I had to call it. I hate calling Time of Death. Everything about it is so final and clinical. I turn on the faucets with my elbows and wash my hands. I replay every move I made while I operated over again in my mind, but everything I did was perfect.
I never know fault. Perfection is key in my job.
“Damn it,” I repeat, drying off my hands. I hit the button for the door and dread every step. Preparing for surgery, cutting into people’s brain, or even finding out that the diagnosis has no hope; it doesn’t compare to telling the family their loved one died.
As I stride down the hall, Charles Lovejoy, one of my good friends who is also a General Surgeon here, slaps his hand on my back as we make our way to the waiting area. He must have seen the look on my face because he doesn’t ask how my surgery went. He doesn't need to.
“Good luck.”
I give him a sad smile before we part ways. “You, too.” It seems he doesn't have good news either. Fuck. This job really sucks sometimes. I rub my eyes, trying to bring some type of life back into them, before walking over to Jason Castle's wife, Samantha. She holds their son in her arms.
Their newborn son.
Damn it.
The hallways seem to get smaller and smaller whenever I'm walking down these halls on my way to deliver bad news. The moment my footsteps onto the different colored tile, Samantha zeroes in on me and smiles. She bounces the baby in her arms, tapping him on the back to soothe him as he cries.
I feel you, little dude.
“Dr. Jackson. Shh, he is settling,” she whispers, putting a finger over her lips— poor woman. I can’t imagine how tired she is. Between the baby and her husband, she has permanent dark circles under her eyes. And here I am, about to ruin her life.
I really hate my jobs sometimes.
“So, how is Jason?” The smile fades from her face when she sees the look on mine. “No.” She shakes her head, grabbing onto her son a bit harder than before. “No. No. No. You said, you’d save him! You said—” She covers her mouth with her hand, muffling a sob. “You said you’d fix him! You lied. You’re a liar.” She pushes me with her empty hand. “You said—”
I step closer, taking her and the little boy in my arms. “I know what I said. I’m sorry. He had a heart attack on the table. It was something we couldn't have predicted or stopped.”
She stares up through her thick, wet lashes. “It didn’t have anything to do with his brain?”
“No, nothing. Really, it was something that just happened. I’m so sorry for your loss, Samantha. I’m so sorry.” It is hard not to get emotional when telling the families, the worst news they will ever hear.
I mean, I am the one who sees the patients for the last time. I’m one who is there when they take their last breaths. Jason won’t hold his baby again. Or kiss his wife. Hell, he'll never make love to his wife again. I stole all of his last moments, and that is a hard pill to swallow. It sucks to be that man.
“He won’t know his father,” she bounces the baby as he cries.
I close my eyes, trying not to get my heart involved, but the louder the baby cries, the more it shatters. “I’m so sorry, Samantha. We did everything we could.”
My phone vibrates in my coat pocket, ripping my attention from Samantha. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” I rub her shoulder one last time before I walk away, leaving yet another distraught person in my wake.
I nod to the nurses and they give me winks and smiles, but I’m not in the mood for flirting. Kicking open the double doors, I swing into the on-call room and pull out my phone to see a few missed calls from Molly.
Molly never calls me. I won’t lie. For a moment, I think maybe my best friend’s sister wants me and is calling for a good time, but then I remember how much she hates me. “Four texts and two voicemails. What in the world?” My thumb swipes the screen as the door opens and I see that Charles is standing on the other side.
I turn my head to see him lean his back against the door and exhale a breath. “I hate doing that.”
“Tell me about it. I just lost a patient with his head wide open, but he had a damn heart attack. I just had to tell his wife and newborn baby.”
“Ah, shit. I’m sorry, Caden. That’s really hard. You okay?”
I flip the phone in my hand before putting it back in my pocket. “I’m fine. You know, they say it gets easier after the first time, telling people about their loved ones dying”—I shake my head— “But it never does,” we say in unison.
I let out a sad laugh, running my hands through my hair. “Yeah, it doesn’t. What about you?”
“Ah, well. Mine was an older man. He was seventy-five. Tumor in the liver, but when we got in there... Well, we couldn’t resect it. It had spread everywhere and taken over everything. So, he lived a full life, but it didn’t make it any easier telling his wife of fifty years.”
“Fifty? Wow. I can only imagine. How great would that be?”
He scoffs. “You would never.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, annoyance and disbelief shredding my voice.
He lifts his hands in surrender. “Hey, you know I didn’t mean anything by it. You and I both know you like all women way too much. You’re a good-looking guy. And you like women to know it. I’m just saying that you like to use it, and there is nothing wrong with that.”
I don’t know why it bothers me so much because he is right. I know I have my looks going for me. Women and men alike love my face, my eyes, my body, and my hair. Regardless of how I look, I want the big love one day. The one that changes my life for the better. I want a woman that I can have children with. Kiss and hug whenever I want. Make love to whenever we want. I don’t like that he assumes I wouldn’t want that.
“Just because I’m prettier than you, doesn’t mean you have to be bitter about it.”
“Ha! You wish you were as pretty as me. Have you seen these eyes? Way greener than yours, pal.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket again. I groan, annoyed with Molly. What the hell could she possibly want? “Hold that thought, asshole.”
His snicker doesn’t hold the sass it usually has because of the exhaustion. “Take your booty call. I’ll be right here.” He settles on the floor, leaning his head against the door and shutting his eyes.
A bed sits five feet away from him, but he sits on the ground instead. I want to tell him, but he knows it's there, so he must just be that tired. I feel that. Right in my damn bones. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take my phone out of my pocket, wondering what the hell Molly wants. I bet it is just to tell me how gross I am, which I’m not. I have a clean bill of health. I swipe away all the messages, press the voicemail notification, and push play. I pocket my right hand in my lab coat and wait. She has a natural rasp in her voice, but once the message starts, I know something has to be wrong. She sounds sick, and for a split second, I think she is calling for medical advice, but that is shot to shit when I listen to the rest of her message.
“Caden, it’s Molly. Brandon and Amelia were in a car accident. Things are really bad, Caden. I’m on my way to Glendive General. I’ll see you there. They told me to prepare myself, so I suggest you do the same.”
“What?” The words take my breath away as I collapse on the bed and play the message again. “Caden, it’s Molly…”
And again. “Caden, it’s Molly…”
And again. “They told me to prepare myself, so I suggest you do the same.”
I glance around the on-call room and revel in the silence. Besides Charles and his snores, no other sounds are made. It is just me, my thoughts, and my emotions. I don’t know how families do this with a crowd around because at least I have privacy with my grief. I shake my head with disbelief. This can’t be right. Molly has to be wrong. If she is pulling some stupid joke because she doesn’t like me, this is not funny. She has taken it way too far.
But then I remember the sob at the end of the message. A sound that I never want to hear again because it is so he
art-wrenching. She can be cruel, but she can’t be that cruel. She loves her brother. They are close, and there's no way in hell she would ever pull something as shitty as this.
I know I need to move. I need to get going, but I have to take a minute to compose myself. I can’t drive right now. Everything is messed up. Brandon and I planned to get together this weekend to get some drinks and play a little golf. Two days from now. Our plans are two days away, but now this happens?
I’ve never been on the receiving end of bad news, but now that I know what it feels like, I never want to deliver it again.
Chapter Four
Molly
We burst through the doors of the hospital, and I don’t see my parents, Amelia’s parents, or Caden. Where is everyone?
“Glendive is a few hours away from where everyone lives. They will be here,” Kenna says, reminding me my brother had to go and be a pain in the ass and move away from everyone, just to be in this small town.
The energy of death surrounds me as we slow our gait, heading toward the front desk. My body quakes from the impending doom closing in around us. “I’m so scared, Kenna.” My body temperature drops from the negative amount of warmth the place holds. I start to shiver.
“I know, Molls. I’m here for you, okay? Whatever happens, I’m always here.”
The nurse glances up from her clipboard and greets us with a smile. “How may I help you ladies today?”
I clear my throat, trying to figure out what to say. “A doctor called us a few hours ago saying my brother was in a car accident. His name is Brandon Lowell. Is he okay? Was the baby with him? And Amelia? How are they?” The questions keep spilling out of my mouth.
“Have a seat, dear. I’ll find out everything for you, okay?” Her name tag says, Grace. She has silver hair and a wrinkled face that shows just how much life she has lived. I hope my brother will be able to look like that one day. I find it beautiful.
Grace’s eyes hold sympathy as I nod and turn away, sitting slowly in the used, grey chairs. A million people have sat in these. People that have worried about loved ones dying, cried from relief, and maybe even laughed have sat here before. Everyone reacts differently when they receive life-changing news, and the cloth in these seats hold the past, present, and future. It overwhelms me.
“Molly!” My mother shrieks from the entrance of the emergency room.
I run to her, and we collide in a hard hug. When she pulls away, I notice that her eyes, like mine, are red and swollen from crying. My dad seems a little more put together, but I know on the inside, his emotions are wrecked.
She cups my face, staring at me with brown eyes so similar to mine. “Have you heard anything?”
“No. We just got here. One of the nurses said they would go check.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe it.” She puts her hand to her heart and struggles to breathe. “I need to sit down.”
“Mom?”
My dad sits next to her and rubs her back. “She’s had chest pains for the last few hours.”
“Dad, she needs to get seen by a doctor—”
She swats my hand. “It’s just the situation. I’m healthy as a horse.” She clutches her chest harder and starts to gasp for breath.
“Mom! Help! We need some help over here!” I scream, gaining the attention of a few nurses and doctors.
“I can’t breathe,” she struggles for air, clawing at her throat.
The nurse kneels, putting an oxygen mask on her. “Take a deep breath, ma’am. You’re having a panic attack.”
Tears leave the corners of my eyes as I watch my mom try to breathe. My dad holds her as she nods, keeping the mask to her face as she takes deep breaths of oxygen into her body.
“Her pulse is slowing. I’ll keep the oxygen here. Come find me if it gets worse.” She pats my mom’s knee before getting up and walking away.
Air bursts through the doors, capturing my attention. Caden and Amelia’s father stop in the middle of the entryway. Jeff, her father, rubs his face, and Caden scans the lobby, looking for familiar faces. His gaze lands on me, and our eyes lock. Maybe it is just me, but something just broke. I don’t know what it could have been. The differences we have aren’t as important anymore.
He rushes over with Jeff close behind. He has dark circles under his eyes and red-stained scrubs. Of course, he was at work when I called, not with some girl. I feel bad for always thinking the worst of him, but it isn’t like he gives me much of a choice. He always seems so arrogant and on the prowl. He makes it difficult not to hate him.
“Molly. What happened? What the hell is going on?” His eyes drift to my mom, and he runs to her side. “Mrs. Lowell, are you okay?”
She pulls the mask away from her mouth and smiles. “Caden. I’m fine,” she wheezes before my dad sets the mask back on her.
“She had a panic attack,” my dad says.
Caden runs his hands through his hair and glances around. “Where’s the doctor? Have they updated you?”
“No. We asked when we got here, but they haven’t told Molly anything,” Kenna whispers.
“That’s ridiculous. I want to know what the hell is going on.” For the first time since we have known each other, Caden Jackson takes my hand and squeezes it. “I’m going to go get some answers, okay?”
He stands to his full frame, towering over everyone. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, but all I can see is the strong structure of his jaw. When he steps toward the front desk, a doctor in what used to be green scrubs, comes through the doors.
A pit of dread blooms in my stomach when I see the amount of blood on his scrubs; it grows bigger the closer he gets. “Lowell family?” he shouts. All of us sit still as statues. “Lowell family?” he repeats.
I can’t rip my eyes off the blood. I know in my bones that Brandon and Amelia are gone. I feel it. I don’t know how, but nothing around me gives me hope. The air, the people, the time... everything feels heavy and sad. It suffocates me—the pain. I stand, grabbing onto the chair for support. One by one, my family rises to their feet. My mother, Kim, gets up with my dad’s help.
The first step is the hardest. The closer I get to answers, the further away I want to be. I see it all over the man’s face. He looks grim, like he has just come face-to-face with death. The blood on his scrubs has to be their blood. I swallow, holding back all of my emotions. Kenna stands on my left and Caden on my right, both of them holding my hands, but only one feels soothing. Only one brings me some peace of mind.
“−−Do you have news about my son? About Brandon?”
“−−My daughter is his wife! Please. Anything.”
“—What happened?”
“—Are they okay?”
He holds his hand up to stop all the questions coming at him all at once. Everyone waits on bated breath for him to speak. He rubs his hand through his dark, greying hair. He still seems young in the face. “Brandon and Amelia Lowell came in from a MVC.”
“MVC?” Kenna asks.
“Motor Vehicle Crash,” the doctor and Caden say at the same time.
Kenna squeezes my hand so hard I think my fingers are going to break. My mom sobs, and my dad rubs her shoulders. Caden stays next to me, rubbing my inner wrist with his thumb. Amelia’s dad stands on the other side of my father, and my mom holds his hand. All of us are joined, ready to catch one another if we fall.
“Like I said, Brandon and Amelia, along with their daughter, came in from an MVC.”
“Posie! Is she okay? Please tell me she is okay!” I say while a sob tears from my chest. I can’t believe all this time has gone by, and I didn’t think to ask. What kind of person does that make me?
“She is unharmed and in the NICU being monitored, but so far, nothing except a few minor scratches.”
“Thank god,” I say as my shoulders sag. Caden puts his arm around me, and naturally, I find myself fitting in the nook of his arm. He kisses the top of my head, letting out a deep sigh. He is rel
ieved as well.
“And Brandon? What about Amelia? Why aren’t you tell us?” My mother screams at him.
The doctor sighs again, trying to gather himself.
“He doesn’t have good news,” Caden says in monotone. “If he did, he would have said it. I had to do this earlier today.”
I look up at Caden through my wet lashes. “What do you mean?” I turn my accusatory gaze to the doctor. “What does he mean?”
“Brandon and Amelia came in with significant injuries. Amelia had bleeding in the abdomen, significant head trauma, and a ruptured aorta. I’m sorry, but we did everything we could for her. She died on the table.”
Amelia’s father falls to his knees and yells out a heart-wrenching sound. It comes deep from his soul, full of agony and despair. “No! No. My little girl. No!” he screams as he bawls, holding his hand over his heart. “My Amelia.”
Kenna kneels on the ground with him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He lays his forehead against her shoulder and cries, clutching onto her leather jacket. “My baby. No. She…” He can’t finish his sentence because he can’t catch his breath.
Everyone cries about the loss. Caden places his head on top of mine, and the doctor gives us a minute to take in the information. How can she be dead? She sent me a picture message of them tonight. She was so excited for their date because ever since Posie came along, they barely had a moment to themselves. I wanted to show everyone the photo, but my phone died on the way over trying to call Caden.
My mom places her hand on Amelia’s dad’s back, trying to show him that we are here for him, supporting him through this. He still cries on Kenna’s shoulder, holding onto that red leather jacket for dear life. “And Brandon?” she asks, gripping my dad’s hand.
“Brandon... your son had a brain bleed and he kept having seizures. Once I got him on the table, we tried to control the bleed, but he had a stroke. His brain swelled too much. Since ten minutes ago, Brandon has been brain dead. We have found no brain activity.”
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