smile again.

  “Your parents are waiting outside the ICU,” she spoke matter-of-factly, unaware that they’d believed Beau to be dead. “Your wife can only have one visitor at a time.”

  ***

  Beau trudged wearily toward the double doors, avoiding the sorrowful glances of the nurses. The earlier surge of adrenaline had left him hollow, unable to corral his thoughts. He stopped just short of the doors. The oversized doors swung open, a grief-stricken woman who looked as if her whole life held on by a string walked in. He watched the doors shut solidly behind her. Each time the doors opened, he tried to walk through them. He was unable, his feet heavy as lead. He knew his parents needed to see him as much as he needed to see them. He craved his father’s strength, the sound of his deep voice, You’re lookin’ good, son. We’re proud of you. He envisioned his mother, her sandy bob bouncing as she’d run up and hug him like she’d never let go. Just the thought of the surge of emotion made Beau dizzy. He backed against the wall, sliding down, resting on his heels. Beau rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at the crick that was on its way to full-blown pain.

  His legs grew cold. He used the wall for support as he rose to his feet.

  “Are you okay, sir?” It was the petite nurse who had told him his parents were there to see him.

  He stared at her, unseeing.

  She touched his arm. “Sir? Do you need a doctor?”

  Red lights blinked on the walls, and a calm, electronic voice boomed from a loudspeaker above Beau. “Code blue, room 242. Code blue, room 242.”

  Two men in scrubs rushed past Beau and the nurse.

  “That’s Tess’s room!” Beau yelled and pushed past the nurse. “Tess!”

  A nurse stopped him from entering the room. He peered around her, “What’s going on?” Through the window behind the nurse he saw the two men in scrubs, their voices silenced by the closed door. Their actions were swift. One of them grabbed something from the wall. “What’s that? What’s he doing?” Beau’s voice cracked.

  The taller of the men looked down at Tess’s stomach, then up at the other man. His eyebrows pulled together. He shook his head.

  “Defibrillator,” the nurse said. “They’ll take good care of her. They’re the best code team around.”

  Dr. Kelly pushed past them and entered the room. A second later, the blinds were closed.

  ***

  “She’s stable,” Dr. Kelly said, watching for the telltale sign of relief, for Beau’s shoulders to drop a quarter inch. They didn’t. “She stopped breathing, from an arrhythmia, we think.”

  The questions in his mind formed faster than he could speak. “Arrhythmia? What’s that? Why? How?”

  “Your wife has undergone an incredible amount of stress, and the baby takes everything it needs from her, leaving her…not quite as strong as she might be otherwise. We believe she had a ventricular arrhythmia, possibly caused by stress, or perhaps by an underlying conduction problem to the heart.”

  Beau’s lips pushed tightly together as he listened, trying to follow her explanation. “Conduction problem?”

  “We can’t be sure. We’re monitoring her—and the baby. Hopefully, this was an anomaly. If she stops breathing again, we may need to take the baby.”

&n
bsp; The blood drained from Beau’s face.

  “We would do an emergency cesarean section,” she explained. “If this is a conduction problem, then there are a few ways to proceed, none of which we’d want to chance while she’s carrying a baby.” Dr. Kelly handed Tess’s chart to a heavyset nurse. “Your wife is very strong, Mr. Johnson, but comas are very tenuous, and the baby is very premature. We’ll have to monitor her and see what we’re dealing with. Let’s hope this was a one-time event caused by the stress of the accident.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next morning, Beau awoke to the portly nurse bustling around Tess. Jet lag settled upon him like a night of hard drinking. He pried his eyelids apart, gathering his thoughts. Tess. Hospital.

  “Good morning, Mr. Johnson,” she said with a warm southern drawl and a sincere smile. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  Beau sat up in the chair, his back ached from slouching all night. “It’s okay,” he said with a yawn. “How is she?”

  “Why, she’s just lovely, isn’t she?” she tucked Tess’s blanket around her still body. “Can I get you something? A pillow? Blanket?”

  “No, thank you,” Beau said. “How long do you think she’ll be in a coma?”

  “Sweetie, I think she’ll be in there just as long as she needs to be.” She bent close to Beau. He could feel her breath on his cheek, “I’ve seen them stay in a coma for weeks, I’ve seen them stay in a coma for hours. It just depends on how tired they are, that’s all.”

  Beau smiled. Yes, he thought, maybe that’s it.

  “And look at her!” she exclaimed. “Look at that belly. You’re going to be a father!”

  Beau gazed over at Tess’s rising abdomen. My baby.

  “See this monitor?” She pointed to the monitor that was strapped to Tess’s stomach. “That there’s a fetal heart monitor. If anything goes wrong with your baby, we’ll know like that.” She snapped her fingers and walked toward the door. “But don’t you worry yourself over her, she’s safe and warm inside her mama.”