by David Lewis
When she looked up, she heard the muffled sound of a phone ringing. Who would call at this time of night? Her first thought was to assume it was some kind of prank call, or wrong number, or maybe … very bad news.
Jessica wondered briefly why Bill or her grandmother didn’t answer the phone, but the next emotion was so strong that it struck her like a physical thud against her chest.
Jessie picked up the extension on her nightstand. “Hello?” she asked tentatively.
“This is Tammy Henderson… .”
“Um … yes?”
“From the Woodland Park Care Center? I called to tell you—”
“Um, I’m not—” Jessica thought she heard a click on the extension.
“Mrs. Crenshaw?” the caller asked.
“No, I’m sorry …” Jessica began.
Her grandmother came on the line. “This is Doris Crenshaw. I have it now, Jessica.”
“Okay. Sorry… .” Jessica mumbled, hanging up. A sudden sensation began prickling its way along her spine. Her heart began to pound within her and she sat up straight, her memory whirling. What had the caller said? Woodland Park Care Center …
Nurse Tammy Henderson hung up the phone, shaking her head at the strange turn of events. Doris Crenshaw, the woman who had visited her patient religiously for over a decade, was obviously stunned. Who could blame her? Tammy could barely believe it herself. She had stopped by the room to assess the automatic feeding system, only to be struck by the beautiful moonlight glowing through the window. It granted such a peaceful feeling that she had been reluctant to leave.
She had paused at the bed and looked at Olivia’s face. So thin, so white, and yet in the subtle light her face had an almost angelic glow, and her breathing seemed serene, even peaceful.
“Where are you, Olivia?” Tammy whispered softly. She stroked Olivia’s cheek, then held her hand, squeezing as much assurance as she could into a tiny gesture.
For years, the third-shift nurses had discussed their longtime resident, wondering if she would ever regain consciousness. Curious, Tammy had done her own research on comas and was surprised to discover that people could come back after many years of unconsciousness. In fact, some had awakened after a decade or more. She also learned that for many, the coma state has almost a cocoon effect, locking the patient in time, even to the point of stopping any progress of disease.
“She might wake up,” Tammy had once suggested to her coworkers. But even she didn’t really believe it. Still, Tammy had often whispered a prayer over her dear patient, hoping that she might be the one to greet this woman if she ever did awaken, to be the first to say, “Welcome back!”
“Sleep tight, Olivia,” Tammy said, knowing she must leave Olivia and get back to her rounds. Then she froze. What on earth? A shadowy movement had crossed Olivia’s face, obviously caused by the outside clouds, but it startled her. Either that, or her mind was playing tricks on her.
“Olivia?”
Too many late hours, she told herself, but upon closer examination, she gasped. Her mind wasn’t playing tricks after all. Olivia’s eyes were open, but not blankly open, as if in response to some kind of muscular aberration.
Olivia’s eyes were following her….
Tammy gathered her composure, and in spite of the tears in her eyes, and the lump in her throat, she fulfilled her longtime wish. “Welcome back, Olivia!”
Ashen faced and trembling, Bill and Doris dressed in their respective rooms, then met in the upstairs hallway. It now made sense to Doris why she’d awakened when she did. It hadn’t been the moon or the guilt. Over the phone, the nurse had declared the impossible, and Doris had struggled to comprehend both facts: She’s awake?
And she’s lucid?
Doris asked that the news be repeated several times. But then the nurse gave her the worst news of all, which seemed like a cruel joke. “In the past hour, Olivia’s vital signs have diminished drastically, and she appears to be going downhill very quickly.”
“But why now?” Doris had asked.
As they paused at the top of the stairs, Doris struggled with how to approach her granddaughter and tell the amazing yet painful truth.
“Do you want me to wake her?” Bill asked.
“Isn’t it time I faced up to this?” Doris replied, and she turned toward Jessie’s room.
When she knocked, Jessie was already sitting at the edge of the bed, fully dressed. Her eyes were clear and focused, her hair pulled back, and her face expectant, as if she already knew.
“She’s alive, isn’t she?” Jessie asked.
Doris nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “Just barely,” she whispered, and the look of despair on Jessie’s face broke her heart.
“Is she conscious?”
Again her grandmother nodded. “Yes, but the nurse said she was slipping away fast. We don’t have much time.”
Jessie sat in the back of the car, a profound fusion of emotions flowing through her. Even before her grandmother had come to her room, the clues had mingled together in her mind—the phone call, the knowing, her grandmother’s previous dejection, the dreams—until they had coalesced into one final truth, one that in so many ways, she felt she had always known.
In spite of the swirling questions, the urgency of the moment seemed to inhibit an exchange of information. The time for questions would come soon enough. For now, it didn’t even matter how she had come to this point. She wasn’t even tempted to believe she was dreaming, because she knew she wasn’t. This moment was more real than in her entire life.
The sense of anticipation dominated every other thought, every other emotion. What would she see when she arrived? How would her mother appear? Apparently her mother was lucid, but what did that mean? Could she talk? Could she understand?
Expectancy mingled with a sense of profound impatience. After all these years, would she miss her mother by mere minutes?
“Hurry, Bill,” Doris urged, and Bill kicked it up a notch. Once they reached Highway 24 and headed up the winding mountain pass, they had nearly thirty minutes to go.
“Please hurry, Bill,” Jessie whispered.
She had the disconnected sensation of observing herself from the outside. She wondered how anyone else might feel to discover that their loved one was still alive, after their world had been reordered and rearranged—after years of coming to grips with the loss and the grief. The shock rolled over her, and in spite of her recent suspicions and a decade of dreams, nothing could have adequately prepared her for the final reality of this moment. Absolutely nothing.
In spite of the sense of urgency, in spite of the gnawing fear that they might not arrive in time, Jessie could not think of her grandmother without realizing she’d been betrayed one more time. One more lie revealed. One more reason to distrust.
The realization was met with little emotion, as if she had no space left to hold this glaring truth—although someday it was sure to return and demand an accounting. She would have to contemplate that later. For now, one thing remained. Only one.
My mother is alive… .
For a moment Jessie was tempted to retrieve her cell phone and call Andy. But she resisted. If he was here with her now, he’d have his arms around her. He’d be consoling her. He’d be peering at her eyes, trying to read her emotions, more than eager to help her through this. The thought of that was almost unbearable.
Every ounce of energy was for her mother now. She could scarcely wait!
In Woodland Park, Bill turned onto Highway 67 going north. Several miles later he turned left down a dirt road. It’s beautiful here, Jessie thought.
Another turn and they were there. This place looked like a peaceful hospice retreat. Not an institution. Thank heavens. Jessie sighed with relief. Instead, it looked like an oversized country inn edged by a canopy of pine trees, the sun flickering through the needles on the eastern side. The building was tan clapboard and had a covered porch across the front, trimmed in white. About ten cars were parked in the black-
topped lot and a sign over the entrance announced: Woodland Park Care Center.
Bill hurried out of the car and opened Grandmother’s door and then her own, almost simultaneously. Doris turned to Jessie, her eyes belying her regret, but Jessie glanced away as Bill ushered them quickly to the building. Whatever Grandmother might wish to say to her, Jessie could not receive it now.
Immediately upon entering, they stepped into an echoing linoleum hallway. Off to their right was an office. Straight ahead the hallway led toward the back of the building. Jessie’s senses took in everything, and with everything came a sense of déjà vu. She experienced the same feeling that had followed her throughout her life, starting when she and her mother were so completely tuned in to each other’s thoughts and feelings. Her mother’s presence was everywhere in this place.
Grandmother glanced back at Jessie expectantly before moving down the corridor. Of course, Jessie thought. She’s been here before.
Halfway down the hallway, a brunette nurse met Grandmother, who was still several paces in front of her and Bill. Bill placed his hand on Jessie’s arm, his eyes apologetic, a little embarrassed, too, as if by his connection to her grandmother, he had been part of the charade.
The panic that had been building in her heart now threatened to tear her chest to pieces. Please let it not be too late… .
Grandmother turned toward Jessie, and the nurse, whose name tag said Tammy, warmly offered her hand. “She might only have a few hours,” she said, meeting Jessie’s gaze, a mixture of curiosity and recognition flickering in her eyes.
She knows who I am, Jessie thought.
Her grandmother was still standing there, her fingers fidgeting, waiting for the go-ahead.
When they continued down the hall, the nurse said, “The doctor’s in with her right now.”
“Has she … said anything?” Doris asked.
Tammy turned, smiling. “No, but her eyes are open and she seems to be looking for something … or someone.” Again the nurse glanced over at Jessie.
They turned down another hallway, and several nurses were standing in front of the door, whispering excitedly. Jessie’s legs began to feel rubbery. Bill slowed up. He took her left arm, “You okay, kiddo?”
Jessie leaned hard on Bill. “Don’t let me fall.”
“You won’t,” he assured her. “I’ve got you.”
Doris and the nurse were talking, but the words weren’t registering anymore.
Years from now she would look back on this moment, recalling the brink of wonder, and hope, and fantasy just before jumping off into pure reality. In some ways this moment would always feel like a dream to Jessie, in spite of confirming details—although she’d never had a dream of this magnitude before.
Grandmother paused at the door, then turned to Jessie. “Would you like to go in first?”
Jessie hesitated, a leaden mixture of dread and longing squashed her stomach. “I’ll be right behind you.”
The room had landscape pictures on the walls, a few nameless medical machines in two corners, several carts, and an IV stand. Because the doctor was leaning over the bed, obscuring Jessie’s vision, her first glimpse was of the blanket-covered form, which seemed impossibly small. Too slight to be my mother, she thought.
Jessie took several steps sideways, and a still profile slowly emerged. The woman’s skin held an unnatural yellowish cast, her light gray-blond hair, lifeless on the pillow, thin and scraggly. Her eyes were closed. But the pinched thin face was unmistakable. Hot pain seared Jessica’s chest and she pressed her knuckles against her lips to keep from crying out. It was the face from last night’s dream.
“Honey, don’t look at my body. Look at my soul… .”
Before leaving the room, the doctor whispered something to Grandmother, something about sleeping, then turned to Jessie and smiled encouragingly. Doris reached for her daughter’s right hand, kissed it gently, then beheld Olivia’s face with something akin to adoration.
Then, tenderly, she replaced the hand on the mattress. Her expression seemed stoic but vulnerable. Softly Tammy slid a chair next to the bed beside Jessie. “I’ll leave you alone for a while.”
Grandmother nodded. “Let me know if she awakens,” she said to Jessie. She gestured toward the door. “I’ll be outside with Bill.”
Jessie wanted to whisper something back—something reassuring, something comforting—but it would have felt empty on her lips. Her grandmother closed the door behind her, leaving her alone.
Jessica sat down and gently picked up her mother’s fragile white hand. She lifted it to her lips and kissed it, just as her grandmother had. The machines hummed and the heart monitor blipped a slight but regular rhythm.
“Mom?” Jessica whispered, at first feeling self-conscious. How strange the words sounded on her lips!
“Mom… ?”
Tears began running down her cheeks. Her mother might never awaken. They might have been too late. But for now, she was still alive, and Jessie didn’t care how silly, or stupid, or pointless she sounded. She’d waited an entire lifetime to talk to her mother one last time.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would have been here every day. I would have read you all our favorite stories.”
She wiped a hand over her face, contorted now with the anguish welling up within her, filling her chest and lungs, threatening to render her speechless.
“I’m especially sorry that I wasn’t here when you awakened. When I think of you looking for me and wondering why I wasn’t near… .”
Promise me you’ll keep believing, sweetie, Mom had written. No matter what happens, hold on to Jesus. Sobs overtook Jessie and she covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise. I let go, Mom, but Jesus never did.”
She stroked her mother’s precious hand. “I wish I could hear your voice one more time. I wish I could tell you how much I love you. I’ve missed you so much. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about you or wish I could talk to you or feel your arms around me.”
She looked at Mom’s face, unchanged, unmoving, and she began to sob again. She pressed her mother’s hand against her cheek, oddly comforted by even this closeness. She sat that way quietly for a few moments. Will she slip away without awakening again?
Then she thought she heard something, likely voices in the hall. She listened again, hoping the doctor wasn’t returning already. Minutes passed and no one came in.
“Once upon a time there lived a young woman named Snow White …” Jessie began, and she told the story as her mother once told it, a twist here, a surprise there, seven short people, an evil queen, a dashing prince. But in the end she provided her own finale:
“… and Jesus leaned over her still form and kissed her awake into everlasting life. And when she looked around, it was just like a giant park with swings and monkey bars and picnic tables!”
Jessie smiled through the tears and looked up at the clock. Over an hour had passed.
Please God, let Mom wake up… .
With her face in her hands and her handsome old cowboy beside her, his arms around her shoulders, Doris sat in the waiting room.
“Don’t you want to be in there?” Bill asked.
Doris shook her head. “I’ve had many years. It’s Jessie’s turn.”
“What if she wakes up?”
“Someone will come for me,” she replied.
A nurse stopped by and asked if they were hungry. Doris smiled as warmly as she could but declined.
“Classy joint,” Bill commented once the nurse had left. He gave Doris a reassuring smile.
“Oh, Bill …” she said painfully. “What have I done?”
“Things are going to be just fine, Dory. You wait and see.”
She didn’t have the wherewithal to argue, amazed that Bill was still by her side, still looking at the bright side of things. Surely by now he realized she’d deceived him—that her frequent visits to the Care Center had al
l taken place under the guise of attending yet another club function.
Tammy stopped by several times to keep them apprised of Olivia’s condition. So far, no change. The longer they waited for her to awaken, the worse Doris felt. Her emotions rocked between the anticipation of speaking to Livvy and the painful dread of knowing that, in all likelihood, Jessie would never forgive her. Doris knew there was such a thing as a last straw. It wouldn’t matter that she’d convinced herself she was protecting Jessie from the truth, allowing her granddaughter to get on with her life. Of course, Jessie wouldn’t see it that way.
She tried to keep her mind focused. She might have a final chance with her daughter, a true good-bye, one last opportunity to say all the things she’d never said before. She’d been saying them in her mind for years. Having Olivia back for even five minutes wasn’t worth the deception perhaps, and it wasn’t worth the pain her granddaughter had endured. But it was worth more than her own life. Please God, she whispered.
Nurse Tammy came into the room a few hours later. Jessie was still holding her mother’s hand, whispering things she’d longed to say for years. A shadow fell over the nurse’s face as she evaluated the instruments. She bit her lower lip and glanced at Jessie; the meaning was all too clear. Time was running out.
“Have you tried to rouse her?”
Jessie nodded.
Tammy sighed, shaking her head. “We may have missed our only opportunity.”
Not what Jessie wanted to hear, but just having this time was more than she would have imagined. There was something between them, even now—no audible voice, but in that strange way of knowing, that inexplicable bond that had always been between them—the bond that brought her mother to the playground when she’d fallen, the bond that urged Jessie home when her mother was weeping, and the connection that had always called Jessie home when she’d strayed too far.
Perhaps wishful thinking, but her mother’s face seemed to relax and become more serene. Jessie felt an unexpected peace wash over her, as well.