The Carolyn Chronicles, Volume 1

by Derek Ciccone

  She nodded attentively. “Did you like my speech?”

  “Not only did we like it, but when it goes viral on the Internet, Aunt Dana and I plan to use the residuals to pay for our honeymoon.”

  Which reminded him, “You said that lady from the apartment—EJ—really liked Annie, and that’s why you started liking it.”

  “She said she used to take her daughters every year. And it was fun to sing the song.”

  “Do you remember what EJ looked like?”

  “I guess.”

  “If I showed you a picture, and she was in it, could you point her out.”

  “I guess.”

  He reached into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a program that was handed out to all the guests. One page was dedicated to the parents of the bride and groom. He pointed to the photo of a much younger and healthier looking Tom Boulanger, who stood with his wife, Eloise Josephine Boulanger.

  Billy pointed to Eloise. “Is this EJ?”

  Carolyn looked at him like he was pulling a fast one. “That’s Aunt Dana.”

  “Actually, that’s Aunt Dana’s mom when she was about her age. But you said this EJ looked a lot like Aunt Dana, right?”

  “Except she had gray hair and wrinkles.”

  “Look real close, Carolyn, and try to picture this woman with gray hair, and older like the woman you met. Then tell me if you think it could be EJ.”

  She pulled the photo close to her face and studied it. After a long pause, she shook her head, and handed it back to Billy.

  “Are you sure?”

  She took another look, pausing for a long moment. She then handed it back to him with a shrug. “This lady looks different.”

  There went his ghost story. “Don’t mention to Aunt Dana that we talked about this, okay?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she already thinks I’m a little nuts.”

  She laughed. “She says that all the time.”

  “We don’t need to give her any new ammunition.”

  She nodded, her face turning serious. “Do you think Ryan is going to get sick again, like last time?”

  Billy looked to an area just off the dance floor where Ryan had taken a seat, looking exhausted. He did seem much better, but they had been down this road before. “I don’t know. Nobody does. You just take it one day at a time and hope for the best.”

  Her look said she respected his honesty. And said, “I’m going to miss you, Billy, when I move to Nashville.”

  “I’m going to miss you too. I don’t know what I’ll do without my Healing Angel of Pain.”

  “For a Healing Angel of Pain, I sure had a lot of pain on the inside this year.”

  That’s for sure. And it just goes to show that there’s no way to escape pain, even for someone with Carolyn’s condition. It’s always simmering under the surface. But Billy thought the key was, that whenever it came to a boil, it was best to try to make chicken soup out of it.

  “We’ll see each other real soon,” he told her.

  “You promise?”

  The song switched to “Tomorrow” from Annie—an acoustic Haley Klinkhammer version. It wasn’t a cosmic coincidence. Billy had made sure to have Kaylee play it.

  He looked Carolyn in the eye—she didn’t believe as easily as she used to. But he held his gaze until he was sure she trusted him, and said, “You can bet your bottom dollar on it.”

  He twirled her around on the chair, and her smile returned, as wide and innocent as the first day he’d met her. And she said, “We always stick together, Billy!”

  Thank you for reading The Carolyn Chronicles, Volume 1!

  If you enjoyed Painless and The Carolyn Chronicles, you’ll probably also like Conjoined. Be sure to check out a preview in the next pages.

  Reviews are greatly appreciated. And if you have any questions or comments you can reach me at the email address derekbkclb@yahoo.com

  To find out about future books and updates, including more “Carolyn” stories in the Painless series, you can join my mailing list by clicking here.

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  Books by Derek Ciccone

  Featuring JP Warner (in order)

  Officer Jones

  Huddled Masses

  Psycho Hill

  Confederate Gold

  Painless Series

  Painless

  Carolyn Chronicles, Volume 1

  Stand Alone

  Conjoined

  The Trials of Max Q

  The Truant Officer

  The Heritage Paper

  The Jack Hammer

  Kristmas Collins

  Conjoined Excerpt

  Chapter One -

  31 Years Ago

  Sarah Dunbar couldn’t sit still.

  She rose from her chair and began to pace. Her husband, Nathan, glanced in her direction, but said nothing. He knew better than attempt another lecture about saving her energy. The surgery would stretch into tomorrow, perhaps taking as many as thirty hours to complete.

  She couldn’t believe he could remain so calm. He sat with legs crossed, engrossed in his novel. Exactly the type of guy you’d want flying your plane, which was his profession. Sarah was more like the unruly passengers she’d dealt with during her time as a flight attendant; the ones who refused to abide by the Fasten Seat Belt sign.

  That was a different lifetime. One in which her twin daughters weren’t about to be wheeled off into an operating room, where they would literally be cut apart—like a scene out of a horror film. Yet it was the best option. That was the one thing she was sure of.

  They were approached by the hospital Media Relations Director, Jennifer Towns. A pretty, perfectly put together woman who smelled of hairspray. She would be providing them updates at each critical juncture. She would also handle briefings for the media, who were camped outside the hospital, ready to tell the story of Eliza and Christie Dunbar, the nine-month-old conjoined twins who surgeons would attempt to separate in a rare and risky operation.

  Jennifer walked the Dunbars through the steps one final time, even though Sarah had memorized every tiny detail, and they had done a “dress rehearsal” here last month. With so many people and possibilities involved, organization was the key, and each step had been planned to the second.

  She concluded by looking Sarah deep in the eyes, and said, “Christie and Elizabeth are in good hands—Dr. Null is the best in the business.”

  The comment triggered something deep within Sarah. “That’s not my daughter,” she protested, an edge in her voice.

  Nathan stepped in, placing his arm around Sarah. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “She called her Elizabeth … our daughter is Eliza.”

  Sarah needed everyone involved to know that her babies were not a number. They were not patients. They were her daughters, and every little detail counted.

  A few minutes later, Dr. Finnegan Null entered the waiting room. He wore blue scrubs, and his unkempt salt-and-pepper hair made it appear as if he’d just woken up. He didn’t exactly look like one of the world’s top pediatric surgeons, which he was.

  “How are you doing?” he asked Sarah, his visit likely the result of her mini meltdown.

  “Who cares about us—how are you doing? You’re the one doing the surgery,” Nathan said, effectively lightening the mood.

  They shared a brief laugh, before Dr. Null asked, “Do you have any questions or requests before we get started?”

  Sarah did have one. She wanted each and everyone involved in the surgery—thirty-one in all, including Dr. Null—to introduce themselves to Eliza and Christie. It was important for them to look her daughters in their big brown eyes … to make this personal for them.

  The request was fulfill
ed. Team Eliza wore pink bandanas and scrubs, while Team Christie was in all blue. The twins’ fingers had similar color-coded tape, as did all the attached tubes and wires.

  “Nice to meet you, Eliza—I’m Dr. Smith, and I’m honored to be assisting in your surgery.”

  “Hello Christie—I’m Dr. Perkins, and I promise that we’ll take good care of you.”

  And so on, all thirty-one—pediatric surgeons, urologists, orthopedics, plastic surgeons, nurses, radiologists, anesthesiologists. By the smiles on the twins’ faces, they were taking this much better than their mother. They had grown accustomed to the attention that had been bestowed upon them the last few crazy months.

  At 7:30 am, Eliza and Christie Dunbar were wheeled into the unknown.

  The only time Sarah stopped pacing was for her sessions with the filmmakers, who were documenting the surgery. Sarah had initially resisted the idea when presented to her and Nathan. Their first reaction was to shield them. Hide them away from a cruel world that might judge or mock them. But they soon realized that they weren’t shielding them for the girls’ sake, but to prevent their own embarrassment.

  So each hour Sarah would sit with the film crew and share her emotions. It was cathartic, as by the time each new hour arrived, Sarah felt like a powder keg that was about to explode. When they first started filming, three months ago, the cameras felt invasive, and she’d analyze every word she uttered. But she barely even noticed them these days, and spoke from the heart.

  As they reached the first minefield, the tension began to mount. Dr. Null believed that the twins had two livers fused together, but wouldn’t know for sure until they opened them up. If they shared one liver, they would have to stop the surgery. And the girls would be forced to live as one. A life without freedom, with their possibilities severely limited.

  A nurse appeared, dressed in Team Eliza pink. When she approached, Sarah could see tears in her eyes. Her stomach sank, expecting the worst. But the nurse surprised Sarah with a hug, and the words she’d hoped to hear, “There are two livers—we can go on.”

  During their embrace, Sarah realized that this was as emotionally draining for the doctors and nurses as it was for her. This was personal for them. And for the first time she believed they might get through this.

  But there were more challenges ahead. As thrilled as she was that the surgery could continue, the livers were filled with major blood vessels, and separating them risked causing a fatal hemorrhage. All she could do was hold on tight and hope that the doctors could navigate through the treacherous waters.

  An hour later, the nurse returned with more good news—the livers had been separated. But no time to celebrate. More minefields were looming.

  The updates started coming fast and furious. The gall bladders and bile ducts could be separated, along with the urinary bladders. And each girl’s reproductive organs were intact, so Christie and Eliza would be able to bear children if they chose.

  “Is it too early to discuss grandchildren?” Sarah joked to the messenger nurse, the stream of positive news slightly loosening her up.

  At the twenty-three hour mark, Sarah received the words she’d been praying for, “Your children are separated.”

  Christie remained in the original OR, while Eliza was moved to a neighboring one. Six more grueling hours later, Christie’s team had sewn her up. Ninety minutes after that, Eliza went into recovery.

  The surgery officially ended at thirty-one hours, and shortly thereafter, Sarah and Nathan got to visit with their daughters. Sarah was mesmerized, seeing them for the first time as two individual children. Her heart practically exploded with joy.

  In the days that followed, Christie healed quicker, while Eliza had to undergo another operation to close her wounds. Sarah noticed that the girls had begun to develop their own personalities. Eliza was more gregarious, while Christie was very suspicious of strangers, and was protective of Eliza. But all things considered, they were in good spirits.

  They spent the next few weeks in the hospital, with Sarah and Nathan marking each milestone like they’d won the Super Bowl—their first solid food, rice cereal, woo-hoo! All leading up to the day when they were able to return home to Ridgefield. There was a long road ahead of them, and more surgeries on the horizon, but they would take it one day at a time, as a family, and count their blessings.

  For the first time in months, Sarah felt like she could breathe. It still didn’t seem real to her. Who would have thought an innocent trip to the obstetrician’s office could lead to this. The doctor telling her, matter-of-factly, “Your babies might be joined.”

  “They might be what?”

  Nathan was away on a flight, and she had no idea what she was going to tell him. We’re going to have Siamese twins? They discussed ending the pregnancy, but it was never a serious consideration. The doctors cautioned them that the babies likely wouldn’t survive beyond the first hours. But Christie and Eliza beat those odds, and they’d been beating them ever since.

  They had seven months to get ready for the arrival, but seventy years couldn’t have prepared them. Just holding the girls was an ordeal, as were most of life’s simple tasks. But then came their miracle in Dr. Null, who believed the girls were candidates for separation surgery.

  They decided it would best be done when the babies were nine months old, so they’d be able to physically withstand the surgery, but young enough to avoid most of the emotional trauma associated with it. The lead-up was rigorous, filled with endless doctor visits and sleepless nights. Balloons were inserted under the girls’ skin, which would slowly be expanded, creating enough skin to cover the wounds. That was the only point along the way that Sarah questioned what they were doing. Oh my God—I’m turning my children into Frankenstein! But Nathan was a rock throughout the entire process, talking her off the ledge numerous times.

  Exactly three weeks following their historic surgery, the twins were wheeled through the hospital halls to the cheers of the staff. When they exited the hospital, they were met by clicking flashbulbs and reporters, trying to get the first shot of the Conjoined Kids following their separation.

  Sarah had been keeping it together pretty well … until they arrived at their car, and she saw the two car seats. The tears began to flow.

  Nathan came up behind her and whispered, “They might be separated, but they’ll always be together.”

  Those were the words she needed to hear. A smile replaced her tears. They had given their children the gift every parent hoped for—the gift of freedom. To be able to pursue whatever they want in this world, and become whomever they chose. And their journey was just beginning.

  Chapter 2

  March 1st – Present Day

  Most milestones are based on even numbers that end in zero. The 50th wedding anniversary, the 40th birthday. But the big date for my sister Chris and me is the 31st.

  Which was why I was up at the crack of dawn, long before the Little Macs arose, watching the video documentary that chronicled the months leading up to, and including, the day that changed our lives forever.

  I had to hold back the urge to call Chris. While we’re identical twins, our sleep patterns—along with pretty much every aspect of our lives—are anything but identical, and I was positive that she was still sound asleep. It would have to wait, even if my rare moment of nostalgia felt empty without her.

  Especially since she’s the only one besides me who’s in on it—the significance of the number 31. Why it represents the unyielding bond between us. It has always been our clandestine code, our version of the secret handshake, our Wonder Twin powers.

  It was 31 years ago today when my sister and I were separated in a rare and risky operation, with no guarantees of either of us coming out of it alive. It received much ballyhoo, not just in our hometown of Ridgefield, Connecticut, but across the land—Would the Conjoined Kids pull through?

  The operation took exactly 31 hours to complete, and there were 31 doctors and medical technicians involved in
it. It even took place on March 1st … 3/1. And while we were separated that day, it bound us together more than ever, and 31 has always been our reminder.

  I refocused on the video. Chris and I were considered the “stars” of the documentary, but it was my mother, Sarah Dunbar, who symbolized the emotions felt during that perilous time. The filming began when Chris and I were about six months old, just after the decision had been made to attempt to separate us, and continued through our first birthday, three months following the surgery. And during those six months, my mother ran the gamut of emotions from overwhelmed, to scared, to strong, and you could just see the relief spilling out of her when she learned the surgery had been a success. And my favorite moment was when, upon leaving the hospital, she did her famous “happy dance.” It saddened me that she’d never be able to do that dance again.

  I rarely watch the documentary—just a handful of times in my life—but when I do, I like to fast-forward to the part that details the day of the surgery, and then onto the months that follow. I save the beginning for the end. The part where Chris and I were connected at the hip—pelvis, actually—spending our first months on this planet literally sitting in each other’s lap. When you come into this world staring your sibling in the eyes, it makes for a powerful bond.

  A floor-shaking noise disturbed my train of thought. As much as I’ve always dreaded the sound of my alarm clock, it had nothing on my youngest, Kelly, and her recent morning ritual of waking up our household … and likely our neighbors … with her guitar. And this was no unplugged acoustic set.

  The guitar … and the dreaded amp … was a gift from her father, my ex, Kirk McCaffrey. It’s the type of gift one would only give when they don’t live in the same household. In fact, Kirk doesn’t even live on the same continent—he plays basketball professionally in Europe, as he has for most of the girls’ lives.