by Dale Mayer
He started after Robin.
“Sean.” Jenna called out.
He turned but didn’t walk closer. “What?”
“What are you going to do?” she asked, her gaze a pool of compassion. She might meddle in other people’s lives, but she didn’t do it lightly. Every time one of her students hurt, Sean realized Jenna did, too.
He said quietly, “Talk her out of it, or take her there myself.”
She stilled, her gaze intent. “Why?”
He looked to see if she was serious. Realizing she was, he shook his head and said, “Because that’s what friends do.”
And he walked away, wondering at her last question. Then made a startling realization. He had no idea what friends did.
Because he’d never had one before.
Chapter 24
Robin sat on the edge of her bed, her mind in turmoil. She hadn’t realized how much her life was on hold because she’d never had a chance to say goodbye. She’d grieved for her parents from the moment she’d understood what had happened. It had been hard, so hard, she hadn’t been able to deal with the loss of her brother at the same time. It was as if she’d compartmentalized the losses. Her parents in one and her brother in the other.
Now the last compartment had been opened. Because of Jon. The two were mixed up inside her head. Her heart. She’d never had a chance to say goodbye to Jonathon. Somehow that mattered. The shrinks would call it closure.
In theory she hadn’t had the same opportunity with her parents either, but having grieved for them already, it felt like the process was complete in some way. Not so with Jonathon.
That was just stupid. How could the death of another little boy help heal the loss of the first? It couldn’t. It just made two wrongs. Not one right. She flopped back on the bed, her mind dimly aware that housekeeping had come…and gone. The pungent smell of a heavy night of lovemaking was…missing. She wanted to cry. She wanted something to hang onto from last night. Something to remind herself it had been real.
Cause this was reality now. Last night was one bit of fantasy she’d hold close forever. But there was no way she’d be having a relationship with Sean. She wasn’t his kind. He wasn’t her kind. She didn’t know what her kind was anymore, but she wasn’t into one-night stands. Given that she’d done just that, he could be forgiven for thinking she was. Maybe there were people who met once a week. Met every Tuesday for servicing. His and hers kind of servicing. God, what a horrid thought.
As she lay there, a pounding on the door slowly penetrated the fog in her mind. She didn’t want to see anyone. Didn’t want to speak with anyone. Her mind filled in the next line automatically. Didn’t want to care for anybody.
It all hurt. And she was tired of being hurt.
She froze as another truth popped into her mind. It wasn’t so much that she was tired of the pain of the surgeries, but that she was tired of being hurt. Of being the one that hurt. If she didn’t have more surgeries, she couldn’t be hurt anymore. She wouldn’t wake up in pain, live in agony for days, weeks of recovery ahead of her.
Except an innocent child had run still screaming from her – so she’d been hurt anyways. Confused, not knowing how to move forward, she’d gone inside and stayed there. She was a mess.
The truths coming at her so hard and so fast were chilling. She didn’t know when the tears started. Didn’t know when the door opened or when strong arms lifted her, turned her, and enclosed her against a warm hard chest.
Sean. Somehow he’d gotten into her room. She couldn’t be angry. How could she be when he was all she wanted right here and now? To be held. To be loved, even if just for a moment, so that she could curl up and know someone else was there to share the burden. Even if only for a little while.
But he needed to know the truth. She really wasn’t worth saving. She was small. Selfish. Weak.
In a broken voice, between the sobs, she told him. About needing to say goodbye. About needing the pain to stop. About needing to fix this now, while she could. If she could. And about not being worthy of his care…but she needed it anyways. She hoped he could stand to be with her a little longer because she didn’t think she could do this alone. She didn’t want to put herself to the test and fail…one more time.
She put her arms against his chest and pushed back so she could look into his face, but she could barely see as her tears flowed like a waterfall down her face. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “So sorry.”
“For what?” he whispered. “For being on this planet in the journey called life as the animal identified as a human?”
She choked, giggled, then sobbed some more.
“You can never be perfect. You are perfect. You can never be whole, you are whole. You can never be better than you are at this moment.” He smiled so tenderly more tears welled up. “You are the best you can be right now.”
She shook her head, her hair flying wildly about her head, only to end up clinging to her face. “I’ve done nothing. Don’t you understand? I should be over this. I should have completed the surgeries by now and all this,” she waved her arm at her face, “Would be over and done with. I’d look normal. Or at least as normal as I can be.”
“So you can do that next week. Get back to the business of doctors and hospitals.”
“Next week? Maybe.” She threw up her hands. “But only if I can say goodbye this week.”
There was a gentle pause.
Then he asked slowly, “What do you need to do to say goodbye?”
“I have to go to the hospital,” she said painfully.
“I hate to say this, but you can’t be allowed to confuse the boys – Jon is not your brother.”
“No,” she whispered sadly, “But you have to understand, it was that hospital…my brother Jonathon died there. I was in a separate hospital. I never got a chance to see him again.” She stared around the room blind to her surroundings. “He died alone.”
She took several shaky breaths. “The last memory I have is when we were hit. My mother screaming. My father yelling, and my brother, my baby brother, never saying a word. He just lay in a crumpled heap of broken bone and torn flesh.”
“I was injured and trying to get free. Trying to get to him when the fire started. The rescue crews were trying to free us, and the flames kept growing bigger.”
She stopped, her voice trembling, unable to form a word. She burrowed deeper into his chest. “I need to go to the hospital. Even if I can’t see him. I need to walk the hallways. See where my brother had been. See where he’d died and if I can, say goodbye.”
“How would it help to walk the hallways of the hospital that’s full of children, especially since the one you want to see isn’t there?”
She smiled through her tears. “I don’t know that it will, but I have to try.”
He stared at her intently. And he nodded.
“Let’s go then.”
After that, they moved quickly. After all, who knew if they’d be allowed to see Jon and if they were, how long he actually still had.
*
“Thank you.”
He stood up, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and led her gently to the door. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time.
“We might not even be allowed to see him.” He knew that. She’d already mentioned it once. It was as if she needed to go over everything again to reassure herself that she was doing the right thing.
He stayed silent and walked outside the hotel parking lot. He helped her into his truck and started up the engine. For someone who’d promised to never enter another hospital – especially this particular children’s hospital – he was there a lot. He drove the now well-accustomed route to the hospital and parked in the visitor parking lot.
It was early afternoon now. Time they’d have normally been in the ward. They’d only been there twice, but he’d figure the third time would have been the charm for Robin. Now he realized she wasn’t likely to get that third time. That was too bad.
Robin ha
d the potential to beat a mess of issues with these kids. Jenna had been right there.
That didn’t mean he liked her methodology. It had been harsh. Cruel. And incredibly terrifying for Robin. It didn’t matter if she had signed up for this workshop, she hadn’t known what she was signing up for.
He led the way through the hallways. It wasn’t visiting hours yet, but one could get away with all kinds of things if one walked with purpose. He stopped outside the ward where they’d been for the last two days and turned back to look at Robin.
She held back. “We shouldn’t disturb them.”
“So what do you want to do?”
She turned back the way they’d come. “I want to find Jon.”
Just then, the doors opened behind them and Andrea walked out. “Oh dear, did you not get my message?”
Sean nodded. “We did. We’re so sorry to hear about him. It’s Jon, isn’t it?” At Andrea’s nod, Sean glanced over at Robin and asked, “Is there anything we can do for him?” He nodded to the room behind them, “For them?”
Andrea shook her head. “No. At this point, we don’t have an update on his condition. The kids are pretty upset. They just want some downtime.”
“Is that the right thing for them?” Robin asked. “Isn’t a distraction a better idea?”
“What do you suggest?” Andrea eyed Robin curiously. “Or are you just asking a general question?”
“Both in a way.” Robin murmured. “I guess I won’t be able to see Jon, will I?”
She shook her head. “No, he’s in the ICU. No one is allowed in but immediate family.”
“Does he have any?” Robin asked.
The nurse pursed her lips. “I don’t actually know. Most people have someone.”
Sean and Robin shared a look. “Not in our cases, we didn’t,” Sean said quietly. “We both understand what Jon and,” he tilted his head toward the ward, “the others are going through.”
Her gaze sharpened. “I hadn’t known.”
“No one does,” Robin said. “Not really.”
“Well, you might be able to stand outside Jon’s room and see him, but you won’t be allowed in.” She turned back to the ward, and said, “As far as these guys go, I’ll see how the mood is if you want to check in with me after that.”
Sean smiled. Nice. “Thanks, we’ll do that.” He slipped an arm around Robin’s shoulders and turned in the direction of the ICU unit. With any luck, she’d be able to at least see Jon from the hallway.
They walked quietly toward the ICU, Robin ever silent at his side. It took ten minutes to get where they needed to be.
With every step, the air around Robin seemed to deepen, darken.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Chapter 25
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “It just feels so…” She shrugged. “…odd to be here.” Like it was wrong for Jon to be here.
“So do what you need to do and let’s leave. We don’t need to go back to the ward if you don’t want to. Andrea will understand.”
Robin nodded. “We’ll see.”
She hoped she was together enough to want to go and see the boys, but as she’d been dragging herself, kicking and screaming, to that same room the last two days…
They came into the super silence of the Intensive Care Unit.
“I wonder where he is,” Robin asked, hating to look into the rooms without knowing who was on the other side. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw movement. A mother sat down beside a bed to her left. Robin smiled. At least that person had someone who loved them.
They walked to the end where Robin stopped outside a room. She caught a glimpse of a small figure lost in the huge bed. That was Jon. She knew it. Felt it. Her instincts were screaming at her to run. That she wouldn’t like what she found. That she should leave before she got too close to the issue and got hurt – again.
Run, her mind screamed. Save yourself from more hurt, run.
She refused to let her feet follow those comments.
No more running for her.
She planned on staying right where she was.
For better or for worse.
She walked over to the window to see Jon’s small fine-boned features looking slack and hollow-eyed. He slept, which was the best thing for him. She hated to see him lying there so alone. From outside, she had to assume it was a majorly bad turn. She could only stand and stare, her heart breaking. Was this what her brother had looked like before he’d died? Had he been all alone like Jon? The thought almost brought her to her knees.
Instantly, Sean wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, take it easy.”
“He looks so lost. So alone.”
“We don’t know that. He’s getting the best care he can get. We just have to hope.” He stared into the window. “I wonder what happened.”
A nurse stepped up beside him and said in a quiet voice. “There were complications from what should have been a simple surgery.”
Robin gasped, her hand going to her own face. The nurse nodded. “We do our best, but sometimes, through no one’s fault, things go wrong.”
Robin understood the inherent truth of that statement, all the while hating the unfairness of the situation. “Is he dying?” she asked in a small voice.
“There’s a chance he’ll pull out of this. If he makes it through the night, he’ll have a much better chance.”
She hoped he made it. There was little enough she could do but whisper her prayers with all the heartfelt emotion she could put behind it. Something she hadn’t had a chance to do for her brother. She wasn’t religious, having been raised without, but figured there had to be someone out there to help.
She closed her eyes and bowed her head, letting a gentle prayer ripple through her thoughts. When she opened her eyes, she turned to the nurse and said, “Is there any chance I can stand beside him for moment?”
The nurse shook her head. “It’s not allowed. Neither will he know that you are there.”
“Just for a moment,” she pleaded.
There was enough hesitation in the nurse’s gaze that she pressed home the advantage. “Please, I promise I won’t touch him.”
Sean stepped forward. “You can go in and wait with her.”
Sighing, the nurse turned and led the way over to Jon’s bed. “You get five minutes. You can touch his hand but nothing else.”
Robin, nervous but excited, followed. When she realized Sean wasn’t following, she turned to look back at him.
He smiled reassuringly. “Go. I’ll wait right here.
She gave him a brilliant smile and followed the nurse to Jon’s side.
*
Sean followed Robin’s progress to Jon’s bedside. She reached out to stroke the small hand. Then she bowed her head. He could see her lips moving. He wished he could hear what she was saying. As he watched, she talked to Jon, smiled, and maybe even laughed a little. He was amazed. What was she saying? He turned to gauge the nurse’s reaction. At the softening of her features and the gentle smile on her face, he took that to mean that whatever Robin was saying was coming from heart.
And that girl had a big heart.
Watching her warmed his lonely heart. He’d never met anyone like her. Had never thought to either. Such women were for other men. Whole men.
Men who had a heart left to care.
He’d never realized he was one of them – until now.
Chapter 26
Robin walked out of Jon’s room, tears in the corner of her eyes but with a smile on her face. As soon as she saw Sean, she ran to him. His arms closed lovingly around her. She nestled in close, waiting for her heart and emotions to calm down. When she could, she pulled back slightly and looked up at him. “Thanks for being here.”
He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Always.”
She smiled, “Now if only you meant that.” She deliberately stepped out of his arms and turned to the hallway. “I’d like to go see the boys now.”
His ga
ze narrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I promised Jon I would.” At his startled look, she added, “I don’t know why…” She shrugged. “But it seemed like the right thing to say at the time.”
Once there, he turned in the direction of the common room, tucked her arm into his, and led the way.
At the ward, Andrea met them at the doorway. She smiled and said, “Just for a few minutes.”
The two walked a dozen feet inside and stopped. The kids turned to face them, a mixture of hope and fear on their faces. Robin smiled. “I just visited Jon. He’s holding his own right now.”
Andrea gasped.
The kids ran closer. “Is he getting better?” the first one asked.
“I can’t say that for sure. I can tell you that he’s sleeping and the doctors are hopeful.” At her words, several of the kids seemed to relax. She didn’t want to give them the wrong impression, but everything she’d said so far had been the truth.
The closest boy approached. “Hi. I’m Brian.”
She stiffened. It was one thing to deal with necessities. It was another when this became close and personal. Dealing with children on a one-on-one basis could get very personal. Closing her eyes briefly, and then opening them, Robin took a deep breath and whispered. “Hi Brian.”
“What’s wrong with your face?” he asked bluntly, in the way of children. At least they were honest. Then he added, “It looks something like Jon’s. Are you dying, too?”
“No, I’m not dying,” she responded lightly, knowing that the slightest negativity could send the boys into a wave of depression again. She tried to brighten her smile. “I was in an accident.”
“I was in an accident, too,” he said after a moment. He indicated his missing leg.
She studied his stump. He was on crutches and doing fine. “Looks like you’re motoring around just fine.”
He shrugged. “I’d rather have my leg back. But I’m getting a new super fast – like superhero fast – fake one. It’s got weird curves in it.” And he waved his arms in the air, sketching the image. She had to laugh. “So you’re going to be a superhero now?”