A few minutes pass before Mitch re-joins us. I see Holly looking from Mitch to me and back to Mitch again. I can feel him staring a hole into the back of my head. I try to focus on my job. I assess Kelly and her baby once more simply to keep my hands and my mind busy. I’m glad there are multiple people coming and going from her room because there can be no awkward silence this way.
Thirty minutes later, our shift comes to an end. Nancy agrees to work second shift with Holly coming back for the overnight. I tell all the guests that they need to leave to let our patients get some rest. And luckily, this gives me an excuse to walk out of the clinic accompanied by several people.
I know he is watching me as I walk ahead of him in a small group. Holly keeps looking at me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on her smug little face. I know she is itching to find out exactly what happened. But I can’t talk about it. I have to clear my head. I tell her and the others I have something to do and walk away. I look back at Mitch and see him shake his head and close his eyes in frustration while his hand comes up to work the front of his shirt over his chest like he’s done many times before.
We lock eyes. Then he nods, giving me a look of acceptance and understanding before he turns and walks towards his apartment.
I walk towards the barracks, and the stables behind them.
~ ~ ~
“How did you manage Sassy with your wonky ankle?”
I turn around to see that Claire has snuck up on me, out here in the meadow beyond the east pasture. I can’t believe I didn’t even hear her ride up. I guess I’ve been lost in my own world out here. This is where I come to think. Just as lying under the stars at night relaxes me; being out here in this meadow—with the tall wispy grass, the sounds of nature, and the smell of flowers—brings clarity to my life.
“Brad helped me get up on her,” I say. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“I went by your apartment to see how you were holding up after I heard about Kelly’s baby. I know that must have been stressful for you.”
“It wasn’t. It was incredible.”
“I know,” she says.
“You know?” I raise an inquisitive eyebrow.
“I ran into Mitch outside your apartment.”
She doesn’t need to say anymore. I can see it in her eyes. She has an uncanny ability to read people. To get past the bullshit and really find out what makes them tick. I’m one-hundred-percent sure that she got Mitch to say something about us and how we feel about each other. And I’m one-thousand-percent sure that I feel guilty as hell about it. She must be so mad at me for contemplating being with another man.
“What if this is it, Claire? What if we’re all that’s left? I know there are other groups out there somewhere, but we still don’t know how many. It’s been almost a year. How long do we wait? Are we supposed to sit around and let life pass us by while we wait for people who may never come back?” I belatedly realize that I’m talking about her only son. “Oh, God, Claire. I’m sorry, I don’t mean for it to sound like I’ve given up because I haven’t. I love him.”
She brings her horse up next to mine. “I know you do sweetie, and I love you for it. You are one of the few people that still have hope. However, you shouldn’t let that hope guilt you into missing out on life.”
“But how do I know when it’s time to move on? And how do I move on when he could still be out there?’
She sighs. “Oh, Kay, it’s different for everyone. I’m not sure you’ll ever know exactly when the right time is, but I see the way you look at Mitch. I’ve watched you two together. You are happy when he is around. You shouldn’t feel guilty about that. Jeff wouldn’t want you to stop living.”
I stare at the ground. “How can you even stand to look at me, Claire? I’m sitting here thinking about being with another man. Don’t you hate me for that?”
“Absolutely not, and neither would Jeff. Kay, you need to get over the guilt if you want a chance at happiness. I know—it was the same for me.”
My eyes go wide as they find hers. “For you . . . what do you mean?”
“Well, dear, we haven’t outright told anyone yet, but we’ve decided to stop hiding it.” She smiles and shrugs her shoulders.
Then it dawns on me. “The colonel,” I say, nodding. It makes sense. He brought her to the clinic when she was injured. The whispers between them. The wink when he left. I narrow my eyes at her. “You—you’re the reason the colonel told me to work closely with Mitch every day, aren’t you?”
A smile brightens her face. “Guilty,” she says, not even having the decency to look slightly ashamed. “Listen, Kay, it took me a while to get over the guilt of moving on after Jeffrey. For months, I wasn’t sure if I could. Thank God James persisted.”
I reach over to touch her hand, “I’m so happy for you, Claire.” Then I pull back. “But, it’s not quite the same. Jeff could still be out there somewhere.”
“Yes, he could, and I hope to God that he is. But nobody will fault you for moving on under these circumstances, sweetie.” She smooths the back of my hair, just like a mother would. “What does your heart tell you, Kay?”
I cock my head to the side. “That’s exactly what Holly asked me last night.”
“Well then, maybe it’s time that you listen to what it’s saying.”
Chapter Eleven
More than a week has passed since the kiss. It seems like yesterday, however, because I’ve relived it so many times in my dreams. Mitch has been giving me space, but that doesn’t mean we still haven’t come close to kissing a few times. It seems like we find excuses to touch each other whenever possible. I want him. I know this. But I want him without the guilt that comes along with it.
Happy to be free from my crutches, I stop by the PX to pick something up for Mitch, making me a little late for work. Figuring Mitch has already opened the clinic, I take my time getting there, enjoying the beautiful late March morning. When I get to the clinic though, I find it deserted.
Panic strikes me when I remember what yesterday was. It was the day Mitch went outside the gates for the first time. He went on a supply run with Evan’s guys. My heart sinks. What if his memory was triggered and he decided to leave? What if he came to the conclusion that our little camp was not as great as I’ve made it out to be? What if he decided that waiting for me wasn’t worth it anymore and moved on?
All kinds of scenarios are playing out in my head as I try to busy myself washing dirty linens from yesterday’s patient. Finally, the front door opens and I hear, “You here, Mikayla?” My eyes close in a silent prayer of thanks as I try to keep myself from running out front and jumping into his arms.
“In the back,” I say, trying not to reveal my sheer exuberance at his arrival. I pick up the package that I brought for him and walk out to the reception area. I see Mitch has a package in his hands, too.
“Hey,” he says, beaming at me. He looks gorgeous. Has he always looked this gorgeous? He has another one of his trademark t-shirts on, paired with his faded jeans and work boots. He still hasn’t asked me to cut his hair so it flops every which way, looking messy yet perfect at the same time.
“Hi.” My heart is still somewhere in the vicinity of my throat so I can’t manage to get more than the one word to come out.
“What’s in the bag?” He motions to my hand and I look down at the package that I had all but forgotten I was holding.
“Oh, I got something for you.” I walk over and hand it to him.
“Really?” he asks, his face brightening. “I got something for you, too.” We stare at each other and laugh at the almost uncomfortable tension between us. Then we exchange packages.
He opens his bag first. He pulls out the t-shirts that I picked up for him. I got him a black one to replace the one he ripped up for me and a blue one because I thought it would go great with his sapphire eyes. “You got me clothes?” He looks up at me. “Nobody has ever gotten me clothes before. It’s so . . . domestic.”
I frown
. “Sorry it wasn’t something more exciting. I wanted to replace the shirt you ruined for me and the other one, well, I just thought it might look good on you.”
“Don’t be sorry, Mikayla. These are great. I meant domestic in a good way.” He reaches out to run his hand down my arm. “Thank you,” he says, and nods to the small package in my hands. “Now you.”
I unwrap a plain paper bag to reveal a book. I turn it over to see the cover that is dotted with stars in a night sky. “You got me a book about constellations?”
“Yeah. I found it yesterday when I was out with the guys. I couldn’t think of anyone who would appreciate it more than you.”
He was thinking of me when he was out seeing his new world for this first time? Here I was scared that he wouldn’t come back, or that he had snuck away in the night to re-claim a life that he had once forgotten. A little piece of the wall I had put up around my heart crumbles. “Thank you, Mitch. This is the best gift I’ve gotten in a long time—maybe ever.”
“Well, I hope not ever, but you’re welcome.” He picks up the packaging and folds it neatly. Then he puts it up on a shelf, already used to our recycling and reusing habits.
I look at the book in my hands and back up to him. “This isn’t a going away present, is it?”
“Why, are you going somewhere?” He furrows his brow.
“Not me. I thought maybe going outside had triggered your memory and that you might be leaving us. To find something . . .” I frown again and add, “or . . . someone.”
“I’m not leaving, Mikayla. Not until I figure out why I was down here.”
“But what if you never figure that out?”
“Then I’ll have a choice to make, I guess.” He stares at me, his eyes caressing mine. “But life is all about making difficult choices, isn’t it?”
I wonder if he is talking about him making the choice to stay or me making the choice to let go of Jeff.
“Hey, did you know there are 350 squirts in a gallon of milk?” he asks.
What? Where did that come from?
He laughs at me. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood, doctor. And while I’ve been avoiding you this week,”—he winks at me—“I’ve been learning a great deal about farming.”
“You milked a cow?” My jaw falls open at the thought of this manly man crawling beneath a cow to repeatedly pull on its teats.
“I milked several of them. I also hung out with Craig who is teaching me about raising crops.”
I eye him suspiciously. “Thinking of changing professions, are we?”
“I’ve got to have something to fall back on if you kick me to the curb,” he teases me, giving me that familiar elbow to the ribs.
“I’m not kicking anyone anywhere, Mitch. But thank you for giving me time, you know, to figure things out.”
As we go about our daily chores at the clinic, Mitch tells me about what he saw on the outside. It’s just as I feared; not many other people around and plenty of neighborhoods left to pilfer—although they are having to go farther and farther out to get to them, wasting more of our precious fuel supply. The only good news was that they did run into a man who had biked from North Carolina and he said he heard rumors of the beginnings of a working government. I guess that’s something.
~ ~ ~
“Help!” we hear, from where we sit in the file room. Mitch and I run out front to see Jared Williams helping his mother into the clinic. She is visibly sweating and looks pale. She can barely keep her feet beneath her. “I think she’s having a heart attack!” Jared cries.
“Mitch, start the generator and hook up the EKG and oxygen and charge the defibrillator.” Thank goodness we at least have a working AED. Still, we’ve lost more heart attack victims than we’ve saved. And since women generally don’t have the classic symptoms of a heart attack, they tend to not seek help until it’s too late.
“I’m on it,” Mitch says, already making his way to the back of the clinic.
Jared and I get his mother, Monica, into an exam room and get her comfortable on a bed. I tell Jared, “Get her some water while I have her chew an Aspirin.” She is barely able to chew it, but it does go down.
Mitch returns and we get her hooked up to the EKG and oxygen. People are starting to gather out in the reception area and Holly comes rushing in to help. Before the results of her EKG can be read, Monica goes into full cardiac arrest.
Oh, God, please let the AED have a charge.
“Holly, get Jared out of the room so we can work!” I yell over my shoulder.
Mitch unpacks the AED. “Hurry!” I snap at him as he opens the box and starts handing me the chest pads.
“I think it has a little charge, but we may not get much,” he says.
“Then we’ll do CPR until it charges back up,” I tell him. “Whatever it takes, do you hear me?”
Holly returns, having found someone to stay with Jared outside the doors. “What can I do?”
“Bag her. We may have to do CPR for a while, so get ready.”
I shock Monica with the AED and get no response. “CPR for two then shock again,” I tell them. “I’ll go first.” They both understand that giving CPR is very physically taxing and it’s best to take turns so one caregiver doesn’t get exhausted. I’m pumping on her chest while Holly is giving her breaths with the Ambu bag. “Mitch, I want to give her a beta blocker and t-PA, go get those ready for me.” He leaves the room and I turn to Holly and say, “It’s the only therapy we can try, we have no other options.”
“I know, Kay,” she reassures me. “We will do what we can, everyone out there knows that.”
Mitch returns before the two minutes are up. He places syringes on the table next to me and goes to sanitize his hands and start setting up an IV.
We shock her again. Still nothing. Mitch performs CPR this time while I finish her IV and administer the meds. We continue the cycle of CPR and AED for over thirty minutes. Holly and I both have tears running down our faces while Mitch continues to perform CPR even though we know it’s too late.
I know it’s time to call it. I put my hands over Mitch’s to let him know to stop, but he just keeps going. Sweat trickles down his brow as he keeps pumping away despite the fact that Holly has stopped bagging her.
“Mitch, she’s gone. There is nothing more we can do,” I say to him. But it’s like he doesn’t even hear me. He doesn’t miss a beat. I raise my voice and say, “Mitch, you have to stop now!”
Sweat drips off his nose down onto Monica’s chest as he continues to try and resuscitate her. I lower my head and look into his eyes so that I can speak directly to him, but I see that his eyes are glazed over. “Mitch!” I yell, as I try to pull his hands away from Monica’s chest.
“No!” he screams at me, batting my hand away. “She’s not dead! She’s not dead! She’ll be okay. She has to be okay. Mom, please . . .” He keeps going on and on about his mother when it dawns on me that he must be reliving a memory. He told me his parents were alive and that his mom was a school teacher.
Oh, my God. He is remembering his mother’s death.
“Holly, go get some guys to pull him off and take him in the other room. Give him a mild sedative if you have to. I’ll deal with Jared.”
I watch in horror as Mitch battles two large men when they pull him, kicking and screaming, off Monica’s lifeless body. I try to ignore the commotion coming from the room they take him to so that I can comfort the man who just lost his mother. Then, I’ll go comfort the other man who also just lost his.
Minutes later, after I break the news to Jared and his friends come in to sit with him; I leave to go talk to Mitch. I look through the window of the second exam room to see Holly sitting with him. He is lying on the bed, staring blankly at the wall beside him. Holly motions for me to come in and then she whispers to me, “I gave him a shot of Ativan so he might be out of it for a while.”
“Can you take care of things out there?” I ask.
“Of course, you stay with Mit
ch. I’ll handle it, Kay.”
I sit by Mitch’s side and he grabs my hand without looking at me. He’s not unconscious, but he’s not completely awake either. It reminds me of weeks ago when he was first brought in. I hold his hand and watch him drift off to sleep. I run my hand over his hair in an effort to comfort him. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for him. I know he may be out for hours, so I ask Holly to grab me a book and a bottle of water. Then I sit and read to him, just like I did those first few nights. I don’t know if he can hear me. I don’t know if he can hear the shakiness of my voice as I read. I’m terrified of what will happen when he wakes up; of what he could have remembered. I want his memory to return . . . don’t I? Even if it means him leaving here . . . leaving me?
Hours later, he finally stirs. Groggy eyes try to focus on me for a few minutes before he speaks. “Mikayla.” He simply says my name. But that one word has me rejoicing ever so slightly. I’m not sure why I expected him to forget me when his memory returned. I know it’s silly to think that would happen, but the mind is complicated. Then I brace myself for what he might say next.
“She’s dead,” he says. A tear falls from his eye and rolls down the side of his head.
I reach out to catch it. “I’m so sorry, Mitch. Do you want to tell me about it?”
He closes his eyes and sighs. “I was in Afghanistan when it happened. My CO pulled me aside after breakfast one day and said I’d been granted two weeks leave. He said my mom had a stroke and that I needed to go back to Sacramento to be with her. I knew it must have been pretty bad if they were making me go home. But, I was lucky. I made it home in time to say goodbye. My whole family was with her—my dad, my brother and his wife and daughters—we were all there when she died. She was only fifty-four.”
He looks deep in thought and says, “I guess that’s why I was back in the states.” More tears blur his blue eyes. “I can’t believe she’s gone.” He grips my hand tighter, pulling me down into a hug. I wrap my arm around him and rub the back of his neck. Even though this happened long ago, to him it feels like she just died. He is feeling every single emotion that he felt back then. “I need you, Mikayla,” he cries his soft, broken words into my neck.
Finding Mikayla Page 10