Think, Michelle, think. It will be time for that later. I ran to the phone guided by the clear thinking voice in my head giving the orders.
“This is room 915. My husband just had a heart attack. Get someone up here fast.”
I ran to open the door, screaming out for help to anyone that might be listening.
I ran back to Larry’s side, trying to remember the CPR I’d taken several years before. Oh God, I couldn’t remember. Was it five compressions and two breaths, five breaths and fifteen compressions? Ten? What? I couldn’t remember.
I just began breathing air into Larry’s mouth, trying not to think. Then I’d do compressions, no idea of how many of either I was doing. I only knew that I kept shouting to him to breathe.
I heard the clang of the elevator and running feet. Thank God, I thought, as I continued to breathe into Larry’s lungs. With the next compression, I was sure he was breathing, but I refused to stop until the stretcher arrived in the room.
I backed off as they began working on Larry, checking his vital signs, starting an IV, giving him oxygen, asking me if Larry had any allergies and relaying all the information by phone to the hospital, I assumed. When they spoke of my husband’s condition, to me it was all jargon, code. Then they picked up Larry’s limp body and moved it to the stretcher. His head lolled to the side, but yes, there it was. His chest was moving up and down on its on.
I raced behind the stretcher. “Which hospital are you taking him to?” I screamed, pushing my way onto the elevator they were trying desperately to keep me off of.
“Ma’am, we’re taking him to Edward hospital, but you have to follow in your car.” I saw them eyeing me warily. “Maybe you should call someone to bring you. You shouldn’t drive alone.”
Hell no! I raced from the elevator and to my car. I would not wait in a hotel for someone to take me to my husband, no damn way. I thought of Viola. I would be there with Larry. Nothing would keep me from him, not even my own panic. I commanded my body to calm down.
I was out of the parking lot and roaring down the street before the ambulance. I had to pull over to allow it to pass. “Come on, come on, move it, move it,” I shouted to the vehicle. “That’s my husband you have in there.”
I grabbed for my cell phone. “Oh God, Blaine, Larry’s had a heart attack. He’s on his way to Edward’s. Do you think you could meet me there? I’m so scared.”
“Of course. Michelle, be careful. He’s going to be alright.”
I hung up the phone and began praying, remembering Chance’s words from earlier in the day when he thought I was sleeping. “God, please save Larry. I have to tell him how much I love him.
I was in the emergency room only seconds behind the ambulance. Blaine was in there when I ran through the door, stopping me and holding me back from getting in the way. I wondered how he’d gotten there so fast, but didn’t ask. I was only grateful that he’d come.
“Blaine,” I cried out, wanting to dissolve into tears, wanting to faint. Anything to escape what was happening. “It’s all my fault.”
I looked up from Blaine’s chest to see Chance running down the hall. No God, no, not Chance. I ran to him, putting out my hands to stop him.
“Not you, Chance, get another doctor. I don’t want you taking care of my husband. I heard you talking to Blaine. I want my husband to live.”
For what seemed an eternity, Chance stared at me. He lifted my chin so I was looking into his eyes. Then he caught my wrists in his strong grip.
“Dimi, look at me,” he ordered. “If you want Larry to live, you want the best. You want me. Now I don’t have time to argue and convince you. You have to trust me.”
He let go and continued running toward the cubicle into which Larry had disappeared. “I’ll take care of him, Dimi,” he shouted as he ran.
“Blaine.” I fell against him knowing Chance was calling me Dimi to tell me he would do nothing to harm Larry. Using Dimi was his way of making me a promise.
I stared into Blaine’s eyes. “You’re a psychic. Is he going to make it?”
“Chance is with him. He’s going to do everything he can to save Larry. Don’t worry.”
I pulled away from Blaine, looking at him. He didn’t have a clue. “I have to trust Larry’s life to a man who only a few hours ago wished him dead. And you tell me not to worry? That’s rich, Blaine. If it wasn’t so sad I’d laugh.”
“Stop it, Michelle,” Blaine scolded me gently, rubbing my hands with his to take away the sting of his words. “You know Chance is going to do everything in his power to help. You know he didn’t mean what he said.”
“But he said it.” My voice was a worried whisper. “Now I have to sit here and wait for the outcome.” I saw Blaine cast a worried glance toward the enclosure before he asked, “Shouldn’t you call your children, tell them about their father?”
I had forgotten about the kids. I didn’t want to fight with them in the midst of worrying about Larry, but I’d imposed on Blaine enough. I was taking advantage of him. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on the chair.
“I’ll call them as soon as I know anything.”
“Give me Derrick’s number. I’ll call him and he can call his sisters.”
I stared at this son I’d not had an opportunity to love before. My heart swelled with love for him now. I’d taken so much from him.
For a moment I wished I had not called him to meet me at the hospital. But then I felt his hands on the back of my neck, massaging away the tension, and I was glad he was there with me.
“Blaine, I’m so sorry that I’ve turned your life into this big melodrama. I’ve taken up far too much of your time. I’ve come to depend on you too much. I can’t ask you to do more.”
“You didn’t ask me. I asked you, remember?” For a moment he looked sad. “Michelle, do you really consider me a part of your family?”
“I do,” I answered, not sure where the conversation was leading.
“Then please allow me to feel a part of you, of your pain. Let me help you. I’ve wanted to be a part of your life for so long. I like being needed by you.” He smiled, shy, hesitant. “Please.”
I was sorely tempted to do just what he’d asked, but I could only imagine the resentment my children would feel if I gave this job to Blaine. This was one I would have to take care of myself.
I touched his cheeks. “Blaine, this is something I have to do myself. I would very much appreciate it if you would stay right here. And if anyone needs me, please come and get me.”
With that I rose to find a pay phone, accepting the handful of change Blaine was holding out to me, ignoring the hurt in his eyes that I wouldn’t accept his help.
My first call was to Derrick. I talked quickly trying to keep the panic I felt to myself. I gave my son the number of my charge card and instructed him to charge the airline ticket to me. I was touched when his concern for his father reached out to embrace me also.
“Mom, he said. “Are you alright? You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I called Blaine,” I told him. For a few seconds there was silence on the other end, then Derrick’s voice saying, “That’s good, Mom, I’m glad he’s there with you. You need someone there who loves you.”
It took me a moment to compose myself before calling Shannon. Derrick had put aside the fact that I’d called Blaine before I’d even called him. I never expected his understanding.
Calling Shannon was also easier than I expected. She was so worried about her father that her voice was soft and once again that of my youngest, not a member of the tribunal that had come for my sentencing.
“Mom, Dad’s going to be okay, don’t worry,” she reassured me.
“Shannon, do me a favor please, I don’t want to stay away too long. I’ve called Derrick. Would you please call your sisters, give Beth and Brigid my charge card number.”
I was about to hang up the phone when a picture of Erica’s baby face nursing at my breast flashed before me. The all-consuming love I had ha
d for her in that moment resurfaced.
“Shannon, give the number to Erica too. I want all of you to put your airline tickets on my charge card.” With that I said a hasty goodbye and raced back to wait at my post.
Blaine was eyeing me worriedly. “It’s okay,” I said as I hugged him to me. “Thanks for everything.”
For hours I sat with Blaine, waiting for the slightest sound from the room. We saw people running in out and out. The bells, whistles, everything that was meant to throw the family into a panic attack worked.
No one looked in my direction or came to say, ‘As soon as we know something we’ll tell you.’ Not one person acted as if the man they were working on was of any importance, and I was less. Well, he is important, I wanted to shout to them. He’s important to me.
At last Chance walked toward us, a puzzled look on his face. He was dressed in all green, something he’d not been wearing when he went into the room. Surely they could not have performed surgery on Larry. They didn’t have my consent.
“Michelle, Larry’s fine,” Chance told me softly, standing away from me as if he were afraid to touch me.
I looked at him. “You mean he’s stable?”
“No, I mean he’s fine. Everything resembled a massive coronary.” He looked at me. “I would have sworn he had a heart attack.”
He explained things to me in simplified language. “Every symptom he had mimicked a heart attack perfectly. He even went into cardiac arrest and we had to defib him.”
Again I looked at Chance for a simpler explanation. For some strange reason everything I knew or should know about the medical profession had vanished. I knew I should know what Chance was talking about but for the life of me the meaning escaped me for the moment.
“We used the defibrillator. We had to shock him to get his heart going again. But, I swear, I’ve never heard of this. There is nothing wrong with his heart. The arteries are fine, there is no blockage, nothing, no tissue damage, the heart is fine.”
“How can that be?” I asked the question several times, puzzled.
My hands were trembling. I’d seen the pasty look on Larry’s face, seen the profuse sweating, the look of pain in his eyes. I’d breathed air into him when he’d stopped breathing.
This was hard for me to fathom. I’d seen my husband in the very throes of what could only have been a heart attack.
“I don’t know.” Chance was looking back toward the cubicle he’d left, his face drawn, and an awed expression in his eyes.
“Chance, you’re the cardiologist.”
“Michelle, I’m telling you, it took me so long in there because I wanted to be sure. I’ve done a complete cardiac work-up. We even did a cardiac cath.
“Michelle, we looked at his heart from every possible angle and there is nothing wrong. I have no idea why he stopped breathing. I have no idea why his heart refused to beat. There is nothing wrong with Larry.”
“So what are you going to do, just send him home?”
“Of course not, he’s sedated now and we’re giving him oxygen as a precautionary measure. I’m having him admitted for a few days to repeat the tests. I’m sure they’re going to all be the same, but in this case I want there to be no doubt in anyone’s mind that Larry received the best of care,” he said a bit pointedly. “And of course I’ll turn his case over to someone else.”
“I’m sorry that I…I…” I was attempting to apologize.
“Don’t be. Why should you be sorry that you accused me of wanting him out of the way? I did say it. I’m sorry I said it and even more sorry that you heard it.”
I knew Chance meant it. His eyes were filled with the same guilt I felt.
“When can I see him?”
“Give them about ten minutes to get him settled. I’ve already instructed the nurse that she’s to get you as soon as they’ve done that.
“I’m the cardiologist on duty tonight. I’m covering, I’m sorry,” Chance apologized again, “but in the morning he’ll have someone else.”
Chance took a seat on the opposite side of Blaine to wait with me until the nurse came for me. When she did I nearly ran after her.
My concern was for Larry. I barely heard Blaine and Chance’s comment as I ran away.
“Chance, what happened?” Blaine asked, speaking low to prevent me from hearing, but I heard.
“I swear to God, I don’t know,” Chance answered. “Either a miracle was performed leaving him with no damage, or he was so convinced that he was having a heart attack that his body mimicked one.”
“Is that possible?” Blaine started to ask, and stopped. “Chance, you do remember that Jeremy willed himself to die? Is it possible that Larry did the same thing?”
I wanted to tell them both that I knew the answer to Blaine’s question. It was possible, both things. I had prayed for a miracle from the moment Larry fell.
I raced to Larry’s side shuddering with guilt. Did he love me enough to will himself to die? I believed he did.
Chapter Eighteen
Larry lay deathly still on the bed. Mick was sitting beside him, stroking his arms, telling him she loved him. The sensation of having her close made him wince inwardly with pain.
He had what he wanted. His wife was once again by his side, pledging her love and loyalty. All he had to do was open his eyes and accept what she was offering, forget everything that had happened. He’d won. But he’d won by default.
When he could no longer take her whispered words of love he opened his eyes. He was glad for the oxygen mask; it partially hid his rampant emotions.
“Mick.” He reached out a finger and stroked her hair. He was surprised that the incredible pain was gone.
For a second he wondered if he’d died, if Mick really was there at his side. Then he felt the wetness from her tears falling on his face, his hands. It was not a dream.
He opened his eyes more fully. He saw the fear in his wife’s eyes and he saw something that he didn’t like. He saw guilt.
“Oh my God, Larry,” Mick cried.
With that she fell on his shoulder. He couldn’t resist. He allowed himself to breath in her essence. This was the closest he’d been to her in weeks. He brought his arm up to stroke her, shushing her, telling her that he was fine.
“So I had a heart attack?” he asked. He felt her head slowly leave his shoulder to peer at him.
She was gazing into his eyes, her own darkening even more with some untold guilt she appeared to be feeling.
“The doctor said that you didn’t. He can’t find any evidence of it.”
Larry held Michelle’s chin in his hand, some of his strength returning. “What are you talking about? I felt the pain. If it wasn’t a heart attack, what did he say it was, my imagination?”
“He doesn’t know, Larry.”
Larry watched his wife as she turned away feigning untold interest in his IV tubing. “He thinks maybe you convinced yourself that you were having one and so you had all the symptoms.”
“Are you trying to say the doctor thinks I’m crazy? Where is he? I want to see him.”
Larry noticed in that moment that Michelle’s look of guilt intensified and he wondered why. “Mick, call the doctor, I want to talk to him.”
“Maybe you should rest first, wait until morning. Then you can talk to the doctor.”
Larry looked at his wife, at the confusion clouding her face. Did she believe a stranger over him, over what she’d seen? Did she think he was nuts? Was that why she was here, offering herself once again to him out of pity?
He looked along the side of his bed for the call button. It was time he found out what the hell was going on. “Either you go get him, Mick, or I ring for the nurse.”
Larry adjusted himself in the bed while Mick went for the doctor. He gingerly touched his chest. It was sore. Was this too his imagination? He pulled at the oxygen mask covering his nose, then at the IV tubing. Were all these things done to him to appease his imagination?
His attention was dra
wn to the door and the inset glass window. He spotted Mick talking to a tall man in a lab coat. It had to be the doctor.
Larry stared harder at the two; they appeared to be arguing. Larry felt a coldness slither up his spine. This wasn’t a stranger Mick was talking to. He knew that as he watched his wife’s face inches from the doctor’s. He wished he could read lips.
Mick walked back into the room and brought with her a feeling of foreboding. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, alerting him to the fact that his pain was not yet over.
A moment later a doctor strolled in. Larry noticed the stiffness with which the man held himself, almost as if he’d rather be anywhere else but in the room.
He watched as the man’s eyes slid over to Mick. He pulled his glance away quickly, but not quickly enough. Larry saw the flash of guilt in the doctor’s eyes, but he’d seen something else also. He’d also caught the way Mick looked back at the man, the look so brief he should have missed it. But he hadn’t.
Icy fingers danced over Larry’s body. With a certainty, the knowledge came to him. This man was the one whom Mick was in love with, who loved her, the one Mick claimed to have been married to in a previous life.
Larry couldn’t believe it. He gulped in the purified oxygen. This was the man Mick had entrusted his life to—her lover.
“Dr.—? I didn’t catch your name. What is it?”
Larry eyed the tall, muscular man standing before him. He could almost feel Mick holding her breath. She wasn’t looking at the doctor which was odd in itself. Usually she was such a take charge person when it came to the family’s health. Now she was uncommonly silent.
It seemed for a time that the man wasn’t going to answer. He finally croaked out. “I’m sorry, I’m Dr. Morgan.”
“And your first name?” Larry inquired while he watched the man’s gaze quickly swing again to Mick.
“I don’t use it much.” Chance attempted a half-hearted smile. “You know how it is, some names you just don’t like.”
THE AFFAIR Page 28