Declan was right there beside me, he was smiling at me and he was there to help me. It was too much for me to bear, too much to take in. My heart wanted to believe but my head was telling me it was another of my silly dreams.
“You won’t leave me again, will you Deco?” I asked, feeling scared at the thought of him disappearing. I’d been dreaming of him almost every night ever since the accident, although most of the time they were nightmares in which he was either walking away from me and not hearing my screams, or falling off a cliff and I couldn’t save him. Every time I woke with a start, but right now I hoped he wouldn’t leave me again. I felt complete now he was here and looking at his face surrounded by an aura of white light filled my soul with hope.
He bent down and touched my hand; a sense of calm and peace pervaded my body and I closed my eyes as warmth spread through my skin.
“I’ll stay as long as you need me, Kathy,” he whispered, and for the first time since the accident I felt peaceful as I slowly fell asleep. I was sure the awful nightmares wouldn’t haunt me anymore, because I knew Declan wouldn’t let it happen.
* * *
I woke up as light peeped in through the curtain, and rubbed my hand across my eyes. For the first time in days I’d slept like a log, and when I remembered what had happened the night before I felt an inner strength I hadn’t had in days.
I looked at the wheelchair next to my bed and contemplated pushing the call button to wait for a nurse to help me, like I always did. But I remembered how Colin taught me to be independent, to get out of bed on my own a couple of days before, and I decided I wanted to try. In the worst of cases, I’d fall off the bed, but the thought didn’t scare me.
I lifted my legs with my hands and threw them lifelessly off the side of the bed. Then I braced my arms and I lowered myself onto the wheelchair seat. I was so proud of myself I wanted to scream but I decided against it, knowing the other patients in the ward didn’t really need a fright. Instead, I wheeled close to the window and pulled the curtains open.
“Grand. Another typical Irish day.” I sighed, all my happiness gone as I looked out of the window at the rain pouring down. Even so, I opened the sliding window and breathed the cold rainy air. The smell of wet grass filled my lungs and my mind wandered. Memories of my childhood in Galway filled my head, the days we spent running in the fields, Declan and I, together with the other kids of the neighborhood. Tears filled my eyes, as the happy laughter of Declan running through the fields chasing me echoed in my head. A warm, salty tear ran down my cheek, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand like I had done so often recently. I closed the window and took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together, before anyone walked into my room.
Declan had always been there for me. He wasn’t only my brother, he was my best friend too.
I opened the closet and picked, as usual, a dark sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. Ever since Declan died, black and gray had been the only colors I had felt like wearing. The minute he passed away he’d taken away all the color from my life.
I brushed my hair and pulled it back in a ponytail.
Judith came in a moment later and smiled when she saw I was already in my wheelchair and ready to get dressed.
“Well, good morning, my dear,” she said cheerfully, reaching for the clothes sitting in my lap. “Do you need help with that or do you want to try and do it by yourself? I see you managed just fine getting out of bed.”
I gave her a weak smile, one of the many I’d been giving everyone. But this time it felt less fake, less forced. I was actually quite proud of myself right now.
“One thing at a time,” I said, handing her the clothes. “Please,” I added. She smiled and nodded, helping me out of the bottom of my pajamas. I wondered if my life would always be like this. Would there always be someone to help me out of bed, get dressed and washed?
“Judith,” I asked, as she was helping me into my sweatpants, “do you think I’ll ever be able to live a normal life? Like getting dressed by myself and everything?”
Nobody in the hospital lied to me, and I was glad about it. I was tired of being treated like a child. I knew that whatever her answer was, it would be the truth. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“You’re strong, Kathleen. You’ll be just fine, I’m sure. Maybe if you were a little less stubborn…” She chuckled, and I tried to hide a smile. She was so right; I could be really mulish when I wanted. Just like Colin had told me over and over, I had to try to let people help me and accept my condition; accept that life as I knew it was over, but that I still had a whole life ahead of me.
I took a long, deep breath and I remembered the way I’d felt last night, when Declan had taken my hand and peace had pervaded my body. He’d be around; he’d promised to help me through this, and I trusted him. I’d be fine one day; with his help my soul would heal.
Chapter 12
Colin
February 3
As I strode toward the gym, after my much-deserved coffee break, I thought back to my phone call with Chris last night.
Chris Howards had been my best friend since kindergarten. We were both only children and we’d been as close as brothers, even after I left the States and moved to Ireland. Every other summer he’d come to Ireland to spend a week or two in Dublin with me, or I’d go to New York and hang out in our usual meeting places.
Sometimes I really envied Chris. He’d always been a smart guy—not to mention a magnet for women, with his golden curls and ice-blue eyes—and I’d always thought he was going to become a rocket scientist and work for NASA. But in the end he’d chosen the medical career and now he was an orthopedic surgeon, and I was quite sure he’d become the head physician in his ward one day.
But that wasn’t the reason I envied him. What I envied of him, as much as a man could envy his brother—and Chris was really the closest to a brother I would ever have—was Melissa. Not Melissa as a woman, but what he and Melissa shared. In the five years they’d been together and the three they’d been married I’d dated at least ten different girls, and the longest it had lasted was two days short of two months.
Since I’d moved to Ireland I’d never had problems with girls; there was something about my accent that drew them to me like bees around a honey pot, and I didn’t turn them down if they were attractive enough.
Yes, it was shallow and I knew it, but I simply didn’t want to let anyone close. Ever since my parents died, while I was having fun with my girlfriend in their bed, I’d felt so awful and guilty, I’d hated myself for months, and I’d decided then and there I didn’t deserve to be loved, to experience what my parents had experienced all through their life together.
I couldn’t deny my attraction for the opposite sex, though, but I didn’t want to get involved. I didn’t want women to love me, and I didn’t want to fall in love with them. Wanna go out with me for a drink? Want me to take you out to dinner? Want to share some kisses and maybe a couple of nights, too? That’s fine. Wanna introduce me to your family and friends? Thank you, but no thank you.
Sometimes though, when I looked at Chris and Melissa, when I heard him talk about their new house, the projects they were working on, and now their soon-to-be-born baby, I longed to have something like that too—something as close as possible to what they had, to what my parents had had.
That was, until I reminded myself why I couldn’t have it. Then I would shake the thoughts away, thinking that a non-committal relationship was what I deserved.
When I reached the gym, Kathleen and her mother were waiting for me in the corridor. I couldn’t wait to break the news to her about what Chris had told me last night. If there were even the slightest possibility I could help her, I’d do my best. She deserved to be happy again, and I wanted to be the one who put the smile back on her face.
“Hello there, ladies. Am I late?” I asked, checking my watch, but knowing I was perfectly on time.
Mrs. O’Hagan stopped talking, and Kathleen smil
ed, looking almost relieved to see me, which was weird, considering she hardly ever was—unless she was having one of her good days. But that didn’t happen often since she’d left the hospital a few days ago and moved in with her aunt so she could come for the daily therapy sessions.
“Good morning, Dr. Byrne,” Mrs. O’Hagan said, smiling at me. She was a very pleasant lady, and at times she reminded me of a younger version of Gran. She seemed to have developed a fondness for me, probably because she hoped I’d be able to get her daughter back on her feet. I’d intentionally never told her that, from what I could tell, it would probably never happen.
She handed me a paper bag and I smiled, hoping it contained what I imagined. A couple of days ago she’d brought me scones she had baked, and I’d loved them. “Since Kathleen told me you liked the scones I brought, I thought I’d bring you some fresh ones.”
I gave her a childish grin and took the bag. “Wow, they’re still warm! Thank you, Mrs. O’Hagan,” I said, then looked at Kathleen, who was sitting in her wheelchair, looking as if she couldn’t wait for me to get rid of her mother and get inside the gym. “You should really stop spoiling me with all these treats, or I’ll have to spend the mornings jogging in Phoenix Park to keep fit.”
Mrs. O’Hagan giggled like a girl. I was glad I could bring a smile to her face every now and then. Kathleen cleared her throat, and I looked at her.
“Shall we, Doctor?” She nodded toward the door, and I saluted her, getting behind her wheelchair. I thanked her mother once again, then pushed Kathleen into the gym.
“If you’re finished flirting with my mum,” she said huffily without raising her eyes to meet mine, “maybe we could start doing something for me. Your patient.”
I laughed and crouched down to be level with her.
“Flirting with your mom?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, she’s a good-looking woman and a great baker, but trust me, I don’t date women who could be my mother. I’m still a bit old-fashioned on that point.” I winked at her and her cheeks turned a fiery red as she looked away.
“Yeah, well, whatever.”
I rested my hand on her arm and prompted her to look at me. I knew something was wrong and she’d need to open up if we wanted to achieve anything at all today. Her being in a huff wouldn’t help with the therapy, and I didn’t want to waste precious time.
“What’s wrong with you today, Icy?” I asked, and she glared at me. Sadness shone deep down in her eyes. She looked like she needed a friend right now, and I wanted to be that friend.
She sighed. “I’m just sick of being treated like an invalid.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked to fight them back. “When I’m here you all treat me like a normal person, and it feels good. Even when you’re annoying and actually mean to me,” she stared at me with a naughty smile, “I know you do it because you want me to learn to lead a normal life. I prefer a million times you pushing me to do things I don’t want to do than my mum almost wanting to feed me, as if I were a baby. I know she’s hurting and she’s only trying to help, but I hate seeing the compassion in her eyes; it makes me feel awful.”
I couldn’t help but smile at what she’d just said. I was glad she’d understood the reason behind my attitude. “Well, I’m glad you appreciate my methods, after all.”
She smiled. “I’m starting to, yes.”
I nodded approvingly. “Well, that’s good, because I’ve got a proposition for you. But this is only for my best behaved patients, so you’ve gotta earn the prize before you can claim it.”
She furrowed and stared at me from underneath her long lashes as I helped her onto the mat, and her eyes seemed to sparkle with curiosity. If I’d wanted to catch her attention, well, I’d succeeded. I left the words unspoken and stood up, pretending I needed to take some weights and stuff we needed for her therapy. When I turned back, she was sitting upright, her arms folded across her chest and an inquisitive stare on her face.
“Well?” she asked, when I met her gaze.
I shrugged, staring back as if I didn’t know what she was talking about. She snorted and threw her hands up in the air in a dramatic fashion.
“Are you ever going to tell me?” she asked, exasperated.
“What?” I asked, as innocently as I could.
“Ugh!” she snorted again and, this time, I had to try hard not to laugh. “What’s this proposition about?”
“Oh, thaaat!” I dragged the word out, just to annoy her even more. I loved the way she reacted to my teasing, the way she rolled her eyes and snorted, the way she looked as if she wanted to punch me. I couldn’t help myself when I was with her.
I shrugged again, then put down the weights next to the mat. “I’ll tell you once the session’s over. You have to work now, come on.”
“I’m not moving a muscle until you tell me,” she said, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked like a pouting child, and she was actually quite amusing. I’d known all along this would be the effect I’d get; nevertheless I pretended to be strict.
“I said you’ve gotta earn it: first your workout, then the prize.”
I handed her the weights and, by the way she glared, I feared she would throw them back at me. She was stubborn; oh man, was she stubborn! I’d never come across a more obstinate woman in my life and I was scared to admit it, but I found it quite intriguing. I shook the thought away as soon as it formed, trying to focus instead on the therapy.
“Okay, you win,” she said in defeat and lay down again while I helped her with the exercise.
At the end of the session I could feel her eyes following me as I put the equipment away and I knew I couldn’t delay it any longer.
It wasn’t true that it was a prize only for my best patients. I hadn’t thought of anyone else but her, and I knew it wasn’t professional, but there was a bond between us; we were starting to build something that resembled friendship and I wanted to help her. If it worked, maybe I would suggest it to other patients, too. But for now, she would be the only one I’d say it to because she needed it more than anyone else.
“Are you going to tell me now, before I start throwing things at you?” she asked with a scowl, and this time I couldn’t help laughing. I raised my hands in surrender and crouched down to help her back into her wheelchair, but she shrugged me away. I sighed and sat back on my heels, resting my hands on my knees.
“I have a friend in New York, my very best friend from kindergarten. We don’t see each other very often, but we always keep in touch.” I took the long way around the subject, because I knew it would annoy her even more. “He and his wife are expecting their first baby and he asked me to be the godfather last night. I was his best man when they got married three years ago, you know. It was a great wedding, with lots of—”
“Colin!” she yelled, cutting me off, and I smirked.
“Oops, sorry. I’m digressing.”
She snorted and I shrugged innocently, fighting a smile. “Yes, right. So, well, this friend of mine, Chris, is an orthopedic surgeon and works in a hospital in New York. He’s mentioned something about a new clinical trial they’d started in his hospital, which was meant to help people with disabilities get back on their feet.”
I paused for effect and her eyes lit up as soon as the words sank in.
“Maybe, if you’d like to try it, I could ask him to enroll you in this trial. You’d be a sort of Guinea pig, I must warn you, but you won’t have to spend a dime on the treatments. You’d simply let them try some new procedures on you and, if it worked, you’d be back on your feet. If not, you’d have spent a couple of months in New York with all expenses paid. How does that sound?”
She went pale. Her eyes were shining and she looked excited and torn at the same time, as if a part of her really wanted to say yes while the other didn’t want to believe it would work. I could almost see the little angel and devil on her shoulders shouting at her, each in one ear.
“Do you think it would be worth it?”
I
shrugged. There were no guarantees as they’d only started it a few months ago; but nothing ventured, nothing gained.
“I don’t want to build up your hope, Kathleen. I guess there’s a fifty–fifty chance it could work, but trying something new definitely can’t hurt, can it?” I met her stare and she looked as if she was depending on my every word, as if whatever I was going to say could save her life. “You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. You might as well give this a chance and then you can go on living your life knowing you’ve done everything you could. No regrets.”
She seemed even more torn than before and I wondered if this had been a good idea at all. Maybe I had just destroyed the little self-confidence and acceptance she had managed to build so far.
“Even if I wanted to try this, I couldn’t ask my mum to leave my dad and my siblings to go with me,” she said, before letting out a long sigh. “And I don’t think I could go alone…”
“I could go with you.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I even realized I’d spoken them.
What had I just said?
Okay, when I’d suggested having Kathleen enrolled in the clinical trial I hadn’t really thought of all the arrangements related to it, but now that she’d said she wouldn’t be able to go because nobody would go with her, offering to go seemed like the right thing to do. Well, it had, until I heard the words out loud.
The expression on her face was a mixture of surprise, shock, amusement and… was it happiness, maybe? I couldn’t tell. I’d had to look away, because I was suddenly feeling self-conscious. And stupid, very stupid.
“Why, you could leave your job and your patients like that, just to keep me company?”
She sounded incredulous and I shared the feeling. Could I really do that? I thought for a moment about it: I hadn’t been on sick leave for at least a couple of years, I hadn’t had more than a couple of weeks off annually, and Gerard seemed to have a very high opinion of me. If I told him this would bring the spotlight to our orthopedic ward, if we became the first hospital in Ireland to perform new therapy imported from America, I was sure he’d give me the thumbs-up—anything that pampered his gigantic ego was sure to work. If he spoke to the hospital manager, I was sure to be on the next direct flight to New York before the day was through.
Healing Our Hearts Page 6
