Chapter 29
July 15, 1936
Papa finally let me out of my room today, but it does not matter because Samuel is gone. I am not sure what time the ship sailed out, but I know it has left a New York harbor…along with the love of my life.
I wish Samuel well, and I hope he fulfills all of his dreams, but I desperately need him to come back to me. I do not think I can stay with Papa and all of his hate.
Our poor child is dead, and all because of the evil man who lives under the same roof as I.
As much as I am saddened about the loss of our baby, my greatest regret is Samuel left thinking I do not love him enough to follow him. I should have told him I would follow him to the ends of the earth. I should have never left any doubt about whether I would come or not…but I did not. What I did not say speaks so much louder than what I did.
I do not know how, and I do not know when, but I am going to make it to Samuel.
Someday.
****
John raced for the check-in desk on the third floor of Mercy South where a longhaired nurse sat behind a computer. “Lesley DeLoach. Where is she?”
“Are you a family member?” The lady typed at her computer.
“I’m her fiancé.” A lie, but not for long…he hoped.
“She’s in for an MRI now.” Her fingers clicked across the computer keyboard. “I’ve signed you in, so have a seat in the waiting room. As soon as the doctor knows something, they’ll let the family know.”
“MRI? Is she okay?” His heart pounded and he fought for breath. “Please, can you tell me anything?” He repositioned the strap of her overnight bag on his shoulder and pushed the mass behind his back.
“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t. Please, take a seat. There’s coffee in the waiting room, and the cafeteria is on the second floor if you need anything. It’ll be open until two am.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Reluctantly, John followed the sign and pushed through the double doors to the waiting room. A little old lady sat by herself in the far corner reading a magazine. Knitting needles lay atop a stack of yarn jutting out of her purse. He tossed the bag on the floor and plopped in a seat near the coffee machine just as his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Frasier.
“Hello.” He swallowed hard. What was he supposed to tell her father?
“John, thank God you answered. Do you know anything?” The man sounded breathless on the other end.
“No, I’m sorry. I just arrived, and the nurse told me she was in for an MRI, but other than that I have no idea.”
Tears burned his eyes. She was here, at this hospital, hurting…because of him and his damn pride not able to take another heartbreak. Well, look where that got him….where it got her.
“I’m on my way. Milton called me and told me where they took her. I just made it past security at the airport. It’ll be another six hours before I can get there. Fastest thing the airport had for me was a layover in Dallas. My phone’ll be off during the flights, but I’ll have it on other than that. Call me with any news, okay.”
“Yes, sir,” he choked out. “I’ll be here when you arrive.”
“Thank you, John. Lesley’s lucky to have you. Peter coming back like he did was hard on her, but she knew returning to him would be a mistake. She told me how much she cares for you.”
“No, sir, I’m the lucky one.”
That was if she would take him back. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. And he would have a hard time getting past her leaving him, but if she was okay, if she came out of this alive and well, he would give her freedom from him if that’s what she wanted. Anything she wanted. He only wanted her to survive.
“Keep in touch, John. I have to go. I’m boarding the plane.”
“Yes, sir.”
He ended the call, tossed his phone on top of his bag, and placed his head in his hands. His shoulders quaked as the agony inside of him found release.
“There, there,” a feeble voice said as a small hand patted him on the back.
The old woman from the corner must have come to sit by his side. A comfortable, warming sensation spread through his body at her touch.
“Everything’s going to be all right.”
“How do you know?” he asked through his tears.
“An old lady’s wisdom.” Another pat. “What’s got you so upset?”
“My girlfriend. She fell off her bike and hit her head. I don’t have any more news that that.” He sucked in a sob. “It’s my fault. She’s here because of me. I put her here.”
“Now, that’s nonsense. You did no such thing. How would you have done that?”
“We got into a fight, and she rode off. On a damn bicycle. The storm was so bad. She wasn’t wearing a helmet. I never should have let her leave.” A sob gripped his throat as a fresh batch of tears fell.
“Sometimes bad things happen. What’s important is to learn the lesson God set out for you during times of trial.”
Again with the God talk.
John wiped his eyes and sat straight. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t believe in God.”
“Pish-posh. Don’t say such foolish things.” She held his gaze.
“I’ve already lost one love, my wife, Sandra, and now my girlfriend’s here, possibly fighting for her life. Why would God do that?”
She sat back and folded her hands in her lap. “Now, that I can’t tell you, but what I can tell you is there is always a plan. He always has a plan. Your job is to figure out what that is.”
Religious people. Always trying to push their beliefs off on others. He had no patience for this. “Ma’am, I don’t mean to be disrespectful to you, but I don’t think he exists. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“No, I will not excuse you, and you should believe because he does exist. I’ve been around the block enough times to know.”
She looked old enough.
Avoiding eye contact, John nodded his head and rose. “Excuse me.”
“I’ll tell you what.” She stood and gripped his arm. “You like coffee?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m going to go to the cafeteria and get us some fresh coffee. That stuff has been simmering in that pot for hours.” She pointed to the carafe beside him. “I’ll be back in a jiff. You just sit back down. No God talk. I promise.”
He doubted the woman could contain herself, but he did need a cup of coffee.
“Sure. Okay, thanks.”
“I’m Dovie. What’s your name, son?”
“John.”
“Nice to meet you, John. I’ll be back soon.”
The lady grabbed her purse off the floor and scooted to the waiting room door with more ease than a person of her age should. He blinked, and then she was gone.
****
John stood and paced the waiting room yet again. He’d been here for seven hours with the company of Dovie. A few others had come and gone as doctors brought them good news of saved loved ones. He wished some of that good news would come his way and soon.
A white-coated man passed them in the hallway.
“Excuse me, doctor?” John raced toward him. His badge read Dr. Galloway. “Do you have any information on my girlfriend—fiancée—Lesley DeLoach? I’ve been sitting here all night.”
Galloway flipped through a file in his hand. “What’s your name?”
“John Hambrice.”
“It says here the next of kin is a Frasier Anderson.”
“That’s her father. He isn’t here yet.” John raked a hand through his hair. His face itched from an overdue shave, and his eyes felt heavy. However, sleep didn’t seem anywhere in his near future.
“I understand your concern, but I’m sorry, sir. I can’t give you any information until Mr. Anderson—”
“John!”
He turned to find Frasier running toward them from the end of the hall, his overnight bag clung on his shoulder.
Dr. Galloway followed his gaze. “The father, I’m assuming.”
“Yes.”
Frasier came to a halt beside him and held his hand out for the doctor. “Dr. Frasier Anderson. Can you please give me an update on my daughter?”
The physician closed the folder and shook his hand. “Yes. Lesley has just come out of surgery—”
“Surgery? For what?” John interrupted.
“When she arrived, we performed a number of tests including a CT scan and MRI to understand the extent of her injuries.” He took a deep breath. “While we didn’t find any damage relating to her fall other than an open head wound, we did find a tumor that had been growing in her cerebrum, or the back side of the brain.”
The doctor turned sideways and pointed his finger to the back of his head to demonstrate the location of the infected area. John assumed that was only for his benefit.
“Surgery was required to remove the tumor, and she’s now in a medically induced coma. Her vitals are good, brain activity is good, and we should hear back from the labs in about a week to see if her margins were clear, meaning if we got the entire tumor and possible cancer infected areas.”
“The tumor was cancerous?” John’s whole body froze.
“We believe so,” the doctor confirmed. “We can’t begin radiation and chemo treatments until at least six weeks or so from now. Her body needs time to heal from the surgery, and hopefully, she’ll come out of her coma by then.” Galloway flipped his gaze between the two of them. “Had she been complaining about headaches or shown signs of slurred speech, mood changes, anything of the sort?”
“No.” Frasier shook his head then turned to him. “At least, not to me. John, you’ve been around her more. Had she made any comments? Done anything unusual?”
Still reeling from the incredulous news, he tried to think. “Yeah, a couple of times she complained of a headache, but she thought it was because of stress from the renovations.”
“She’s lucky,” Galloway continued. “I understand this situation isn’t ideal, but had she not fallen off her bike, the tumor may not have been found in time.”
Lucky? Nothing about the situation felt lucky. For her. For him. For Frasier. The whole damn thing sucked.
“Doc, is she going to be okay from this?” John’s stomach knotted as his race pulsed. He fought back an overwhelming urge to heave all the coffee he’d drunk in the last several hours. Lose another love to cancer? He wouldn’t survive it.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.” He shifted the folder to his right hand. “But she’s young and in good health. Her chances of survival are high, and we’ll do everything in our power to see to it the cancer doesn’t spread. When she wakes up, we’ll be able to understand more of what we are dealing with.”
All words he’d heard before.
“How long do you think that will take?” John asked, trying to focus on the positive.
She’s still alive. Still with me.
“We have no way of knowing. I’ve had people go into comas and die within minutes, and others make a full recovery from comas they’ve been in for months. Now, all we can do is wait. There is a chapel on the second floor, if you’re interested.”
He shook his head.
“Thank you, doctor. Can we see her?” Frasier asked.
“Yes, but no more than one or two at a time.”
John shifted his feet, finding it hard to stand still. “Is there anything we can do for her?”
“Talk to her, read to her. Hearing your voice may help her come out of this fog she’s in, and the faster she does that, the faster her recovery.”
Frasier nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry I can’t give you gentleman more information, but if you go through those double doors to the desk, someone will lead you to her.” The doctor pointed then continued on his way.
Lesley’s father squeezed his shoulder and motioned toward the doors. “Let’s go, then.”
“Yeah, sure. You go ahead. Let me just get my stuff.” John turned back to the waiting room.
Dovie sat in the chair beside his vacant one, knitting a scarf. “I overheard the doctor.” She laid her knitting needles on her lap. “I’m sorry about your girlfriend, but it’s not entirely all bad news.”
Sure felt like it. “I suppose not, but she’s not awake, and it doesn’t sound like she’s out of the woods yet. Her cancer might not be gone or could come back.”
“No, she’s not out of the woods, and you’re right, her cancer could come back, but she’s still with you. That means there is a fighting chance for her to live.”
Focus on the positive. “You’re right.”
“I’ll say a prayer for you both.”
We’ll see what good that does. “Uh…Yeah, thanks.” He picked up his bag.
“I brought you a fresh cup of coffee.” She handed him a cardboard cup with a dove drawn on the side in black marker.
He pointed to the bird. “Nice touch.”
“I thought you’d like that.” She winked and smiled.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye. Thanks for keeping me company and for all the fresh coffee.” He held up the mug to her. The speed in which the older lady refilled his cup really had been remarkable for her feeble appearance.
Note to exercise regularly.
“Oh, I have a feeling we might see each other around from time to time.”
He didn’t see how that was possible, but whatever; he’d entertain the old gal. “Yeah, maybe so. Well, goodbye, Dovie.”
“Goodbye, John. Oh, and John.”
He pivoted back toward her. “Yeah?”
“You know, had you two not got into that fight and she rode away, she may have never had that tumor removed.”
“I know what you’re trying to do.” Ease his guilt. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He nodded and exited the waiting room. He didn’t feel better about their fight, but the lady was right. At least the tumor had been found and removed in enough time to give Lesley a fighting chance.
He’d taken two steps down the corridor when he realized he’d been so focused on his own misery, he’d never asked Dovie why she was there. He poked his head back through the doorway of the sitting area. “Dovie…” He glanced around the empty room.
That lady is fast.
Shaking his head, John walked down the corridor and pushed through the double doors, meeting Lesley’s dad at the desk.
“You ready?” Frasier asked.
“Just a second.” He looked at the male nurse sitting at the nearest computer monitor. “The little old lady in the waiting room, Dovie. Do you know why she’s here?”
The man stopped typing. “Umm…no.” He gave a quizzical expression. “We don’t have many patients on this floor right now, and no one named Dovie has come through here in the past twelve hours.”
“You’re sure about that?” John asked.
“Positive. Everyone has to sign in.” The man pointed to the computer monitor. “We haven’t had a Dovie or anything close to that name all night.”
“But the woman in the waiting room with me…you’re sure she didn’t sign in?”
“What woman? I haven’t seen anyone in the waiting room in the past two hours besides you.”
“John?” Frasier laid a hand on his shoulder again. “Are you okay?”
He stared back at the waiting room, then toward Frasier and gave a hesitant nod. Dovie must be a nickname. “Yeah. I’m just tired.” He tapped the counter and glanced back at the nurse. “Never mind, man. Thanks.”
“No problem.” The guy went back to his task.
Frasier eyed him. “You’re sure everything is okay?”
“Yeah.” John nodded. “At least it will be when Lesley wakes up.”
“You’re right. Let’s help her do that.”
He followed Lesley’s father around the front desk and down the hall lined with patient rooms to the left and right. Room 309 stood in front of him. Her room.
He took in a deep breath, the smell of alcohol and bleach, triggering memories of his last moments with Sandra. Memories he worked hard to push from his mind. He swallowed the thoughts, feeling as if they would crush his throat.
Frasier stopped before opening the door. “John, are you sure you’re ready for this? I know you told me a little about your wife. Can you handle what you’re about to see?”
Could he? Sandra lying in a hospital bed invaded the forefront of his mind, but he pushed the image away. He had to be strong, for Lesley. He could do this. “Yes. I can handle it.”
“Okay.” The older man nodded. “Okay.”
He opened the door to her room and entered slowly as if he walked around grenades.
She lay perfectly still on the bed in the middle of the room. Her head sported large white gauze for a bandage and her complexion was gray and pale, almost as if it tried to match her light blue hospital gown. Her zest had disappeared and been replaced by a ghost of her previous self.
Machines buzzed around the room, and a looming heaviness settled over him as he took in the IV protruding from her arm, the pulse oximeter clipped to her finger, and the blood pressure cuff, wrapped around her biceps. Several other machines he couldn’t call by name lined the room, their lines running to her frail body, and he wished he didn’t have to look at any of them.
Sobs threatened to rip through him, but he fought the urge. She was fighting, and so would he. He would be strong and be here with her because she needed him.
“Well, you heard the doctor.” Frasier stepped to the side of the room and placed his bag on the couch against the far wall. “Let’s bring her back.”
“Yeah.” John tossed his shoulder bag beside Frasier’s. “I brought some of her belongings, and her aunt’s journal.” He dug through the bag. Right on top of her Christmas pajamas sat the old Bible, and he was glad he decided to make the pit stop. “She’s been fascinated finding out the history of Myrtle. I guess she told you we think her great-aunt was the muse of artist Samuel William Thomas.”
“She did. Would you like to read some of the journal now?”
“I guess. No time like the present.” John pulled up a straight back chair closer to Lesley’s bed while Frasier walked to the other side of his daughter and grabbed her hand. “It looks like she dog-eared where she left off.” He flipped open the book and scanned the page. He would read this journal to her every day, over and over again, if it brought her back to him.
Dovie’s words resonated in his heart as he stared at Lesley lying helpless in the bed. His actions may have brought her here, but she still lived. And while all the love he had to give couldn’t physically save her, he would fight for her, and he would be sure she knew he was by her side. He couldn’t give up, and neither could she. If she did…he didn’t know how he would survive.