“Or I could end up blind,” Kiera said, remembering something she’d read on the Internet last night.
Dr. Martindale shifted in his chair.
“Well . . . yes, in one eye. There’s always that danger,” he said. “But looking at the CAT scan, I don’t expect much difficulty. I really don’t. Look, Kiera—” He leaned forward across his desk, his expression almost pleading. “I know how worried you are. You have every right to be.”
“That’s what my friends keep telling me,” she whispered.
Nate shot her a curious look but didn’t ask, What friends?
“I’ve reviewed the scans with two specialists, and I honestly don’t expect any complication. We have to be cautious, of course. We always do when we’re dealing with the human brain, but if I were a betting man, I’d lay solid odds this is not cancerous. We’ll know more tomorrow.”
Kiera nodded and started to stand up to leave, but then she said, “When you make this . . . burr hole, will you have to shave my head?” She twiddled a strand of her long, red hair between her fingers.
“Probably not, but I can’t guarantee it.” Dr. Martindale softened a little, obviously aware that there was an element of vanity behind her question. “We may have to shave your left temple. It really depends on what we see on the CAT scan that we’ll do just before the surgery.”
“I have to go through that again?”
“We have to check the tumor against the previous scan to see if there’s been any significant change. By the looks of things, I’d say this has been the same size for a while. It could have been something you’ve had since you were young. You may even have been born with it.”
“Born with it? Could it be—?” But she stopped herself after glancing at Nate.
“We can’t know why the symptoms presented now. It could—and I emphasize the word could—indicate recent growth. Do either of you have any more questions?”
Kiera shook her head, but it was obvious something was bothering Nate. She wasn’t ready for it when he asked, “What are the chances this could be a vestigial twin?”
Dr. Martindale sniffed and shook his head as he eased back in his chair. He was silent for a moment; then he pursed his lips and said, “I’ve been a doctor long enough to know that weird things can happen, Mr. Davis. I know there are numerous reported cases with . . . unusual circumstances. But in Kiera’s case, a vestigial twin is pretty close to one hundred percent impossible.”
“Why’s that?” Nate asked, shooting Kiera an I told you so look.
Kiera felt betrayed that he had even mentioned her concern, but like the mysterious phone call yesterday, she realized getting so worried last night was bordering on paranoia. In the clear light of day, her fears seemed to lose their potency.
“And why is that?” Nate repeated, glancing at Kiera.
Kiera couldn’t believe he was doing this to her. Was he trying to embarrass her? Make her look like a fool? It was almost like he was mocking her and making fun of her fears.
“For one thing,” Dr. Martindale said, “a vestigial twin occurring in the human brain has never been reported, at least that I know of. In the vast majority of cases, any such growth is detected in the lower abdomen, usually in the genital area. I suppose there could be the odd case of some embryonic material being found in a person’s skull or brain or any other part of their body, but . . .” He shook his head again, and it looked to Kiera as if he was trying not to laugh out loud. “It’s just highly unlikely.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Nate looked at Kiera with an almost smug look of satisfaction on his face. She felt all the angrier and—worse—hurt.
What do you think you’re doing? she wanted to scream at him, but she was too upset even to speak. Blushing with embarrassment, she looked at Dr. Martindale, who regarded her with what she thought was a sympathetic look.
Silence settled in the room, but then the doctor cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know what either one of you has been hearing or reading, but trust me. While no brain operation is ever routine, you have absolutely no need to worry. We’ll take care of this over the next few days, and you’ll be back to your old self in a matter of weeks.”
“I hope you’re right,” Kiera said even as she thought that couldn’t possibly be true. She was positive that, after the operation, things were never going to be the same.
4
Three days later, it was all over.
Kiera awoke in the recovery room feeling as though time had simply disappeared . . . slipped away into a black hole. She had no memories . . . no dreams . . . nothing but an empty void that she thought must be what death is like . . . except death never ends.
She regained consciousness very slowly. First, she was only aware of voices and activity around her. Sneakers squeaked on the floor; metal banged against metal. The sound of louder voices and laughter came through every now and then, and someone—she was pretty sure it wasn’t her—kept groaning as if in terrible pain.
She took her time coming back to reality. She liked where she was and didn’t want to force herself to get closer to consciousness any quicker than absolutely necessary. Sounds were muted, and nothing seemed threatening. The voices were pleasant-sounding and happy. Sometimes they were calm and reassuring.
“. . . coming around, I see . . .” a woman who seemed to be quite close to her said.
Kiera was positive she replied, but there was no response from the person who had just spoken, so she let herself slip back down into the darkness where it was so comfortable and safe.
There was no time where she was, so she had no idea how long it had been, but she felt like a bubble, rising from the muddy bottom of a pond. One time, along with the voices, she could hear a steady beep-beep-beep that sounded like the warning buzzer of a truck that was backing up. Only much later did she realize it was some sort of medical equipment.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” a woman’s voice said. “How are you feeling?”
It might have been the same person who had spoken before. Kiera couldn’t tell. She tried to peel open her eyes, but the hazy brightness through her eyelids hurt, so she kept them closed. Her chest shuddered and made a watery rattling sound when she inhaled deeply.
“I’m—” she said, but that was all. Her throat was so parched it closed off as small waves of panic ran through her.
Where am I? . . . What happened?
“You did just fine,” the woman said mildly. “Don’t push. You have all the time you need.”
Kiera licked her lips, aware of the rough, sandpaper feeling. “How is . . . ? Is it over?” she managed to say.
“Everything went just fine. Would you like a sip of water?”
Kiera nodded, relieved to find it didn’t hurt to move. She had been expecting the slightest motion to send shooting pain through her head when she moved. She still had her eyes closed when a straw slipped between her lips, and she sucked gently. She reveled in the sudden wash of cool wetness that flooded her mouth and throat.
“Easy. Not too much,” the woman said as she pulled the straw away.
Kiera was mesmerized as she stared into the hazy glow that penetrated her eyelids. Indistinct colors and smeared shapes swirled before her like melting pinwheels. She raised her left hand and touched her forehead, feeling the padded bandage that was wrapped around her head. The strange thing was, she could barely feel her fingers, pressing against her head.
“Did they . . . shave my head?” she asked. She realized how vain she must sound, but she had to know.
“I wasn’t in the OR,” the woman said, “but I don’t think they shaved much . . . if any. Right now, your head’s bandaged.”
Kiera accepted that she wouldn’t get an answer right away, so she exhaled and settled her head into the pillow. It felt as cool and comfortable as a cloud, so she let herself drift away again.
The next time she came to, she was a little more aware of time passing. She groaned when she tried to open her eyes. It seemed l
ike she was losing the struggle against the harsh glare, but once her eyes were opened a slit, she found the muted amber light of the recovery room soothing. No one was at her bedside, but there was activity close by. She decided the nurse must be assisting someone else who was coming out of the anesthesia.
Rolling her head to one side, she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The solid reality of medical equipment gave her some reassurance, but she felt like she might still be dreaming. She was startled when a young woman wearing a hospital blouse and pants with a bright purple flower pattern came around the partially drawn curtain.
“Hey. You’re awake,” she said.
Her voice sounded familiar, and Kiera figured she must have been the one who gave her a drink when she first came to.
“Yeah,” Kiera said, noticing how weak she sounded.
The nurse walked over to her bed and did a quick blood pressure check, then glanced at the monitors and IV. She nodded with satisfaction and made some notes on the chart.
“You’re looking good,” the nurse said, “but we’ll wait a little while longer before we move you up to your room.”
“My . . . room?” Kiera asked, confused.
The woman nodded. “Looks like you’re going to be here for a day or two. For observation.”
A rush of fear went through Kiera.
“I’m okay, aren’t I? I mean, the operation went well, right?”
“Oh, absolutely,” the woman said, “but after surgery like yours, most people usually don’t waltz out of here after a couple of hours.”
Kiera realized she was tensed up, so she let out a loud sigh and settled her head back into the pillow.
“I’ll let Dr. Martindale know you’re awake,” the nurse said. “I’m sure he’ll stop by before you go to your room.”
Kiera heard and understood everything the woman was saying, but she closed her eyes and let it all slip away as she drifted off to sleep. It took her a while to remember that it had been only three days since Dr. Martindale had met with her to describe the procedure he would do. And now—just like that—it was over.
Or is it? a voice in the back of her mind asked. She couldn’t stop thinking that it wasn’t all over. In fact, the voice in her head kept telling her it had only just begun.
5
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
“You’re looking pretty good, considering.”
“Yeah . . . thanks . . . considering what, that I just had my skull opened up?”
“Yeah. There’s that.”
“What do you mean?”
A tingle of apprehension stabbed Kiera when she realized she had been gently pulled out of sleep while carrying on a conversation with this unseen person. She wasn’t ready to open her eyes. Since the other voice belonged to a woman, she assumed it was the nurse who had been by earlier to check on her, but now she realized that this voice sounded different. It must be later. The evening shift was on, and this was someone new. Kiera felt unaccountably uncomfortable. She had felt so secure with the other nurse, but now she felt . . .
Vulnerable . . .
“Am I going up to my room soon?” she asked, still not daring to open her eyes.
“How should I know?” the woman replied with a coldness that made Kiera shiver.
What’s going on? . . . This is no way to talk to a patient.
“I’m awfully thirsty,” Kiera said. “Could you get me—”
“Get it yourself. What, you think I’m your slave?”
Startled, Kiera opened her eyes and raised her head. Looking around, she saw an indistinct figure at the foot of her bed. It wasn’t much more than a dark smear against the bright light coming through the window. She could see that it was a woman, but if she was a nurse, she sure had a lousy bedside manner. If it was someone stopping by to see how she was doing, they had obviously gotten off on the wrong foot.
“Who are you?” Kiera asked, blinking her eyes and trying to make out the woman’s features.
There was something vaguely familiar about her silhouette, but Kiera couldn’t place it until the woman stepped around the corner of the bed and came closer. When she leaned over her and smiled, Kiera had to choke back a scream when she found herself looking up at her own face.
“This has been as hard on me as it has been for you,” the woman said. “Truth is, it’s been really confusing.”
Kiera couldn’t speak or breathe. She was convinced she was looking into a mirror, but the “reflection” didn’t match anything she said or did. She had a vague memory of something like this happening before, but she couldn’t recall when. Kiera knew her head was bandaged, but this woman’s shock of long, red hair framed her face and fell down over her shoulders. Her eyes were a shimmering green; her mouth was set in a firm line that showed little sympathy.
“Who are you? How did you—?” Kiera’s voice cut off, too weak to call out for help.
The woman’s upper lip curled into a faint sneer as she glanced to one side and scratched her cheek thoughtfully.
“Isn’t it obvious who I am?” she said. “But how I got here . . .” Her voice cut off as she shrugged and shook her head. “That is one heck of a conundrum.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at Kiera. “Tell you what. If I find out, you’ll be the first to know. Deal?”
She held her hand out to Kiera as if she actually expected her to shake with her, but Kiera shrank as far away from her as she could. Looking at the cloth curtain that separated her from the other recovering patients, she wished she had the strength to call for help, but her voice was lodged like a stone in her chest.
“I can’t stay,” the woman said. “This place gives me the willies.” Without another word, the redheaded woman turned and moved away from the bed.
A hazy, gray shadow shifted across the curtain and then dispersed like smoke. Kiera blinked and, when she looked around, saw no trace of the woman other than the shifting of the curtain as if a gentle breeze was blowing. A sudden constriction gripped her throat, making it almost impossible for her to breathe. She sucked in a tiny breath of air and then let out a surprisingly loud shriek. In an instant, the nurse who had been tending her before appeared at the bedside.
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes wide with concern.
Kiera stared at her, vaguely aware that her lips were moving as she gulped air like a fish out of water. Tears flooded her eyes, and in her panic, she batted feebly at the nurse as she leaned closer.
“Take it easy,” the nurse said, her voice firm but reassuring. “You’re all right. Everything’s all right.”
Swept up by a surge of panic, Kiera looked at the nurse and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Was it a dream or a hallucination? Nothing made sense. Her pulse was racing so fast her neck and wrists ached with every throb. She took a few short, wheezing breaths.
“I was . . . Someone just . . . Oh my God! My heart’s beating so fast . . . I was . . . scared.”
The nurse took the glass of water from the side table and held the straw to Kiera’s mouth so she could have a sip. That helped a little, but as Kiera looked around, she was gripped by a sense of impending danger. Even the faintest shadows seemed fraught with menace. Her eyes kept darting back and forth as she looked for any sign of the woman who had just been there, but she was gone.
She couldn’t have been real, Kiera told herself. Hospital staff would never treat a patient like that.
But no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, she found it impossible to settle down. The faintest sound, the slightest glimpse of motion in the corner of her eye made her jump and tense up, expecting to see that woman again. Then in a flash she remembered where she had seen the woman before. It had been when she was taking the CAT scan. And there was another time. A few days before, when she had been fixing her hair and looking into the bathroom mirror, she had noticed that her reflection didn’t match what she was doing. It had been like looking at a duplicate of herself.
“I have
to be imagining this,” she whispered, not aware she was speaking out loud.
“What’s that?” the nurse asked, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Huh . . . ?” Kiera shook her head, realizing what was going on. “Oh, nothing . . . I was just—”
She wanted to tell the nurse what she had just seen, but what good would it do? While it was possible someone on the hospital staff who looked like her had just stopped by, she was sure she either imagined or dreamed the woman.
“Do you think I’ll be able to go up to my room and get settled in soon?” Kiera asked.
The nurse shrugged and said, “The doctor has to check on you first. Your husband’s been in the waiting room all morning. Do you feel ready for a visitor?”
Kiera flushed and nodded. She hadn’t even thought about Nate, but suddenly the thought of him coming to see her made the feeling of dread even worse. He was a reminder of the life she had been living, but now, for some strange reason, Kiera knew things had changed. The operation had been like a watershed of some kind, she just didn’t know what yet.
But something had changed, she knew that much.
The nurse left, and as she lay there in the bed, waiting for Nate and Dr. Martindale to show up, she tried to figure out what had changed. In a curious way, she felt liberated, as though she had changed for the better somehow. Still, the cold, churning uneasiness in the pit of her stomach hadn’t gone away and, if anything, was only getting worse.
She didn’t have long to prepare herself before the curtain parted, and Nate walked up to her bed. He smiled at her, but Kiera saw something in his expression that bothered her. It was in his eyes. She was suddenly convinced that he was hiding something from her, but she could sense it, no matter how much he tried to mask it.
“Hey,” he said as he came close enough to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he backed away, looking like he didn’t know what to do next.
“Hey yourself,” Kiera replied. “Well, I guess I lived through it.” She narrowed her eyes and raised a hand to the bandage on her forehead. “It’s crazy to think that, just a few hours ago, they were operating inside my head.”
Unbroken Page 12
