Serenity

by Rochelle Paige

  I drifted in and out of sleep through almost three full quarters of the game before I heard a light tap on the door. Then a familiar voice called out, “Faith?”

  “Sarah!” I sat up quickly, and Dillon’s arm went around my shoulders.

  “Careful, baby.”

  “But Sarah’s here!” I hadn’t seen her in too long. I’d aged out of the system when I turned twenty-one, and without our scheduled meetings it’d become more difficult to find the time to see each other. With recent budget cuts, Sarah’s caseload was heavier than ever. And I’d been trying to juggle a tough school schedule leading up to graduation, helping foster kids both at local high schools and on campus, and having a boyfriend for the first time in my life.

  “I see that, but they’re keeping you overnight for a reason. No overdoing it.”

  I flopped back against the pillows, shaking my head and rolling my eyes.

  “Don’t give him a hard time on my account.” Sarah approached the bed, grinning down at us. “His protective attitude already earned him brownie points with me.”

  “He has a name,” Dillon chuckled as he got off the bed and reached out to shake Sarah’s hand. “I’m Dillon, and you must be the Sarah I’ve heard so much about.”

  Sarah’s smile widened. “Indeed I am. Hopefully she only said good things because that’s all I’ve heard about you so far.”

  “Better than good.” Dillon reached down for the remote and turned off the television.

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your game. Won’t it bother you to not know how it turns out?”

  “That’s okay. I already know how it ends since it’s a replay of a game I’ve seen before.”

  I twisted around to gape up at Dillon. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it was the perfect thing to help me zone out.”

  “Help you zone out?” Sarah echoed.

  I glanced up at Dillon, and widened my eyes. The hardest parts of the story weren’t mine to share. They were Dillon’s. He nodded in answer to my unvoiced question, and I gestured towards the chair that was pushed against the wall. “You’re going to want to sit down for this.”

  Sarah started to drag it closer to the bed, and Dillon rounded the bed to help her. She turned towards me and gave me the thumbs-up sign as she mouthed, “Nice.”

  Her mood quickly turned serious when I shared with her what Dillon and I had discovered. “Whoa. That’s a heck of a lot to deal with. I can see why you’d feel the need to zone out for a little while.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed, squeezing Dillon’s hand. He’d taken the chair on the other side of my bed. “It’s been a rough week.”

  “It must’ve been more than rough for you to end up here. You’re stronger than this, Faith. You can’t let your health slide, not even when things go wrong in your life.”

  I hated seeing the disappointment in Sarah’s eyes, but I didn’t have much that I could say in my defense. No matter how badly I’d spiraled when Dillon had left, I should’ve known better. I should’ve taken better care of myself than I had.

  “I know.” And if I hadn’t, I certainly would’ve figured it out by now with all the lectures I’d been getting from everyone today.

  “And if she ever forgets, I’ll be there to remind her. To take care of her,” Dillon promised.

  Sarah’s focus shifted to him. “I love that Faith gets that from you because she more than deserves all the sweet she can get in her life. But you can’t properly take care of her if you don’t figure your own stuff out first. It’s like the pre-flight safety speech when you’re on an airplane. They always tell you that you need to secure your oxygen mask first before helping anyone else.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” Dillon sighed. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to figure my stuff out. It was hard enough when it was just that my parents had lied to me about when Declan had died, but the heart transplant takes it to a whole other level.”

  “With everything you’ve learned, I can see how you’d feel betrayed by your parents. Especially with the way you found out.” Sarah leaned forward, her eyes filled with sympathy. “But if there’s anything I’ve learned working for social services, it’s that parents are people too. They aren’t perfect. They make mistakes. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’re bad people, or even bad parents.”

  “Elaine and Lloyd are good people. Really, really good.” I peered up at Dillon. “You know that, right?”

  “They’re the best.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Maybe if they weren’t, all of this would be easier to accept.”

  “From everything you’ve told me, it sounds like your parents found themselves in a situation where there weren’t any good choices,” Sarah suggested.

  “Yeah, maybe,” he sighed.

  “There’s only one way to find out.” He was going to have to talk to them and find out what really happened.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dillon

  I’d just pulled into the driveway when my phone rang. Again. It was about the tenth time already that morning.

  “You can’t avoid them forever, Dillon. They’re your family.” Faith squeezed my hand before climbing out of the SUV. The hospital had discharged her an hour ago, but she’d insisted that we needed to stop at the grocery store on our way home because we didn’t have anything healthy to eat in the house. When I suggested that it’d be better for me to drop her off and head to the store by myself, she refused to hear of it. And with the big puppy dog eyes she was giving me, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

  “They’ll have to wait,” I told her as I pulled bags out of the back of the SUV. “We’ve got groceries that need to go into the fridge and freezer right now.”

  “Groceries,” she snorted. “I guess that’s as good an excuse as any other to keep avoiding them.”

  Her point was valid, but it also felt unfair. “It’s only been a day. They lied to me for five years.”

  She waited until we were inside the house, setting the groceries on the kitchen counter, to respond. “Sometimes one day can feel like an eternity. Like when you know that someone you love is angry, but you don’t know where they are and they’re not picking up the phone any of the times you call.”

  Which was exactly what I’d done to Faith after she’d shown me the letters. She’d led a life where she hadn’t been given many reasons to trust, and I was asking her to do just that with me after I’d hurt her. Which meant I needed to do whatever I could to prove to her that her belief in me wasn’t misplaced. And that included balling up and facing my parents sooner rather than later. “You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “I learned my lesson the hard way, seeing what my silence almost cost you. I’m not going to make the same mistake again. Not with you, and not with my parents.”

  “Really?”

  The sweet smile she gave me and the way her eyes lit up told me I was making the right decision. “Yeah, really.”

  She wrapped me up in a hug, and whispered against my chest, “Thank you.”

  “It’s as much for me as it is for you, baby.” I just hadn’t realized it until I felt a surge of relief once my decision had been made. “But I don’t want to do this over the phone. It needs to be face-to-face.”

  “I think that’s smart. It’s better to talk the serious shit out in person because it’s too easy to hang up on someone. It’s a lot harder to walk away.”

  “Fuck,” I groaned.

  “Shit.” She reared back and looked at me. “I didn’t mean it that way at all.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. You promised me you’d never do that again, and I’ve chosen to believe you. That means we both need to let it go. I know I just brought it up to try to get you to understand why I feel so strongly that you need to talk to your parents. But I can’t keep dragging what happened into arguments, and you can’t wonder if I’m hinting at it all the time. The past is the past as far as our relationship is con
cerned, and we’re moving on from it. Deal?”

  I nodded. “Deal.”

  “Good.” She rose up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss against my mouth. “One problem down, but we still have a doozy to go. What do you want to do about your parents? I bet your mom’s at home.”

  “But my dad should be at the office, and I need to talk to both of them together.” Not just for me, but for them too. My mom was bound to fall apart when I confronted them over this, and she’d need my dad at her side to get through it.

  “We’re any of those calls this morning from him?”

  “Yeah, about half of them.”

  She tugged my cell out of my pocket and handed it to me. “Then send him a text. Tell him you need to talk and you want to meet with them at their house as soon as possible. If he’s at work, I’m sure he’ll cancel whatever he has on his calendar and rush home if you tell him you need him. He’s got to be frantic with worry by now.”

  She was right, so I tapped out a text while she put the groceries away. I’d barely hit send when three little circles popped up beneath my message, letting me know he was writing a reply.

  Dad: Come home now. I’ll be there.

  Me: We’ll be there in thirty minutes.

  “He wants us to come over now.”

  “Then let’s go,” she offered, grabbing her purse. “No time like the present.”

  “Soon,” I promised. “But first I’m going to make you a quick meal while you shower and change.”

  She eyed my clothes and wrinkled her nose. “And then while I’m eating, you should probably hit the shower too.”

  When we arrived at my parents’ place half an hour later, we’d both eaten, showered, and changed. My food felt heavy in my stomach, and I swallowed down a lump in my throat as I led Faith up their front steps. The door opened before we made it to the top, and my parents stood there.

  “Dillon! Faith! We were so worried,” my mom cried. She started to move forward, but my dad took one look at my face and pulled her back.

  “C’mon, honey. I think Dillon needs a minute. Let’s go inside and make some tea or something.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “Hot chocolate,” I blurted out. “You always made it when we had a bad day.”

  My mom’s eyes filled with tears as she searched my face and nodded. “I can make hot chocolate. Whipped cream, marshmallows, or both?”

  “Both,” Faith and I answered in unison.

  “Both. Okay, I can do both.” She looked even more worried as she turned and went back inside. I knew it was because I only ever asked for both when things were really bad. As in the worst. Like this was going to be.

  “I hope this doesn’t go sideways until I’ve at least had the chance to finish my hot chocolate. Your mom makes the best; from scratch with whole milk. I can already taste it.” Faith slowly licked her lips before smacking them together, and I realized she was trying to break the tension.

  “Remind me to stock up on hot chocolate supplies.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You know how to make your mom’s hot chocolate?”

  “Yeah, she taught Declan and I how to make it when we were about ten years old.” It was such a great memory that I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about how we’d both ended up covered in cocoa powder.

  She swatted me on the shoulder. “And you’ve never made it for me? You’re slacking on the boyfriend duties.”

  “I’ll make some for you tonight. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

  “I’ll drink as much hot chocolate as it takes to help you get past all of this,” she promised.

  “Thanks, baby.”

  She offered me an encouraging smile. “It’s not like it’s much of a sacrifice.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t.” I shook my head and held my hand out to her. “Let’s get this over with, and then we’ll hit up the grocery store again.”

  I led her into the family room, and got us settled on the love seat. It was only big enough for the two of us, and I didn’t want to risk my mom trying to sit down next to me. A few minutes later, my parents joined us, and my mom set a tray with four mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table.

  “Why do I have the feeling I’m going to wish your mom had let me put a shot of Irish whiskey in mine like I wanted?” my dad asked as he picked his up and took a sip.

  “Because you’re probably going to need it.”

  My mom almost dropped her mug at my answer. She set it down before asking, “Is this about Declan and what we talked about yesterday?”

  I waited until Faith had the chance to take a few sips of her hot chocolate before answering. “No, Mom. It’s about what you left out of the story.”

  “You know?” she gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as her eyes dropped down to my chest.

  “That my twin’s heart beats in my chest? Yeah, I know.” Faith set her mug down on the table and reached over to take hold of my hand. “But what I don’t know is how you could apologize to me for lying about when he died and still be keeping something as important as this from me.”

  “How did you find out?” my dad asked.

  “How did I find out?” I echoed, shaking my head. “That’s what you’ve got to say?”

  Faith squeezed my hand and answered his question, “I had a little bit of a health scare yesterday, and my doctor had me admitted to the hospital overnight. It was more for observation than anything else,” she hurried to add when my mom cried out. “But while we were there, Dillon had mentioned to my doctor that he was interested in being screened as a donor in case I ever needed another transplant. Part of that process is a medical history review, and the heart transplant was in his records at the hospital.”

  “I see,” my dad murmured as he nodded his head.

  “I’m glad you do because I sure as shit don’t understand any of this, Dad!” I held on to Faith like she was my lifeline—because that’s exactly what she was.

  My mom leaned forward and put her hand on my dad’s arm. “It’s time. We need to tell him all of it.”

  “Please,” I added.

  “You’re right.” My dad nodded and sighed. “It’s not an easy story, but you deserve the truth.”

  “When we got the call about the accident, it was the most scared I’d ever been. The police said you and Declan were being taken by ambulance to Southeast Memorial. Both of you were seriously injured, and we should get there as quickly as we could,” my mom began.

  “The ten minutes it took for us to get to the emergency room felt like the longest in our lives,” my dad continued the story. “And then it took forever to get an update because you arrived only minutes before us. The nurse only had limited information when she came out to tell us what she could, which was basically that it didn’t look good. We found out how bad it was when the doctor who’d been working on Declan came out maybe an hour later to tell us he’d suffered a devastating neurologic injury. He was on a ventilator and was suffering from a loss of brain function.”

  “He didn’t have a status update for you,” my mom added. “But he promised to get one for us. When he came back out, I knew it was going to be bad. And it was. They suspected you had a cardiac contusion caused by blunt trauma to your chest wall during the crash.”

  “A cardiac contusion?” I knew contusion meant bruise because I’d gotten more than my fair share of them when I played football, and I recalled my parents saying something about bruising to my heart when I woke up from my coma. “I needed a heart transplant because of a bruise?”

  “If only it were that simple,” my dad sighed. “It led to an aortic rupture, and you had profuse bleeding coming from the aorta where it connects to your heart. They did emergency surgery to try to repair it, and at first we thought you were in the clear and we only needed to worry about Declan. But in the end the damage to your heart was too severe, and after a couple of weeks the doctors said the long-term prognosis wasn’t good.”

  “We were in an impo
ssible situation,” my mom cried. “Both of our sons in comas, with no idea if either of you would survive. Your brother had a complete loss of brain function, and eventually one of the doctors suggested a possible solution.”

  “Give me Declan’s heart,” I whispered.

  “Yes,” my dad confirmed. “They told us it was the only way to save you.”

  Whoa. I’d already figured it had to be something like that, but it still hurt to hear it out loud. “I get that you were put into a situation where you had to make a decision that nobody should ever have to face, but what I don’t understand is why you kept lying to me about it.”

  “Because we were worried that the complete truth would destroy you.”

  Faith’s hand tightened at my mom’s whispered confession, dragging my attention away from my parents. “Are you sure you’re ready to hear the rest? Because I feel like there’s more.”

  “The rest?” I echoed, glancing up at my parents. “Is she right? Is there more?”

  My mom’s eyes filled with tears as she nodded, and my dad looked older than his age as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “We haven’t told you the hardest part yet.”

  “Shit.” My head dropped low, and I stared at my lap for a couple of minutes while I tried to wrap my head around the idea of there being something worse than I’d already learned. But in the end, it didn’t matter how bad it was. If it was about Declan and me, I wanted to know. I looked back up and demanded, “Tell me.”

  Faith let go of my hand and scooted closer to my side. Her arm around my back was the only thing that kept me from sliding off the couch as my dad finished the story.

  “Declan’s brain damage was beyond repair. They said he had no hope of ever recovering. That the machines were keeping his body alive, but he was already gone. We couldn’t save him. Not really. But we could save you...if we turned off the machines that were keeping your brother alive.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dillon