Any Minute: A Novel

by Deborah Bedford

  “What’s that?” Jane asked, thunderstruck.

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t really know. Something about—” Sarah frowned. It had been there, but now she couldn’t remember.

  Not twenty-four hours later, Sarah had wheedled and cajoled, coaxed and flattered, until her doctor had to admit he couldn’t come up with any more reasons for her to take up a hospital bed.

  There were only so many tests she could undergo. Only so many MRIs he could reasonably put her through. Only so many MEG scans she could endure. Other than an indistinct ache somewhere in the vicinity of her rib cage, which the doctor deduced had come from CPR, and a deep gouge on her right arm that had taken eleven stitches to close, she appeared unscathed.

  Northwestern Memorial touted itself as one of the nation’s top teaching hospitals. Sarah held court with an ever-changing array of interns, who queried her about her recovery. (“Recovery from what?” she would ask as they laughed on cue.) They came with yellow legal pads and poised pens. They came with laptop computers and nimble fingers, all of them certain they could glean enough information from this patient to use for a case study or research paper.

  Joe overheard them in groups in the hallway, comparing notes, lobbing ridiculous words such as neurocognitive deficit and controlled hypothermia like tennis balls in a match.

  Joe was happy to let these medical students dote on his wife. That way he didn’t have to face her in a room that felt twice as empty with only husband and wife in it. He didn’t have to pretend easy small talk about the car and its insurance policy or last night’s record low temperature or the nurses’ drawing on the dry-erase board. Most of all, he didn’t have to tiptoe around the fact that she’d almost died and that, during their last cherished conversation, he’d told her he couldn’t take much more of being married to her.

  If a man could be overwhelmed by a swarm of buzzing emotions, well, that was Joe Harper. Every time he tried to sleep, he closed his eyes and saw those emergency lights strung out across the river. Every time he tried to erase the vision of those divers popping out of the water and the firemen shaped like bells in those coats, he could examine the back of his eyelids and count more. Which reminded him how terrified he’d been of losing Sarah. How he’d risked everything giving her the ultimatum, how he wouldn’t have been brave enough to be so honest if he didn’t care.

  If he ever actually found himself able to drift off for a few minutes, he’d jerk awake again, realizing he’d relived yet again the sight of her being rolled onto the diving platform.

  And here she sat on a throne of pillows giving details of her ordeal to breathless admirers as easily as if she were giving details about her latest summer cruise.

  Joe liked to think, with all the commotion going on, that he could slip in and out of her room unobserved. But it didn’t take him long to begin to suspect he was wrong. He felt Sarah’s eyes burning into the back of his shirt every time he stood to leave. He saw her glance quickly away from the door every time he returned.

  On one of the rare occasions when he entered and found the room empty, he stumbled over his words, saying anything he could think of. “Do you know that the whole hospital is talking about you? You are one of the few people who have ever been underwater that long and lived to tell about it. Everybody was talking about how cold it was that day and how they hated it, but the extremely cold weather actually saved your life.”

  “Is that what saved me?” She gave a weak smile, as if she wasn’t certain what to say to him. “I’m sick of being poked and prodded and having my body run through magnetic fields. I’m so glad I get to go home.”

  Joe didn’t dare say how he felt about the doctor’s releasing her so soon. After such a close call, maybe the doctor should keep her longer for observation. Still, Joe’s reservations were caused by more than that; he knew it.

  He felt uncomfortable bringing her home. He pictured himself measuring his words, trying not to say the wrong thing to make her angry. He knew he’d tiptoe around, feeling like he was walking on eggshells, trying not to upset her.

  Joe didn’t even want to think about the ultimatum he’d laid down about their marriage. Whenever they were alone together, he knew he’d be weighing his wife’s every word, waiting for her to get mad at him again.

  “In life,” the doctor remarked when he came to check Sarah out, “maybe each person gets one or two miracles. You, Mrs. Harper,” he said, smacking her thick medical chart against his leg, “just used one of yours.”

  When they left the hospital, Joe didn’t have much to load in the car. Just one bag of toiletries he’d gathered for her as he raced through the house—toothpaste and toothbrush, shampoo so she could wash her hair, a pair of pajamas so she wouldn’t have to spend all day in a hospital gown. Pete and Gail had sent an arrangement of fall-colored chrysanthemums. Sarah’s intern, Leo, had sent a vase of carnations and daisies, which Mitchell had agreed to hold in the car between his knees.

  A nurse’s aide rolled Sarah out the side exit in a wheelchair. Joe held the door open for her as the aide helped her with the seat belt and Mitchell juggled flowers in the back. Joe unfastened Kate’s car seat and slipped her in. As Kate kicked her feet in the seat, Joe’s blood ran cold. He hadn’t even thought about it until now. Kate’s other seat had gone down in the accident. What if Sarah had done something like that when she had the kids with her?

  As he drove her home, Sarah stared out the window at the passing traffic. He could see her fist bracing her cheek through her tangle of hair. “Sarah?” he asked. When she didn’t turn to him, Joe thought it was just as well. He didn’t know how he would have asked this question anyway.

  Can I trust you, Sarah? After what you’ve done?

  It dawned on him how frightened he was because of everything that had happened to her. She’d risked everything, making the choice she’d made.

  As they pulled into the driveway, he couldn’t help wondering where they would go from here.

  Anyone might have known it. When Sarah said, “It won’t be long until I go home,” she really meant “It won’t be long until I get back to work.” No languishing around the house in sweatpants for her. No letting anyone wait on her hand and foot as she took time to build up her strength.

  Joe had just finished putting together Mitchell’s school lunch on their second morning back—an apple from Harold and Nona’s yard, a tub of yogurt, and a bologna sandwich with mustard. He’d just finished folding over the bag and making a crease in it when Sarah came tapping downstairs in her sling-back pumps with her computer bag slung over her shoulder.

  He raised his chin a notch, unable to fathom what he was seeing. “You’re not driving.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “I’m not.”

  “What are you doing then?”

  “Leo’s coming to get me.”

  “You asked your intern to drive the Tri-State Tollway?”

  “He doesn’t mind. He’d do anything for me. I told him I’d pay the toll. And gas.”

  Joe couldn’t believe it. Nothing ever changed. “Did it ever occur to you that you shouldn’t take advantage of that kid, even though he’s willing to do anything you ask?”

  “It’s good for his career, Joe.”

  “Is it?” Joe asked. “Or is it just good for you?”

  Joe turned to his wife, ready to do battle. He expected her to come at him with both barrels blazing. Instead he caught her standing in the middle of the room, her computer case dangling from her arm as she stared into space with an undecipherable expression. But before he could ask, Sarah? What’s wrong? her demeanor returned to normal.

  “Look,” she said. “I know you’re worried. But it’s my job, Joe. I had an accident. Yes, it was a close call, but I don’t need to stop my life.” Then she added in challenge, “No matter what you think I should do.”

  “What were you thinking about? When you were standing in the middle of the room just now?”

  For a moment she seemed startl
ed that he had noticed. “I was thinking about”—she shrugged, as if she didn’t know how to put it into words—“about this dream I had.”

  “A dream you had? Last night?”

  “No,” she said, “while”—she tripped over the words a little—“while I was gone.”

  It was the first time either of them had mentioned it. During the short time they’d kept Sarah in the hospital, she had either been undergoing tests or answering her doctor’s questions or granting interviews to fascinated med-school students as they scribbled notes. She had wondered if she should tell the doctors about her “dream” or “experience” or “trip to heaven.” But during the hours that passed, the details had started to fade. Like most dreams do, the particulars had gone hazy.

  The dream had started to dissipate when Sarah awakened to find her mother at her bedside. Now, she had nothing firm to hang on to except the difficult reality of her life before.

  “While you were gone,” he repeated. “Like you took a trip or something.” Then, “Do you know how I felt when I thought you were gone, Sarah?” he asked. “Like a part of me had died too.”

  She shot a look at him in disbelief. “Is that what you felt? After what you said to me, I would have thought it would be something different.”

  “Don’t,” he said. “Let’s don’t even start.”

  “We have to talk about it sometime.”

  “Not right now,” he said. “You don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

  “Joe.”

  “Call Leo and tell him I’m giving you a ride.” When Joe switched the subject that was answer enough. “I’d like to be the one to take you downtown.”

  “You said you felt like a part of yourself had died too. Did you mean it?”

  “I wasn’t sure I wanted to live anymore when I thought you were dead. But when I finally realized you were alive, I started wondering how we were going to live together if things stayed the same. I don’t know what motivates you anymore. I don’t even know who you are—”

  “Maybe,” she reminded him, “I don’t know who I am either.”

  “Sarah, I cannot live like we have been living.”

  “Joe, I had an accident, and I need time to get over it before we start trying to solve our personal problems. I just want to go to the office and get my mind off this whole mess.”

  “You don’t have your head on straight anymore. I can’t trust you—don’t you see? What if you’d made that stupid move with my kids in the car?”

  She looked like she’d been kicked in the teeth. “Joe? What are you saying?”

  He stayed quiet for one beat, two beats, too long.

  “They’re my kids too,” she said. “Do you think I could have hurt them? Do you?”

  He was furious. Furious because she was hurting the entire family and didn’t seem to see it. Furious that she didn’t love them enough to get her priorities straight. Furious because he’d grieved like a baby when he’d thought he lost her. Furious because now he might have to grieve her loss again.

  Neither spoke again about the distrust and the hurt they had caused one another. It crouched in the center of the room, something they would stumble over, like a trap waiting to spring.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sarah wasn’t sure how everyone in the offices of Roscoe Futures Group would react to her return. After all, she had never been presumed dead before and then come back to life. Would they take great pains to avoid her? Would they be thrilled to see her?

  Joe dropped her off at the curb on LaSalle Street.

  Sarah jumped out of the car and immediately noticed someone on the sidewalk turn and dart the other way. Sarah pushed her way through the gleaming glass revolving door, and before she had a chance to greet the guys at security, one man dropped something and had to bend down to pick it up. On the way up the elevator, a woman she didn’t know very well from bookkeeping began an immediate, deep conversation about the latest diet fad with a woman leaning in the opposite corner.

  When the door slid open on the ninth floor, three separate colleagues pivoted at the same moment, each murmuring about forgetting something. People seemed to be acting funny. When Sarah disembarked on her own floor, she expected the entire human resources department to ignore her like she thought everyone had done so far. But maybe it was just a wrong perception. Maybe she was just afraid. And as the elevator doors opened again, she knew she’d been wrong. Everyone was welcoming her. Sarah lost count of all the people who rose from their desks and came to greet her.

  “We’re so glad to have you back, Sarah!”

  “Oh my goodness, that’s quite the bandage on your arm. But you look great for what you’ve been through.”

  “We thought we’d lost you. So glad you’re still with us.”

  Rona came prancing along in search of a printout from someone’s overloaded flash drive only to see Sarah and embrace her with a squeal. “You should have seen Tom that day,” she whispered in Sarah’s ear. “Making phone calls. Trying to get things done around this place. He was beside himself without you here.”

  Sarah straightened and surveyed Rona’s face, searching for some clue.

  Rona nodded. “You know Tom. He went a little crazy.”

  “Did he?” she asked with a spark of interest.

  “His wife had to come in and calm him down. Even then, she didn’t do a very good job of it.”

  “Maribeth came in?” Sarah asked, her throat tightening.

  “I know. She never does that. But you really shook everybody up. And Tom wouldn’t come out of his office for a while.”

  “So sorry I shook everyone up.” Sarah wanted to believe that things had been in an uproar without her. But she kept having foggy flashbacks to things she had seen while she was gone. She kept telling herself it was all nonsense, just a silly dream. Or perhaps a nightmare. That might have been a more accurate description.

  Sarah kept trying to get back to business as usual in her life, but something didn’t seem quite the same and she couldn’t figure it out.

  “You should be sorry.” Leo bolted from their joint office and, with a broad grin, offered her an energetic handshake. “Mrs. Harper. I’ll bet your family is glad you’re okay. And I know I usually ride the ‘L,’ but I sure wouldn’t have minded coming to pick you up today. I could have saved your husband the trip.”

  “I know you didn’t mind, Leo.” Sarah looked at the faces around her and, for the first time, saw how they wanted to help her. “I tell you, just knowing you were willing made me feel good.” She started toward her office, then stopped, turned back to him. “Leo. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His eyes narrowed. He looked like he might be thinking, What? Was that Mrs. Harper paying me a compliment?

  As he scurried off to his next duty, Sarah watched his retreating spine. Ordinarily, his eagerness to please drove her a little nuts. But she wanted to do something nice for Leo. Something that would make him understand how much he was worth. Something he wouldn’t know had come from her.

  Sarah stood in the hallway, watching him go and couldn’t describe what was happening in her heart. A gentle welling up of love for these people. How grateful she felt that they were still here.

  She turned to see Tom Roscoe stepping out of the elevator. His eyes slid toward Rona, who gave him a slight smile, and then toward Sarah. At first it didn’t register that he’d left the confines of his gilded office and descended from his thronelike perch just to have a word with her. He stood in front of Sarah, assessing her with a critical eye. Why aren’t you out there on the trading floor? she expected him to ask. We don’t build this company by standing around, do we?

  But Tom surprised her. He smiled. “It’s good to have you back in your rightful place, Sarah.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Roscoe.”

  “I expect the Cornishes will want to schedule another meeting to discuss trading strategy as soon as possible.”

  “I expect they will too.”

 
“And you’re up for that?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Very good. I’ll have Rona check with you about your schedule.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah repeated as she turned toward Rose from accounting and shot her a disbelieving glance. “I’ll let you know when I can fit it in.”

  “Very good.” Tom started across the room. But he turned back. “And Sarah?”

  “Yes?”

  “I guess it would have been pretty tough on us if you’d really been gone.”

  Well, yes, Sarah thought. I guess it would have been tough all right.

  It was one of those comments you don’t know exactly how to answer. She shrugged, feeling awkward. “Luckily, you didn’t have to find out.”

  “No.” He’d been carrying a pen in his fist. He pitched it in the air and caught it again. “Luckily. Now things can go on just as they were.”

  After Tom left, Sarah noticed one of the ninth-floor guys headed her way. He nodded in her direction, opened his mouth as if he intended to make some snide comment about her driving prowess. But then he snapped his mouth shut again as if he’d thought better of it.

  “You know what?” she asked, suddenly thinking of something. “The weirdest thing happened. I dreamed you guys got together and flipped a coin for my parking space. Isn’t that crazy?”

  Ninth-Floor Guy froze in his tracks. He glanced in both directions like he was checking to see if anybody would overhear.

  “Yeah,” he said, “that’s crazy all right,” his face turning quite red.

  “What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he retorted. Before she could ask him anything else, he bolted away.

  One particularly endearing trait of Chicagoans is that they think nothing of making noises together. Big noises. Loud, strident noises.

  Their collective moan every time the “L” train stops for nightly construction.

  Their shared sigh when a bridge opens and they have to wait before crossing over.