As the sun disappeared from view, Val’s son sat on her lap and looked into her eyes. “Mom, do you think I left one of my Matchbox cars on the stairs and that’s why Nathan fell?”
Even though it was possible Nathan had tripped on the toy Mustang, she didn’t want her son to bear that burden. After all, Nathan had tripped on his own feet after their wedding. “It’s not your fault, Chipmunk.” She’d nicknamed him that as a toddler because of the way he nibbled at his Cheerios. He’d had a tuft of brown hair, little brown eyes and two buck teeth, which furthered the resemblance. He’d been cute as a chipmunk. Still was. “We don’t know why Nathan fell.”
“Are you sure? You’re always reminding me to pick up my stuff so someone doesn’t trip.”
“This wasn’t anyone’s fault. Accidents happen.” Glancing at her son’s face, she squeezed him tight. His hugs were the only thing that made her feel slightly better. She returned her gaze to her husband’s limp body. It didn’t make sense. Why had she married Nathan if only to lose him? Her son didn’t need to lose another father figure.
“Mom, can I watch TV?”
“No. Let’s read one of the books Mrs. Bean loaned us.” It was hard to find the energy to keep fighting this battle with Chip, but she had to.
“Aww, can’t we skip a day? Let me do tapping first.”
Every muscle in her body ached, so she allowed him this delay tactic. He went to the end of the bed, removed the covers and tapped on Nathan’s feet. Exhausted, she leaned back to rest her eyes for a few seconds. Seconds turned into minutes.
“Mom, look!” Chip’s voice startled her awake. “His eyelids are moving.” Chip pointed toward Nathan’s face.
The breath caught in her throat. Nathan’s eyes fluttered as if he were dreaming. She sprung to her feet. “Nathan? Nathan! Wake up!”
His eyes squeezed shut and seemed to be moving beneath the lids--side to side, up down. But never open.
She reached for his hand and stroked it. “Nathan. It’s me, Val. Open your eyes, honey. Open them.” Chip’s body pressed against her side. “Chip and I are right here.”
Nathan’s Adam’s apple moved downward and back up. The hand she’d been holding jerked a little.
Then Nathan’s eyelids ever so slowly cracked open. His sea green eyes fixated on the ceiling.
She gripped his hand tighter. “Nathan. Thank God.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. His whiskers pricked her bottom lip. Instead of looking at her, he remained focused on the ceiling. He moaned.
Beside her, Chip was jumping up and down. “He’s awake! He’s awake!”
She grabbed her son and pulled him up off the ground into a bear hug. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t care. “You did it. The tapping worked.” So much adrenaline pumped through her that it caused her arms to quiver.
Then it hit her. The doctor. She needed to tell the doctor. She put Chip down, looked for the “call” button and pushed it. There was no way she was leaving Nathan’s side. The medical staff would have to come to them.
First, a nurse arrived and checked his vital signs. Nathan coughed. She smiled as if she were a personal friend of his. “I’ll alert the doctor.”
Nathan kept coughing. It seemed like forever before the neurosurgeon made it to their room. He wore a white lab jacket over a khaki shirt and a striped tie. “Welcome back, Mr. Sullivan. I’m Dr. Chesney.” He spoke to Nathan while shining a penlight into his eyes. Nathan did not respond.
The doctor examined Nathan from top to bottom and Val desperately tried to interpret the expression on the doctor’s face. But he was good at disguising his emotions.
“Can you take him off the ventilator so he can talk?” she asked.
The doctor pinched Nathan’s arm. No response. Uh-oh.
Dr. Chesney asked Nathan to squeeze his hand, but Nathan didn’t move. “Let’s not rush things. It’s not like you see on TV when someone wakes up from a coma and starts talking.”
Val searched Nathan’s face to see if he understood what was going on. He remained still, only his eyelids were open instead of closed. He wasn’t quite the same.
# # #
Later Nathan started grabbing at the tube in his throat. Val told him to stop, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Scared he’d hurt himself, she wrestled with him and called out for a nurse. Soon several staff members came and tied his hands down.
Watching her husband struggle against the straps was almost as terrible as watching his listless body.
The next day Nathan’s eyes started tracking, which the doctor told her was a good sign. Apparently, it wasn’t easy to start breathing again on your own and it took three days to wean him off the ventilator. He still didn’t talk.
Once the ventilator was removed, Dr. Chesney unbound Nathan’s wrists. “Good afternoon. I’m going to examine you.” He slipped his palm into Nathan’s. “Can you squeeze my hand?”
Nothing.
“Mr. Sullivan, I need you to squeeze my hand.” His voice a little firmer.
Val sat on the edge of her chair, watching. Nathan’s fingers curled.
That’s the last thing she remembered. Apparently, she blacked out.
When she came to, she learned that she hadn’t missed a thing. That was it. Fingers curling. For another week. Another week of Lydia knitting and Val reading the newspaper aloud to the shell of her husband. Only now the nurses seemed worried about Val, too. They kept encouraging her to eat, bringing her snacks from their private stashes.
Finally, one afternoon Nathan moved his hand toward his head. He let it drop halfway there. “Damn.”
Val sprung to her feet, dropping the Sylvia Browne book she’d been silently reading. “Nathan? You can talk!” Lydia rushed to his bedside.
Nathan blinked. “My head . . ..”
Val burst into laughter. “I bet it hurts. You hit it pretty hard.” She heard her breath exhaling. “Thank God, you’re alright.”
Nathan’s slanted eyebrows made him look permanently surprised. He studied her. “Where . . .am . . . ?” He seemed to give up on finding the word. His gaze landed on Lydia. “Mom?”
The fifty-year-old woman with dark circles under her eyes leaned in and hugged him. “My baby.” She started to sob.
A minute later Nathan’s focus landed on his left hand. He touched the shiny gold band on his finger. “I’m . . . married?”
Val’s heart hammered beneath her ribs. “Yes. We got married a few weeks ago. Remember?” She laughed nervously.
Her husband stayed fixated on his wedding ring. “No.”
The room seemed to wobble. Val grasped the bedrail to steady herself. She would not faint again. But how could he not remember their wedding?
She made her way to a chair and sat down. After a few deep breaths, she pressed the “call” button.
As he entered the room, Dr. Chesney tugged on the stethoscope around his neck. “Hello, Mr. Sullivan.” He listened to Val’s and Lydia’s summary of events before speaking. “It’s normal for patients to have short-term memory lapses. He might also have trouble finding words and multitasking.” He focused on Nathan while running him through a series of simple requests such as squeezing each hand and moving each foot. “Hopefully it will get better in time.”
Val didn’t get up. She hadn’t eaten breakfast and still felt a little fuzzy. “How soon before he can come home?”
Dr. Chesney tucked his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. He looked at Nathan and then back at Val. “There can be physical repercussions such as headaches, weakness on one side, seizures, difficulty walking, and sometimes the loss of senses--vision, hearing, smell.”
Why hadn’t he answered her? She figured they’d probably keep Nathan for a few days for liability’s sake, give him some prescription pain pills and discharge him.
The doctor continued looking at Nathan. “Therapy can help. But some things aren’t so easy to fix.” He gestured toward Val. “You should be aware of the emotional repercussions. Patients wi
th injuries to the frontal lobe can be more irritable, depressed, angry.”
Her dizziness passed. She rose so she could stroke Nathan’s hair. “I don’t think Nathan could possibly act like that. He’s so even-tempered.”
Lydia cleared her throat. “My Nathan was always mild-mannered.”
Dr. Chesney looked at Lydia then turned his attention on Val. “Your husband is luckier than most of the patients I see, but you need to be prepared for these possibilities. The CAT scan does show damage has been done.”
“You mean . . . brain damage?” Nathan asked, speaking slower than normal.
The doctor nodded. “No two head injures are the same. But I want you and your family to be aware that this can have long-term ramifications.”
“Will I be . . . able to . . . work?” Nathan asked.
Dr. Chesney asked what Nathan’s job was. He paused after Nathan said he was the service manager at Rod’s Garage. “It’s hard to say. You’ll have to be patient and see how it goes.”
Val pushed her black bangs out of her eye. “When will he remember me?”
“Again, it’s hard to say. We’ll start speech and physical therapy right away. In time, he might be able to recall more.”
Val squeezed Nathan’s hand, feeling tears welling in her eyes. “So he can come home soon?”
Dr. Chesney seemed non-committal. “Hopefully he can transition to outpatient therapy after a few weeks. We’ll have to wait and see.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Joely’s arms trembled as she struggled to maintain the downward dog pose in her first yoga class. She thought slow yoga would be easier than regular yoga, but apparently it entailed holding the poses for longer time periods. How was she ever going to survive sixty minutes of this?
“If you ever need a break, remember you can always return to child’s pose,” the instructor cooed.
Too bad Joely didn’t remember what child’s pose was.
The rail-thin yoga teacher, also in downward dog, looked around at the people with their butts in the air. “Now walk forward and stand.” Her body moved as if she had liquid joints.
Following everyone else’s lead, Joely rose and flattened her hands in front of her chest in prayer-like fashion. “Namaste.” She had to admit she liked the soothing, plunking music and the calmness of the teacher’s voice. Her mind kept struggling to focus on the here and now, however. She wondered if everybody was right about Jake. That he was the kind of guy who should marry an heiress whose only goal would be to birth him some perfect, blue-blooded babies and raise them in the Catholic Church. To be honest, Joely didn’t have much to offer the man.
The next time the class moved into child’s pose, she made a mental note. They curled up like an egg with their arms stretched out. It was amazingly comforting. If only they could stay here for a while.
But it didn’t last long. Soon they spread their legs wide apart, one foot forward and one foot back. Their spines twisted, elbows on opposite knees and Joely fell over. Embarrassed, she glanced around, but no one seemed to be staring. She returned to the child’s position and spent most of her time there. When class was finally over, she was surprised that she needed to wipe sweat off her face.
She rolled up her mat and put it by the instructor. “Thanks.”
The woman whose hip bones jutted out beneath her black leotard, smiled. “You did well for your first time.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“It’s harder than it looks, isn’t it?”
Joely nodded. “I’m trying to get in shape for my wedding.” She didn’t want to whine to this stranger about her physical challenges. So far she’d tried and failed at running, aerobics, spinning and now this.
“Well, yoga should help you relax if nothing else. Planning a wedding and trying to make everyone happy can be very stressful, as I recall.”
“Exactly.” Was Jake happy that they weren’t getting married in his church? She shook away the concern. “Does yoga burn a lot of calories?”
The woman touched her protruding collar bone. “Yoga isn’t about trying to change our bodies. It’s about embracing their untapped strength.”
Joely watched as the other students cleared out of the room. They were all thin like the teacher. Hopefully yoga had something to do with that. She waved good-bye and the instructor said, “Namaste.”
When she got home, she maintained an unusual sense of calm as she prepared dinner and Anna did her math homework at the kitchen table. In a stroke of genius, Joely placed the peas on one-fourth of the plate, the salmon fillet on one-fourth, applesauce and bread on the other half. Then she quizzed Anna on the fractions. For dessert, Joely got six Oreos out of the cupboard and asked Anna to divide them in half, then into thirds. Like most things, her daughter easily understood the concept.
Staring at the cookies, Joely started to salivate. She’d been starving herself for weeks. She deserved a cookie. Just one.
She shoved it into her mouth so fast she didn’t have time to taste it. Then she reached for another. After Anna went to bed, Joely compulsively snuck a few more Oreos.
Sitting on the couch, feeling fat and guilty, she dialed Kate. “I’m weak. I’ve just undone my diet. I don’t know why Jake wants to marry me.”
“Hey, stop that. You’re an awesome person, Joely. Maybe Jake isn’t as superficial as he used to be. Maybe he sees that your personality is more important than your dress size.”
“He said something like that to his mother.” She studied her sapphire engagement ring. The blue stone not only represented loyalty, but could bring joy and peace to the wearer. She smiled at Jake’s thoughtful choice. “Did I tell you Mrs. Mahoney wants us to get married in the Catholic Church?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Not really. But I’m starting to think that I should be willing to compromise a little. Jake is making all of the sacrifices in marrying me. With him I’m winning the grand prize and he’s getting the booby prize.”
“That’s not true. You feel like he’s getting the short end of the stick because you’re in love. I felt the same way when Mitch and I were engaged.”
Joely paused, thinking things over. She didn’t have strong feelings toward any one religion anyway. “I’m going to do it. I’ll promise to raise our kids Catholic since that’s important to Jake.”
Kate let out some kind of disapproving grunt. “That’s what I figured. You never could deny that man anything.” Silence burned over the line. “What about Anna? Are you going to have her convert?”
Joely rubbed her sore shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to.”
“If you do this and your heart isn’t in it, I’ll lose respect for you. In fact, I don’t know if I can be your matron of honor.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Who are you again?” Nathan asked in the middle of breakfast.
Val’s spoon of frosted shredded wheat froze in midair. Fear clutched at her heart.
He cracked a smile. “Just . . . kidding.”
She pushed his shoulder playfully, spilling a bit of the milk from his spoon. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You said your vows and I have plenty of witnesses.”
Nathan was now home from the hospital. He’d gone from needing two people as support to walking on his own. When the speech therapist asked, “What does ‘Don’t count your chickens before they hatch’ mean?” Nathan had said, “We’re having omelets for dinner.” He chuckled then gave the right answer. The doctor said he was impressed with Nathan’s overall quick recovery and released him to outpatient therapy. His short-term memory, however, remained impaired.
Nathan continued eating his bran flakes. “I remember you in high school. . . I thought you had such a friendly smile. . . but you dated football players.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re married. What kind of car was it that broke down? Something that started with an H?”
“A Hyundai.” More than once she’d told him the story of how they’d reconnected last year
during a thunderstorm. And how she’d had a bad cold and he’d given her a DVD of Rear Window he’d just bought to cheer her up. They’d enjoyed a spirited debate about which Hitchcock film was the best. He liked Notorious about an uptight American who falls for a party girl. She preferred Rear Window because it had been her grandmother’s favorite.
He grinned at her. “Thank goodness for Hyundais.”
Already done with his Lucky Charms, Chip drove one of his red Matchbox cars across the kitchen table, up Val’s arm, across her back and down the other arm. “Mommy, look at me.”
She glanced at her son and noticed his brown hair stuck up in the back. “Go check in the mirror and comb your hair.”
“You do it, Mommy.”
“Since when do you need me to help you brush your hair?”
He put his toy in his pants pocket and tugged on her wrist. “Mommy, come on. Help me.”
She went with Chip to the bathroom and wetted down his flyaway hair. Then he asked her to go into his room and play with him. “Chip, we don’t have time. You need to go outside and wait for the bus.” He begged for her to at least pull some of his cars off the toy shelf. She checked her watch. “I’ll get them down while you’re at school and you can play with them later.”
He stuck out his lower lip. “But I want you to play with me.”
Nodding, she guided his shoulder toward the front door. “After school. If I have time.”
“You always have time for Nathan, but not for me!” He shoved his arms into his windbreaker. He marched out the door and slammed it behind him.
She stood in the window, waving at him, but he did not look back. Finally, she went and sat next to Nathan. “Sorry about that. Looks like he’s a little jealous. I’ll have to make more of an effort to spend time with him.”
“Sure.” Nathan seemed to process that. “I think Dr. Chesney was . . . a little over the top, don’t you? He said it would be hard for you. Said I’d have mood swings. Anger issues. I’m . . . good.”
Val agreed. Nathan didn’t seem much different to her. He talked a little slower and struggled to find the right word sometimes. But he’d been in a coma. He was doing great considering.
On the Verge (Sisters Series Book 3) Page 7
