His Frozen Heart

by Nancy Straight

  “Has Mark talked to her?”

  He shook his head. He had still been holding the salt shaker when I asked the question, but he squeezed it and it skidded across the table. Dave groped for the little shaker, glanced at me and answered in a clinical tone, “He said that’s why he left for Kansas City. Mark said he was standing on a street corner and saw her driving a minivan stopped at a red light. He had been excited to see her. She saw him standing there, then drove away.”

  My stomach knotted. Who could do that to their child? “Oh. Poor Mark. Maybe she didn’t recognize him.”

  Absently he answered, “Maybe. But Mark told me that’s why he took off. He believed I was dead. There had been no sign of Dad since a few years after I was born. Our mother had given us up. When she saw him on that street corner and drove away, Mark said he couldn’t take it. He said he wanted a new life.”

  I brushed my knee against his, trying to offer whatever comfort I could. “One day, maybe the two of you will get a chance to talk to her – to make peace.”

  Dave shook his head. “I don’t need to make peace. There is hate and love. To feel either of those things about someone you have to have feelings for them – I don’t feel either. I don’t feel anything for her and I don’t ever need to see her.” He must have been surprised by my expression because he clarified, “Mark may need to make peace. I don’t.”

  “You said you don’t remember her?”

  “No. Not really. I think I remember what she looked like, but I was four when she gave us to the state.” His eyes focused on the wall behind me, “I’ll never do that. If I have a kid, he’ll know I want him.”

  I reached under the little table and put my hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His hand gripped mine, as his eyes left the wall and focused on me. Barely more than a whisper, Dave asked, “How could she do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She threw us both away. She didn’t even give us a chance.”

  “It was her loss. Look at what you have become.”

  “Yeah, look at me. I’m such a catch.”

  Squeezing his hand under the table, I agreed, “Yes. You are.” A look of disbelief stared back at me. I wished he could see himself through my eyes. “You’re honest. You’re kind. You’re successful. You have done it all on your own: you’ve beaten the odds.”

  Dave’s eyes stared at the table. “I hate being alone.”

  I squeezed his knee again. “You’re not alone. You’ve got me.”

  “Until I start to drive you crazy. I’m obsessive compulsive, not just about my things, but about everything. I’m that way about my schedule, my garage, even my laundry.”

  I stood up from the table, walked around to his chair, sat on his lap and draped my arms over his neck. He looked embarrassed by my PDA, but his arms encircled me. A few curious stares from the other customers shot my way, but I didn’t care. “I think you’re perfect. I’m not going anywhere.” His arms cinched tight around me as he buried his face on the still sore bruise on my neck. It hurt, but I didn’t pull away.

  I noticed our waitress standing a few feet back holding our plates. I kissed his forehead and stood up returning to my seat. I had ordered an omelet. It was easily big enough for three people, but I didn’t care. I didn’t stop until my plate was completely empty. Dave must have been as hungry as I was, because the waitress collected two empty plates when she brought our check.

  He asked, “Ready to go see Libby?”

  I was. I thought of her still body that I had visited Friday night, remembering the worry I had shared with her while she was unconscious. I wanted my friend back. I would take whatever I could get, even if it was just a piece of the Libby I loved. A sliver of the person she had been was better than nothing at all.

  Chapter 28

  We arrived at the hospital and for the first time all week, Larry wasn’t in the waiting room. Compared to other visits, there were remarkably few people in the ICU’s waiting room. An initial feeling of dread washed over me. The doctor was supposed to wake her up yesterday; what if he tried, and she didn’t wake up? Why else would Larry not be here?

  The large windows along the west wall allowed a great deal of natural light through. I looked around the room desperately trying to locate Larry; there wasn’t a dark corner anywhere for him to be tucked away in. The room’s decor was just as inviting as it had been the other times I was here, but I stood frozen in place. Tears welled up in my eyes as my feet planted themselves. Dave took two steps past me before he realized I was stuck. He turned and must have seen the panic on my face because he pivoted and was directly in front of me. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  I shook my head indicating that I wasn’t okay. Just two nights ago, I had been in her room, begging her to wake up – there had been no response. What if, when she woke up, there was so much damage she wouldn’t know me anymore? Dave’s hand took mine, his voice strained, “Not knowing is worse than even the worst case scenario. C’mon, let’s ask the nurse how she is.”

  My feet reluctantly followed as Dave led the way to the nurse’s station. A young friendly nurse looked up from her desk, “Can I help you?”

  My voice wouldn’t work. Dave saw me struggling, so he asked for me, “We’d like to see Libby Merrick.”

  The nurse’s fingers hammered hard on the keyboard in front of her. When her screen produced the info he had asked for, she looked up at the two of us as a wide smile spread on her face. “Sorry, you’re on the wrong floor.”

  Wrong floor? Libby had been moved. Had she been moved to a regular patient room? Was she okay? The knot in my stomach refused to unfurl, as images of Libby in a long-term care facility or even a hospice wing flashed through my thoughts. Dave must have sensed I was still unable to form questions, because he asked her, “Oh, okay. Where can we find her?”

  “Room 230.”

  Dave tugged my arm in the direction of the elevator, but I needed to know. I let go of his hand and lay both of my palms on her desk. I swallowed the lump in my throat then whispered, “Is she okay?”

  The nurse answered warmly, “She’s awake.”

  The pressure on my stomach eased at her answer. I could feel an enormous smile form on my face. “Thanks!” I spun around and was pulling Dave toward the elevator. My steps were as light as Libby’s the night she told the school superintendent that she was the gingerbread girl while she skipped over his front lawn at two in the morning. Libby was okay! Wait, the nurse hadn’t said she was okay. She said she was awake and had been moved out of intensive care.

  When the elevator doors opened on the second floor, Larry was sitting in a waiting room watching a NASCAR race. He looked thrilled to see me, “You made it! I was beginning to worry about you! She’s been asking for you.”

  His words brought me up short. “Libby? She’s been asking for me? So, she’s okay?”

  He shook his head as if in disbelief, “She’s been getting better the last two days. Where have you been?”

  “Two days? I thought the doctor was going to wake her up yesterday afternoon?”

  Larry chuckled. “That was the plan, but you know Libby. She does everything on her terms. It was the strangest thing – she woke up right after you left Friday night.”

  “What?!”

  “Yeah. You should have seen the hospital staff scrambling. Her doctor told me they had enough meds in her to keep a Clydesdale sedated. She woke up within a half hour of you leaving on Friday.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “When she woke up the doctors were running tests for hours. By the time I saw her it was after midnight. She asked for you right away – I told her you had left but were going to be back after your shift at the restaurant on Saturday. She told me not to call you because she wanted to surprise you. When you didn’t come last night before visiting hours were over, I called your cell and left a bunch of voice mails. Didn’t you get them?”

  My phone was still in my coat pocket hangi
ng on a hook at the restaurant. We hadn’t gone back to retrieve my coat or my car after my run-in with Grey. “No, I got. . . sidetracked yesterday. I left my jacket at the restaurant with my cell in the pocket. The restaurant is closed today.”

  Larry motioned toward her door, “Well, she’s anxious to see you.” I was going to introduce Dave to Larry, but when I turned to make the introduction, Larry was staring at him. It was strange, Larry’s look was uneasy.

  “Larry, this is Dave. He went to high school with Libby and me.”

  Larry held out his hand awkwardly. “Dave. . .Brewer?”

  Strange. I didn’t remember ever talking about Dave when Larry and Libby were dating. Dave took Larry’s hand, “Yeah, nice to meet you. Have we met?”

  “Um, no, thanks for finding Henry. He’s in with Libby now. How did you find him anyway?” The strange look on Larry’s face didn’t change. His words were shaky and his height seemed to shrink in front of us.

  Dave shrugged his shoulders. “There aren’t that many Henry Merrick’s in the area. I just asked around. A guy I had rebuilt an F100 for last spring knew him. He gave me some places to look for Henry.”

  Staring at Dave in disbelief, I asked, “You found Libby’s dad?”

  He smiled. “After I went back to the restaurant and they said you left because of the rat, I drove back to my place. I was hoping you would call or stop by. I got to thinking about you telling me that you didn’t know how to get a hold of Libby’s dad to tell him what had happened. I called a couple customers who seemed to know everyone in Lincoln – one of them knew him. He gave me a couple bars to try. I called around while I was waiting for you.”

  Why hadn’t I thought to do that? I leaned in and kissed him just to the side of his lips. “That was really sweet of you.”

  Before he could tell me it was no big deal, Larry pointed me toward Libby’s room. The room was bright from sunshine pouring in through the window. Her head was propped up on pillows. Her skin was pale, there was a large bandage on the side of her head just behind her temple, where the huge tube had been the last time I saw her. No machines were hooked up to her, and her smile beamed back at me. “Candy! You’re here!” The turtle I had smuggled into her ICU room from her bedroom was setting beside her on her hospital bed.

  Aside from the color of her skin and the area where her head had been shaved, she looked good. She looked like Libby. She sounded groggy but like the Libby I had known forever. I hadn’t even noticed her dad sitting in a chair against the wall in her room until he offered, “There you are. I’ve been keeping her company waiting for you to get here.”

  I glanced in his direction. “Hi, Mr. Merrick. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I intend to fix that. You two girls will be seeing a lot more of me.”

  Libby was all smiles. All those times we had carefully avoided him around town, something must have changed, because she seemed pleased with the prospect of seeing him more frequently. “Sounds good to me. You know where we live. Come by anytime.”

  Libby’s dad held out his hand to Dave, “You’re Dave?” I nodded enthusiastically as Henry added gratefully, “Thanks for letting me know about my little girl.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Larry joined us and, between Libby, her dad, Larry, Dave and me, our happy voices carried up and down the hall. No one, not even a grumpy nurse popped in to tell us to keep it down. Whispers weren’t an option when someone had so narrowly beaten death. I used Dave’s phone to post on Facebook to let everyone know Libby had been in an “accident” but was able to have visitors. A steady stream of friends and her co-workers began arriving within a half hour and didn’t diminish until visiting hours were over. Dave and I stayed the entire day and well into the night.

  One of the nurses commented that Libby must have been some sort of a local celebrity because they’d never seen so many people all looking for one patient. It was selfish of me to believe that only I loved Libby. People we had gone to high school with, played pool with, gone to bonfires with, and even her coworkers all popped in to check on her. When one of the nurses gently reminded us that visiting hours were over fifteen minutes ago, Dave took my hand and led me toward the door.

  Libby hadn’t asked me anything about what had happened to her. I assumed Larry had filled her in. Libby motioned me back toward her bed, took my hand, and asked, “Are you okay?”

  I wasn’t sure if she had seen the scratches on my hands, the bruise on my neck or what, but I answered without a moment’s hesitation. “I have a lot to tell you. Thanks for waking up.”

  She leaned in conspiratorially toward my ear, “Have you seen my doctor?”

  Worry crept into my voice when I answered, “No, do you need me to go get him?”

  “I’m pretty sure Larry would never forgive me if I asked for his number, but holy crap, he was an eyeful when I woke up.” Libby was back. Only she could come through an ordeal like this and notice the hotness wearing a stethoscope and a lab coat. I gave her a gentle squeeze and whispered into her ear, “Don’t worry, if things don’t work out with Larry, I got his phone number.”

  Chapter 29

  (Two months later)

  Libby stood in the doorway of the kitchen, resting up against the thick wooden frame. “I got paid. You want me to pick up anything at the store?”

  Shaking my head, I didn’t look up from the pot on the stove. I had made jambalaya, and it was ten minutes from perfection. Cooking had never been my thing, but lately I’d been hitting Rachel Ray’s website for recipes. “We just went yesterday; I think we’re good on everything.”

  “Well, here,” she handed me a wad of twenties, “at least let me chip in on the rent.”

  I waved her money off, “We’re already paid up through next month. Keep it.”

  She wore a sorrowful look when she pleaded, “Candy, I can help.”

  I shook my head as my eyes went to where her hair was finally growing back. In the hospital, the staff had shaved the side of her head so they could put the tube in to drain fluids from her brain. Libby had had long blonde hair for as long as I had known her – naturally blonde, nothing she had to touch up every couple months. She ended up getting a short cut to try to camouflage the fact that it had been bare skin from her ear to her temple. The style looked cute on her, but each time I saw the thin patch of hair on one side of her head, guilt washed over me all over again.

  It wasn’t until after she had been out of the hospital and home for over a week that I could ask her if she remembered what had happened the night she was attacked. Her memory was blotchy. She remembered answering a knock at the door, Grey forcing his way into the house, but she didn’t remember the attack. Neither one of us knew how Grey learned where I worked, but we concluded he must have still been in the house when I left in a rush for work, and he followed me there.

  Libby concluded that my abrupt departure probably saved her life that night. Her doctor told her one more hit to the head would have been a death blow. I shared that had I not been sleeping like the dead, I should have heard the attack going on in our living room.

  Her hand still held the folded twenties she had offered. Instead of accepting them I reminded her, “That was the deal, Libby. You fought back and didn’t die: I told you I’d get another roommate to help cover the bills.”

  “I never agreed to it. I was unconscious, remember? Let me help.”

  “A deal’s a deal.” I meant every word of my promise to her that night. I didn’t want her to shark anymore, or if she did, I didn’t want her ability to con some guy to be the means for us to eat. I had kept up my end of the deal. She still went to the bars and played, but nowadays she had a new partner. She never told him to wear skirts, either. “When’s Larry going to be here?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, “Soon. He got off at five. He was going to stop off at his place and change.” She leaned up against the table watching me for a second before she asked, “So what’s your deal? Larry doesn’t make
your skin crawl anymore?”

  Her question caught me off guard. Before the assault I had been very vocal about how little I liked him. I had even done a happy dance in the kitchen the day she told me they had broken up. “Nope. He’s okay.”

  “Did you two bond or something?”

  Larry never left her side. He slept in the waiting room of the ICU for almost a week, then camped out in her hospital room for three days after her condition had stabilized. He went so far as to try to set up payments with the hospital before she had been discharged, though not needed: the bill had been paid in full by an anonymous benefactor. He loved her and nothing short of a crowbar would have removed him from her life after she recovered. “Yeah, I guess so. I still think you could do better, but if you’re happy with him, then I’m happy for you.”

  “Wow, Candy, that was almost an endorsement. Why the change of heart?”

  Libby had talked to her doctors, so she knew how lucky she was to be alive. What she didn’t get was how much her attack had affected all of us. Larry took a leave of absence from his job because he couldn’t stand to be away from her for any length of time, not just while she was in the hospital but throughout her recovery.

  Henry popped in at least once a week since she’d left the hospital. This was strange, because I’d now seen him more since her accident than I had the whole time we were in high school. She had carefully avoided him before, but seemed excited about each of his visits.

  Mrs. Bavcock stopped by at least three mornings a week for coffee and had recently begun dropping off cookies, too. Her family was in the area, but after everything we had been through together, she decided to take on the role of Honorary Mom to both Libby and me.

  I called Mom and Dad after Libby was out of the hospital and told them what had happened. Mom was on a plane the same night – she wasn’t the least bit upset about the carpet or sofa. Mom spent the weekend with us and was pleased to see the floor deadbolts Mr. Kravitz had installed. She was pretty happy to see Larry and Dave keeping an eye on Libby and me, too.