Love You Still

by Kat Bammer

  She turned into the waiting room and trudged toward her seat until she looked up into mesmerizing golden eyes.

  Her step faltered.

  The man in the chair next to her mother stopped mid-sentence and looked at her. Lisa’s mother smoothly looked up for a second before she turned her attention back to the man next to her. “Alan, you haven’t met Lisa, my second daughter.”

  The man stood up and stepped forward with his hand reaching out. His serious face changed, and a little smile showed his perfect white teeth.

  Lisa stumbled forward and nearly missed his hand. Could she be any more awkward? He looked quite handsome and was probably Karen’s age. His trimmed dark hair, his crisp white, button-down shirt, and jeans enhanced his clear-cut looks. Only his five o’clock shadow dented his otherwise impeccable appearance. Something her mother would approve of.

  “Hello, Lisa,” he said.

  Lisa swallowed. His deep voice, combined with his golden eyes, reminded her of rich, golden caramel syrup.

  Lisa was so caught up in his eyes, she held his hand a lot longer than necessary. Actually, she shook it until he raised one eyebrow. He must think she was some kind of crazy person. Her mother gave her an odd look, that felt like a cold shower, and Lisa withdrew her hand abruptly. Goddamn.

  “This is Alan Radley. He’s our primary care physician in Moon Lake and a good friend of your father.”

  Lisa nodded and tucked her hands in her pockets. Dr. Radley didn’t look like a doctor, but now that she knew, Lisa could easily picture him in his coat, treating his patients with professionalism and kindness. Plus the heavy dose of hero worship in her mother’s demeanor should have clued her in on his profession.

  How did this man in his thirties became friends with her father?

  “Hello, Dr. Radley,” she said with a small smile, and turned toward her mother. “What have I missed?”

  Her mother leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temple. She looked gaunt, old. “Alan was just about to tell us about Carl.”

  “So, you work here?” Lisa asked and looked back at Dr. Radley.

  “No. But I was with the first responders at the site of the accident, and after our earlier phone call”—he took the seat next to her mother again and offered the one on the other side to Lisa—“decided to get the lay of the land on Carl.”

  “So, you were in ICU? You know what’s happening with Dad?” Had he passed her in the hallway? She hadn’t seen the doors of the ICU open again. Or anything really, except for the replaying vivid images of the young woman.

  Dr. Radley nodded. “I spoke with the doctor in charge, just a minute ago. He’s sorry to keep you waiting, but it’s all hands on deck today. He’s okay with me talking to you.”

  Lisa’s mother inhaled. “So? Tell us.” The waver in her mother’s voice tightened Lisa’s chest.

  “I’m sorry, but there isn’t any good news to tell you. Carl was admitted with a GCS score of five and there has been no improvement in the last thirty-six hours.”

  Lisa’s chest tightened as she peeked over her mother’s head into her sister’s eyes.

  “Glasgow coma scale,” Karen mouthed.

  As if this would clear up anything.

  “They performed surgery on his brain to release the pressure caused by an acute right-side hematoma. But he has no pupillary reactions and a low EEG. Both not good signs.”

  Lisa’s mother slumped back into her chair and Dr. Radley took her hand. “There’s always hope, especially with TBI’s, but it doesn’t look good. I’m sorry, Josephine.”

  Lisa’s stomach roiled. This didn’t sound good. She understood none of the medical terms, but her mother and sister were unsettled and frightened, and so was she.

  She had never felt frightened with her dad around. He had been her safe haven. Strong and full of life.

  Lisa must have completely spaced out because when Dr. Radley got up, bowed slightly and said goodbye, she couldn’t recall the rest of the conversation. Or her increasing heartbeat and labored breath had drowned out everything else.

  What if her father didn’t make it?

  Panic clawed at her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She mumbled something unintelligent before she sprinted out of the waiting room. She turned to the stairs, her own footsteps matching the frantic rhythm of her heart. The floors whizzed by until she was on ground level. Air, she needed fresh air. She headed for the main entrance.

  Outside.

  Maybe there she could catch a breath again.

  The wind instantly cooled her sweaty face, and she gulped down air. She leaned forward and supported her hands on her knees. Was she having a heart attack? Her racing pulse and asthmatic wheeze surely weren’t normal.

  “Are you all right?”

  Lisa suppressed a moan. She had to get a grip. She turned her head around, her body still tilted forward, and looked up at Dr. Radley.

  “I’m okay.” Lisa panted. “I just need a minute, or I’m dying of a heart attack.” She panted again. “One or the other.”

  Dr. Radley pressed his lips together. “Maybe we should walk a few steps. See if you can gather your breath.”

  Lisa nodded. With his hand on the small of her back she straightened.

  He was a doctor—surely he could perform CPR if her heart stopped beating.

  Dr. Radley steered them right through the hospital and out the back into a beautiful park. “It’s hard to receive bad news.”

  They followed the gravel paths for a while. Side by side. He didn’t say more, and Lisa didn’t either.

  Soon Lisa’s breathing pattern normalized and her heartbeat settled somewhere into the vicinity of normal again.

  “Would you explain what you, Mom and Karen talked about up there?” she asked.

  “Of course, what didn’t you understand?” Dr. Radley said. “And please call me Alan. I’m a friend. Your father talked about you constantly, so I feel like I already know you.”

  The image of her father and Dr. Radley, being friends and talking, made her heart ache again. She wanted to talk to her dad.

  “What does TBI mean and what exactly is a GCS?”

  “TBI is short for the traumatic brain injury your father suffered from the accident, and GCS is the Glasgow Coma Score. This is used to describe his fixed pupils, unconsciousness, and lack of reaction to anything, even pain.”

  Lisa nodded once and looked down at her feet. Her father didn’t react to anything.

  Dr. Radley sighed. “The initial GCS is not really the problem. But the lack of improvement isn’t good.”

  “Will he die?” Lisa asked, and held her breath, unsure if she was ready for the truth. She felt bad for even contemplating this possibility.

  Dr. Radley looked at her with a pained expression. “We don’t know, but his age and the development of the last days don’t give us a lot of hope. He’s still on ventilation and has a device attached to him to measure the pressure inside his brain.”

  The gravel path they walked on turned toward the hospital again.

  Lisa looked up at the glass front. Her eyes stung, which was only partly caused by the stiff breeze.

  “Look.” Alan stopped and turned to her. “The brain is complicated, and we don’t know. But yes, there’s a possibility we could lose him, or he could stay in a coma. But there’s still hope. There’s always hope. He’s in good care here, and they will do everything possible to get him through.”

  Lisa’s body released some of the tension and she clasped his forearm, effectively stopping him. “Thank you.” He didn’t treat her with kid gloves and even though the mere thought of her dad not pulling through gutted Lisa, she was thankful for Alan’s honesty.

  A gust of wind blew through the park and Lisa shivered. In her haste to get out, she had forgotten her jacket. And the wind chilled her to the bones.

  Alan scrubbed a hand over his face before he extended his arms. “I don’t have a jacket with me; all I can offer you is a hug.”

  Lisa hesit
ated. She wasn’t the type to get up close and personal with people she didn’t know. But somehow it was exactly what she needed. So she stepped into his embrace.

  They stood like this for a while.

  Lisa closed her eyes, soaked up his heat, and breathed in his clean smell. Alan’s hold was loose and the moment she shifted in his arms, he released her instantly.

  She stepped back and wrapped her own arms around her torso. Maybe she should have stayed in his arms a little longer. There she felt safe. She remembered another set of arms around her. Much stronger arms. Dangerous arms. Arms that ignited all kinds of feelings in her. Feelings she shouldn’t have. Feelings she had buried a long time ago. At least, that’s what she’d thought.

  After Alan said goodbye, Lisa climbed back up the stairs and bumped into her sister when she entered the waiting room.

  “I have to get Mattie home, and you should go home to the Inn too. Mom wants to stay here, but Cookie is home alone, and someone has to take care of her.”

  Lisa slumped down in the chair next to her mother and yawned. She envisioned the Inn, a warm bed, and their dog Cookie.

  Mattie ran toward her and kissed her on the cheek before she and Karen left hand in hand.

  After a while of silence Lisa jolted up and looked at her mother. “What?”

  “Go.”

  “But you’re here alone.”

  “I’ve been here a lot. Go home. Take care of Cookie. She’s in the cottage.”

  “Really? I could stay with you.” She would stay if her mother needed her here with her.

  “Please go home.” Her mother rummaged in her purse and handed Lisa the car keys and the keys to her parents’ cottage behind the Inn. “There’s nothing you can do here. My car is in the lot. Take it. And get a shower and something decent to wear, before you come back tomorrow.”

  Lisa stood up and squeezed her eyes shut. No point in picking a fight at times like this

  6

  The street in front of Lisa appeared endless. Even though it was just the last stretch of highway toward Moon Lake.

  Dense forest flanked the street to the right, thick enough to appear like a wall, and the unchanging surface of the lake to her left created a lull that dulled her vision and made her eyelids droop.

  Lisa blinked repeatedly and fiddled with the volume of the car radio.

  A slow song lulled her even more and the fading light made it even harder to concentrate. Soon it would be dark.

  Lisa yawned forcefully and couldn’t stop until tears clouded her vision. She rolled down the window. Maybe the blast of cool air in her face would keep her awake. This tactic worked, but soon uncontrollable shivers wracked her body and she closed the window again.

  She forced herself to go another mile, and another. Until she just couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore and the frequency of her yawning was getting ridiculous. Driving in this condition meant she risked having an accident like her father had and the prospect of either hitting a tree or landing in the lake scared the shit out of her. She needed to stop the car.

  Luckily the sign for a scenic overlook flew by.

  Lisa exhaled, put on her left indicator and slowed down the car. Ridiculous using the indicator. It must have been at least ten minutes since she’d last encountered another car.

  She pulled to the left into the small lot and parked the car. Lisa remembered this scenic overlook from back when she was a teen. It wasn’t a huge lot—just enough space for three or four cars. During the day it was a popular place for travelers to stop and take a scenic picture of the lake and the beautiful mountains surrounding it. The overflowing trash can was proof of that. But at this time of day it was abandoned.

  Well, everything around here was remote.

  She yawned again.

  Her hands lay limp in her lap and her eyelids hurt every time she blinked.

  Her brain was too muddy to do the math of how long she’d been awake since that dreadful phone call. It sure felt like a whole lifetime.

  She must have dozed off because her head banged against the wheel and Lisa woke up with a startle.

  “Ouch.” Lisa scrubbed her forehead and sat up straight. She shifted around, trying to find a more comfortable position behind the wheel before she realized what she was doing.

  “Oh no, Elisabeth Alexandra Reynolds. Get your act together. You are not stupid enough to fall asleep in the car, in the middle of nowhere.”

  She nodded once and opened her door.

  A little walk and fresh air would wake her up again. Then she would tackle the ten minutes’ drive and fall headfirst into her bed.

  Lisa stepped out of the car and walked up and down the deserted lot. She stretched herself and even did some jumping jacks before she felt too stupid about it and stepped up to the railing to enjoy the breathtaking view in the fading light.

  The surface of Moon Lake was already deep in the shadow of the mountains that loomed around it. In minutes, the last of the natural light would fade, and only the reflected lights from the houses scattered around the shore would penetrate the dark. Darkness came fast and impenetrable here in the mountains.

  Lisa breathed in through her nose.

  Home.

  The fishy undertones of the water, accompanied by the mossy smell of the forest, and wet grass. It wasn’t quite the smell of summer, as the heat had not yet penetrated the dampness of the forest.

  Then a gust of wind from another direction hit Lisa and she gagged.

  Decomposition.

  Lisa covered her mouth and nose with her hand to lessen the foul scent. Could this be the trash can?

  The picture of a dead deer sprung to Lisa’s mind. Nearly unrecognizable under the moving hill of flees and maggots, they had encountered one of those when she accompanied her dad, hunting, one day. The smell had been just awful.

  Like now.

  Maybe the deer had an accident. Sometimes if they didn’t die on the spot, they ran back into the forest and died there later.

  Lisa pulled her jacket over her mouth and nose and walked to the edge of the asphalted lot. She passed the trash can, but the smell got worse the farther she got past it.

  Lisa stopped and shook her head at her own silliness. She needed to get home. She needed sleep. Not investigate a foul smell on the side of the road. She turned around, when, from the corner of her eye, she saw something sticking out under the shrubbery.

  A hand.

  Lisa froze mid-turn and stared at it.

  Maybe the fading light had played a trick on her?

  She gasped when the painful feeling of lack of oxygen got too intense and the horrible smell assaulted her again when she took her next breath.

  Were hallucinations a side effect of sleep deprivation? And did hallucinations include smell?

  The nightfall enclosed Lisa in darkness, and her heartbeat thrashed in her ears as she ran toward her car and fumbled to open the door. Once inside, she locked the doors. She took a deep breath, and another, until her mind stopped spinning. After a minute of breathing she leaned over and rummaged in the glove compartment. “Where’s the flashlight, Dad? You wouldn’t let Mom drive without a damn flashlight.”

  Then her hand found it and she grabbed her phone before she left the car again and went toward the edge. Lisa shone the cone of light toward the bushes. There it was again. When the ray of light hit the hand sticking out of the ground, she jumped. This was real. This wasn’t a figment of her mind.

  Lisa fumbled with her phone; she needed to call the police.

  Her hands were jittery. She swiped to unlock her screen, once, twice.

  “Shit, come on, you stupid thing.”

  After the third wrong try, Lisa laid the flashlight down on the ground next to her left foot, illuminating the bushes just above the hand.

  She unlocked the phone, dialed 911, and waited for the connection.

  “Nine-one-one—what is your emergency?”

  Lisa told the operator what she was looking at, her location,
and her phone number.

  “Is the person still alive?”

  Lisa’s pulse spiked and the tremors in her hands got worse again.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you check?”

  Lisa clenched her jaw and inched forward. As she leaned down toward the hand, her phone glided through her sweaty fingers and with a bump on the asphalt, landed right next to the hand under the bushes.

  Her hand shot to her mouth and she yelped.

  The flashlight on the ground still illuminated the bushes but the display of her phone cast an eerie glow on the pale hand next to it.

  Dizziness clouded Lisa’s vision before her knees gave up and she collapsed to the ground.

  Then Lisa heard the voice of the operator from the still-established call.

  She needed to climb in there and get the phone back. Check the person lying there.

  But she didn’t find the energy to get up.

  Tears clouded her vision, and the small cone of light blurred while Lisa curled her arms around her legs and rocked back and forth.

  Minutes ticked by, but she could not move.

  When somebody put his hand on her shoulder and shone a flashlight into her face, she let out a sharp scream.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” The uniformed officer directed his cone of light a little to the side, and Lisa could see his face.

  He waited politely for her answer, but she just got out a soundless, “No,” before her throat closed off again. She pointed toward the bushes and hoped he would somehow get what she could not tell him.

  The officer directed his flashlight there and after he kneeled at the edge of the concrete, shone directly onto the hand and the appended arm that Lisa had not seen before.

  “Ma’am, can you please step back? You can wait in the car.”

  A second officer helped Lisa back up, took her by her shoulders, and guided her to the patrol car.

  She sat down and stared onto the front seat of the car. She didn’t dare look up at what was happening around her. The cracking voices on the radio and the increasing movements outside the car windows were just noise that didn’t penetrate her shell. Her eyelids were heavy, her thoughts muddled.