by Cassia Leo
My mom shakes her head. “You don’t know the first thing about my daughter. You’ve spent eight weeks with her. I’ve spent eighteen years with her.” She grabs my hand and I yank it back. “Don’t be difficult, Abby. Just come home and we can get your stuff later.”
I look around the room and realize that Ryder and Junior have joined Jimi. They’re all three standing in the hallway and my stomach drops when I see Ryder crying. Caleb lets go of my shoulders as I walk toward them. Ryder leans against the wall, his face turned toward the wallpaper to hide his tears.
I lean down and whisper in his ear, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Then I turn to Jimi and look her in the eye as I mouth the word “keys.” She slowly slides her hand into the pocket of her shorts and discreetly hands me the key to her Mercedes. Junior smiles when he sees this exchange.
I slip the key into my pocket, then I turn on my heel and head right past my parents toward the back door.
“Where are you going?” my mom calls out to me.
I keep going, my feet flying down the back steps. I pull the keys out of my pocket and hit the button on the key fob to deactivate the alarm.
“Abby, come back here!” she shrieks as I slide into the driver’s seat of Jimi’s black Mercedes.
My hand is shaking as I jam the key into the ignition. The smell of leather is making me even more nervous. I’ve never driven a car this expensive. Actually, I’ve hardly driven any car of any value. I’m not sure I can safely drive Jimi’s Mercedes. If I crash today, I guess I can thank my fabulous parents and their need to protect my fragile heart.
I turn the key and the engine hums. I shift into reverse and punch the gas pedal, then I nearly pass out when the car jumps backward into the driveway, almost crashing into the block wall separating the beach house from the neighbor’s house. My mom comes bounding out of the front door. I quickly switch gears and peel out of the driveway onto Sandpiper Street, then I head toward Lumina Avenue.
I don’t know if anyone will follow me. I hope they don’t. I just need to get away.
For eighteen years, I was the sickly, fragile daughter of Brian and Lynette Jensen. Now… I don’t know who I am. When I’m with my biological parents, I don’t feel like the frail girl I was eight weeks ago. I’m different. I’m the girl who got away. The girl who was strong enough to capture my parents’ hearts in a single twenty-minute meeting and hold them captive for eighteen years.
That’s the girl I want to be. I don’t want to be fragile anymore.
I turn left on Lumina and the Mercedes grips the slick asphalt beautifully. Racing forward, I turn right onto Highway 74 and draw in a deep breath. I don’t know where I’m going. All I know is that I can’t be there right now. I need to think without my mom’s pitiful gaze penetrating me. Or the look of disappointment and hope in Chris and Claire’s eyes.
I touch the power button on the touchscreen and Jimi’s favorite playlist begins to play. I listen to the beachy, acoustic melodies and think of the past few weeks. Flashes of my parents’ hopeful faces flicker in my mind. Caleb’s face materializes, and memories of that day on the beach come rushing back to me. My body relaxes and my hands stop trembling as a smile curls my lips. Caleb is my constant.
Even when I’m being pulled this way and that way, it’s Caleb’s face, his sturdy hands, his breath so soft on my skin, his love so fragile in my hands… Caleb is the rope that keeps me tethered to reality. As long as I have Caleb, I’ll get through this.
A buzzing noise pulls me out of my thoughts and I glance at the cup holder between the seats. My phone is flashing. I pick it up and glance at the screen. It’s Caleb.
I heave a deep sigh and answer. “Hello?”
When I turn my attention back to the road, something is wrong. The lane has moved. Or… Oh, no. It’s not the lane. It’s my car that’s veered into oncoming traffic. The last thing I hear is Caleb screaming my name before I drop the phone.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I SMILE AS I WATCH her get into Jimi’s Mercedes. My sunshine has balls. Then my smile disappears as I remember how little driving experience she has. I shouldn’t be standing here with a smile on my face. I should be chasing Abby.
“I’ll get her!” I shout, blowing past Lynette and Brian who are standing in the middle of the driveway, dumbfounded.
I hop into the ’Cuda, silently thanking myself for leaving the top down. I blast the car horn for them to move out of my way so I can pull out of the driveway. It takes them a couple of seconds to figure out what’s going on. A couple of the longest seconds of my life. I want to shout at them to get out of the fucking way. Finally, I pull the ’Cuda out of the driveway and peel out down the street.
She’s not even on Sandpiper anymore. She must have turned left or right on Lumina already, but I have no idea which way she went. I make it to the end of the street and inch forward into oncoming traffic, trying to get a glimpse of Jimi’s Mercedes speeding away in either direction. A horn blares in my left ear as the ’Cuda’s nose juts out into the street. I don’t give a shit. I’d block all the traffic on this damn street if that’s what it takes to find Abby.
Then I see it! The black Mercedes is heading for the Highway 74 on-ramp. I pound the horn a few times to warn people as I punch the gas pedal and gun it onto Lumina. I swerve to avoid a woman who’s getting ready to jaywalk, then I maneuver around a slow-moving pickup truck and spit curses when I hit a red light.
“Fuck!”
A large crowd of pedestrians crosses Lumina toward the beach, completely oblivious to the fact that their need to get to the water could cost Abby her life. I want to shout at them to hurry the fuck up. Instead, I tap the steering wheel anxiously. Once the pedestrians have passed, I inch forward, checking for cross-traffic. A single gold Buick crosses Lumina, then I punch the gas, running the red light and leaving the car horns and slow pedestrians behind me.
My tires squeal as I turn onto Highway 74 at a dangerous speed. The ’Cuda fishtails a little on the on-ramp, but I manage to get it back under my control and I race forward onto the highway. I need to call her and tell her to pull over.
I fish my phone out of my pocket, glancing back and forth between the screen and the road as I hold down the voice command button and tell my phone to call Abby.
“Calling Gabby,” the pleasant voice responds.
“No!” I shout at the phone. “Call Sunshine! Call Sunshine!”
Fuck. Why did I have to change her name in my phone?
“Calling Sunshine,” the voice says and I let out a sigh of frustration.
The car in front of me slows down to exit, so I begin to switch lanes to get around them and the car next to me blares their horn.
“Shit!”
I try to swerve back into my lane, but the car in front of me has slowed down so much I’m going to clip his rear bumper.
“Hello?” Abby’s voice is soft, almost tired, and it’s the last thing I hear before I drop the phone onto the floor of the passenger side.
I slam on the brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of me, grumbling as I wait for the car to exit the highway. Then I punch the gas again for two reasons. First, so I can catch up with Abby. And second, so the inertia will make the phone slide backward across the floor of the car toward me.
I keep one eye on the road in front of me as I reach for the phone, but it’s just out of my reach. I take one long look at the road ahead of me and it’s clear, so I take a chance. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I throw myself across the seat and grab the phone.
“Abby!”
When I sit up, the ’Cuda is drifting to the left, right into an eighteen-wheeler truck. I swerve to the right, but I overcorrect and my 65-year-old car shreds through the guard railing as if it were Swiss cheese. The front wheel goes over the edge of the overpass and my first instinct is to slam on the brakes. But the moment I do this, the tail of the ’Cuda flies upward as the nose goes over the edge. All I can think as I’m thrown from th
e car into the deep ravine is that I failed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I SWERVE to bring my car back into the right lane, but the damage is done. My heart is pounding so hard and fast I can’t breathe. A sharp pain slices through my left shoulder and I double over the steering wheel. I press my foot down on the brake, but my right arm doesn’t respond when I try to reach for the gearshift. I throw my left arm across my body and push the gearshift into park. The cacophony of horns blaring around me is barely audible as I slump over the center console and black out.
I KNOW CHRIS IS driving as fast as he can, well over the speed limit, without putting us in danger. But I just want to tell him to hurry up. The sound of Jimi’s sobs coming from the backseat are only making this worse.
“I’m sorry,” she declares through her tears. “I’m sorry I gave her the keys.”
I reach back and squeeze her knee. “It’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is.” She pushes my hand away and pulls her feet up onto the seat to hug her knees. “I shouldn’t even go. I don’t deserve to be there.”
“Don’t say that,” Ryder says, his voice gruff from crying. He presses his fist into his forehead, as he shakes his head. “Nothing is wrong with Abby. Tell her, Mom. Tell her Abby’s fine.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I turn to Junior, but he’s just staring out the car window. He never makes a sound and his eyes never blink. We tried calling Caleb, but he never answered. Then, shortly after Brian received the call that Abby was at New Hanover Regional Medical Center, Lynette received another call as we were loading into our separate vehicles to head to the hospital. Caleb was also in the hospital. They wouldn’t give us Caleb’s status over the phone, but they told us that Abby was in surgery after suffering a heart attack and a stroke.
They actually told us she was lucky that she was able to stop the car and get into park before she passed out. I want to believe she’s lucky, but it’s hard to see it that way when she’s currently undergoing a surgery that can either save her or kill her. And if she wakes up, I have no idea if she’ll have Caleb there to comfort her.
“Abby’s going to be fine, baby,” I assure Ryder. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
I turn forward so the kids can’t see how much I don’t believe the words I just spoke. I can’t even bring myself to look at Chris. I don’t want to know how this is surely tearing him apart.
Chris drops me off near the emergency-room entrance, then he sets off with the kids to find a parking space. I race inside and dart toward the reception area. I don’t think the Jensens are here yet.
“Excuse me, miss. I’m here for Abigail Jensen.”
The woman behind the plexiglass divider has frizzy auburn hair pinned back in a silver barrette. She looks up at me from her computer keyboard with a bored expression. “Is she a patient?”
“Yes, she’s a patient! She was just brought in here with a heart attack and stroke. She’s… she’s eighteen.”
She nods as she recognizes who I’m talking about. “Oh, yeah. She’s in surgery. Are you the mother? I need you to sign some paperwork.”
I cover my mouth as I blink back tears and try not to answer this question the way I want to.
She looks stricken by my sudden gust of emotion. “I’m sorry, ma’am. If you need a moment to compose yourself, we can leave the paperwork for later.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m… I’m not her mother. Well, not legally. I’m her biological mother. Her adoptive mother should be here soon. Oh, God. Please just tell me she’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have any news. You’re going to have to wait until she’s out of surgery. I’m sure Dr. Givens will debrief you as soon as she’s stabilized.”
I turn around and Ryder races toward me. “Where is she?”
“She’s in surgery, sweetheart. We have to wait.”
Chris, Junior, and Jimi follow after him and we all walk solemnly toward the other side of the beige and blue waiting room. The Jensens arrive a few minutes later and they get the same spiel from the woman behind the glass, but Lynette bravely sits down with her to fill out the paperwork. And, as I watch her filling out the forms while periodically wiping away her tears, for the first time in my life, I wish I could help her. I wish I could fill out the damn forms about Abby’s medical history and insurance information. I wish I knew a damn thing about any of that stuff.
Six hours and forty minutes later, Dr. Givens enters the waiting room and we all rise from our chairs to flock to him. His brown skin shimmers in the fluorescent lighting, but it doesn’t hide how tired he is. He lets out a soft sigh before he begins.
“As you know, Abigail suffered a severe heart attack, which dislodged a tiny blood clot that most likely originated in her heart. The clot traveled into the outer branch of the middle cerebral artery in her brain, causing a minor stroke. We believe that she didn’t sustain any cognitive damage. But it turns out the heart attack was much worse than we anticipated.”
“How much worse?” Lynette asks.
Dr. Givens pauses for a moment then lets out another sigh. “The trauma of the accident caused Abby to go into circulatory collapse. She was very lucky that she was only six minutes away from the hospital. We were able to get her heart started again and we put a temporary stent in two of her arteries to keep them from collapsing again. However, both the collapse and the stroke have caused too much stress on her heart. She’s on a respirator and in a medically induced coma right now… She won’t survive much longer without a new heart.”
“Then get her a new heart!” Chris roars. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll fly it here if I have to. Just make it happen!”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“What do you mean? You can’t let her die!” Lynette shrieks.
“No, what I mean is that we already have a heart. Here in this hospital.”
Chris shakes his head. “That fast? Then, what are you waiting for?”
“Well, it’s a bit complicated. The eighteen-year-old male who was brought in at the same time as Abby… he had this in his wallet.”
Givens holds out a white plastic card. The front of the card reads “Living will in place for Caleb Everett. In the event of an emergency, please contact Gill Burrows.”
“We contacted Mr. Burrows and it turns out he’s the lawyer who drafted Caleb’s living will. Mr. Everett’s wishes were for Abigail to have his heart.”
My knees give out and I grasp the arm of the chair next to me to keep from collapsing. Chris and the doctor kneel next to me, repeatedly asking if I’m okay.
I shake my head. “This will destroy her.”
Givens orders Jimi to get me some water from the cooler in the corner of the waiting room, then he stands up so he can address everyone. “We have a legal obligation to carry out Mr. Everett’s wishes. In the event that he were permanently incapacitated, he wanted Abigail to have his heart. Since Abigail is an adult and she doesn’t have a living will in place, we have a legal and moral obligation to preserve her life to the best of our ability. This is her best chance.”
I climb onto the chair to have a seat and sip the water that Jimi brought for me. I can’t bring myself to speak. I couldn’t imagine living without Chris and I know Abby will be devastated when she wakes up to find that Caleb didn’t make it. I can only hope that having a part of Caleb inside her will make it easier, but somehow I seriously doubt that.
Chris stands up and I watch as he and Brian exchange a silent agreement. Then Brian turns to Dr. Givens and nods. “Do it. Save my little girl.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THIS IS THE FOURTH time I’ve opened my eyes in this hospital room. The tube in my throat is finally gone. I have vague memories of my parents standing at my bedside, wearing gloves and masks. I think I remember being wheeled into an X-ray room. I’m so thirsty.
“Mom?”
A nurse in purple scrubs and a mint-green mask over her mouth arrives at my bedside. “How are
you feeling, sweetie?”
There are less machines beeping than there were the last time I woke up. My entire body feels sore, as if I did a hundred dead lifts recently. But the soreness in my chest is the worst. I’ve obviously undergone another heart surgery. I remember this pain.
“Where are my parents?”
“They went back to the hotel to change their clothes. They should be back in just a few minutes. Your… your other parents are outside. Can I send them in?”
“Where’s Caleb?” My voice cracks on Caleb’s name. “Why is it so cold in here?”
“You’re running a slight fever. You’re on a high dose of anti-rejection meds right now, and that suppresses your immune system.”
“Anti-rejection?”
The nurse finishes checking the drainage tubes coming out of my chest. “I’ll let your family explain everything.”
She leaves the room and I feel so alone. This room is so cold. It’s not a regular hospital recovery room. It looks cold and lifeless like a surgical room. And there’s a small antechamber off to my left where the nurse removes her gloves and mask before she tosses them into a waste bin. She steps out into the corridor for a moment, then she comes back into the antechamber with Chris and Claire. They spend at least five minutes scrubbing their hands and arms, then all three of them put on more gloves and masks.
As they approach my bed, something feels different. Quiet. Too quiet.
“How long have I been here?”
Claire’s eyes are puffy and glistening. “Fifty-two hours.”
“More than two days? Where’s Caleb?”
Claire opens her mouth to say something, then she stops herself and turns away.
