by Lissa Del
“I’m sure you won’t be needing them,” Doctor Sheldon smiles encouragingly, settling himself in the chair opposite me. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” Of course, I promptly burst into tears.
The story emerges in stops and starts, punctuated by the sound of my nose-blowing as I drench one tissue after another, pulling them from the box as if it is a vending-machine.
“It’s crazy, right?” I ask when I’m finally done.
“It’s certainly not a typical situation,” he replies. “And not an easy one for anyone involved.”
“How is it even possible?”
“The brain is an amazing thing, Sarah. There are no limits to what it’s capable of. We have guidelines, of course, but every now and then a case such as this one challenges everything we have been taught. My job is not to help you understand why this has happened, but to enable you to work through your own experience of it.”
“I bet when I walked through that door you never expected anything like this. I must be the appointment you’ve dreaded your whole career. The freakish case nobody prepared you for.”
He smiles at that.
“I counselled at a psychiatric treatment centre for many years. There is very little that surprises me. I can tell you with absolute certainty that this is not the most unique case I’ve ever heard of. It’s not even the strangest I’ve personally been involved with.”
“I find that very hard to believe.”
He chuckles.
“You remind me so much of a girl I know. She too, had her share of heartbreak. And she too rose above the adversity she faced and went on to live a very full and happy life.”
“Did you help her?”
A glimmer of sadness flits across his lined face, gone so quickly I wonder if I imagined it.
“I tried to. I hope that I did. Just as I hope I can help you.”
“I don’t know how I’ll get over this. How I’ll get over him.”
“You may not. It is possible to love someone very deeply without letting it consume you. Eventually, in time, things become easier and you move forward. You mentioned your passion for architecture? Can you tell me a bit more about that?”
The change of topic lightens the atmosphere and I manage to voice all of my concerns and fears for my career without breaking down again. When our hour is up, I feel as though I’m coming out of a daze, and I’m a little embarrassed by how much I’ve confided in this absolute stranger. It strikes me that he said very little throughout the session.
“Shall I come back again?” I’m unsure of where we go from here.
“That’s up to you, but I would like to see you again, if you’re open to it? It’s difficult to resolve anything in one session.”
“Okay,” I nod, “yeah, sure. I’ll just book at the front desk?”
“That would be perfect.”
He opens the door for me and I notice his next appointment sitting on the sofa, averting her eyes. I turn back just before she gets expectantly to her feet.
“Doctor Sheldon?”
“Yes?”
“What was her name – the girl you mentioned before?” I don’t know what makes me ask, perhaps its idle curiosity, or that the way he spoke of her gave me hope. He pauses, considering me for a moment and I wonder if this would be a breach of doctor-patient confidentiality, but then his face creases into a smile.
“Is,” he corrects fondly. “Her name is Paige.”
It’s been a week since my interview with Jeremy Langford, which coincided with Leo’s surgery and I’m four episodes into a Masterchef catch-up marathon when my phone rings. I glance at the screen and freeze. It’s Ellen. I don’t want to speak to her, to dredge up the pain that mentioning Leo’s name will bring, but I can’t ignore her. It could be important. I haven’t heard any news since Leo’s surgery, save for one text from Ellen telling me the surgery was a success. It was a nice way of saying Leo hadn’t died on the operating table, but I had wept with relief. I haven’t heard a word from him since the surgery.
I switch off the TV and hit the answer button on my phone.
“Hi Ellen.”
“Sarah, how are you doing?”
“As well as can be expected. How’s Leo doing?”
“That’s actually why I’m calling. There’s been a complication – I, I need you to come to the hospital.”
“What? What happened?” I’m already on my feet, the bile rising in my throat. If something has happened to Leo…
“Something the doctors didn’t anticipate,” Ellen replies tersely. “Can you get here? Please?”
“I’m on my way,” I say, already heading for the elevator.
I barrel through the revolving doors before they’ve even opened properly, knocking my arm painfully against the aluminium frame in my haste.
“Where I can find Leo Russell?” I ask, noticing with mild recognition that these two receptionists are the same ones Tom had tried to question so many months ago.
“He’s in Gen 3,” the one on the left tells me without consulting her computer.
“Are you Sarah Holt?” the second asks and I nod. “They’re waiting for you,” she says kindly.
I follow the overhead signs, my anxiety soaring out of control. They knew I was coming. In my experience the only time guests are allowed open visitation is to say goodbye.
I hurtle around a corner and almost collide with a man coming in the opposite direction. His arm shoots out to steady me.
“Sarah?” His voice is deep and familiar and I look up to see Ellen’s partner, Bruce, towering over me. His hand around my arm relaxes instantly.
“Bruce,” I gasp, clutching at his arm. “Bruce, where’s Leo?”
“He’s this way,” he leads me toward the ward. “You got here quickly. We didn’t expect you for at least another twenty minutes.”
“I came as soon as Ellen called,” I reply automatically, my eyes scanning each room as we pass.
“He’s in here,” Bruce gestures me forward and I step quietly into the room.
Ellen is standing beside the bed blocking my view, but, at the sound of my footsteps, she turns and I catch my first glimpse of Leo lying in the bed. He looks paler than usual and has lost weight since I last saw him, but the thing that strikes me the most is his shaven head - the glorious copper mane is gone - and the thin bandage wrapped around his temples.
“You’re awake,” I breathe, not daring to hope. Ellen gives Bruce a secret smile and steps aside.
“Hello Sarah,” Leo’s lips curl into the crooked smile that makes my knees go weak.
“Are you… Is everything all right?” I ask. “When I got the call I thought…” I trail off, not able to say the words.
“I’m fine,” he insists.
“But…” I look to Ellen for answers but she doesn’t look half as concerned as I thought she would.
“Well, my work here is done,” she announces, lifting her purse off the table beside Leo’s bed. “Thank you for coming, Sarah,” she adds, squeezing my arm as she moves past me. I don’t see Bruce leave, but a second later they are gone and I’m alone with Leo. I step forward slowly, gathering my wits.
“How have you been?” Leo asks, watching my every move.
“I think I should be asking you that question,” I point out. I reach the edge of the bed and gingerly reach out to touch his head just above the bandage. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“And you’re not… you’re not in any danger?”
“No more so than any other brain surgery patient post-op.” He sounds so like himself and my heart gives a twinge of protest at being split open again. Yet another thing I will have to recover from.
“I don’t understand why Ellen called me. I thought something terrible had happened.”
“She called you because I asked her to.”
“But she said there was a complication? Something the doctors hadn’t foreseen.”
“There was,” he agrees. The dark sh
adows beneath his eyes do nothing to diminish their intense colouring. “The results of the surgery weren’t quite what they expected.” He is teasing me now and a rose of hope blooms in my chest as a few things suddenly become clear. Leo looks almost smug and Ellen was here with him - Ellen, not Clare. I bite my lip to keep from smiling as I realise exactly why I’m here.
“How so?” I ask, resting my hand on the sheet beside him. My fingers itch to touch him, but I hold myself back.
“Well,” Leo is actually enjoying himself, “the doctors expected me to go back to how I was before. I believe you yourself were of the same opinion?” he asks innocently, and this time I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face.
“I may have expressed that opinion, it’s hard to recall exactly.”
“Right, well, it turns out that while you are an undeniably talented architect, you really are no brain surgeon.”
“So,” I stretch out the word, “what you’re saying is…”
“What I’m saying, Sarah Holt, is that I love you. I may have changed after the accident, but being with you changed me on a much deeper level. This,” he takes my hand, and his is warm and dry, “this is exactly what I want. I want you. I choose you. Always.”
I close my eyes and feel the tears well up and push through my lashes, streaming down my cheeks and leaving the taste of salt on my tongue.
“Also,” he adds, his tone playful, “I wanted to tell you I told you so.”
I give a choked sob of near-hysterical laughter.
“Really Leo?” I ask, still not believing what’s happening. “Is this really what you want?”
“This is what I want.” He holds my gaze, his eyes sincere and filled with adoration and I kiss him full on the lips.
“Sorry!” I gasp as the lone monitor emits a high-pitched beep.
“Don’t be,” he grins against my lips. “It’s just my heart-rate.”
I step back, wiping tears from my eyes.
“What about Clare?” I don’t want to mention her name, knowing it will break the spell, but I have to know. Leo’s expression turns sombre.
“I told her this morning,” he says. “She’s hurting, but she finally understands. She can accept it now. She won’t stand in our way.” I feel a crushing heaviness weighing on my heart. Clare didn’t ask for any of this and she certainly doesn’t deserve it.
“Hey,” Leo pulls me against him and I rest my head on his shoulder. It’s the most natural thing in the world. “Don’t feel bad; do you understand me?” he squeezes my shoulder in emphasis. “You did nothing wrong. And you stepped aside, you stayed away. No one could’ve asked any more of you than that. This was my decision, Sarah, and I made it long before I met you. My marriage was over - she just didn’t want to believe it.”
“But if you hadn’t met me,” I prompt, “do you think you would’ve given your marriage another chance?”
He doesn’t answer immediately and I’m grateful that he’s giving the question serious consideration and not just telling me what I want to hear.
“No,” he answers eventually. “the Porsche is proof.”
“The Porsche?”
“I love that car,” he admits, “I loved it before and I love it now. And I guess somewhere deep down I loved it even when I was damaged, because, as much as I wanted to change, I never could bring myself to get rid of it. Clare and I were over… probably even before the accident, I was just too busy to see it.”
I nod, the metaphor oddly reassuring.
“So,” I muse, casting him an arch look, “you’re keeping the car?”
“I’m keeping the car,” he confirms happily.
“I guess I’m just going to have to get used to it, then,” I tease.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he smirks as I snuggle up against him.
I lie that way for the longest time feeling the rise and fall of his chest under my fingers, his heart beating a steady rhythm that matches my own.
“I’ve got a job at Burke & Duke starting in the fall,” I murmur. “I believe I have you to thank for that.”
“Well I’ll need someone to pay the bills while I work my way through college,” he teases.
“You’re not going back to medicine, then?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought and, for now, I think I’m where I need to be. The new me likes Holmes, although,” he adds, and I hear the playfulness creep into his voice, “it may just be Samantha Simpson’s cleavage that holds the attraction.”
I start to laugh and find that I can’t stop. I laugh until I’m crying, gasping for breath, and eventually, I stick my nose under his arm to stifle the sound. His arm tightens around me naturally and then he is laughing too, the two of us like a couple of kids without a care in the world.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” I say when we finally fall silent. My fingers trace the hard contours of his chest beneath the hospital gown, the lines of his abdomen, coming to rest on his hand. He squeezes my palm, his thumb stroking the ball of my thumb.
“Thank you,” he whispers, so softly that I have to strain to hear him.
“For what?”
“For making me go through with this. For allowing me to know for sure. For making me whole again.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” I admit truthfully, and he pulls me tightly against him, squeezing out all my fear and doubt.
“You know what we’re going to do the second I get out of here?”
“What?”
“Book that trip to London.”
“Before we do that,” I say, catching his eye, “we need to put your apartment on the market.”
His eyes light up, his lips ensnaring mine and he kisses me deeply, a kiss filled with the promise of forever.
CHAPTER 37
It’s after midnight by the time I get home. Apparently, being on the Board, even if on a sabbatical, grants Leo privileges that don’t apply to regular patients. I get into bed and hug myself tightly wishing he was here with me and delighting in the knowledge that soon he will be. With any luck his surgeon will be discharging him before the weekend.
In the morning I call Jess who insists on a minute-by-minute account of exactly what happened last night.
“God that’s romantic,” she declares when I’m done. “I feel like I should be smoking a cigarette.”
“It was,” I boast.
“What about the wife? Has she tried to contact you?”
“No,” the twinge of guilt flickers to life but I force it down.
“What will you do if she does?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Tom and I are meeting up for breakfast burritos at Tex-Mex, why don’t you join us? He’s going to want to hear all the gory details, too.”
“Why don’t you guys pop over tonight? I’m stopping by the hospital on my way in to campus.”
“Why are you even bothering? You’ve already got a fancy job lined up, unlike the rest of us, and now that your thesis is done you’ll coast through the rest of the year.”
“I want to talk to Dianna,” I say, “and you know you have a fancy job lined up too.” I remind her of her father’s standing offer.
“Don’t remind me. My dad’s already earmarked a corner office with a shiny gold name-plate.”
“Things could be worse. You could’ve been born into poverty and had to sell your ovaries for cash.”
“God, you are a twisted cow! Give McDreamy a kiss from me.”
“I will,” I promise, “I’ll catch up with you later.”
I drive much more slowly this morning, shuddering at how reckless I’d been on the road last night. My frantic panic for Leo’s safety had overcome my common sense and I’d jumped a few lights. I pull up in the hospital lot with my Leo-insulated bubble around me and head for the doors.
“I’m here to see Mr Russell,” I tell the nurse behind the station in Leo’s ward. Is it my imagination or does the blood drain from he
r face at the mention of his name?
“Sarah?” I freeze at the sound of my own name. I’ve only heard that voice once but I’d recognise it anywhere. I rotate slowly, my eyes finding Clare. Her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail and the buttons of her shirt are done up wrong, causing it to pull to one side. My heart skips a beat as I notice her face is tear-stained and her eyes are red from crying.
“Clare,” I begin, trying to find the right words to console her. “I’m sorry. I did what you asked, I really did, but…”
I’m not finished speaking when she gives a wail, rushing at me. I steel myself for a physical attack, but to my astonishment she throws her arms around me. The sound of renewed sobbing in my ear sends an icy dread crawling up my spine.
“Oh God!” Ellen’s voice. I meet her gaze over Clare’s heaving shoulders and my worst fears are confirmed. Ellen’s face is a blubbering mess, her nose and lips swollen and, at the sight of me, fresh tears slip unbidden from her bruised eyes.
I disentangle myself from Clare’s grasp and walk toward Ellen, my ears thundering as the blood rushes through my body.
“I was about to call you,” Ellen sounds contrite through her despair and she glances at Clare as she adds, “the hospital still has Clare listed as the primary emergency contact.”
Emergency contact.
“No!” I utter the word with conviction as though saying it will make it true. “No,” I say again but this time my courage fails me. Because I know what she’s going to say even before her mouth opens.
Ellen’s face crumples. “It was a blood-clot. They didn’t pick it up in the scans,” she breaks off, unable to continue.
“No, please, no…” I mewl, shaking my head. “He’s not. He can’t be? Ellen, please tell me he’s not…?”
Bruce appears at Ellen’s side and she leans heavily against him. I suspect that without his solid bulk she would have toppled over.
“Leo’s in a coma, Sarah,” Bruce says. His eyes are red, his voice hoarse, but he has picked up where Ellen left off. Ellen’s eyes are closed, shutting out the world.
“A coma?” Hope. Beautiful glorious hope raises her head. “So he can wake up. He’s going to wake up, right?”