In what seemed like a short time, they were pulling into their driveway. Michelle had drifted off to sleep, but awakened as the car slowed to a stop. I love this house, she thought to herself, enjoying its homey and inviting appearance in the final spray of afternoon sun. She looked over at Steve and smiled.
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Here we are.”
They got out of the car, and Steve began unloading the trunk. Michelle grabbed one of the bags, and he grabbed another. Walking into the kitchen, they were immediately assaulted by Max, who seemed indignant about their absence. He rubbed up against their legs and nearly tripped them with his weavings as he loudly chided them for being so neglectful.
“Get over it, Max,” Steve said with a smile. “It looks like you’ve survived to tell the story.”
The cat ignored his remark and gently bit Michelle on the ankle.
“Ouch! You little stinker!” she said, picking him up and kissing the top of his head.
“Oh, that will teach him,” Steve observed teasingly.
“He’s just a baby, Steve. He doesn’t know any better,” she said in Max’s defense.
“I see. Well, I’ll get the rest of the stuff from the car, and you check the answering machine. If Max will let you, that is.”
“Funny,” she replied. Walking into the family room, she pressed the play button on the recorder.
A familiar male voice came from the machine. “Steve, it’s Roger. Call me at home. Nothing big, I just wanted to run by some information you’ll need for the meeting Monday.”
Next came, “Hi, Michelle, it’s Monica. There was this great medium at the bookstore on Saturday. You would have loved her. She has amazing abilities to contact spirits. I bought her book. I’ll tell you all about it when you get back. Give me a call.”
And finally, “Michelle, it’s Tim,” Michelle’s heart skipped a beat. Tim didn’t usually call her on the house phone. “Something’s happened to Dad. Call St. John’s Methodist Hospital in Bridgeport.” He rattled off the hospital phone number then continued. “We’ll be in the ICU. Mom’s here with me. We got you two tickets for a flight out of Portland on Northwest #312 leaving at eleven Sunday night. I’ll meet you at the airport here at one-fifteen.”
Michelle’s mind was racing. “Steve! Get in here, quick!” she called.
He was just coming into the house with the last of their things. He dropped everything and went straight to her. “What is it?” he asked, visibly shaken by Michelle’s expression.
“It’s my dad, Steve,” Michelle said, starting to cry. “Listen to this.”
She pushed the repeat button on the answering machine, and Tim’s message replayed. Steve stood there with his hand on Michelle’s shoulder as he listened. “I’m glad they got two tickets. I’ll call Roger and let him know I won’t be in tomorrow.”
She turned and clung to him, feeling like she might pass out. He guided her over to the couch. “Listen, Michelle. We don’t really know anything yet. Let’s call the hospital and talk to your mom.”
Michelle just nodded, trying to stop the tears. As she retrieved her cell phone and turned it back on, she saw the text from Tim and the numerous missed calls.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The doorbell rang, and Steve swung open the front door, hoping it wouldn’t be a salesman. Monica was standing there. Her brown hair was somewhat disheveled, but her eyes were sparkling.
“I thought I’d better come by and check on Max, in case you guys weren’t home yet. We wouldn’t want him to miss his dinner!” she added with a dimpled smile.
“Come on in, Monica,” he said, failing to smile in return as he gestured for her to enter.
“What’s the matter, Steve?” Monica asked, concern creeping into her voice as she noticed his grim expression.
“Something’s happened to Michelle’s dad. She’s on the phone with the hospital right now trying to get more information.” They could hear Michelle’s muffled voice in the other room.
Monica didn’t seem to know what to say. Finally she just offered, “Is there anything I can do?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. We’ll need you to look after Max and the house for a few more days. Michelle and I will be leaving out of Portland Airport on the red eye tonight. I’m not sure how long we’ll be gone,” he added.
“Hey, no problem. Max and I have become fast friends.” Monica glanced at the cat, who was watching her from across the room.
“Thanks, Monica. I’ll leave the hospital phone number on the refrigerator, and you’ve got Michelle’s cell number in case you need to reach us. We’ll call you from Bridgeport tomorrow. Here’s some money, in case you need any more cat food or litter while we’re gone,” Steve said, handing her some cash.
Monica nodded. Then she asked, “Bridgeport? Isn’t that in Northern California? I thought Michelle’s parents lived in Orange County.”
“They do. It’s kind of a long story, but her dad is in a hospital up in Bridgeport right now.” Since he didn’t know much about it himself, he was relieved when she didn’t press for more information.
“Okay, well I’d better let you get back to Michelle. Don’t worry about Max or the house. I’ll take care of everything,” Monica said reassuringly.
“Could you bring in the mail and the paper, too?” Steve wracked his brain, making sure he covered all the details in case they ended up being gone for a week or more.
“Will do.”
“Thanks. We’ll let you know when we’ll be back.”
“Tell Michelle I’ll be thinking about her,” Monica offered as she turned to leave.
Steve was escorting her to the door when he heard Michelle’s distressed voice calling him from the family room. Monica nodded for him to go to Michelle, and she let herself out.
He hurried to the family room. Michelle was rocking back and forth on the couch and crying. For a moment, Steve thought that John must be dead. He gently reached down and touched his wife’s shoulder. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face.
“Tell me what Tim said,” Steve asked, trying not to panic.
“He shot himself, Steve,” was all she could manage before her body was wracked with sobs.
“Oh, Michelle. No.” He sat down beside her and cradled her in his arms. They both rocked together as he tried to comfort her. She buried her face in his chest and let the torrent of tears run dry.
As he held her tightly, confusion and sorrow for his wife gripped his heart like a vise. What could he say or do to help? Was this all partly his fault for not taking John’s case more seriously and intervening? His head shook back and forth involuntarily as if trying to deny what he’d heard. Meanwhile Michelle continued to cry, murmuring “Why?” over and over as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
When her sobs finally receded into a black silence, Steve loosened his grip and looked into her eyes, searching for information.
“He’s not dead, Steve. But they don’t expect him to last long. We’ve got to go to Bridgeport right away. We’ve got to get to the airport.”
Steve was relieved to hear that John was still alive, but distressed to learn the seriousness of his condition. “Let’s throw a few more things in the suitcases in case we are there for a while. I’m glad Tim was able to book the flight.” He pulled her back into an embrace and immediately started to silently pray. Please God, he pleaded in his heart, let him live long enough for Michelle to get to the hospital and see him.
A moment later Michelle pulled away from him again. “Who was at the door?” she asked.
“It was Monica. She came by to check on Max. She’ll take care of him while we’re gone.”
“Okay, good,” she said, looking relieved and overwhelmed at the same time.
“It’s all worked out,” he assured her. “We’ll just repack our bags and I’ll heat up some soup for dinner. I’ll see if Roger can drive us to the airport, so we don’t have to leave the car there.” He wondered how Roger would manage
the workload without him, but Steve knew he had to be with his wife.
“Okay,” she said numbly as she stood to walk upstairs.
Steve carried their bags from the kitchen to the bedroom, and they worked together to sort clothes and repack for the trip. When they got finished, it was almost six o’clock.
“Ready to eat a little something?” Steve asked.
“I’m not really hungry. You can eat, though,” Michelle answered, exhaustion and concern etching lines in her face.
“I’ll heat the soup. Maybe you’ll change your mind. In the meantime, why don’t you just stretch out on the sofa under a blanket,” he suggested, noticing the darkening skies outside.
He led Michelle downstairs and helped her get settled. Max jumped up on the couch beside her and inspected her closely. It seemed as if he could sense that something was wrong. She stroked his head. “You can keep me company, Max,” she said softly. Tears oozed out of her lower lids. She closed her eyes tightly as if to shut out reality.
Steve shook his head. Looking at Michelle’s puffy red eyelids and seeing the tears begin to escape out of the thick, closed lashes wrenched him. His heart ached. He handed her a tissue and kissed the top of her head. “Be right back,” he told her.
While Steve was heating the soup, her phone rang. Michelle could feel her heart pound as she flipped it open, wondering if it was more news about her father.
“Hello?”
“Michelle? It’s Trevor.”
“Trevor?”
“Yeah. I just ran into Monica at the gas station and she said that something happened to your father,”
“It’s really serious, Trevor. He tried to kill himself,” she said, surprised to hear herself repeating this to someone outside the family.
“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that.” Trevor seemed to be at a loss for words.
“Remember my dream about the river?” she asked him.
“Yeah. I was just thinking about it. Don’t jump to any conclusions, Michelle. Let’s think positive thoughts,” he suggested. “Remember, the river might just symbolize some kind of big change or challenge. Your dad will need all the encouragement and good thoughts he can get. Maybe this crisis will bring positive changes into his life.”
“Maybe.” Michelle was not convinced.
“How bad is he?”
“All I know is that he’s in intensive care. Steve and I will be flying down there tonight,” she continued.
“I’ll keep sending positive thoughts for you and your dad,” Trevor added.
It sounded so hollow to Michelle. “Thanks, Trevor,” was all she could say in return.
Just then, Steve came into the family room carrying a cup of hot tea for her. She turned to him and smiled weakly, then spoke into the phone, “I’ve got to go now. I’ll talk to you when I get back.”
“Okay. Take care, Michelle,” Trevor said before hanging up.
“Who was that?” Steve asked curiously.
“Trevor,” Michelle replied. “He saw Monica at the gas station, and she told him about my dad.”
“Oh,” Steve said. He gave her the tea then headed back toward the kitchen. “I’ll be back with some soup in a minute. Just try to eat a little.”
Their meal was a quiet one. Michelle sipped her soup and nibbled on the crackers, but she wasn’t able to finish the small serving that he’d brought for her. He didn’t push her to eat more, and she was glad. Her stomach was in knots.
After they were both finished, Steve collected the bowls, silverware, and glasses and told her to try to take a nap before they left. She could hear him rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher as she snuggled down under the afghan and closed her eyes.
In what seemed like a few minutes, he was gently rubbing her shoulder and saying, “It’s time to go, honey. Roger is here to take us to the airport.”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and noticed Steve’s partner standing just inside the front door. She tried to smile. “Hi, Roger.”
He gave her a compassionate look and returned her greeting. Then Steve helped her up and walked her to the stairs. “You go on upstairs and freshen up. Roger and I will get the bags in his car.”
She nodded and walked up to their room. Her mouth felt cottony and her head ached. Walking into the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy with dark circles under them. There were streaks of mascara on her cheeks and her hair was a mess.
After brushing through the tangles, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and proceeded to wash her face with cool water. It helped revive her, and she felt a little better when she looked back into the mirror and could begin to recognize herself. She brushed her teeth, threw on some makeup, and started back downstairs.
Roger and Steve were waiting for her. She glanced at the grandfather clock. They would have to hurry to get to the airport in plenty of time to get their tickets and seat assignments. Giving Max a quick kiss, she darted into the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle out of the refrigerator, then headed out the front door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Roger dropped them off outside of the terminal. It had begun to sprinkle lightly, and they hurried inside. The airport was relatively quiet, as would be expected on a Sunday night. They had no problem checking their luggage, and getting their tickets and seat assignments before boarding.
Once settled on the plane, Steve sunk back into his seat and sighed.
“You must be exhausted,” Michelle said as she noticed his drawn expression.
“I’m fine, honey.” He reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Why don’t you try to sleep during the flight?” she suggested.
“I might close my eyes for a few minutes. Will you be okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m feeling a little better after that nap. I’ll probably just look at one of these magazines,” Michelle answered, reaching for one of the periodicals in the seat pocket in front of her.
As she absentmindedly paged through the glossy pages, she thought about her mom and what she must be going through. The daughter in her wanted to hurry up and get to the hospital, while another part wanted to run in the opposite direction. Could she bear to see her dad in this condition? Would she be able to keep it together for her mom or would she fall apart?
Realizing that she was unable to concentrate on reading the magazine, she put it back into the pocket and glanced over at Steve. His eyes were shut, and he was breathing in a slow, rhythmic manner. She reclined her seat and closed her eyes.
A picture of her father appeared on the screen of her mind. It was a memory from her wedding when he had presented her with a special wedding gift—a heart-shaped locket made of white gold. “In my heart, you will always be my little girl,” he’d said with a tear in his eye. “Don’t forget that, princess.”
Thinking about that intimate moment brought fresh tears to her eyes. She could feel one escape under her closed lids and slip down her cheek. Hoping that no one had noticed, she brushed it away with the back of her hand. Hang on, Daddy, her heart pleaded as she willed the plane to hurry.
Back at St. John’s Methodist Hospital, Sheila and her parents were keeping a bedside vigil. While still very grave, John’s condition seemed to have stabilized somewhat. Vivian, the head nurse, smiled kindly as she spoke to them. “He seems to be holding his own. His vital signs are improving.” Then she turned her attention to John. “Can you hear me, John?” she asked firmly, leaning over his bed.
There was no response. “Squeeze my finger,” she persisted, placing her finger in his open palm. John’s fingers made small jerking movements. “That’s great, John. Good job,” she said, adjusting his bed to elevate his head slightly. She removed the bandage on the right side of his scalp and replaced it with a clean gauze pad. There did not appear to be any fresh bleeding from the wound, and it looked relatively small and insignificant.
“Keep praying,” Vivian smiled. “He’s in there somewhere.”
&
nbsp; Sheila thanked her for the encouragement and for her tender care. “We couldn’t have asked for better nurses,” she added glancing at Sherrene as well.
“Just doing our jobs,” Vivian replied, directing a smile to the other nurse, who nodded in agreement.
Michelle was standing on the top of a hill looking down over a vast valley. The soft afternoon breeze was blowing gently through her hair and the warm sun felt wonderful. She could see some sheep grazing on the lower parts of the hillside. As she soaked in the peaceful scene, a dark shadow caught her eye. Something was stalking the sheep. It was low to the ground and moved stealthily through the low brush. None of the sheep seemed aware of the imminent danger.
Michelle wanted to call out to warn them, but she had no voice. She waved her arms, trying to get their attention, but they continued to graze, innocently ignoring her gestures. Her heart started to pound as she saw the rapidly approaching threat to these gentle creatures. Her chest was rising and falling with each anxious breath as she sat fixated on the scene. Unable to help them herself, she pleaded in her mind, “Please save them.”
Almost immediately a man stepped out from behind a large outcropping of rock. He threw a rock in the direction of the shadow. It froze momentarily then jetted away in the opposite direction, disappearing completely from sight. The sheep looked up at him and then calmly resumed their grazing.
The shepherd turned to Michelle and smiled. The good shepherd. All is well. Michelle was about to return his smile when she felt something touch her shoulder.
“Please return your seat to the upright position,” a woman’s voice said.
Michelle looked around, startled. “What? Oh. Okay.” She leaned forward and pushed the button to bring the seat back up.
“You must have been dreaming. You were breathing pretty hard there for a minute,” Steve commented after she got resettled.
“It was a weird dream, Steve. Peaceful, then scary, then the shepherd came and everything was fine,” Michelle said rather incoherently as she tried to piece her dream together. “I think it’s a good sign, though. The sheep were threatened, but the shepherd came and protected them. It kind of reminds me of the Bible stories Grandpa Phil used to tell me when I was little,” she continued, and then paused before adding, “Maybe it means that God’s power is with my dad.”
Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Page 20
