Their First Family Christmas

by Alison Roberts

  Or maybe it was just the other side of the wall...

  ‘Jack... Oh, my God... Jack...’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SHE COULDN’T STOP it happening.

  The best that Emma could manage was to hold on to Jack and protect his head from directly hitting the stone flags of the kitchen floor.

  Lily was crying. A frightened wail, the likes of which Emma had never heard before.

  Or maybe she had. A tiny corner of her mind registered notes that reminded her of this time a year ago, when a small baby had become an orphan. When all Lily had wanted was to be held in her mother’s arms and she couldn’t understand why it couldn’t happen.

  Her mother’s voice sounded odd, too, because her mother never got frightened—Muriel Matthews could cope with anything. Even now, she was crouching beside Emma, with a folded dish towel to provide a pillow.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure...’ Emma gently put Jack’s head onto the towel. She lifted his eyelids and another fragment of memory tried to sabotage her focus. A much more recent memory, this one—of Jack telling her that Lily had prised his eyelid open to wake him up.

  This wasn’t about to wake him up. There was enough light in the kitchen for Emma to see that the response of one of his pupils was too sluggish. Even worse, the other pupil didn’t move at all in response to the light. It was fixed and dilated.

  ‘I think...’ Emma had to take a deep breath. ‘I think Jack’s bleeding. Under his skull. It’s putting pressure on his brain.’

  ‘Oh...dear Lord...’ Muriel was on her feet again. ‘We need help, don’t we? Shall I call for an ambulance?’

  Emma shook her head. ‘Bring me my phone. I’ll have to call for a helicopter. An ambulance would take too long. We need to get him into hospital as quickly as possible or...’

  Or there would be little chance of saving him.

  Emma couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Couldn’t bear to think them, even. Part of her wanted to cry—the kind of cry Lily was still making—but a much bigger part wasn’t about to crumple.

  ‘You’re not going to die, Jack.’ Her voice was low and fierce. ‘I won’t let you... Not today. Not ever, if I have anything to do with it.’

  Muriel rushed back with Emma’s phone and she knew she sounded far calmer than she was feeling as she requested urgent assistance.

  ‘A thirty-six-year-old male,’ she told them. ‘He was involved in a motorbike accident yesterday. He appeared to have concussion but no skull fracture. He’s now collapsed and showing signs of raised intracranial pressure. I’m suspecting an epidural or subdural haemorrhage. GCS is currently three and he’s bradycardic, with a heart rate of fifty-six.’

  Glancing up, Emma saw that her mother had lifted Lily from the high chair and was doing her best to calm the little girl. Lily had her head buried against her grandmother’s shoulder and she’d stopped crying. Muriel was looking shocked, however, as she listened to Emma’s side of the call.

  ‘Yes...’ she said then. ‘Church Street, Achadunan. There’s a sports field a short distance from the house. We’ll get someone out there to signal the crew... Please hurry...’

  Muriel was dispatched to warn the neighbours and gather help. They would need to make sure that there were no children on the sports field and have enough people to signal that the rescue helicopter had reached its destination. She bundled Lily into her pink coat and rushed out, leaving Emma alone with Jack.

  Time seemed to stop after that. There was little Emma could do except monitor Jack and watch for any deterioration in his heart rate or breathing. She had no oxygen in the house. No IV fluids or kit that contained intubation gear. No way of paging a neurosurgeon or getting fast-tracked for a CT scan.

  Why hadn’t they done a CT scan last night as well as all those X-rays? Jack had admitted to a headache but there’d been no fracture visible on X-ray and she’d assumed he’d been under observation long enough for something serious to have become obvious.

  He’d been in pain today, too. She’d seen that when they had been walking to the cemetery. He must have had a terrible headache but he hadn’t said anything.

  ‘Oh, Jack...’ Emma smoothed the hair back from his forehead and checked his pupils again. She watched his chest rise and fall. Was his rate of breathing getting more rapid—showing signs of distress? She kept her fingers on his wrist for a minute. Was his heart rate getting slower?

  Harry was lying beside her, his nose touching her knee, and he was watching every move she made.

  This shouldn’t be happening, Emma thought, blinking back tears as she saw how anxious Harry looked. They should all be eating their Christmas lunch. Harry should be in his usual position, thinking that he was hidden under the kitchen table. Waiting for a scrap of delicious turkey or a crunchy edge of a roast potato to fall from the tray of Lily’s high chair so he could do his duty and keep the kitchen floor clean. Lily would giggle, as she always did, and another piece of food would ‘accidentally’ fall within seconds.

  Emma could almost hear an echo of that adorable giggle. She could hear something, anyway. Harry could hear it, too. He lifted his head and pricked his ears up.

  ‘Oh...’ Emma let out a breath with no idea of how long she’d been holding it. ‘It’s the helicopter coming, Harry. Coming for Jack.’

  The sound got louder and louder. She could imagine the big rescue chopper hovering over the sports field and stirring up a cloud of snow as it came down to land.

  ‘They’re here,’ she told Jack. ‘Hold on, love. You’re going to make it. You’re going to be okay. You have to be...’ She didn’t want to be sitting here with tears pouring down her face when the paramedics arrived but there was no stopping the flow just yet.

  ‘I can’t lose you,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘And Lily can’t lose you. We need you.’ Jack’s face was a blur as she leaned closer. ‘And you can’t hear me and you might not believe me, even if you could hear me, but you need us, too. We love you...’

  If time had slowed while waiting for the rescue team to arrive, it sped up to an astonishing degree the moment they burst through the door.

  This was a new experience for Emma. These people were highly skilled in dealing with this kind of trauma and the team included a doctor. For the first time, she was in the realm of being a scared relative. It was worse for her knowing how serious this was but, on the positive side, she knew that the team were doing all the right things.

  ‘Blood pressure’s one hundred and five on seventy.’

  ‘Let’s get IV access and some fluids running, but keep an eye on the BP. We don’t want it any higher than one-twenty. We don’t want that ICP going up any further. Draw up some mannitol, too.’ The doctor caught Emma’s gaze.

  ‘How many hours did you say it is since the original injury?’

  ‘About fifteen,’ Emma told them. ‘It’s more likely to be subdural with that time frame, isn’t it?’

  ‘Could be a venous rather than an arterial bleed. Okay...we’re going to intubate and then get moving. Keep that oxygen on...’

  Emma kept watching. Would they remember to elevate Jack’s head by thirty degrees and make sure his head and neck were maintained in a midline position as they got him onto the stretcher?

  ‘Is someone coming with us? We’ve got room for one.’

  ‘Me,’ Emma said instantly. ‘Are you okay with Lily, Mum?’

  Things had been moving so fast she hadn’t even looked in her mother’s direction for some time. Muriel was standing at the other end of the table, Lily still in her arms. Harry was behind her, in his basket.

  ‘Of course. You go.’

  Emma’s head turned to see the stretcher already moving towards the door, the portable units to monitor heart rhythm and respiratory function clipped onto a
frame over Jack’s feet.

  Turning back, she noticed the tabletop that she’d forgotten about as she’d crouched on the floor close to Jack. Their uneaten Christmas lunch. The unpulled crackers. The bright paper hats that had never been worn.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mum...’

  ‘Go.’ Muriel’s voice cracked. ‘And call me—the moment you know anything.’

  * * *

  Emma made her first call a little over half an hour later.

  ‘They’ve taken Jack to Theatre, Mum.’

  ‘What did the neurosurgeon say?’

  ‘That he was young and fit and...and that the odds are in his favour. He was stable by the time we arrived at the emergency department.’

  ‘Did he regain consciousness?’

  ‘No...’ Emma pushed back the wave of helplessness and fear she had been swamped with as she’d watched another team that didn’t include her working to save Jack.

  ‘Oh, love... I’m sorry. But he’s in the best place. They’ll be doing everything they can.’

  ‘I know.’ Emma had to clear her throat. ‘How’s Lily?’

  ‘She’s fine. Still playing with that toy that Jack gave her. And Harry won’t let her out of his sight. It’s like he thinks she’s in some kind of danger...’

  Emma was nodding but couldn’t say the words aloud. Lily was in danger—of losing her uncle and one of the strongest links to the people she had already tragically lost. Emma felt like she was in danger herself. It would have been a comfort to have Harry here in this waiting room with her, his head heavy on her knee, and those kind brown eyes telling her how much she was loved.

  ‘I’d better let you go, Mum. I’ll call again when I know more.’

  * * *

  Christmas Day was drawing to a close by the time she called again.

  ‘He’s in Intensive Care now, Mum. I’ve had to come out to make this call but I’ve been sitting with him for a bit. They say the surgery went very well. He’s breathing for himself and everything that’s being monitored looks fine but...’

  She could hear her mother’s sharp intake of breath. ‘But...?’

  ‘He’s not showing any signs of waking up yet.’

  ‘Give it time, love...’

  ‘I know...’

  ‘Lily’s asleep. With Jack’s bear clutched in her arms.’

  Emma couldn’t say anything. Her heart was hurting too much.

  ‘Have you had anything to eat?’

  ‘I couldn’t. Have you?’

  ‘No...’ The huff of sound was almost a chuckle. ‘I think we’ll be eating turkey sandwiches until New Year.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. It hasn’t been the best Christmas, has it?’

  There was a moment’s silence. Emma knew they were both thinking of how bad last Christmas had been. Fielding a shock wave that history could be trying to repeat itself with another tragedy? And then the feeling of the silence changed, as if they were both finding and clinging to the ways in which this Christmas Day had brought them joy—like the surprise of Jack coming home and the sheer delight that their precious little girl generated for all those around her.

  ‘I’ll come in tomorrow, shall I? When the roads have been cleared? I could bring Lily in.’

  ‘That’s a good idea, Mum.’ Maybe the sound of Lily’s voice would be enough to bring Jack back from wherever he was resting at the moment.

  A peaceful place, hopefully. A very different place from that dark hole he was so afraid of. That she was desperately afraid of too, right now. The need to get back to Jack was so intense she could feel it in every cell of her body. She needed to be beside him. Close enough to touch him. So that he would know she was there...

  ‘I have to get back,’ she said aloud. ‘I need to be there when he wakes up.’

  ‘Of course you do, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.’

  ‘Love you, too. And, Mum?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Bring me a turkey sandwich tomorrow, okay?’

  * * *

  The night ticked on, with every second marked by the beeping of the monitors around Jack’s bed.

  Emma sat on a chair, close enough to be able to hold Jack’s hand. The need for sleep had evaporated along with any need for food. There was only one thing she needed right now and that was for Jack to wake up. And be all right.

  Between the visits of the doctors and nurses caring for Jack, Emma talked to him quietly. She told him what had happened. What was happening now. What the monitors were revealing about how well he was doing. She reassured him, over and over again, that he was going to be okay. That they would get through this.

  In the quietest hours, just before dawn, when exhaustion was threatening to overcome her, Emma’s spirits sank a little.

  ‘This is my fault,’ she whispered. ‘I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have pushed you into going for that walk but...I wanted you to...’ Emma stopped on a sigh. Whatever she had thought she wanted, like breaking through to a point of real connection, had backfired, hadn’t it?

  That glimpse at the impenetrable barrier Jack believed he had put in place to protect himself from ever losing someone he loved again had been so heartbreaking.

  But...

  ‘You were wrong, Jack.’ Taking hold of his hand, being very careful not to disturb the IV line, Emma picked it up and held it against her heart. ‘You think you’re behind your wall and you’re not capable of really loving anybody again but it’s not true. I think you already love Lily. I saw your face when you looked at that photograph of her and...and you said, “She’s a Reynolds, all right...” You felt the pull of family, didn’t you? The love...’

  Emma swallowed hard. ‘And I think you love me, too. You said I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you but I see more than that when you look at me sometimes. I feel more than that when you kiss me...’

  The beeping around her seemed to miss a beat and then speed up. Alarmed, Emma gently put Jack’s hand down again while she scanned the figures on all the screens until everything settled again.

  Her elbows on the edge of the bed, she buried her face in her hands as it all became too overwhelming. Tears were forming and she knew she couldn’t stop them falling. Perhaps she didn’t want to try.

  ‘Loving people isn’t what destroys you,’ she whispered, brokenly. ‘Sometimes it’s the only thing that can save you. You can be in that black hole, but when there’s someone who loves you on the same side of that wall, they can reach down and take hold of your hand. That’s how you climb out, Jack... Every time...’

  She couldn’t say anything more. She couldn’t even think straight anymore. Her eyes tightly shut, Emma didn’t even open them when she heard the beeping change pace again. If something was wrong, an alarm would sound and others would come running. There was nothing she would be able to do, anyway.

  She had done everything she possibly could.

  And maybe it wasn’t enough.

  The touch on her arm was so soft Emma barely registered it at first. But then the pressure increased and she took her hands away from her face and scraped away the tears that were blinding her.

  Yes... Jack’s hand was moving.

  Touching her arm.

  Her gaze flew to his face. His eyes were still shut but his lips were moving, too.

  ‘I...I need...’

  ‘What, Jack?’ Emma’s heart was in her mouth. Whatever he needed, she would give it to him if she possibly could. How could you do anything else, when you loved someone with all your heart and soul?

  ‘I...’ It was clearly an enormous effort for Jack to form any words. But, at the same time, the corners of his mouth were curving into the beginnings of a smile. ‘I need...to hold your hand...’

  EPILOGUE

 
‘HOW LONG HAS it been since we had a real, white Christmas?’ Emma paused in her task of peeling potatoes to peer through the window over her mother’s kitchen sink.

  ‘Five years.’ Muriel didn’t look up from the pot of bread sauce she was stirring, but Emma could hear the smile in her voice. ‘And I’m sure you remember the last one as well as I do.’

  ‘Mmm...’ Of course she did. Every minute of it. But Emma could find joy in those memories now. There had been sad moments, of course, because it had been so soon after losing Sarah and Ben. There had been terrifying moments, too, like when Jack had collapsed at the table and she’d been so afraid of losing him forever.

  But there were joyous moments that always took precedence when she thought about that particular Christmas.

  Finding Lily asleep in the crook of Jack’s arm.

  Being kissed in front of the Christmas tree.

  Sharing happy memories of two people they had both loved so much.

  What she could see through the kitchen window right now was giving her even more joy. Emma could feel a bubble of happiness expanding inside her that would break free in laughter at any moment now.

  The potatoes were forgotten.

  ‘We’re going to have eight very wet paws coming through that door any minute now.’

  The sibling golden retrievers, Bert and Ernie, were romping in the snow, playing chase around the old oak tree that still had her childhood swing hanging from its lowest branch.

  They’d only intended to get one puppy when Harry had peacefully passed away a couple of years ago but Muriel had come with them to make their choice from the litter and she had fallen in love herself. She’d told them her house was too lonely without Harry. She’d never complained that the house was too empty without Emma and Lily but losing Harry had hit her hard.

  ‘There’s a good pile of old towels on the back porch,’ Muriel said calmly. ‘It’s those eight gumboots I’m worried about.’

  Emma dried her hands on a tea towel. ‘I’ll sort them. Have you got a carrot?’