If the Shoe Fits

by Sandra D. Bricker

  He looked up to find Angela Westborne leaning on the doorjamb, watching him with a smile.

  “What is it?”

  “The EKG was just taken.”

  “Good grief, it’s about time.”

  “I called down to light a fire underneath them. You’ll have all the results within thirty minutes.”

  “The X-ray, too?”

  “And the blood work.”

  “Very good, Angela. Thank you very much.” When she continued to hover in the doorway, Daniel raised his eyebrows and asked, “Something else?”

  “Pretty unusual, isn’t it?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Waking up after almost ten years the way she did.”

  “Oh,” he said, barking out a laugh. “Unusual. Yes. It’s unusual.”

  “Not like most of our patients.”

  “No, she’s not. And to tell you the truth, Angela, I’m relieved to finally get to make a call like that to the family.”

  “You called them then,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m sure they were thrilled.”

  He chuckled again. “She just said she’d be right here and hung up on me.”

  The two of them shared a laugh over it, and Angela’s entire demeanor softened as she tilted her head slightly and looked at him.

  “Shannon Ridgeway has become very special to all of us here, hasn’t she, Doctor?”

  “Well, it’s been nearly ten years,” he pointed out. “In my case, I’ve been her doctor every day since she was first admitted six months after her accident.”

  The look on Angela’s expressive face spoke volumes. Daniel recalled that she’d discovered him having lunch in Shannon’s room more than once, even found him asleep in the recliner next to her bed one night when he’d avoided heading home and decided to watch an episode or two of those old classic TV shows Edmund had asked him to play for her from time to time.

  “I’m just happy she’s the patient who woke up for you.”

  “Not for me,” he corrected. “For herself.”

  “When will you tell her about Mr. Ridgeway?”

  “Once her aunt arrives. I think it will be easier news to hear with family in the room to comfort her instead of a bunch of strangers.”

  Angela tapped the doorjamb several times and smiled. “I’ll bring you the results once they’re in my hands.”

  “Thank you.”

  Easier news to hear.

  The news of what had happened to Edmund would not be easy under any circumstances. Mere tolerability seemed like the best he could hope for, and Daniel bowed his head and prayed for just that.

  Prepare the ground, Lord. Please. Help her cope with what’s to come.

  “Could you ask my doctor to come back, please? He was here quite a while ago and said he’d return in an hour, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”

  The male voice on the other end of the speaker replied, “Sure thing.” Shannon waited, but he had nothing more to say, so she dropped the call button and let it sag over the side of the bedrail.

  She tossed her head back into the stack of pillows the X-ray technician had fluffed and placed behind her, and she released a growl of frustration. The buttery walls of her hospital room slowly crawled in a kaleidoscope pattern, and Shannon clamped her eyes shut in an effort to stop the movement.

  “You said she was awake?”

  Shannon’s eyes launched open and her head popped up, sending the room into another spin. “Ohh,” she moaned, and she dropped her head again and closed her eyes.

  “Shannie?”

  She eased her eyes open slowly and squinted at the elderly woman hovering over her bedside. Tears glazed the woman’s steel-gray eyes as she covered her mouth with the sausage-like fingers of her very round hand. Silver hair, pulled into a neat little circle at the top of her head, looked as if it had been combed upward over a pillow of air. Something about that funny bun reminded her of something, but what?

  “Oh, Shannie, you just don’t know how long we’ve prayed for this!”

  The woman’s voice sat very high at the back of her throat, breaking with emotion as she spoke.

  I know that voice.

  “Can you speak, dearie?”

  She hadn’t meant to gape at the woman, but Shannon could see that her astonished expression had wounded her.

  “You said she was talking to you?” the woman asked the tall Greek doctor with the shaggy dark hair.

  “Yes. She’s able to speak,” he confirmed. “I think she’s just feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment.” He moved toward her and took Shannon’s hand. “Shannon, do you remember me? I’m Dr. Petros. We met a little while ago.”

  She managed a nod, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the woman who had begun to weep softly.

  “Are you feeling all right?” the doctor asked.

  “Y—you never came back,” she muttered. “You said you were coming back to answer my questions.”

  “I know,” he replied, his attention diverted to the screen on the monitor behind her bed. “I wanted to get your test results.”

  “And did you?”

  “I did. Shannon, do you recognize your aunt?”

  My aunt.

  She narrowed her eyes and regarded the woman with caution. “You’re … my aunt?”

  Nodding hopefully, she dried her tears. “Yes. I’m your—”

  “Aunt Mary?” she blurted, and an unexpected wave of relief washed over her. She remembered this woman. Pushing herself upright, she took a closer look. “Aunt Mary, you look terrible! Are you sick?”

  Mary chuckled and touched her turkey neck. “No, dearie. I’m not sick. I’ve just aged since the last time you saw me.”

  The doctor touched Mary’s arm and they exchanged a strange look between them. He scraped a chair toward the side of the bed and nodded at Mary. “Why don’t you sit down so we can all talk for a while.”

  “It’s so good to see your pretty eyes again,” Mary told her, smiling. “I’ve missed those eyes! The last time I saw them, you were looking at me over the top of your wedding cake as you cut into it. Do you remember that, Shannie?”

  A rushing wind moved through her ears, and a bright flash of the elaborate strawberry-filled chocolate cake with scrolled fondant imprinted on the back side of her eyes. Her hands flew instinctively to her temples as she exclaimed, “What is wrong with me?”

  The time for an explanation had come. She had so many questions, and she wanted answers.

  “You were in an accident,” the doctor told her, using a tone of voice people tended to think of as calming. It was not having that effect on Shannon.

  “What kind of accident?”

  “Do you remember going diving? On Fiji?”

  Shannon frowned, remembering only fragments.

  “You were diving, and the tank had a malfunction. By the time they got you to the surface, you were already unconscious. In fact, you were several minutes without oxygen …”

  His words trailed off into a tunnel, and Shannon struggled to follow them. She saw his lips moving, and the echo of his voice took on a metallic quality as it clanked at her. He continued to speak as he leaned over her and replaced the oxygen tube she’d removed before they arrived.

  “Deep breaths,” he instructed as he came back into focus. “Slow and deep.”

  Shannon clamped the tube to her nose and closed her eyes as she inhaled. When she opened them again, her aunt glared at the doctor as he inspected the monitor behind her again.

  “So that’s why I’m here,” she surmised. “Because of the diving accident.”

  “Yes,” he said. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest the way he had when she’d first met him, and he smiled in the same way too, that deep dimple at the center of his chin flashing at her. “You’ve been in a coma ever since that time. You spent several months at Austin-Bryant Regional Hospital—”

  “Months!”

  “—and you were transferred here to Draper Long-Term Car
e that Christmas.”

  “Christmas,” she repeated, and her eyes darted to her aunt. “What about Edmund? Where is he?”

  And with that, Mary descended into tears, burying her face in her hands.

  “Aunt Mary? Where is he?”

  “Let’s approach this a little more slowly, Shannon,” the doctor suggested.

  She scowled at him. “What’s your name again?”

  “Dr. Petros.”

  “Dr. Petros,” she repeated. “Where is Edmund?”

  “We’ll discuss your husband in just a moment, Shannon. I just want to make sure you’re clear on what led up to this day. Is that okay with you?”

  She gulped around the dry spot at the back of her throat and sighed. “So I was in a coma through Christmas. How long ago was that?”

  Dr. Petros reached over and set his hand to rest overtop hers. “Almost ten years.”

  The room began to gyrate, and Shannon pushed the oxygen nozzle deeper into her nose as she inhaled several times.

  “Could you repeat that?” she finally asked. “I thought you said—”

  “Almost ten years,” the doctor answered softly.

  Shannon’s eyes had widened to the point that they ached and burned, and the inner corner of her left one twitched sporadically. She met her aunt’s gaze, and she cocked her head slightly. “Aunt Mary?”

  “I’m afraid he’s right, Shannie.”

  “I’ve been—what?—sleeping all this time?”

  “We started to notice some increased brain activity about a month ago,” Dr. Petros informed her, and she felt as if she were an outside observer. She could hardly grasp the fact that it was her brain activity they were discussing.

  “But it didn’t last long,” he continued. “Then a couple of days ago, it started up again and you eventually opened your eyes.”

  Shaking her head, Shannon held up her hand to stop him from speaking. After he’d been silent for a few seconds—or it could have been minutes for all she could trust of her sense of time now!—she grunted in protest. “You said ten years?”

  “Yes.”

  “So … what year is it?”

  “Twenty fourteen,” Mary piped up.

  “Two thousand fourteen,” she said in shock. As a new realization suddenly struck, Shannon whimpered. “Poor Edmund! I’ve been in a coma since we got married?”

  “Oh, dearie, that boy was—” Mary faltered, starting to cry. “He—he was a saint! He hardly left your side. He slept right there in that chair,” she said, pointing out a leather recliner in the corner of the room as she wiped her eyes. “The nurses finally started bringing him meals because he just refused to leave you.”

  A smile twitched at one corner of Shannon’s mouth. “Where is he?” she asked, realizing again how anxious she was to see him. “Will you call him? Does he know I’m awake?”

  Mary bit her lip, crying harder, and Dr. Petros placed a soothing hand on her shoulder.

  “What is it?” Shannon asked him. “Where is Edmund?”

  His expression frightened her, and her heart began to pound, harder and faster, harder and faster.

  “He got tired of waiting and he finally gave up and—and left me?”

  “No!” Mary shouted. “He would never! That boy loved you so much! But he—he—”

  Her aunt’s eyes darted to the doctor’s pleadingly as she struggled for words. The doctor took up the explanation.

  “Edmund fell ill three years ago.”

  “He-he’s—sick? What’s wrong with him?” she jabbered. “Is he here at this hospital?”

  “No,” he replied gently. “Shannon, you’ve had more than your share of shocking news for one day, but the truth is, Edmund was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of malignant brain cancer several years ago.”

  “No!” she gasped.

  “It’s called gliobastoma, or GBM,” he continued, “and it presents with nausea and headaches at first. Later, there are seizures and neurological deficit to the temporal and frontal lobes—”

  “Stop!” she shouted, holding up both hands. “Stop talking!”

  “I know it’s overwhelming, Shannon, but we’re here to help you—”

  “Please! Would you please just stop talking for a minute?”

  She tried to lift her knees, but her heavy legs wouldn’t budge, so she simply leaned forward as far as she could manage and began to rock from front to back as tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know how much time passed while they sat silently with her. When she finally pulled herself together, she felt ready for more details.

  “Is he at Bryant?” she asked, wiping the tears away. “I want to see him.”

  “No, he’s not at Bryant,” Dr. Petros said.

  “Well, where is he?”

  When her aunt started whimpering again, Shannon felt something heavy finally settle on the center of her chest and she couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, she began to hear again all the past tense descriptions they’d used, thudding like a bass drum in her memory.

  “… that boy was a saint …”

  “… He slept right there in that chair …”

  “… he loved you so much …”

  “… Edmund fell ill three years ago …”

  “No,” she began. “Wait …”

  “Oh, Shannie. Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  She stared at them in bewilderment, the pounding of her heart thudding in her ears.

  “I’m sorry,” Dr. Petros said.

  The silence that followed felt hollow and awkward. When he crouched near her side, she shrank back on the bed, as if distancing herself from whatever awful thing he had to say.

  “You’re sorry? What do you mean? Why are you sorry?”

  A biting frost of cold perspiration created a film over her upper lip and across the back of her neck. Her eyes stung, and she realized she’d forgotten how to blink.

  “You don’t mean—what do you mean? Just tell me where Edmund is!”

  “Shannon,” the doctor began gently, “Edmund died two years ago.”

  She shook her head in quick denial. “No.” A roller coaster of emotion ticked slowly up its track as Shannon weighed the words. How was that even possible? Edmund couldn’t be—

  The coaster peaked, and her breath caught somewhere in her throat as her insides plummeted. She looked to her aunt to deny the doctor’s horrible declaration, but what she saw in Mary’s face brought no comfort.

  “I’m so sorry, dearie.”

  “No,” Shannon managed. “Aunt Mary, no! Edmund?”

  Her aunt nodded sorrowfully. The doctor’s eyes darted toward the floor.

  “He’s … gone?”

  The flames of grief in Mary’s eyes set Shannon’s heart ablaze.

  Yes. She finally understood. She’d come back after such a long time, greeted by this unimaginable, cruel truth. Edmund was gone.

  * * *

  We hope you enjoyed this excerpt from Rise and Shine. For more from Moody Publishers in this genre and others, visit your favorite local or online bookseller.

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