“The trauma specialist will decide if he needs to be flown to Anchorage. But let’s not worry about that now.” Shannon rolled a stool up beside the bed and patted it with her hand. “Come close so he can hear you.”
Lauren sat down and reached for Blake’s hand. His fingers were warm but unresponsive to her touch. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed. “Hey,” she whispered. “It’s me.” She glanced at Shannon who nodded and offered an encouraging smile.
“You’ve had a lot of excitement this week.” She smoothed the sheet again, tucking it tighter under his side. “I’m sorry I contributed to that.”
This was excruciating. “Your mom says I only have a few minutes. There’s some things I want you to know about our son, just in case I don’t get another chance to tell you.” Her voice broke, and she looked away, right at Shannon, whose eyes shimmered with tears.
Lauren dragged the back of her hand across her nose and sniffed. “He’s eight now. You probably figured that out already. He lives on a farm in Milton-Freewater, Oregon. That’s eastern Oregon, by the way. I haven’t visited him but his parents write this great blog and they post awesome pictures. I’ll show it to you when you—when you wake up.”
One of the monitors behind her started to beep more frequently and she shot a glance at Shannon. “Keep going,” she whispered, watching the monitor over Lauren’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry I never told you about him. I regret that so much. I know you’d be a great dad.” She watched his chest rise and fall as the ventilator pushed air in and out of his lungs. “I was scared and I thought I could handle it by myself. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Lauren, look.” Shannon pointed toward the monitor, her eyes bright.
She twisted on the stool to look at the numbers but none of it made sense anymore. She shook her head. “What? I don’t get it.”
“I think he hears you. As soon as you started talking, his heart rate picked up a little. Say something else.”
That’s crazy. If he could hear her, why didn’t he open his eyes? She swallowed hard and squeezed Blake’s hand. “His name is Shaun. The boy. Our son. His parents seem really cool. I wish—” she was babbling now. Her cheeks grew hot. She stared at the monitor. Shannon was right. As long as she was talking, his heart rate picked up a few beats per minute.
“Mrs. T, you won’t believe this,” Shannon said as the door opened and Blake’s parents came and stood behind Lauren. “When Lauren talks, Blake’s heart rate increases. Show them. Say something else.”
Lauren hesitated. She hadn’t expected an audience.
“We’re all pulling for you, Blake. Jeremy and Megan aren’t here yet but I know they’ll come as soon as they can. I heard Coach is finally announcing his retirement this week. Wouldn’t you love to coach basketball this winter?” The monitor increased its beeping significantly.
Mrs. Tully moved closer and studied the numbers on the screen. Lauren noted his heart rate was increasing while his oxygen saturation looked questionable. She turned to mention it to Shannon, whose face was already clouded with concern.
“Shan—” Lauren pointed, her own heart rate increasing as a wave of uncertainty washed over her. The monitors standing guard around Blake changed from a steady beep to an ominous screech. Shannon’s expression grew stern and she locked eyes with Mrs. Tully.
“Out. Now.” Shannon pointed to the door. “I mean it, Sandy. Go.”
Lauren cried out as someone grasped her shoulders and pulled her off of the stool. “What’s happening?”
Mr. Tully had one arm around her and the other around his wife. She watched in horror as Mrs. Tully pressed her fist to her mouth and clutched her husband’s shirt as he forced her out of the room. “No.” she whimpered, her eyes wide in disbelief. He grunted as she clawed wildly at his arms. “Let me go, Ben. They’re losing him!”
Lauren’s knees buckled and spots of color flashed in her peripheral vision. Was it hot in here? Heart hammering in her chest, she reached for Mr. Tully’s arm. Help me. Crumpling to the floor, she noticed that the linoleum felt so cool against her cheek before everything went black.
thirty two
I’m thirsty. She was absolutely parched but she couldn’t find her water bottle. Her head ached and somebody was messing with her hand. Stop. She tried to swat them away but they just kept grabbing her wrist.
“I think she’s coming around.” A man’s voice pierced her thoughts.
This bed is hard. She shifted to her side but her shoulder protested. And the light was shining right in her eyes. She grunted. Turn that thing off.
“Pupils equal and reactive to light,” the voice said again. What is he talking about? It sounded similar to something Dr. Putnam had taught her. Pearls? Pearly? She couldn’t remember. It was for assessing concussions. Wait. Concussions. Blake.
She opened her eyes and tried to put up a hand to shield them from the bright fluorescent light shining down on her. She turned her head slowly and found her face was just inches away from someone’s knees and a white lab coat. Her eyes traveled up to find a man leaning over, staring at her.
“Ms. Carter? I’m Dr. Adams. How are you feeling?” He asked as he slipped a penlight back into his pocket.
“I’m thirsty,” she whispered.
“We’ll get you something to drink in a minute. How’s your head?”
She thought for a second. “It hurts.”
“You took a little spill, but I think you’ll be fine. Can you try and sit up?”
She glanced around and realized she was lying on the floor in the hallway of the hospital. “What happened?”
“I wasn’t with you but it sounds like you passed out. When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?”
She shrugged. “Yesterday, maybe. I don’t really know.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s just after five now. I’d like to get an IV going and keep you for observation, just to make sure everything is okay.”
Observation? She tried to see past him to Blake’s room. Didn’t he know there were much bigger issues to deal with right now?
“Do you know what’s going on with that guy in there?” She pointed in the general direction of Blake’s room.
“Don’t you worry. He’s in good hands. Can you sit up?” Dr. Adams slipped a hand behind her shoulder and prodded her into a sitting position. Her vision swam and she felt nauseous as he propped her up against the wall. “There you go. How’s that?”
She grimaced. “Not too good.”
“Let’s sit here for just a minute and then we’ll move you to a chair.” He touched his fingers to her wrist and checked his watch again.
“Do you think we could speed this up? I really need to get back in that room.” She looked around for the Tully’s or Shannon, anybody that could give her an update. The hallway was deserted except for her and the good doctor.
He smiled and patted her arm. “They’re a little busy in there right now. Let’s focus on getting you back on your feet.”
A nurse she didn’t recognize rolled a wheelchair down the hall and stopped next to her. “What’s that for?”
“You,” Dr. Adams said.
“I don’t need—”
“There she is. Oh, Lauren, thank God.” Lauren saw Mom coming from the corner of her eye. Mom stopped and knelt down beside her, pressing her hand to Lauren’s forehead. Her eyes were filled with worry. “Is she going to be alright, Dr. Adams?”
Dr. Adams nodded. “I think so. She passed out, probably a combination of shock and dehydration. I want to keep her for observation but she’s a little resistant.”
Lauren’s eyes flickered to his. “I’m not resistant. I’m just worried about Blake.”
The creases in Mom’s forehead deepened. “I heard there was a terrible accident. What’s the latest?”
Dr. Adams ignored the question and rattled off instructions to the nurse. “Let’s get Ms. Carter into a room and check her vitals, please.” He offered h
er a hand and pulled her to her feet. She stood slowly, her legs trembling. After a few tentative steps she sank down into the wheelchair. She kept her eyes glued to the door of Blake’s room until the nurse wheeled her around and she couldn’t see anymore. This was ridiculous.
They rolled into the first available room and Mom sat down in a chair next to the window. While the nurse pulled the silver stand closer and attached the blood pressure cuff to her arm, Lauren stared at the clock on the wall and analyzed Blake’s condition. Was it hypothermia? Could he survive an airlift at this point? Would they even be able to land the helicopter in this weather? Her stomach churned. If she didn’t hear something, anything, she was going to go out of her mind.
“Have you seen Sandy or Ben?” Mom asked.
“We were all in Blake’s room together and then he started crashing and they chased us out.” She shivered. Mom’s face went white and she gripped the armrests of the chair. Lauren glanced at the nurse. “Do you know anything about the guy down the hall? Blake Tully?”
“Open.” The nurse ignored her question and held a thermometer in front of Lauren’s mouth. She obeyed, hoping compliance might gain favor and more information.
Once she’d noted Lauren’s blood pressure and pulse on a pad of paper, she removed the thermometer. “He’s still hanging in there. But you didn’t hear that from me. You understand? Stay here.” She turned and left the room.
“I’m going to get you a bottle of water and see what I can find out,” Mom said and slipped out behind the nurse.
Lauren counted squares on the ceiling tiles, flipped through an old Sports Illustrated magazine and watched the squirrels outside the window. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and Mrs. Tully appeared with Mom behind her.
Lauren’s heart hammered as she studied their ashen expressions. Mrs. Tully’s eyes were still red and puffy, her mascara smudged across her cheeks. Strands of hair had come loose from her ponytail, only adding to her disheveled appearance. “Hey, you gave us a little scare out there. How are you feeling?”
“I’ll be fine.” Lauren gave a dismissive wave. “How’s Blake?”
Mrs. Tully leaned against the cabinet that housed the tiny stainless steel sink and crossed her arms. “Dr. Wheeler just came out to give us an update. Blake is stable but in critical condition. He did not go into cardiac arrest, as we originally thought. We’re still talking about the coma. If he makes it through the night his chances of survival will be even better.”
Lauren felt empty and numb. If he makes it through the night? “I don’t understand. How can one bump on the head cause so much trouble?”
Mrs. Tully was silent for a minute, as though weighing the impact of her words. “Head trauma is pretty low on the list of priorities at this point. We’re worried about complications of near-drowning. A small amount of aspirated fluid, in this case fresh water, can do a lot of damage. We’re just taking it minute by minute.” She stepped away from the counter, squared her shoulders and trained her eyes on Lauren. “I appreciate your concern. But for now I think it’s best if only immediate family visits him.”
Lauren’s stomach coiled in a tighter knot. “I totally get where you’re coming from, but don’t—”
“This isn’t up for discussion, Lauren. Ben and I have to do what’s best for our son.” Without another word, she turned and left the room.
Lauren could only stare after her, the painful reality sinking in. Of course they would shut her out. They obviously blamed her for that last scare. She could only imagine Ben and Sandra, huddled in the hallway outside their first-born’s room, kicking themselves for ever letting her in Blake’s room. We just knew it would be too much for him, hearing the sound of her voice. Now look at him, barely hanging on … never again. From now on, family only—
Mom came and stood beside her, interrupting Lauren’s painful reverie. The dark circles under her eyes had deepened to a deeper shade of violet, if that was even possible. Worry was etched in the lines between her brow. “He’s a fighter, sweetheart. We’re all praying he comes out of this.”
Slipping her arms around Lauren’s shoulders, Mom hugged her close. Lauren sat stiffly, resisting the embrace. But the hurt and sorrow were too much and she pressed her cheek against Mom’s shoulder and let the tears fall once again.
“I’m so sorry. I know those probably sound like empty words but I’d give anything to make this all better for you.” Mom pulled back, reaching for a tissue from the box beside the sink.
Lauren’s chest heaved, fighting against the weight of the despair that nearly crushed her. The words did indeed sound empty. These last thirty-six hours confirmed what she’d always known. Every relationship that truly mattered in her life was based on a lie and try as she might, every single one eventually fell to pieces.
thirty three
Lauren awoke as her bedroom filled with the first light of a new day. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. The numbers glowed green against a black background: 4:30. Dr. Adams had released her from the hospital after dinner and Mom insisted she get some sleep. She vaguely remembered coming home and falling into bed, exhausted. A few solid hours of sleep helped her fatigue but did nothing for the ache in her heart. What if he didn’t make it? He has to. Please. Just one more chance. With a heavy sigh, she climbed out of bed and trudged to the shower.
She twisted her hair into a bun on top of her head, turned the knobs until the water was as hot as she could stand it. Undressing, she stepped into the stream and washed quickly. The sooner she could get to the hospital, the sooner she could find out how Blake had fared overnight. Cutting off the water, she reached for her towel and dried off. The muffled tone of her phone ringing came from somewhere in the bedroom. A shot of adrenaline sent her scrambling from the bathroom. What if it was the hospital?
She traded her towel for her bath robe, shivering as she scooped her phone off the bed. Glancing at the screen, she saw Mrs. Putnam’s name and smiled. Mrs. Putnam could use Facetime? Who knew?
She swiped at the screen and waited until Mrs. Putnam’s face popped up. “Mrs. Putnam? Is that you?”
“Hello, dear. Oh, my. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Mrs. Putnam smiled, patting her silver curls into place.
“No, I just finished a quick shower. How’s Morocco?”
“Oh, it’s lovely. Dwight and I have met so many interesting people and he’s already done some surgeries. But I didn’t call to talk about me. The Lord really prompted me to check in on you. How are things?”
Lauren bit the inside of her cheek. “So much has happened, I don’t even know where to start. My family found out about the baby, Mrs. P.”
Mrs. Putnam’s eyes bulged. “Oh, my. How did that go?”
“They were shocked, of course. But it turns out they have a big secret of their own.”
“How about that. What kind of a secret?”
“Long story short, it turns out my mom is actually my aunt.”
She could see the surprise register on Mrs. Putnam’s face. “Well, that’s quite a revelation, isn’t it? How are you feeling? Like a tremendous weight has been lifted from your shoulders?”
Lauren sank onto her bed. “No, not really. I feel worse.”
Mrs. Putnam’s brow creased with worry. “Why is that?”
“I told the baby’s father, too. He had no idea. He’s extremely angry. Then there was this terrible accident. He might not make it. If I—’’
“Slow down, dear. One thing at a time. Who was in an accident?”
“Blake. The baby’s father. He almost drowned. I’m waiting to hear an update this morning. The prognosis was not good.”
Even from halfway around the world, Lauren could see Mrs. Putnam’s troubled expression as she processed the news. “It’s unfortunate that you’re dealing with all of this at once. Not the best timing, is it?”
Lauren shook her head. “No. It’s terrible. I’m supposed to go back to Portland tomorrow for an interv
iew. But if I leave and Blake doesn’t pull through, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You must be overwhelmed, to say the least. I can tell how much you care for him.” Mrs. Putnam tilted her head. “I guess I’m confused. If you’re so concerned about Blake, why not stay?”
“Well, I feel like I should follow through on the interview. I can’t live in Portland without a job, and right now I’m a little concerned about being evicted.” Lauren frowned. Those were valid reasons to go, right?
“I see you’ve given this some thought. But I’d like to offer a different perspective.”
“Of course.”
“When you get back to Portland and you have to deal with Holden and Monique on your own, yet you have these unresolved issues from home weighing on your mind … where are you going to run to next?”
Ouch. Lauren winced. “What are you trying to say?”
“You’ve lived a great deal of your adult life in a state of self-preservation, running from difficult situations. I don’t think you should leave the people you care about the most right now.”
“Wow, tell me you how really feel, Mrs. P.”
Mrs. Putnam smiled gently. “Now is not the time for sugar coating. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Lauren squirmed on the bed. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to hear this right now.”
“I’m on your side, remember?” Mrs. Putnam’s eyes filled with warmth. “My prayer for you has always been that you will let go of the mistakes in your past and embrace all that God has in store for you.”
“I’m trying. But as you pointed out, this is a lot for a girl to handle at once.”
“Yes, it is. And you’re free to make your own decisions. But God still reigns, even though you’ve tried your best to ignore Him and micromanage the details.”
“You don’t understand.” Lauren stood up, clutching her robe closed with one hand and holding the phone in the other. “If God cares about me, why are my most important relationships always falling apart?”
Unraveled Page 23
