Forever Bound

by Deanna Roy

  “You can call on Redmond to pick you up if you need to go anywhere far. Otherwise, there’s a fair amount within walking distance.” He looked down at my belly and for a minute I thought he was going to put his hand there. “Take care of yourself,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll be more than a couple hours.”

  “Good luck,” I told him. “I hope the lawyer can help.”

  “He says he thinks he can,” he said. “Even though I’ll have to sell my truck to pay for him.”

  “Trucks are overrated,” I said, trying to force a smile. “You can get a Smart Car in Cali, be environmentally friendly.”

  “God, a clown car.” He almost smiled back. Then he bent down and brushed his lips against mine. “I’ll be back soon.”

  I watched him leave the room and carefully close the door. I sank back onto the bed. Of all the things I expected to happen when we found each other, this hadn’t even entered the equation.

  I took time to call my mom and tell her about Chance, and his mother, and the situation with Hannah.

  “Oh, baby, I don’t wish that on any family. There’s really no hope?”

  “I don’t think so.” I wished I could be sitting at the counter in her house instead of thousands of miles away. Funny, up until a few days ago, she hadn’t been anyone I would have confided in, and now she knew my most secret everythings.

  We talked a while longer about what I should be eating and she said she’d make my first appointment for me with her ob-gyn. “He delivered you,” she said. “He’ll love delivering the next round.”

  “Mom?” I asked. “If it’s a boy, do you think I should name him Bryan?”

  She was quiet for a minute, then said, “I think that’s for you and Chance to work out.”

  My phone beeped with a text, probably Corabelle or Tina wanting updates. “I gotta go, Mom. I think I’m still coming home Sunday, but I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay, baby girl. Try to eat.”

  “I will.”

  I hung up and exchanged some easy texts with my friends about Chance. I told Corabelle she could tell Tina about the baby. I didn’t want to do it from a long distance, and I wasn’t sure if Tina would handle it as well as Corabelle. But they both had kids in their lives now, Corabelle with Gavin’s four-year-old son, Manuel, and Tina with Darion’s young sister.

  After that, I must have fallen asleep, because my phone buzzing woke me. I glanced at the clock. It had been five hours since Chance left.

  Panic sizzled through me. Had something gone wrong? I snatched up my phone to check the message. It was Redmond.

  Coming to fetch you. Hannah’s taken a bad turn. Might be time.

  I scrambled to put on the maxi dress I’d worn the first day, the only thing that seemed fitting for going back up to the home. I glanced in the mirror. My pink hair was so bright. I picked up the enormous hat, but that seemed disrespectful somehow. Mrs. McKenzie hadn’t seen me last night since I had to wait in the hall, but she was about to get an eyeful of my dreadlocks.

  I guessed she’d have to get used to it.

  Redmond was waiting out front when I managed to make it downstairs. His face was grim.

  I shut the truck door. “What happened?”

  “She already had pneumonia, apparently. Her lung collapsed.”

  “Is she still at the home?”

  “Nope, they moved her to the hospital.”

  My heart thumped. This family had been through so much. But then, so had mine.

  “Why is life so hard?” I asked.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” Redmond said. “But the big guy upstairs ought to cut these people a little bit of slack.”

  We sped through town, and I was glad, so relieved, that nothing had happened to the baby the other night. I couldn’t imagine piling that on top of all these other things the McKenzies were going through.

  Chapter 50: Chance

  The ICU waiting room was quiet. My mother sat in one corner with her Bible in her lap, and two of her church lady friends on either side.

  Charlie sat by me.

  I hadn’t answered the buzz of my phone while meeting with the lawyer. Only when I got out did I get the frantic message from Charlie that Hannah was being sent back to Erlanger with a collapsed lung.

  She had gone into cardiac arrest twice in the ambulance. My mother was with her, and each time instructed them to resuscitate. Hearing this made my anger spike into the red zone. Nobody should have to go through all this. Her body was done. They had to let it rest.

  The older women talked in hushed tones in their corner. Charlie wore her work scrubs, sitting stiffly by me like a guard. Funny who became your friend in situations like this. She was the one I had counted on all this time.

  Jenny and Redmond walked in. Jenny immediately sat right beside me and took my hand. Her pink hair was wild and chaotic. I glanced over at my mother. She saw the hair, looked at me, and shrugged. At least she wasn’t going to make a fuss.

  “Sorry,” Jenny whispered. “The hat didn’t seem right.”

  “I don’t think it’s high on her priority list right now,” I said.

  “Is your sister stable?” Jenny asked.

  “We don’t know,” I said. “We haven’t been updated since she got here.”

  She laid her head on my shoulder, and I had to admit, it felt good having her here. I kissed the back of her hand. I caught my mom watching us, a calm pleased expression on her face. She resumed her hushed conversation with the women.

  Redmond sat opposite us. “You want me to hang out here?” he asked.

  “Nah,” I said. “Thanks for bringing Jenny, though.”

  “No problem, man,” he said. He nodded at the church ladies politely, jutted his chin at Charlie, and took off.

  The room got quiet. Nobody else was in here but a woman knitting by the door.

  “You feeling okay today?” I asked Jenny.

  “Perfect,” she said. “Just talked to my mom and hung out.”

  A woman in regular clothes came into the room but didn’t sit down. “Hannah McKenzie’s family?” she asked.

  I stood up. “We’re all here.”

  “Will everyone come with me?” She noticed the women with my mother. “They are welcome if it is all right with you.”

  Jenny and I followed the woman first. I guessed we were going somewhere for an update on Hannah’s condition.

  We turned down the hall and entered a conference room with a long table. We’d been here before, after the accident, when they told us about her EEGs and CAT scans. My mother had sat near the end, announcing that she was having her family physician come in to assess Hannah before any decisions were made. This had set off the whole chain of events that led to her staying on the machines.

  The lawyer had told me that since we had the two signatures we needed about her brain death, getting a judge to order the machines off wouldn’t be hard. I had the doctors on my side, and in cases like this, they tended to understand how a parent could have trouble letting go.

  My big problem was how to tell my mother what I was doing before she was subpoenaed to court.

  I was torn about it. None of it was good. None of it.

  The woman stood at the front of the table. “My name is Regina. I’m a patient information specialist. I’m going to bring in Dr. Foster, who coordinated care for Hannah when she arrived.”

  She left the room.

  The tension was palpable. I resented the presence of the church ladies, who I didn’t recognize. Charlie had stayed behind, so I was outnumbered.

  “I think this would be a good time for a prayer,” one of the women said.

  I banged my hand on the table. “Well, I don’t,” I said, a little harsher than I intended.

  My mother laid a hand on each of the women. “Martha, Ellen, it might be best for you to wait for us back in the waiting room. Thank you so much for being here for me.”

  The ladies stood. “Of course, Carol Ann,” one said. “We’ll be th
ere.” She gave me a withering look as she headed out the door.

  When they were gone, my mother said, “I still don’t think a prayer was a bad idea.”

  I didn’t answer. Jenny laid her hand on my forearm and squeezed.

  Regina returned with two doctors, one man and one woman. The woman had a surgical mask dropped down, still tied around her neck.

  “I’m Dr. Foster,” the man said, shaking all our hands. “This is Dr. Perkins. She is our pulmonary specialist.”

  The three of them sat down, and Regina opened a file folder and took out a pen to take notes.

  “When Hannah arrived, she was in respiratory distress,” Dr. Foster said. “She had gone into cardiac arrest twice en route, and significant measures were taken to restart her heart rhythms.”

  He paused. “Unfortunately, after six months on a ventilator, Hannah’s lungs and diaphragm were not strong enough for this, even with the breathing assistance in place. One lung had already collapsed, and by the time our team arrived to assess her, the other one had collapsed also. We administered several measures to inflate her lungs and restore oxygen to her body, but those measures did not succeed.”

  His expression was grim. “Hannah died about thirty minutes ago. I am very sorry for your loss.”

  Silence blanketed the room. I stared at this man who had delivered these words. It didn’t quite sink in. Then I heard a keening cry from the end of the room. My mother had her hands over her mouth and shook from her sobs.

  Jenny nudged me, and I got up and walked over to her, standing behind her with my hands on her shoulders.

  “I’m very sorry,” the female doctor said. “Let us know if you have any questions.”

  “Thank you for what you did for Hannah,” I said.

  The two doctors left the room.

  Regina passed a box of tissues to Jenny, who took one and sent the box down to my mother. Then Regina said, “They have moved Hannah to a private room. You can go see her now.”

  My mom made no move to get up, so I bent and helped her to her feet. She leaned on me, heavy, stumbling, as if she carried too much weight for her to bear.

  We followed Regina down the hall, past the waiting area, and to a small room. Hannah lay on a hospital bed just slightly inclined. The tubes were out of her mouth now and her hair splayed all across the pillow.

  “My baby!” Mom said, and left me to rush to her side. She clasped Hannah’s hands between her own. “My sweet, sweet baby.”

  I stood at the foot of the bed. My head buzzed with so many things. My sister as a little girl, riding her scooter down the street. The way she hero-worshipped me, even though I was no role model for anybody.

  We’d failed her, all of us. And now here we were.

  My mom rocked and held her hand, crying softly. “You were the most beautiful girl in the world,” she said. “My most beautiful perfect angel.”

  She smoothed back Hannah’s hair. “Your father will never know what he missed.”

  Anger surged through me at that. Where was that asshole anyway? I knew Mom had tried to contact him yet again after the accident, finding some social media account that looked like him. But he never responded. Maybe I’d hire that lawyer anyway, track him down, make him suffer for deserting Hannah.

  My mind went a million angry directions, wanting to blame everybody for all of this. Most of all me. I never should have been out there, mud running. Never should have lost my temper over a good-for-nothing woman who was screwing one of my friends.

  I wanted out of Tennessee. I never wanted to come back.

  Just like my father.

  Shit.

  My mother held out her hand. “Come here, my boy,” she said.

  I stepped around the bed and took her wet fingers in mine. I didn’t have anything to say. Hannah seemed lit up from above from this angle. I looked up at the recessed lamp in the ceiling. I resented everything, even the damn light.

  We sat there a while, Mom connecting us with her hands. “We’ll have her favorite music at the funeral,” she said. “‘Amazing Grace,’ for sure. Maybe ‘A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.’”

  She talked on about Bible verses and the color of the liner of the casket. I couldn’t look at Hannah anymore, preferring to picture her as I knew her before, young and happy.

  “He answered our prayer, you know,” she said.

  I let go of her hand. “What do you mean?”

  She fingered Hannah’s hair. “We didn’t have to be the ones to do it. It isn’t on our shoulders.”

  I turned to look at Jenny, who was wiping tears from her eyes. She watched me with quiet pain.

  My mother reached down for her purse and handed it to me. “There’s a piece of paper in there, in the side pocket. Can you get it for me?”

  I rooted around and found a weathered sheet of lined paper, so old and worn as to be feathery soft. I unfolded it, taking care not to rip it.

  I glanced at the words. They were arranged in short lines and seemed vaguely familiar. A couple simple chord strums were written in here and there.

  It was a song.

  “Will you sing this at her funeral?” Mom asked.

  I looked up. “I don’t think I know it.”

  “But you do,” she said. She turned back to Hannah.

  I read through the lines again. The melody started to come to me. Yes, I did know this song. It was about fathers and faith and love. A Christian song. “Did we used to sing it in church?”

  “No,” she said. “As far as I know, nobody’s ever heard it but me and Hannah.”

  I didn’t remember them having any friends who played guitar. “Who wrote it?”

  She turned to me, an incredulous look on her face. “Baby, you did. You had this amazing faith back then. You wrote this song.”

  The memory thundered back at me. I stared at the paper, realizing that this was the handwriting of my youth. I’d written this after my father left, not long after. It was the last of its kind, as I moved into other kinds of music after, blues and classic rock.

  “You remember it now?” she asked gently.

  I nodded.

  She reached out for me again, restoring the bridge between me and Hannah. “Hannah loved that song. When you turned away from the church, we would pray you would come back, that you would find your faith again.”

  I held the paper in my hands. I could remember those days. We had a little band at the church, and that was where I first got interested in guitar. The first song I ever plucked out was “This Little Light of Mine.”

  What a long hard fall it had been.

  Chapter 51: Jenny

  I thought about the funeral as I sat on the plane, looking out the window. The church ladies, Chance’s song, and the way so many people came to pay tribute to the sweet, silly girl I would only know from pictures and cell phone videos.

  Chance ducked beneath the overhead bins. He’d sold his truck after all and boxed up his essentials. He said he was ready to try out California. He’d promised his mother to come back in a month to see her and sort Hannah’s belongings and decide what to keep and what to donate.

  She also gave him a box of Grateful Dead posters and the things she’d taken from his room.

  Chance was still angry at his father for not showing up, not responding to anything anyone sent him about Hannah. I could tell he wasn’t going to let it go, and somewhere down the line, we’d be dealing with this man who’d failed his family.

  But we were heading home. Chance was going to live with Jazz, the drummer for the Sonic Kings, at first. We were going to try dating like normal people, despite the grain of sand that was hanging around from our beach encounter. Get to know each other before making any big decisions about weddings or permanent locations.

  My phone buzzed. I glanced at the flight attendants to see if I still had time to look at it before they asked us to power everything down. They wandered along the aisle, checking overhead bins.

  I pulled up the message. It was just
a notification from the pregnancy site I’d joined. Attached was a picture of a strange sea creature with a long tail. The text read “Congratulations! You are five weeks pregnant. Your baby has reached the embryo stage and now resembles a tadpole.”

  I looked at the picture again. Gross.

  “What’s that?” Chance asked, dropping into the seat next to me. “It looks like an alien.”

  “It’s your kid,” I said, bumping my shoulder against his. “It’s supposed to be a tadpole.”

  “We’re having a frog?”

  I thumped him again. “It’s got your good looks, then.”

  He laughed. “I can see how this relationship is going to go.”

  He bent down and nudged his nose into my jaw. “So when are we going to see the doctor to get the green light again?”

  We hadn’t been having sex since I was worried after the time I bled.

  “Tuesday,” I said.

  “I can’t wait for Tuesday,” he said.

  “You know what I can’t wait for?” I asked him.

  “What?” He pressed his lips against the hair over my ear.

  “All the Tuesdays. This one and the next and the next, forever.”

  His arm came around me. “Let’s take them one at a time.”

  Epilogue

  The wedding was undoubtedly the smash hit of the season.

  The Sonic Kings blared from the canopied stage where the ceremony had taken place. With Chance’s help, they were sounding better and their set list had a lot more punch.

  Waiters carrying trays of champagne moved through the guests, nothing outlandish, maybe one hundred or so. There were a few hunky actors in the crowd, and certainly some bombshell-beautiful actresses. A few necessary industry types. But mostly, they were family and friends, ready for the big toast.

  I felt bulky with my six-month belly preceding me as I moved between tables. Chance took my hand and waved away the waiters who approached. He still wasn’t interested in drinking, not even for show.

  I was definitely nervous. After going to work for Tellmund, I’d been managing two of his most problematic A-list actors’ Twitter and Facebook accounts. Because I was back to going to premieres, often at movies way bigger than Frankie’s were, the press had taken notice when my “bump” appeared.