Memories

by Sletten, Deanna Lynn

  As he turned to leave the room he noticed all the little details that Vanessa had done to make it the perfect nursery for Michelle. The beach mural she'd painted on the wall by the window that overlooked the real ocean. The stenciled seashells that framed the wall. The glittering stars that reflected from the ceiling. All done with love by a mother for her daughter. His emotions flowing again, Michael quietly closed the bedroom door vowing to his little granddaughter as much as to himself, "I'll bring back your Mommy, I promise."

  Michael arrived at the hospital a few minutes past nine o'clock and retraced the footsteps he'd taken the night before to the ICU. The hospital was a much friendlier place in the daylight, a bustle of people and activity, the halls brightly lighted. He hoped the ICU room reflected this cheerier appearance because he dreaded returning to the room of last night. But when he approached the desk, he was told by the nurse in charge that Vanessa had been transferred to a private room this morning on the second floor. Relieved, thinking this was a good sign, he found the elevator and headed to room 207B.

  Down the corridor and past the nurse's station, Michael found the room by himself and entered quietly through the closed door. Two men in white coats stood beside Vanessa's bed with charts. Both turned as Michael entered.

  "I'm Michael DeCara, her father," he offered, walking toward them. Both men turned completely to face him, the man on the right offering his hand in greeting.

  "I'm glad you have come," he said, shaking Michael's hand briefly. "I'm Dr. Bradseth, Chief of Surgery, and this is Dr. Carlson from Internal Medicine." The other man nodded, but stood quietly by as Dr. Bradseth continued talking.

  "We just came in to check on Mrs. Candler's condition. Have you been briefed on it yet?"

  "No. I came in late last night and the nurse wasn't able to tell me much."

  Dr. Bradseth cleared his throat. "Your daughter has been through much trauma since the accident. When she arrived, she had a severe head injury and was already in a coma. After monitoring her for some time we found there to be extensive swelling of the brain from the head injury, so we had to operate to relieve the swelling. Dr. Kantak, our specialist on brain injuries, performed the operation. So far there are no signs of swelling again, so we are hopeful the surgery was a success."

  Here the doctor took a breath before continuing. "Also, one lung was punctured, which we had to operate to repair, so that is the reason for the respirator she is attached to right now. We hope she will be able to breath on her own in a few days." He gave Michael a moment to take it all in.

  Michael stared past them to the sleeping form of Vanessa. She looked a little better than she had the night before, but that could be due to the light. She was still very pale, but less tubes and wires were connected to her.

  "How long will she be in the coma?"

  "That, I'm afraid, we cannot answer. It will depend upon how the rest of her body heals from the trauma it has received."

  Frustrated, Michael ran his fingers through his beard. "Can you tell me if she'll come out of it at all?"

  "Again, Mr. DeCara, I sorry, we can't predict these things." Both doctors looked at him squarely. They'd done all that was possible and there was nothing they could say to give him any shred of hope.

  "Are you telling me...," Michael hesitated, afraid to ask the question. "She might die?"

  "I can't tell you what might happen," Dr. Bradseth said. "I can tell you that she is off the heart machine and monitor and her heartbeat and pulse is at a normal level, which is a good sign. In a few days we hope to get her off the respirator and breathing on her own. As for the head injury, well, I'll be quite honest with you. We aren't yet sure how much damage, if any, has been done to the brain and we won't know until we are able to do a CAT scan, which we have scheduled for later this week. All we can do is continue monitoring her progress and pray for the best."

  Dr. Bradseth raised his arm and placed his hand on Michael's shoulder, the first human gesture he had made since Michael entered the room. "We have done all we can for her and we'll continue to do all we can. All we can do now is wait."

  Michael looked into the doctor's eyes and knew he meant what he said. They'd done as much as possible, now it was only a matter of time. He only nodded his head at them, then they both left the room after assuring Michael they'd keep him informed.

  With heavy footsteps Michael walked to the side of Vanessa's bed and fell into a chair. She continued sleeping on, as if without a care in the world. Someone had combed her long hair and it fanned out around her. Her face was freshly washed and the tubes that had been in her left hand were now gone. He gingerly touched a tip of her curly red hair then clasped her pale hand in his.

  "Well baby, it's up to you now," he whispered as he laid his head on her hand and began to pray.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Early Tuesday morning Dani appeared at work with so cheery an attitude that her co-workers couldn't help but comment.

  "Must have been some weekend," Traycee said, noting the sparkle in Dani's eyes. She couldn't remember ever seeing Dani so upbeat and was happy for her.

  "Actually, it was quite a weekend at that," Dani commented, giving Traycee a mischievous sideways glance.

  Later that morning, Dani took a break and went down to the coat department to buy the red wool coat Miguel had teased her about the previous Saturday. Kelly recognized the coat immediately and was surprised to see Dani purchasing it. "You had a change of heart I see," she said as she whipped a Chance's coat bag over it.

  "You could call it that," Dani replied.

  When she arrived home that evening she took the coat out of its bag and pinned the enamel brooch on the lapel, admiring the effect of the two together. She couldn't wait for Michael to see it on her. He'd be shocked with surprise.

  Although she hadn't heard from him yet, she wasn't worried. She figured he probably got home late and had some phone calls to return and it was too late to call her. She'd actually tried calling him last night to thank him for the pin, but only got his answering machine, and from the long beep at the end of the message she could tell he had a lot of messages. She was sure he'd try to call her tonight, or at the latest, tomorrow night.

  Dani placed the bag back over the coat and hung it in the hall closet. She wouldn't wear it until she saw him again. Maybe this weekend. She could hardly wait to see his face when she stepped off the plane wearing that coat. She actually hoped the weather would be cold so she could wear it. As the hall door closed on her new purchase, she had no idea just how long it would hang there, unworn.

  As the days passed, her mood became more sullen. When Wednesday had gone by without a word from him, she didn't think too much of it. By Thursday night when there was no call, she fell into a gloomy state. If he'd meant for her to come for the weekend, he'd have called by now. By Friday she was edgy at work and Traycee noticed the change in her attitude immediately but was tactful enough not to say anything. Carl asked her if she was feeling all right to which she replied a short, terse, "I'm fine."

  Friday night found Dani on her stair-step machine in front of the television paying little attention to the show while reflecting on the events of the past weekend.

  He'd done it to her again, she thought as her legs pounded up and down on the machine. And she had let him. This time she couldn't blame him for taking advantage of her. She knew what she was doing when she let him back into her bed. But did she regret it?

  She pondered this one over and over as the sweat trickled down her neck and back. Although she felt she'd been used again, she couldn't really bring back the hate she'd had years before. They had worked through that and she did believe he was sorry. But then, why leave her hanging again?

  Tired and sweating from her workout, Dani tried turning her thoughts from Miguel and showered, then had a bite to eat while she watched the news. There was still the slim chance he might call her, but she really doubted it. One thing she knew for sure, he wasn't going to show up at her door tonight
as he had only a week before. She resigned herself to spending another weekend alone, in a series of lonely weekends to come.

  Two weeks later Traycee was opening Dani's mail at work as she usually did, stapling the envelopes to the letters and sorting it by matter of importance. One particular letter caught her eye.

  "Dani, isn't Catherine Jamison a friend of yours?" she asked from her side of the partition.

  Dani looked over the wall that divided their desks. "Yeah, why? Something interesting in the mail?"

  "Here, take a look. Seems there's been some changes as Regal."

  Dani took the offered letter and sat back down at her desk to read it over. It was from the Chicago Corporate office of Regal Coats and was addressed to the Coat Buyer at Chance's.

  "Effective immediately: Catherine Jamison, Assistant Executive Vice-President of Regal Coats, Chicago, will be taking over all duties previously held by the president of the company. President Michael DeCara has returned to the New York Office for an indefinite period of time.

  Please direct all inquiries or concerns about operations to Ms. Jamison."

  The letter continued on but had lost Dani's interest. She could only stare at the sentence that stated Miguel had returned to New York. So that was it. He was gone for good. He'd decided to put as much distance as possible between them. She waited for the news to hit her hard, but instead she only felt numb.

  "That's good news, right?" Traycee broke in.

  "What?"

  Traycee walked around the partition placing the rest of the mail in Dani's IN box. "Good news about your friend. Head of the division now. It's great for her, huh?"

  "Oh, yeah. It's great." Dani tried to sound enthusiastic for her friend but it was hard, considering her promotion meant that Miguel had run away from Dani a second time.

  Michael's days became such a blur that he didn't know which day was Monday or Friday, nor did he care. He spent each day from early morning to late evening at Vanessa's bedside, leaving only to sleep and eat, doing the latter out of necessity, not hunger.

  Three days after he'd returned to New York, he attended Matthew Chandler's funeral, another sad affair. It was a quiet service attended by immediate family only. He'd been the youngest of four sons, and watching his mother bury her baby boy made Michael's heart ache.

  He offered his deepest sympathies to the family, shook Mr. Chandler's hand and hugged Mrs. Chandler who expressed concern over Vanessa's condition and told Michael she was praying for her.

  They had all agreed it was best not to bring Michelle to the funeral. At two-years-old she was too young to understand and neither family wanted her to have any memory of the sad event. When Michael left the Chandlers with a final goodbye, he hurried back to the hospital to see Vanessa and assure himself how lucky he was that she was still, at least, alive.

  But as he watched her sleeping peacefully he realized that maybe she was the lucky one for not having to go through today. Although it would be a painful loss to her when she finally awoke, it was far better than having to walk through the motions of a funeral, hear endless condolences and watch tear-stained faces.

  His days went on, hospital, home, hospital, home. He ate so many meals at the hospital cafeteria that the workers all knew him by name. The nurses who came periodically into Vanessa's room to check her pulse and IVs and record everything on her chart also became familiar with the ever-present father. They all made an effort at lifting his mood from time to time, but the truth was Vanessa's condition was serious and they could never offer him even the slightest ray of hope.

  He spent his time talking to her about everything he could think of that might spark her interest. Someone had told him that talking about past experiences and common things sometimes brought coma victims awake. He talked about her past and the times they'd shared with Dani, which he knew had been happy ones for Vanessa. He talked about work, what little he kept in touch with out of necessity, hoping she might respond from the commitment she'd always had over her position at Regal. He talked about Michelle and what new word she had said that morning or new antic she'd been involved in the day before. He read to her from books by her favorite authors, even books from her childhood that he hoped might bring her back. Daily, he'd massage her legs and arms to keep the muscles limber and the blood flowing smoothly and he'd continue his trail of conversation while he did so. Sometimes he'd sit there for so long he'd fall asleep holding her hand and a night nurse would wake him gently and send him home. The very next morning he could be found by her bedside once again as if he'd never left.

  All through these days and nights the doctors could give him no morsel of hope. He really needed someone to talk to, to share his pain, to tell him everything was going to be okay, and his thoughts instantly returned to Dani. It took everything he had to keep himself from calling her, asking her to come and be by his side. Yet, how could he do that to her? He didn’t want to add more pain to her life so he continued on his own, waiting, talking, reading and praying.

  The results of the CAT scan showed no major damage to the brain and the swelling was still under check. If she did come out of her coma, she should have all of her functions in working order. But that didn't explain why she wasn't waking, which continued to puzzle the doctors.

  They had also tried, unsuccessfully, several times to take her off of the respirator, but each time her breathing became so labored that they had to put her back on. Dr. Bradseth ordered full ex-rays to recheck the condition of her lungs. It was important that they get her breathing on her own, he explained to Michael, who didn't understand why but just took each thing as it came.

  The nurses took good care of Vanessa, and Michael was thankful for their tender touch. Her hair was always clean and combed, her nightgown changed and fresh smelling. The bandage on her head had become only a small patch and the hair around it was beginning to grow back like the soft fuzz on a fresh peach. The nurses had lovingly dubbed her Sleeping Beauty, and whenever one would come in she'd ask Michael how the princess was doing. He took it in good humor and began calling her that himself.

  One night, after an especially long day, Michael sat next to Vanessa in his usual place, holding her hand, frustrated that he hadn't yet got her to open her eyes. A male nurse, unfamiliar to Michael, came in to check on her IV and pulse rate and smiled at him good-naturedly.

  "So, how is our Sleeping Beauty doing?" he asked, but Michael only gave him a suspicious sideways glance. The male nurse looked more like a football player to him with his closely cropped hair and thick build and Michael resented his familiar attitude with his daughter.

  But the nurse seemed unaware of Michael's suspicious looks and gently took Vanessa's pulse and adjusted the IV to make sure the drip was perfect. As he recorded the information on the chart, he looked up to see Michael staring at him hostilely.

  The nurse smiled at him again showing less than perfect teeth. The smile revealed lines around his eyes that gave away his true age, much older than Michael had first thought. He had to be in his forties, like himself, which still did little to endear him to Michael.

  "Well," the nurse offered, "her vitals are still steady. Maybe we'll see the princess smile sometime soon."

  Michael made no response as the nurse hung the chart back at the foot of the bed and turned to leave the room, then turned back and faced Michael again.

  "You know," he offered gently, "I've been told that if you keep up a steady stream of conversation, or read to a coma patient, that it sometimes helps bring them around." It was an innocent piece of advice, but it totally outraged Michael who stood suddenly with his feet planted apart, fists clenched.

  "I have been talking to her," he started in a slow, angry voice that grew louder as he continued. "I've been talking to her, and reading to her for days and days and it's not working. She just lies there, asleep, not responding or caring or even listening. So, who the hell are you to come in here and tell me I should..." Michael stopped mid-sentence and slumped his shoulders, a
deep sigh escaping his lips.

  "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

  The nurse nodded, his face calm as if he were used to these kinds of outbursts. "It's okay, I understand." He turned and left, leaving behind a torn, confused father grieving for his daughter.

  Mid-October came to Long Island in all its fall glory, bringing with it tourists from all over the country to bask in the colors and admire the rich gardens so famous in the Hamptons. But Michael saw none of this as he made his way back and forth to the hospital. He spent time on work that he couldn't ignore in his home office, having papers and files sent by FAX or to his home computer. He didn't want to go into New York City for even a moment in case Vanessa's condition changed.

  The only joy in his life during this time were his visits with Michelle in the mornings, and sometimes in the afternoons when he'd force himself away from the hospital to give her the much needed time she deserved. She didn't understand where her parents were or why they were never around anymore. Michael did the best he could explaining to her the circumstances without trying to scare her. But how did you tell a little girl that her father was never coming home and her mother might not either? He kept waiting and hoping that Vanessa's condition would turn around and he could then tell her that Mommy would be home soon.

  But life never works out as one hopes, and Vanessa's x-rays came back showing more damage to her lungs, necessitating another operation. So, two days later, Michael sat for hours waiting for Vanessa to come out of the operating room and recovery, praying that this might help to bring her back to him.