Rising Star

by JS Taylor

  The last time I saw my nephew he was running around wreaking havoc. Now his little body is laid out with tubes in his nose and monitors beeping his heart rate.

  “It doesn’t look right,” I say, my voice coming out strangely. “He hates lying still.”

  I turn to Adam, who envelops me in a deep hug.

  “He’ll be running around again soon,” promises Adam, and the way he says it makes it sound true.

  My sister and mum register Adam for the first time. Sam’s eyes grow wide in confusion. I can tell she’s struggling to compute that a mega star is standing a few feet away.

  Adam ducks forward neatly, and takes Sam’s hand in a warm handshake.

  “I’m Adam,” he says, “Summer’s boyfriend. I’m so sorry I had to meet you in these circumstances.”

  He takes my mum’s hand next, shaking it, and murmuring his heartfelt hopes for Ben. My mum seems a little mesmerised by Adam, but I’m not sure she knows who he is – besides a handsome charismatic man who has turned up with all the right words of comfort.

  Sam knows, of course. She recognised him instantly. But right now, I’m guessing she really doesn’t care that a pop star has showed up to her son’s bedside.

  There’s a polite cough, and I suddenly realise the nurse who led us to Ben’s bedside is still here.

  “I’ll leave you alone for a bit,” says the nurse, holding the curtain. “The doctor will be back in another few hours.”

  She smiles at me shyly.

  “You’re the girl who sings on TV aren’t you?” she says. “I saw your band last week. Perhaps you could sing to Ben? They can sometimes hear things, even in a coma.”

  She smiles again, and then retreats tactfully, drawing the curtain behind her.

  My eyes drop to my prone nephew, and my throat feels swollen shut.

  “You should,” whispers Sam. “You should sing to him. Ben always loved your voice Summer.”

  Slowly I move forward, and take Ben’s little hand. It feels warm – full of life – and I feel a burst of hope.

  He’s going to be ok. He’s got to be ok…

  “You liked being sung too,” I whisper, “when you were a baby. Do you remember? Your Aunty Summer used to sing you to sleep?”

  The tears are coming again, and my voice is caged in my throat. I try to sing but the words won’t come. They’re stuck there, deep in anguish.

  Behind me, I feel Adam’s warm presence wrap around me. I lean back onto him gratefully and close my eyes. Tears cascade down my cheeks.

  I open my mouth, but the words won’t come.

  “I can’t sing to him,” I gasp. “I can’t do it.”

  I look at Adam and he nods in understanding.

  Then slowly, his hand closes over mine, so that we’re both holding Ben’s little hand.

  Then Adam takes a slow breath, and begins singing quietly.

  His voice is low, soft and soothing.

  I close my eyes, and let the music and words drift over me.

  Will you come to the bower o'er the free boundless ocean,

  Where the stupendous waves roll in thundering motion,

  Where the mermaids are seen and the fierce tempest gathers,

  Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower?

  It’s an Irish folk song, I recognise. The words are about lakes and nature, and all the wonderful things in the world.

  You can see Dublin city, and the fine groves of Blarney,

  The Bann, Boyne, and Liffey and the Lakes of Killarney,

  You may ride on the tide on the broad majestic Shannon,

  You may sail round Lough Neagh and see storied Dungannon,

  Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower?

  It’s like a siren call, to tempt Ben back to the land of the living. I can’t think of a more perfect song.

  As Adam sings, I feel my tears dry, and my faith rise. Then my throat is suddenly freed. And for the last chorus I sing along, gently harmonising, calling Ben back.

  We both finish on the same note, and the atmosphere has changed. Sam’s face is calmer. My mum is looking lovingly at Ben.

  “Do you think he heard us?” I ask, looking at Adam.

  “I’m sure he did,” says Adam, kissing the top of my head.

  “I’m sure his heart rate moved,” says Sam hopefully. “Maybe he did hear.”

  Her face crumples in grief again.

  “My little boy…” sobs Sam, her head falling into her hands.

  In a moment, Adam has enveloped Sam in a deep hug. She leans against his body gratefully, sobbing her heart out.

  “Let it all out,” advises Adam,” it’s all going to be ok. He’ll be up and giving you hell before you know it.”

  Sam makes a hiccupping kind of laugh through her sobs.

  “Do you think so?” she asks. “He looks so helpless. I feel so helpless…”

  Adam releases her gently.

  “He doesn’t look helpless to me,” he assures Sam. “He looks like a strong little boy. Look at the colour in his cheeks. He’s pulling through. I promise you that.”

  Sam looks gratefully at Adam and then bursts into tears again.

  Chapter 26

  By late evening, the nurse sends us home for the night. Sam is allowed to sleep in a chair by the bed. But despite how hard I beg, they won’t let me stay.

  “You’ll be better getting rest,” says the nurse gently. “Take care of your sister that way.”

  “She’s right,” says Adam. “You need sleep Summer.”

  I look gratefully into his eyes. All day Adam has been my rock. He’s offered comfort, endless hugs. And even ferried tea and food back and forth from the hospital canteen.

  “Come on,” he says. “I’ll arrange for a hotel a few minutes from the hospital. That way you can be here first thing tomorrow. As soon as visiting hours start.”

  I cast an uncertain glance at my mum, who’s fussing over Sam, making sure she has blankets and water.

  “Your mum and dad too,” says Adam, reading my mind. “I’ll book them a room. Unless you think they’d object.”

  “They wouldn’t object,” I say. Ordinarily my dad would be very proud about this sort of thing. But he’s so bowed down by what’s happened, I know he’ll just be grateful.

  I explain things to my mum as Adam books the hotel. She nods in relief.

  “That’s allright with your man is it?’ she asks anxiously. “It’s a lot of expense for him to run to.”

  I suppress a smile. She really has no clue who Adam is.

  “He’s on a good salary mum,” I say, picking the description which I know will put her at ease.

  She murmurs the words back to herself reassuringly. Then a weak smile flickers on her face.

  “I’ll ring your dad then,” she says. “Let him know.”

  My dad has been taking care of things at home, anxiously waiting a call.

  I hear one half of the conversation as my mum explains Adam will be arranging a hotel. And though I can’t hear his reply, I can imagine the relief on his face.

  Chapter 27

  We drive my mum to the hotel in anxious silence. And we all know it’s going to be a long night.

  The doctor’s last words were that we would know a lot more in the morning. Tomorrow, they should be able to tell if Ben’s brain swelling has started going down.

  If it has, then we have reason to be hopeful – but if not then the outlook doesn’t look good. Ben has a low chance of pulling through. And if he does, there is a high chance of permanent brain damage.

  We’re all so stressed it feels like every second is an hour.

  I feel so bad for Sam, sleeping on an uncomfortable hospital chair. But I know she’d rather be by Ben’s side than anywhere else. I know how she feels. If I had the choice, I’d be there too.

  I glance at Adam, as he parks the car in the hotel parking lot. I know he’s going out of his way to drive extra slow and calm for my mum, and I love him
for it.

  Not for the first time, I have a burst of relief that he insisted on coming along. I honestly don’t know how I would have got through today, if it wasn’t for Adam.

  The hotel is a little chain outlet. Nothing remarkable. But clean, comfortable, and very close to the hospital. We walk into the lobby to see my dad is already there, looking drawn and anxious.

  He hugs me, then my mum, then shakes hands rather shyly with Adam.

  “Good to meet you,” he says. “Penny told me that you’re Summer’s new man.”

  Adam nods.

  “It’s very good to meet you,” Adam says sincerely. “I’ve been looking forward to it. Though I was hoping for better circumstances,” he adds sadly.

  “I hear you paid for this hotel Adam,” begins my dad frowning.

  Oh no! I thought Dad would overlook that.

  “I’m friends with the owner,” says Adam smoothly. “It didn’t cost anything. And I thought it would save you some time. I hope I made the right choice Mr Morgan.”

  I could kiss Adam. He has completely correctly gauged the right thing to say. I suspect it’s not true at all about him knowing the owner. But it’s just what my dad needs to here.

  “That’s all for the good then,” says my dad, sounding relieved. “Good friend you must have. It looks like a nice place.”

  My dad nods approvingly, and then his face crumples again, remembering why we’re here.

  “It might all be better in the morning,” says my dad. Although the tone in his voice suggests he’s not sure.

  Optimism is in short supply in my family. It’s a fall out from our motto of ‘always have a plan B’. We tend to expect the worst, because that way, you’re prepared.

  “You can count on it,” says Adam, with a certainty which seems to lift the mood a little. “In the meantime, you should all get as much rest as possible.”

  Adam proves himself an absolute saint in the few hours before bedtime. He considerately discerns that no-one is in the mood for a restaurant meal. So he orders takeaway, and has the hotel bring us a little table and plates.

  We eat in my parent’s room since it’s the larger of the two, and Adam fusses over everyone, making sure we all have a few bites of food, even though we’re far from hungry.

  Although my parents are both waylaid with anxiety, I can tell Adam’s efforts are appreciated. They are exhausted, and the chance to sleep close to the hospital, and have someone else take care of food is a Godsend.

  After we’ve eaten a little, Adam clears away, and takes me back to our room.

  There’s a guitar propped in the corner, and I look at him quizzically.

  “I put it in the car when we left,” he says. “I thought it might take your mind off things. I always found playing guitar helped me get through sad times.”

  I shoot him a grateful glance. I’m not sure I feel up to playing music. But it’s nice to know he cares.

  “I’ll run you a bath,” says Adam.

  “That would be lovely,” I say, marvelling at how he seems to know just what to do.

  Whilst Adam busies himself in the en-suite, running the water. I pick up the guitar and strum it experimentally. I usually use a guitar for composing. And it feels safe, somehow, to have it in my hands.

  Adam was right.

  A song from long ago drifts into my head. Something I wrote years back, when I was heartbroken. And without thinking, I start to play it.

  If I could take heaven in my hand

  And all the stars too

  If I could take down the moon

  And give it to you

  I would make you stay

  Please stay…

  The song is comforting. It feels as though I’m singing to Ben. In a way I couldn’t at his bedside. As I quietly sing through the chorus my eyes flick up, to see Adam gazing at me.

  “That’s beautiful,” he says, as I stop singing. “Is it a new song?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s an old one,” I say, a little embarrassed to explain the back story. “From when I was fifteen. I broke up with my first boyfriend. I was heartbroken.”

  I smile a little. “It meant a lot at the time,” I add. “You know how teenage girls are.”

  “I can hear how much it meant in the music,” he says. “You were very talented, even at fifteen.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I say putting the guitar back down. “But I was certainly prone to heartbreak.”

  I’m trying to make a joke of it. But saying the words brings a surge of emotion.

  Ben. Lying on the hospital bed.

  I put my head in my hands and sob.

  In an instant, Adam is at my side.

  “Shhh,” he says, gathering me in his arms. “It’s ok.”

  “I never thought of him once, all last week,” I sob. “I was too busy thinking about singing. And now. I’d give it all up, if he’d just wake up.”

  Adam pulls me closer and lets me cry it out, murmuring words of comfort.

  Then, when the sobbing has subsided, he leads me to the bathroom, and gently removes my clothes.

  “Here,” he says, guiding me into the steaming water. “Get in. You’ll feel better.”

  I let the warm water soothe me, as Adam gently soaps my hair. Then, when I’m clean, he helps me out, and dries me off.

  “Thank you,” I say, feeling exhausted with grief, as he wraps me in a fluffy towel.

  “There’s no need to thank me,” he says. “You need to sleep now.”

  He walks me from the bathroom, and deposits me on the bed. First he makes sure my mobile phone is within easy reach, on the bedside table.

  Then he takes off his T-shirt.

  “Here,” he says. “You can sleep in this.”

  “I don’t think I can sleep,” I admit.

  He shuffles onto the bed next to me, and folds me into the crook of his arm.

  “Try,” he says, kissing my head. “I’ll be here watching the phone. If it rings I’ll wake you.”

  I nod, cuddling close. Though I hardly expect my racing thoughts will allow sleep to come.

  But I didn’t factor quite how exhausted I was. And how dozy the warm bath has made me. Within a few moments, my eyelids start to feel heavy.

  Before I know it I drift off into a troubled sleep.

  Chapter 28

  “Summer, wake up.”

  Adam’s gentle voice is at my ear.

  I blink awake feeling groggy, as though I’ve got a hangover. And then it all comes flooding back.

  Ben.

  Adam is pulling at my hand, pressing my mobile phone into it. I fight away my sleep-drugged state to realise my phone is flashing.

  It’s Sam!

  I click to answer, almost dropping the phone in my haste.

  “What is it? Is there any news?” I blurt, before she has a chance to speak.

  “They did more tests this morning,” says Sam. She sounds a little brighter than she did yesterday. I allow a flutter of hope to take wing in my heart.

  “They say the brain swelling has gone down.”

  Relief rushes into me like a tidal wave. I close my eyes, tears pricking.

  “Thank God,” I say. “Did they tell you anything else?”

  “He’s still unconscious,” she says, her voice thick with devastation. “They hope to see a further reduction in the swelling later today. But there could still be an infection or…”

  “Stop,” I say, sensing she’s gearing up to think the worst. “It’s good news Sam. It’s what we wanted to hear. His body is healing. It’s only going to get better.”

  There’s silence on the other end, and I know she’s crying.

  I check the clock on my phone.

  “We’ve got an hour until visiting time,” I say. “We’ll come down now, and hopefully they’ll let us in a bit early.”

  “That would be good,” she says weakly.

  “You need some food,” I say, hearing the exhaustion in her voice. “Coul
d you eat anything?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “I’ll pick you up some salt and vinegar crisps,” I say, remembering her favourite snack. “And some M&Ms. Maybe you’ll manage that.”

  “Ok,” she’s choking up again, so I hang up and turn to Adam.

  He’s looking happy, if a little bleary eyed.

  “Good news?” he says.

  I nod. “Uh huh. As good as we could hope. Swelling’s gone down.”

  Adam breathes out a sigh of relief.

  “That’s good,” he says. “I was so worried.”

  “Did you even get any sleep?” I ask, concerned about him suddenly.

  “No,” he admits. “You fell asleep in my arms, and I needed to watch the phone. I didn’t want to put the ringer on and risk waking you. So I stayed up to watch if it flashed.”

  “You stayed up all night, just so my phone ringer wouldn’t wake me?”

  I’m so touched by this, I can hardly put it into words.

  “Of course,” Adam looks baffled by the question. “What else would I do? Wake you up?”

  “Adam Morgan,” I say quietly. “You really are something else.”

  Chapter 29

  We’re in the hospital canteen, waiting to be allowed into Ben’s room. The nurses were kind, but they wouldn’t bend the rules for us. So we took the opportunity to force Sam away from Ben’s bedside to take a few bites of breakfast.

  After devouring the crisps and chocolate I bought her, Sam finally realised she was hungry after all, and managed a few mouthfuls of scrambled egg.

  Now we’ve got better news about Ben, we’re all less anxious. Although we’re not out of the woods yet, the medics seem to think it’s the road to recovery.

  “So, tell us about your show Summer,” says my mum, taking a sip of weak hospital coffee. “Take our mind off things while we wait.”

  “Um. We filmed a video,” I say. “It’s due to air tonight.”

  “Last night,” says Adam quietly.

  I frown. I guess Ben’s accident has messed with my sense of time.