by Silla Webb
I continue to call out to her scootin’ on my knees through the fiery wake, but I can’t find her. My throat feels tight as the heavy smoke blankets over me. I feel lightheaded and my vision begins to blur as I crawl my way into the foyer, but I refuse to give up. The blaze cracks loudly and I look up at the orange blazed ceiling just as the yielding rafters give way, wood and sheetrock splintering beneath the pressure of the flames, trapping me in their fiery cage. I try to wiggle free from the heavy wood but my legs are trapped. I squirm and fight to break free, calling out to Savannah, to anyone who might hear me. Sirens screech in the distance, alertin’ me that help is on the way, but the smoke fills my lungs and the fiery blazes fades into Sawyer’s smiling face.
Chapter Twenty One
Carly and I are on our way to pick the kids up from school when her phone rings. She answers it casually with her chipper tone, then her face pales, her hazel eyes widening in shock. She slows the Tahoe and quickly whips it around in a U-turn, slamming the phone down against the console. Tears spill over the brim of her eyes and I grip her hand, quietly asking what happened. I wasn’t prepared for her response, no matter how hard I’ve been trying to steel my strength, this brought me to my knees. “It’s Luke, Sis. It’s really bad.”
So many scenarios flash through my mind as I try to prepare myself for what Carly is about to tell me. He fell off of a ladder while working at his house, fracturing several bones; wrecked his motorcycle. He ran into Drew Varney and things got ugly. I steal Carly’s strength, trying to prepare myself for the news but it’s not enough. “Savannah, he was just pulled from your burning house. I’m so sorry, Sis.”
Woah, what? My burning house?
“Carly, please, please tell me he’s okay!” I shout, choking back a sob.
“All I was told is he’s at the ER.” Her voice is apologetic and broken.
Upon arriving at hospital, Carly drops me off in front then leaves to pick up the kids, promising to return as soon as she can. My legs quiver with each step I take, but I will myself forward knowing Luke needs me. He’s been my anchor all this time, pulling me through the wreckage. Now it’s time I anchor him. The receptionist is very uncompassionate and rude. I lie, telling her I’m Luke’s girlfriend just to get any information on his injury.
She shows me back to the triage room they have Luke in and tells me she’ll let the doctor know his family has arrived before she pulls the door together for privacy. Sitting in the teal vinyl chair next to Luke, I look him over accessing his injuries. His large body is too big for the bed, his feet uncomfortably hanging over the edge. A sheet covers his prone form and I can’t help but to pull it back checking him over. Small burn marks litter his tan skin just up to his elbows and a few mark up his face and neck. Black soot blankets his body, thick rings around his mouth and nose from inhaling the thick smoke. I hover my hand over his, scared to touch him, but a light tap on the door stills me momentarily. I look up to see the doctor waving me out into the hallway. He explains everything to me with a hopeful tone, assuring that they are doing everything they can to treat Luke with the utmost care.
Luke was pulled from a structural fire where he was pinned beneath a wooden beam. He was unconscious when the firemen pulled him to safety, and was immediately transported to the ER. He tells me they are unsure of how long Luke was in the fire, but he could be unconscious for a few hours or as long as thirty six hours. They are running several tests-chest x-ray, blood gases, CBC and a CT scan for good measure, sparing all costs to ensure an accurate diagnosis and precise treatment. The quicker he wakes up, the less risk he will be in for dangerous infections.
I know the survival rate for smoke inhalation, the complications one faces-Pneumonia, brain damage due to lack of oxygen, Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome-just to name a few. Explain all of that to your ordinary person and their hope diminishes grimly. But I’m a nurse. It sounds scary, but you have to understand the statistics and the treatment. You have to have faith. I know that Luke is a fighter and he will pull through this.
Making my way back to Luke, I stop mid-stride, tilting my head as I look at him lying lifelessly in the bed and it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time. His skin is red and heated from the fire, marked and blistered which will leave everlasting reminders of the day he nearly sacrificed his life to save mine. His dark brown hair is wild and unruly like he was raking his fingers through it all day as he worked. His beard is neatly trimmed, but thick-covering his tanned, delicate face. A tribal flame tattoo stretches from the top of his right shoulder to just above his elbow, and although I have seen the ink peeking out the edge of his sleeve before I was never curious about the design, but now I wanna know what it symbolizes. My eyes trail down his chest to see a beautiful script peeking from his ribs and I can only make out the words Christ strengtheneth me 4:13. Scripture? 4:13-I chant over and over to myself, committing the numbers to memory. I glance over him one last time and a single tear trickles down my cheek when my eyes fall upon the tattoo etched over his heart. My memory flashes back to Braden squalling that Luke was a superhero, Superman-Braden’s very idol. It didn’t make sense at the time, and I was so mad at Luke that night I didn’t want to know what Braden meant, so I never thought to ask. But now, knowing Luke’s story it all makes perfect sense:
“Superman was his favorite superhero because he could fly, bend steel, and he always knew when someone needed him. To Sawyer, I was his Superman.”
“Sawyer was right, you are a Superhero. Please wake up.” I mutter through heavy tears.
I cry silently for what feels like hours. The Superman tattoo on Luke’s chest guts me. This man-this amazing man who’s life has been tragically wrecked with abuse, devastation and loss-has never given up, never quit fighting. Somehow through all the hurt, pain and anguish he’s lived through he continues to grow stronger-relentlessly living because he knew he served a purpose. I just wish I understood his strength, his empathy-him, because he truly amazes me.
They move Luke to a regular room and tell me that his oxygen saturation levels aren’t stable and they’re concerned he may have burned tissue in the lungs. So they want to monitor him, checking his blood gas levels until he wakes up when they can take a better assessment of him. Even though he’s on oxygen his room air is unsteady, registering at only eighty percent and that worries me the most.
Carly and Colton show up just as the sun sets and I’m a bit relieved to see familiar faces. My mind is swirling in wild circles, racing endlessly in thought. Colton offers to sit with Luke while Carly and I go to the café to get some coffee. I feel like I’ve been running on auto pilot since I got to the hospital. I fill her in on what I know so far. She’s a rattled mess, worried about her best friend.
“Sis, I talked to the fire chief and he said the Fire Marshall would be in first thing in the morning to investigate the fire. The house is a total loss. The structure is still intact for the most part but the damage is too extensive to try to repair it.” She gulps back a sob, trying to hide the tears that flow freely from her eyes. “That was home, Savannah. My God, every memory from our childhood, of Daddy – just stolen from us.”
“Carly, please. I can’t focus on that right now. For the second time in just a matter of months my family has lost everything. Our homes, our personal belongings, and family photos-those can never be replaced. But damn it I nearly lost my Luke!” My voice rises an octave as the emotions swallow me whole. “His life is worth more than anything that we’ve lost!”
“I know, Sis. I’m so sorry! Luke is the strongest man I know. He will pull through this.”
“He will, Carly. He’s gonna come back to me.” I swipe my face roughly, so angry and mad and just frickin’ broken that this happened.
Carly links our hands together and passes me a knowing look. “Let’s get you back to Luke, sweets. He needs you now more than ever.”
With tragedy, we always ask WHY. I always wondered what right we have to ask, to question God’s will, but it’s
simple human instinct and we’re all guilty of it. So instead of questioning God’s intentions I’ve just been talking to Him, praying silently, talking out loud-He hears it all just the same in my book. I just feel like there is a missing piece of the puzzle that I’m not seeing and I’m trying very hard not to be so angry. Luke and I both have suffered so much, we deserve a break.
I raise my head up to study his breathing pattern and my gaze instantly falls on the ink trailing across his ribs. Christ strengtheneth me 4:13. I reach in my purse and pull out my cell phone and enter the words in the search bar, curious what his tattoo means. I click the first link and smile to myself, knowing I was right as I read :
Philippians 4:13 King James Version (KJV)
13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
I find comfort in the scripture. With all that Luke has been through, it’s the perfect reminder to look to God when you feel weak, keep your faith in Him and you’ll find your strength, which is exactly what Luke has done over the last two years – he’s clutched onto his faith.
Suddenly I remember a conversation I had with Luke about when he lost his family and it’s like the pieces of the puzzle just fall into place.
“Fact of the matter is, the good Lord called them home, together. It was just all a freak accident, really. I understand that you blame yourself, but consider this-God didn’t take you for a reason. Why? I don’t know, but He has a plan for you, Luke, that will eventually come together and when it does, although you’ve suffered a great loss, it will all make sense.”
I’ve just recovered from a life shattering wreckage finding the other half of my heart through the storm. Luke saved me from Josh then held me at bay, keeping me afloat through the vehement waves. I grip Luke’s hand a little tighter and pierce my teeth through my lips, fighting back my loud sobs as the striking realization hits me that Luke lost his family, so he could find me.
“You were meant to save me, Luke. Please come back to me.”
Luke still hasn’t woke up, but I’m clutching to faith and praying that God will let me keep him. The nurses make regular rounds checking his vitals which seem to be stabilizing. I’ve not slept a wink. My mind just won’t shut off but exhaustion is quickly setting in. My heart thuds, echoing loudly in my ears, the only harsh reminder I have that this wretched body is still clinging to life-struggling to find the beauty in it all.
“Luke, you have to come back to me. You fought too hard to save me, to protect me. You can’t leave me now. I don’t think I can let you go. Please, just open your eyes.” I whisper, feeling defeated and lost. I won’t give up on him like this. I ease onto the bed, hovering over him and cup my hands around his face. “Luke, please.” I can’t stop the tears from flowing. So much I want to say to him, the words begging for release. I lean in and brush my lips over his delicately, my heart swelling with emotion leading me in this moment. “I love you, Luke.” I didn’t want to tell him like this. I lay my forehead against his, silently praying that he can sense me, feel my touch – that my love-anything will bring him back. Just being close to him right now, is comforting. I trail my fingers through his beard, and choke back a sob as I sit back down beside him. I just wanna curl into his arms, feel his embrace around me one more time. I curl my arm around his, and rest my head on the bend of his elbow as I watch his chest rise and fall slowly-the movement causing my heavy eyes to drift no matter how hard I fight it.
“Not givin’ up on you Luke. Open your eyes, please, baby.” I whisper as my body gives way to the exhaustion and I melt into Luke.
Pain. Agonizing pain inside and out. My mind is muddled and cloudy. Memories rushing through my mind, taunting me, lashing at me in despair.
Momma cryin’ holding her split lip and Daddy yelling and screaming as he smashes a beer bottle against the wall. Momma’s face is distorted and I stifle back my cries from the far corner in the living room, hopin’ my old man don’t see me.
A strong foot smashin’ against my stomach as two hands shove me between the seat of the bus, then a balled up fist crashin’ against my cheek. Hurtful words bein’ spit in my face, bein’ poked fun at, constant verbal attacks.
Flames stretchin’ into the night sky and tormented screams invading my ears. Bright embers dancin’ in the wind as wood snaps and crackles, windows bursting through the blaze. Anguish, devastation, pain. I feel raw – lifeless and empty.
Beauty. Awe-inspiring beauty, hidin’ behind a mask, embarrassed and terrified to live. Bruises, cuts, scrapes and a shattered soul. She’s weak and fragile but I’m drawn to her, intent on protectin’ her, shieldin’ her from the pain.
Fire.
Fear.
Suffocation.
Darkness.
“Sawyer?” My little boy smiles back at me. He looks exactly the same as I remember. “Hey little man, come give Daddy a hug.” I say squattin’ down on one knee, stretchin’ my arms out wide. He rushes into my arms, his small little arms wrappin’ around my neck. I lift him up in my arms and kiss his chubby face.
“Daddy, you dirty.” I look down at my hands and notice the black soot. “Make me fly, Daddy!” Sawyer shouts bouncin’ in my arms with excitement and I flip him over, his tummy in one hand, his ankles in the other. He stretches out his hands and lets out a happy laugh, fillin’ my heart. I pull him back up to my chest, cradlin’ him close. Never wanna let him go. “I was scared, Daddy. I couldn’t find you or my cape. I couldn’t fly anymore.”
“Daddy’s here now, Sawyer.” I squeeze him tighter, revelin’ in this blessin’ of holding my little man one more time.
His chubby little hand grips my jaw and he smiles up at me, his soft grey eyes full of love. “Gotta go now, Daddy. You go be a hero.” He jumps down and begins to run away his little legs makin’ small strides in the distance.
“Sawyer! Stop! Where you goin’?” I shout after him, his form fadin’ before me.
He turns around and looks at me, stretches his arm out and says, “I’m okay, Daddy. Go be a hero. Love you, always.” He smiles, wrinkling his nose. My heart drops into my chest and I call out to him, but he runs away. My eyes mist over and I’m so confused. I turn on my heel, trying to place my surroundings but I feel lost.
“Luke, please open your eyes.” Savannah? I can hear her crying, her sobs broken and breathless. I turn to look for her, but she’s nowhere to be found. Wetness drips onto my arm and I try to swipe it away, but suddenly all movement feels weighted. My chest hurts, my entire damn body sore and throbbin’ with tension. I feel hot all over, and it hurts to breathe.
Savannah’s cries rip at my heart, and I want to hold her, tell her everything is gonna be okay, but right now I don’t know what the hell is happenin’. My breathin’ labors and I fade into the darkness, the room suddenly dry of air. I cough, gasping for oxygen, but my lungs feel hard and suppressed. I can still hear Savannah’s whisperin’ pleas but suddenly my wind draws tight…
I draw in a ragged breath as my eyes pop open and I stare up at the ceiling tryin’ to focus my hazy vision. It takes a few minutes to fully wake up, but as I scan my eyes around the room I’m unfamiliar in my surroundings. The room is dark and I look out the window to see the star filled sky. My entire body feels rigid and tight and I just can’t breathe deep enough. Reaching up, I feel the oxygen mask on my face and I try to inhale the fresh air, but it’s like my lungs won’t accept it. I feel panicked. I try to raise up, urgent to breathe and every muscle in my body screeches in protest.
That’s when I feel her. Her fingers lace through mine and she places her other hand on my chest as she hovers over me, her swollen eyes searching mine. “L-luke?” She whispers as her eyes well up with tears. I part my mouth to speak, but my mouth is dry like cotton. “Lay still, let me get the doctor.” She jumps from the bed and races from the room. Suddenly, I realize why I’m here-in this hospital bed, covered in black soot, gasping for oxygen. The memory of Savannah’s house blazing high with fiery flames comes to mind, followed by a c
rushing weight, heat and suffocation. She’s safe.
The nurse comes in first offerin’ me ice water to drink and it eases my dry throat almost immediately. She does the usual assessment-blood pressure, oxygen saturation, pulse, then moves outta the way taking notes as the doctor checks me over, listenin’ to my chest and so on.
“Mr. Ashton, do you remember anything?” The doctor asks.
“Not much, everything is still foggy. How long have I been out?” My raspy voice cracks as I speak through the mask.
“For nearly ten hours. You’re oxygen saturation is stabilizing which is fabulous, but the x-ray shows slight tissue damage to the lungs. I think you’re on the mend. We’ll watch you through the remainder of the night and if you’re up for it, we can probably send you home tomorrow. You’ll be sore for a few days, but if you feel like moving around it will help stretch out your muscles.” His cell phone beeps and he pulls it from his pocket as he turns on his heel. “If you need anything, just call out.”
Savannah looks over at me, her soft green eyes marred with streaks of red and my heart collapses. I rip the oxygen mask from my face and with every ounce of strength in me I pull myself up off the bed.
“Luke, what are you doin’? Lay down, you’re hurt!” She shouts. I reach out, wrappin’ my hand around her wrist and pull her into my bare chest and I swear she melts against me. A loud gush of air extinguishes from her lips, ghosting across my chest sendin’ chills up my back. I think that’s the first time she’s exhaled since she got here.
I rake my fingers through the back of her hair and tilt her face up to mine, resting my forehead on hers. “I thought I’d lost you, too. I couldn’t have lived with that heartache, Sav. No damn way.” I part my lips, dyin’ to taste her lips but I think better of it. Right now, she’s high strung on emotion and I don’t wanna confuse her anymore.