An August Harvest

by Ben Marney

  Jake tightened his lips and lowered his brow. “There is one other possibility and it’s the worst case scenario. Charley had lost a lot of blood before I got it stopped,” He paused and took a deep breath. “It’s possible that the severe blood loss has caused some brain damage. The tail movement could be involuntary.”

  Grant looked down at Charley and petted him gently. “Is he in pain?”

  “No, I don’t believe he is, or I would suggest that we put him down. But I’d like to wait a few more days before we talk about doing something like that. Detective Reynolds tells me that he’s a unique dog, extremely intelligent. I wanted to give him special treatment. That’s why I have him here with me on the feeding tube. Here, I can keep a close watch on him. The only good news I can tell you is that his vitals are getting stronger every day.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. And you are right, he is a very special dog. Would it be okay if I stay here with him for a little while longer?”

  “Of course.”

  They turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind them, giving him some private alone time to spend with Charley. He laid down on the floor, pulled him into his arms and gently stroked his head with his fingers, listening to his rapid breathing.

  “Charley,” he whispered in his ear, “can you hear me?” His breathing slowed and Grant felt his tail move against his leg.

  Grant lifted his head and stared down at Charley’s body. “Could you do that again, so I know for sure you are hearing me?”

  His tail did not move. “Come on, Charley, you can do it. Wag your tail, just a little.”

  He watched his tail closely, but it didn’t move. Grant’s hands were trembling, tears were rolling down his cheeks and his heart was racing. “Please, God, help him, heal him, give him strength.” He buried his wet face in Charley’s soft coat, hugging him tightly. “You can’t die, Charley. I need you. Please don’t die, buddy. Fight this, open your eyes and let me know you’re still there.”

  Charley’s breathing slowed again. Against his leg, he felt his tail move and he saw his eyelids twitch. Grant sat up and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Good boy,” he whispered, “Try that again. Open your eyes for me.”

  Charley’s tail moved and his eyelids twitched. “Doc!” he yelled. “Come look at this!”

  When Jake and Anastasia came back into the room, Grant tried to get him to move his tail and eyelids, but it didn’t work. He remained completely still.

  “I swear, his breathing slowed down, his eyelids twitched and his tail moved when I was talking to him. He did it twice,” he explained. “Do you think he knows I’m here?”

  Jake looked down at him and shrugged. “Maybe, but I honestly don’t know. It’s possible, but it’s too sporadic to know for sure. It’s just as likely that it’s involuntary muscle movement. I hate to say that and I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I’m just trying to be realistic. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know for sure.”

  Grant dropped his head and looked down at Charley. “He heard me. I know he did. Would it be okay for me to stay here with him tonight? I want to be with him. I’ll sleep here, on the floor. I just can’t bear going home to my house without him being there.”

  “No problem,” Jake said. “I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket.”

  “Grant, I’m sorry,” Anastasia said, “but I need to go home. I have to work tomorrow. Would you mind taking me back to my car and then coming back here?”

  “I can take you,” Jake said, handing Grant a pillow and a blanket.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I’m parked at your clinic.”

  “Of course I’m sure, Detective Reynolds,” he said. “It’s not a problem at all. Let me go get my keys.”

  When he walked out of the room, Grant raised his eyebrows and grinned at her.

  She grinned back. “It’s just a ride to my car.”

  Jake walked back in the room, jingling his keys. “Are you ready to go?”

  Grant pulled himself off the floor and held out his hand, “Thank you, Doctor, I really appreciate this.”

  Jake smiled and shook his hand. “You’re welcome. I just wish I could tell you more.”

  When they turned to leave, Grant said, “And by the way, Doc, her name isn’t Detective Reynolds, it’s Anastasia. And she hasn’t had dinner. I bet she’s hungry.”

  Jake grinned and looked at her. “Are you hungry?”

  “A little,” she said shyly, blushing.

  “Me too,” he said, glancing at his watch. “If we hurry, we can make it to this great place on the beach that makes amazing grilled shrimp.”

  Following behind him, Anastasia glanced back at Grant and gave him a frown. He returned her frown with a wink and a wide smile. “You’re welcome, Detective,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

  30

  Living Donor

  The next morning, after doing some extensive tests with great results, they moved Annabelle from the ICU to a private room. Marshall and the rest of her doctors were shocked and astounded by her remarkably quick recovery. They attributed it to her youth and the fact that she was in such great physical condition when she was shot.

  When Grant walked into her room, she was sitting up in her bed, watching television. “I think this must be the wrong room,” he said, grinning. “I’m looking for Annabelle Douglas’ room. Is she around here somewhere?”

  Her face lit up. “Are those for me?” she said reaching for the flowers. “They’re beautiful.”

  Grant glanced around the room, but it was empty. “Where are Drake and your parents?”

  “My parents are at their hotel. I just called and told them that I’m out of ICU. They’re on their way.” She looked down and nervously fiddled with the flowers. “I don’t know where Drake is. I haven’t seen him today.”

  “Don’t worry, he’ll show up.”

  Annabelle shot him a stern look. “I’m not worried. I don’t care if he shows up or not.”

  Grant sat on the edge of her bed and smiled. “I think you do.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Annabelle it’s okay. I like him. He’s impressive and certainly not the same guy you described. He’s changed.”

  “I guess he has,” she said, looking away. “He told me that he joined the Marines because of me...to help him grow up.”

  “Yeah, he told me the same thing. So, what did you tell him?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I told him. I really don’t want to talk about that right now. How is Melissa?”

  He slid off the bed, sat down in a chair and rubbed his face with his hands. “She’s alive, but just barely. She’s still in a medically induced coma, but they told me she’s stable for now.”

  “Isn’t there anything they can do?”

  He dropped his head. “Not really, other than another transplant. They’re searching for a donor now, but Marshall isn’t hopeful. The odds of finding someone with her blood type is astronomical.”

  Suddenly, the door swung open, and Sue and Albert ran in the room, rushing up to her bed. They were both crying and laughing at the same time.

  “Oh, my baby girl!” her mother shouted tearfully, leaning over her bed and hugging her. “Look at you! You look so much better!”

  Albert leaned over from the other side and joined the group hug. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to…his tears said it all.

  “I’m gonna be all right,” Annabelle said, sniffing and wiping her eyes. “Please stop crying. I’m going to be fine.”

  There was a knock on her door and the attendant brought in her breakfast. She placed it on the small table and rolled it in front of her. “Bon appétit,” the attendant said as she walked out.

  For the next few minutes, they all sat quietly watching her eat. “Will you guys stop staring at me? You’re making me nervous.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t help it,” her mother said. “I almost lost you and I can watch you if I want to. I’m just so happy you�
�re alive.”

  Grant stood up and waved at Annabelle. “I think I’ll go check on Melissa. I’ll be back later.”

  Walking toward the ICU, Grant passed Drake in the hall. “Good morning,” he chirped with a smile. “Annabelle’s doing great today. She’s waiting to see you.”

  Drake looked down and shuffled his feet. “Mr. Nash, could I ask you a question?”

  He turned to face him. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  “Annabelle told me that she wasn’t sure how she felt about me anymore. She said that it may be too late, because she had met someone else. Do you know who that is? Would this guy be better for her than me?”

  Grant wasn’t sure what to say and stood there staring at him. If he told him the truth, it would shatter him and he would probably leave and never return. It would be an honor thing for the Marine. Although he had only known him a couple of days, he knew that it would be impossible for Drake to come between him and Annabelle. Forty-eight hours earlier, that would have been exactly what he wanted, but now he wasn’t sure about anything. The only thing he knew for absolute certainty was that Annabelle deserved to be happy.

  He nodded. “Yes, I know who she’s talking about. It’s an older man that she’s become infatuated with. Nothing has happened between them, so don’t worry.”

  Grant leaned against the wall and put his hands in his pockets. “Is this guy better for Annabelle than you? Well, I guess that depends on if you’ve really changed and what your intentions are for you two in the future. You told me that you just re-enlisted. Are you planning on making the military your career?”

  “No, sir. If things work out between me and Annabelle, I plan on finding a job as soon as I finish this tour, and then go to college at night until I get my degree.” He lifted his head and looked Grant in the eyes. “Mr. Nash, I will do whatever it takes to make her happy and give her a good life.”

  “I have no doubt that you will,” he said with a smile. “Look, keep this between me and you, don’t ever tell Annabelle I said this. Don’t worry about this other guy and don’t let anything stop you. And one more thing, soldier...her favorite flowers are yellow Calla Lilies. They don’t sell them in the flower shop here in the hospital, but there’s a florist a few blocks away. Go get her some. She’ll love them!”

  Grant only spent a few minutes with Melissa. She was still unconscious and he couldn’t stand looking at her like that, so he kissed her and walked to the cafeteria. He bought a banana nut muffin, a cup of coffee and found a table in the back corner of the room. He had just finished off his muffin when Brenda and Marshall walked in and sat at his table.

  “I got to spend some time with Molly yesterday,” Brenda said. “She’s very confused at why her daddy would have been so mean to her, but I think time with a good child psychologist will get her through this. She’s very smart and sweet.”

  Grant smiled. “Thank you for doing that. I just can’t imagine what she’s had to endure and what she’s seen. I just hope that she’s young enough that she may forget everything she saw.”

  “No, that’s not what we want. The worst thing she could do would be to block the memories away. Repressed memories can be very dangerous. She needs to keep the memories on the surface and, with professional help, learn how to deal with them. As she gets older, she’ll be able to understand what actually happened and realize that it was not her fault. She may not like it, but one day she’ll understand that some people do terrible things. And that’s what her father did. When she understands that, I believe she’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so,” he said softly. “But what will it do to her if her mother dies, too?”

  She looked over at Marshall. “I think you need to tell him.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Marshall leaned forward and looked at him, “I didn’t want to tell you until we knew for sure, but we may have found a donor.”

  “Really?” he gasped. “That’s great! Who is it?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up yet. It may not happen. Yesterday a sixteen-year-old woman in Chicago had a brain hemorrhage. She’s AB negative and on life support now. She’s showing no brain activity at all. The doctors have told her parents that she is brain dead and trying to convince them to donate her organs, but they are resisting.”

  ”Do you remember how you felt when I said those words to you about Rita? Just imagine if it was Audrey I was talking about instead of Rita? We both knew what Rita would have wanted, but a child?”

  Grant looked down. “Knowing what she would have wanted didn’t make it any easier. She was there, breathing. I could touch her, kiss her...how could she be dead? I know exactly what they’re going through.”

  “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. They may not agree,” Marshall said with a sigh. “And if they don’t agree soon...”

  Grant looked up. “How much time does she have?”

  “Honestly...none. I don’t know why she’s alive now,” he said grimly, “but somehow she is.”

  In an almost robotic, numb state, Grant left the hospital and drove to his house. He didn’t know exactly why he was going there, but he knew he had to get away from that hospital.

  When he pulled into his driveway, he didn’t open the door and get out. Instead, he sat there quietly, admiring his beautiful house. It truly was spectacular. The memory of the first day he had seen it flashed through his mind. The day Charley had insisted on him driving there. The memories of Charley running up the stairs, peeking in the windows and barking made him smile.

  “I still don’t get it, Charley,” he said out loud, “what was it about this place? Why here? How did you know?” He opened his door and stepped out. “Why did you bring me here, Charley?”

  He headed to the wooden walkway over the dunes. At the bottom of the steps, he took off his shoes and walked to the shallow water rolling up on the beach. What now? he asked himself as he strolled along the shore. The water was cold on his feet, but it was stimulating and shocked his numbed senses, clearing his head.

  As he slowly walked along the shore, he began to recount the last years of his life. He thought about Rita and how she looked when he first saw her holding Audrey in her arms just moments after the delivery. She was absolutely radiant. Her blue eyes were glowing, reflecting the overhead lights, glistening from her tears of joy. It was a sight he never wanted to forget.

  With that memory, the floodgates opened and his mind filled with more and more wonderful memories of Rita and Audrey. It was the first time he had allowed himself to actually look back. He had repressed those memories, but now, for whatever reason, he had let them out. Perhaps it was because Brenda had mentioned how dangerous repressed memories could be earlier, he thought. He really didn’t know why, but whatever the reason, those memories didn’t make him sad like he had feared; they made him feel happy and blessed to have experienced them.

  His thoughts turned back to Charley, Melissa, Molly and Annabelle. As he continued to stroll along, he tried to recall every moment he’d spent with them as well. Again, it made him feel happy and blessed.

  He walked back to his house and took a hot shower, changed clothes and headed back to the hospital. On the drive back, he felt revived, stronger somehow. He thought he had finally figured out what Rita was talking about. What she meant when she said that he had “much more to do.” He had no idea what the future may hold for him, but whatever it was, he would somehow survive and get through it. He had no choice. It was all about Molly now. He was all she had.

  He had timed it right, Annabelle had just finished her lunch when he walked into her room. Her parents were both dozing in their chairs and Drake, always the Marine, was standing at attention next to her bed.

  “Whoa, check out the Calla Lilies,” he said, pointing at the yellow flowers.

  “Aren’t they beautiful!” she beamed, pulling herself up in the bed. “Drake brought them. I love Calla Lilies; they’re my favorite flowers.”

  “Oh, really?” he said, grinn
ing at Drake. “How’d you know she liked Calla Lilies?”

  He grinned. “I remember everything about her.”

  He laughed. “Good answer, soldier!”

  Grant found a chair from an empty room next door and ignoring the dirty looks from the nurses, he drug it into Annabelle’s room and sat down. For the next hour, he sat quietly, listening to all of them swapping stories about growing up in Boone.

  “You wouldn’t know it now by looking at him, but Drake was sort of a runt and skinny as a rail,” Her father said, laughing. “And you never saw him without that damn skateboard, flying down the road, jumping off of tables and rails all over town.”

  Yeah,” her mother added, “he was a living Dennis the Menace!”

  “Do you still have it?” Grant asked. “It’s an Olympic sport now.”

  “No, my mother sold it at a garage sale when I joined the Marines.”

  “Maybe you should buy a new one,” Grant said, “You never know. You might be in the next Olympics.”

  After several more old, embarrassing stories, the conversation lulled and everyone got quiet.

  The door swung open and Marshall and Brenda walked in. Their faces were dark and gloomy.

  “We lost the donor,” he said.

  “The parents wouldn’t agree to the organ harvest?” Grant asked.

  “No, they wouldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “However they did agree to unplug her from the life support equipment. I just got off the phone with the doctor in Chicago. She died ten minutes ago.”