by Pat Warren
He was back in short order having shaved and grabbed a quick shower in the doctor’s lounge. Edmund O’Neill had been there having a cup of coffee before his next surgery. He’d shown Jeff where to stash his bag until later in an empty locker at the far end. He’d chatted briefly with Jeff about the hospital in California where he was a resident and about his medevac specialty. The casual acceptance had improved Jeff’s outlook.
Dressed in clean clothes, a blue shirt and khaki slacks, he felt a lot better. He’d taken the time to go down to the cafeteria where he’d gulped down two glasses of orange juice, a bagel and coffee before returning to the ICU.
Tish hadn’t moved, nor had anything changed.
Sitting down alongside her bed, Jeff chided himself. What had he expected, that he’d return to find her sitting up in bed, laughing and joking with the nurses? She was alive. He had to focus on that. And the fact that she was strong and healthy. She would make it. She had to.
He took her hand in his, turning it over, seeing the strength there in her slender fingers, yet the vulnerability of the small bones. Since meeting Tish Buckner, he’d imagined a lot of scenarios, but this hadn’t been one of them, with her in a coma and him by her bedside, waiting, hoping, praying.
Jeff yawned, realizing he was tired yet not really sleepy. He gazed at her features, her lovely face now marred by a cut on her forehead and a bruise on her chin. How he loved to just look at her. During some of their nights together, he’d sometimes awakened and just lay there looking at her in the dim night light as she slept. He fervently wished they were back there in those wonderful days when they’d been together and she’d been well, happy, laughing.
Swallowing hard and blinking back tears, Jeff knew his emotions were very close to the surface due to his concern for Tish and his lack of rest. Yet he didn’t want to rest, wanted instead to be right here, alert and available, when she woke up.
His medical training had included the study of head traumas, of the coma condition, and the best advice for relatives had been to stay by the patient, talk to them, touch them, let them know you’re there and waiting for their return. People who’d awakened from comas had mentioned hearing voices, some even remembering actual conversations that had gone on around them while they’d been under.
So, because he thought it might hasten her recovery, and because he wanted Tish to know he was there, he began talking to her as he sat holding her hand. Talking softly, lovingly.
“I guess I never told you much about my early years. I always found reasons to change the subject because, well, it wasn’t pleasant, remembering. But also because I’d been so used to not opening up about my past. I’m sorry I shut you out, babe. I didn’t mean to. Looks like we have plenty of time now.”
After confiding about his painful childhood for several minutes, Jeff got up, feeling restless. He walked over and straightened covers that didn’t need attention, pausing to stroke her face again. “Oh, God, Tish, I wish you’d open those big, beautiful eyes and look at me, just once, babe. You can go back to sleep then, but I wish I had a sign that you were trying hard to come back to us.”
But she just lay there, not moving.
Leaning back, Jeff sighed, wondering if the rain had stopped. There were no windows in ICU. After dozing for a while, he gazed out the glass sliding doors and saw that it was shift change time for the nurses. Had he been here that long? He stretched again and his aching muscles reminded him that he had been sitting for a long time.
The door slid open and the new nurse came in, introducing herself as Doris. She was older with gray hair and glasses, but she was quietly efficient, checking Tish’s vital signs, marking on her chart.
“I understand Dr. O’Neill’s orders are that you’re permitted to remain with our patient here as long as you like, Dr. Kirby,” she said. “However, if you want to check into a hotel and get some rest or leave for a meal, please know that I’m here and I’ll be monitoring your wife every moment.”
He smiled at her. “Thank you. I think I will leave to make a couple of calls and to grab a sandwich, but then I’ll be back. I’m not checking into a hotel, though. I’m staying with her until she comes out of the coma.”
He saw the carefully veiled expression on the nurse’s face that told him she was used to family members having hope. “That’s fine. We can’t bring a cot into this small space, though, and you look like you could use some rest.”
“I’ll be fine. I can sleep anywhere. That chair’s quite comfortable.” Hadn’t he spent years on the run, sleeping on the hard ground, on wooden benches? There’d be plenty of time for a soft bed after he knew Tish was out of danger.
“Well, all right, then. If you need anything, I’ll be at the desk.” As silently as she’d entered, she left.
Jeff walked over to his wife and gazed at her for a long while, holding her hand in his. “I’m going out to call East, which I should have done earlier, and to grab a bite to eat. Then I’ll be back, sweetheart. And I’ll give you chapter two of the fascinating saga that is my life so far.” He leaned down to kiss her pale cheek.
As he straightened, he felt her hand move, the fingers grab his. “Tish!” he called out. “You moved! You’re coming back to us. Thank God. Oh, honey, it’s Jeff. Come back to me, please.”
Reaching for the call button, Jeff pushed it hard, then turned back to her. “Tish, do it again, sweetheart. Squeeze my hand.”
There was mist, at first filmy, then heavier. She struggled through it, trying to see, to look around. Why couldn’t she see? Her eyes fluttered, but it was no use. Her lids were too heavy.
Tish heard a voice as if from a distance, calling to her. A man’s voice. She strained to make out the words, to recognize the voice. There was gentleness in the sound and she seemed to recall the same man talking to her in a soothing way.
Then suddenly he said something very close to her ear, his words begging her to return to him. Where was she that she had to return? Where had she gone and why was he just out of reach?
The mist swirled with an ebb and flow of its own, confusing her. She tried desperately to move, to reach out, but she could only grasp someone’s hand. She wanted to ask questions, but she couldn’t move her lips. Why couldn’t she speak? Why couldn’t she remember where she was and how she’d gotten here?
Now it became quieter and she could hear his voice more clearly. It was Jeff! Oh, how badly she wanted Jeff to be with her but, try as she would, she couldn’t communicate. Tish felt tears forming, tears of frustration. Jeff was talking to her again, telling her to hold on, that he’d called for help. Who was coming to help her? She was locked in this terrible nightmare, unable to reach Jeff. He sounded so worried. I’m here, darling, she wanted to yell out, but no sound came from her parched throat.
She could feel him next to her, squeezing her fingers, kissing her hair. Her Jeff, her husband, the man she’d almost lost and found again in Australia. It was his voice she’d been hearing speaking softly to her hour after hour. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t always make out what he was saying. The fact that he was here with her was the only thing that mattered. She wanted to tell him how very much she loved him, had always loved him, even when her own pain had kept her from telling him so. She wanted to feel his arms around her because when he held her, she knew nothing could harm her.
But something had harmed her or she wouldn’t be here like this, unable to reach out to the only man she’d ever loved. Something terrible must have happened. If only she could remember. But the mists were closing in again and Jeff’s voice was getting fainter. No! Tish wanted to cry out, to bring him back. Don’t go away, please.
And then there was only darkness again.
Doris came hurrying in, a frown on her face. “What is it, Dr. Kirby?”
“She moved. Just now, she squeezed my hand.” He gave the nurse a quick smile. “She’s coming out of it.”
Doris moved to the bed as Jeff stepped back, checked the machines, paying particular
attention to the blood pressure monitor. She checked Tish’s eyes, then took her stethoscope from around her neck and bent to listen to her patient’s chest for several long minutes. Finally, she turned to him.
“It was just a muscle spasm, Dr. Kirby. They happen occasionally and—”
“No, damn it! I tell you she squeezed my hand when I bent down and kissed her cheek. I felt it.” Feeling frustrated, he rubbed Tish’s hand and gently squeezed her fingers. “Do it again, sweetheart. Show her.”
But there was no response.
“I understand how you feel and I believe her hand did move. But it was involuntary. She didn’t make her fingers move, they just did.” Her eyes sympathetic, she touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
Jeff let out a huge sigh. “Yeah, me, too.” He turned and left Tish’s room and the ICU area. He needed some air, some food. Some hope.
Down the hallway, he found a bank of phones and dug out his credit card. Quickly he dialed in the numbers and a minute later, East’s deep voice answered.
“Dad?” Jeff swallowed around a clogged throat. “I’m here in the hospital. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”
“That’s all right,” East answered, reading between the lines, hearing the fatigue and despair in his son’s voice. “How is she?”
“Holding her own is all they say, whatever that means. A minute ago, I was holding her hand and she—she squeezed my fingers. Dad, it was so real. I know it happened and yet, the nurse says it was involuntary, a muscle spasm.”
East heard the hopelessness and knew he had to encourage his son not to give up. “You’ve probably studied that particular phenomenon already, but you want to believe she squeezed your hand on purpose. I don’t blame you, but false hope is hard to live with. Real hope isn’t.” East cleared his throat. “You know, when you were kidnapped and I didn’t know where you were or who had you at first or where they’d taken you, I felt like I imagine you’re feeling now. Defeated. Despondent. Filled with despair.
“One night, in Alicia’s arms, I broke down. And you know what she told me? That if I gave up hope, my son would be as good as dead. Hope was all we had to go on, forcing us to keep searching, to look for more clues, to pray and to believe that eventually we would find you. And we did. You have to believe, son. Tish will come back to us, but you have to believe it. Because although she can’t speak or open her eyes, when you’re there and talking to her, she knows. She hears and she can tell if you’ve given up on her or if you believe she’s fighting to return. Don’t ask me how, but I believe she knows. You have to be strong, for her, for yourself.”
Again, Jeff swallowed as a rush of emotion had the backs of his eyes stinging with tears wanting to fall. He blinked them back and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Dad. I—I needed to hear your voice. It always helps.”
“Do you want me to go there, Jeff? I can catch the next plane….”
“No, but thanks for the offer. You belong there with Alicia. How’s the baby doing?”
“They’re both doing well. Alicia sends her love.”
Feeling too choked up to talk any more, Jeff nodded. “Thanks. I’ll call again later.” He hung up, bowing his head and swiping at his eyes with his hand. The hand that had felt Tish move.
She would recover, he repeated silently. She would be back with him, loving him, wanting to make their marriage work. She would be well and strong. He would see to it if he had to sit beside her for the next entire week. People awoke from comas all the time, hardly the worse for having been away. This was her body’s way of healing itself. The fact that it took a terrible toll on the people who loved her didn’t matter. If they believed, they’d be able to handle it.
Because, Jeff thought, stepping away from the phone and drying his eyes, as he’d once told Tish, she was worth the wait.
Chapter 6
Later, Jeff ran into Dr. O’Neill, who was rushing through the double doors of the ICU, his white coattails flying. “Doctor,” Jeff said, stopping, “is there any change in Tish’s condition?”
“No, I’m afraid not, Doctor.” He rubbed a spot just above his right eye. “As I’m sure you’re aware, these things take time. The nurse told me she had a neurological reaction. A muscle spasm. Strictly involuntary, of course. There is eye movement there, a good sign. Are you talking to her?”
“Yes. I was hoping she might respond to my voice or my words but, so far, nothing.”
A couple of nurses turned into the ICU corridor, causing the two doctors to step to the side. “Keep talking to her. Medical studies show that coma victims do hear, do listen. That’s why, in discussing her condition or prognosis, I always step out of the room. I don’t want what I say to nurses or a relative to influence the patient’s recovery.”
“Right. Thanks, Doctor.” He hadn’t learned much, but at least there’d been no bad news.
Dr. O’Neill patted Jeff’s shoulder. “Hang in there. I’ll see you later.” And off he went.
Jeff walked through the doors into the overly warm, muted atmosphere of the ICU. He nodded to Doris who was carrying a stack of clean sheets toward a cubicle.
“I’ve just changed her sheets and given her a back rub,” she told him, pausing. “We don’t want her to get bed sores.”
“If there’s any of that I can do for you, I’d be glad to help out,” he offered.
“I’ll remember that,” she said, giving him a smile before going on her way.
Jeff let himself into Tish’s cubicle and it seemed as if he’d never left. She looked the same, although he thought perhaps her hair had been combed and rearranged. Walking up to the bed, he smiled down at his wife, trying desperately to let his love and concern come through in his voice as he touched her lovely hair.
“Remember how you used to love to have me brush your hair, Tish? You’d sit on the bed after your shower and I’d brush and brush for fifteen, twenty minutes, until your hair was totally dry. And you’d purr like a kitten.” He chuckled so she could hear. “Remember that scrawny cat that used to come around our apartment looking for food? You never could turn away from an animal in need. You started feeding him and next thing I knew, he’d moved in with us. This so-called free cat had to be checked out by a vet, get shots, be neutered.” He laughed again. “But you loved him and I loved you for it.”
Gently, he brushed her hair back off her forehead, then let the backs of his fingers trail down her soft cheek. “They tell me that cut won’t leave a scar, so don’t worry about it. The incision on your collarbone will, but we can think of it as a badge of honor. You survived, babe, and that’s the main thing.”
Sighing tiredly, he eased his weary body into the chair, wishing he could go for a run which would undoubtedly help his cramped muscles. But he was too tired. Trouble was, he couldn’t turn off his mind.
Leaning forward, he decided to talk some more to Tish. Something might penetrate her coma and besides, it kept him from thinking too hard, from worrying too much.
Jeff caressed Tish’s hand with his thumb, leaning close to the bed, speaking softly. “I don’t know if you know about East’s past—or how I came into his life. At one time, he’d been one of SPEAR’s top field men. Then one night, on a high-speed chase through the narrow, twisting roads of Beverly Hills Canyon, he accidentally killed a kid on a bicycle who darted in front of his car. He was cleared of any wrongdoing, but East couldn’t accept that and blamed himself. He’d always held himself to standards even higher than the agency demanded, and by his own standards, he was guilty and needed to be punished. Sometimes, we’re our own worst enemy, you know.”
Pulling in a deep breath, Jeff went on. “East didn’t trust himself in the field anymore, haunted by the boy’s death, so he voluntarily withdrew. They didn’t want him to leave, but he was adamant. He spent three months at Condor Mountain, alone, unapproachable, shunning all company and conversation by day, hiking the mountains at night. On one of those nights, he ran across me.
“I was penniless, cold,
hungry and just about as low as a guy can get, someone with no foreseeable future. A fourteen-year-old runaway with no family. And East took me by the hand and led me up the mountain to the Monarch Hotel. He cleaned me up, fed me, put me to bed on clean sheets and let me sleep twenty hours. Then he talked with me.”
Jeff gazed at Tish’s face as he wound down. “He told me I could be anything I wanted to be if I studied and worked hard enough. He said he’d help me every way he could. Or, he added, I could go back to living on the streets. Naturally suspicious, I asked him why he was doing this for me, this kid he didn’t even know. That’s when he told me about the boy on the bicycle. Maybe if I help you, he told me, I’ll be able to sleep better. I was like his penance, you know. He had only one rule, that I never lie to him. And I never have.”
Leaning back, Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. “So East took over the running of Condor Mountain Resort as a civilian employee and he enrolled me in school. I’d missed a lot and it took me a while to catch up, but it seems I love to learn so I did well. Eventually, East put me through college and we had long talks about what I wanted to do with my life. After a while, I knew I wanted to be a doctor, so he said he’d take care of med school and all my training. And he introduced me to SPEAR. Slowly, I began to realize that I wanted to be a part of the team.
“But the greatest thing East did was to give me unconditional love. I wonder how many kids really have that even from their real parents. He taught me by example, the finest way to learn because it always stays with you. He was tough when I needed discipline and there for me when I went through some difficult times. He changed me from a scared but mouthy kid with a chip on my shoulder a mile wide to someone I could be proud of. Basically, he taught me the value of truth and honor, of love and forgiveness. He taught me to be a man and I’ll love him forever for that alone. When he finally adopted me, it was the happiest day of my life up to that point. He’s a wonderful, kind, caring man. If I turn out half as good, I’ll be happy. The thing is, East gives me credit for healing him, for allowing him to forgive himself for his part in the accident where the boy died. But actually, he healed me.” He smiled at her. “A mutual admiration society, eh?”