George Hartmann Box Set

by Kelly Utt

  Mom and I sit in the Suburban with the doors open while Roddy, Liam, and Dr. Epstein stand just outside. Liam takes the lead on making Dr. Epstein feel welcome, I presume since Roddy hadn’t met the man until this morning.

  The doc is looking a little more relaxed now and I’m beginning to feel more comfortable with his presence. Maybe I’ll even call him Joe at some point soon. I just want to locate my family. I don’t want to give Mom grief when all she’s trying to do is find happiness.

  We wrap up lunch and get back to the search. Mom and Dr. Epstein head back to the rental house to be sure someone is there at a home base since Duke is off with the local police and Taye is involved with the F.B.I. agents. I appreciate them standing in for us at the house.

  Our afternoon passes quickly as we systematically comb through the area calling out our family members’ names. When we’re done with one section, we go back to the Suburban and drive it further down the road. Then we park on the side, turn the hazard lights on, get out, and repeat the search process there. It feels reasonably efficient. We continue like that late into the evening.

  My gut tells me it’s the right place to focus our energies. For whatever reason, Liam and Roddy are willing to go along with me. Luckily, none of the volunteers or official search party find us. I prefer it that way.

  The sun is just beginning to set when my phone rings.

  “Hello?” I answer eagerly, placing the phone on speaker as Liam and Roddy gather around to listen, too.

  “George Hartmann?” the voice on the other end asks. I recognize it immediately.

  “Yes, sir, Officer Dunley,” I say.

  “Dr. Hartmann,” he continues. “There’s been a successful rescue. I need you to come to the hospital immediately.”

  12

  Old Sunshine

  The South Lake Tahoe Community Medical Center sits high on a hill in the middle of town, framed by some of the tallest pine trees I’ve ever seen. The stone facade and covered driveway flanked with local timber create a grand impression. It’s almost completely dark outside now. Strategically placed lights line the walkways. If I didn’t know better, I might think we had pulled up to a swanky mountain resort. Even the sign which bears the medical center’s name is etched out of wood and features the intricate outlines of a mountain range.

  Liam is driving this time. He knew Roddy would want to jump out and run with me just as soon as the vehicle came to a near stop outside of the hospital building. My uncle drove fast, swerving through traffic and around obstacles. The SUV banked so hard as we turned into the medical center driveway that we had to hold on to avoid getting tossed to the other side of the cab. Roddy and I leap out of the doors before Liam can shift into park.

  “Go!” Liam yells as Roddy and I break into a full sprint.

  People see us coming and move out of the way. We don’t have to explain. It’s obvious why we’re running like this.

  We’re forced to slow down and wait on the sliding entrance doors to open at what feels like a snail’s pace. When enough space has cleared for us to step inside the building, a rush of cool air conditioning greets us. An officer is standing at the welcome desk waiting.

  “Hartmanns?” he asks, sounding official.

  “Yes!” I say looking around, exasperated.

  “And Davies. And my wife is Dyer,” Roddy adds.

  “I’m Officer Dunley,” he says as he reaches out to shake our hands.

  “Can we forgo formalities right now?” Roddy asks.

  “Where are they?” I plead.

  Officer Dunley is tall. Almost as tall as I am. Both Roddy and I stand on our toes to look around him. We’re looking for any sign of our loved ones. We don’t know if they’re in a waiting room and are simply shaken up or if they’re in a hidden area of the building because they’re seriously injured.

  “Listen, gentlemen,” the officer says. “This situation is not cut and dry. It’s evolving and it’s complicated.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  Officer Dunley motions towards a closed door on the other side of a waiting area.

  “Let’s step into this room over here so we can have some privacy,” he says. “Dr. Adams will be joining us.”

  My heart sinks. I reach over and grab a wad of Roddy’s shirt as I try to brace myself. My knees buckle for the second time today and I begin to feel lightheaded again. I know what the private rooms are for. Scenes from the day Dad died flash in front of my eyes. The hospital smells, the soft lights, and the somber tone everyone uses when they talk take me right back.

  Roddy closes his eyes and takes a few breaths, then places a hand on my back and begins to walk us towards the dreaded private room.

  “I don’t want to go in there,” I say loudly.

  A few of the folks waiting in chairs stop what they’re doing and look up at me with pity in their eyes. Liam walks through the double doors as we’re walking past them, so he follows along in step. He wasn’t there the day Dad died. I don’t think he’s ever been sent to a private room to learn the fate of a loved one. My heart hurts for my uncle, my father-in-law, and myself all at the same time.

  “Wait,” I say, also loudly. “Call my mom! I want my mom to be here. Call my mom right now. Please, somebody, call my mom...”

  Officer Dunley signals to one of the receptionists back at the desk, who comes over and takes down Mom’s phone number. She assures me she’ll get in touch and ask Mom to come to the hospital right away.

  I let Roddy lead me across the waiting area even though I don’t want to go. My feet move me against my better judgment. Nothing good is going to come out of any discussion that happens in the private room.

  We step inside with Officer Dunley as Dr. Paulette Adams appears in the doorway and scoots in to join us with what appears to be a resident trailing behind her.

  Dr. Adams is a late forty-something African American woman with long straight hair and high heels. It’s hard to see what she’s wearing under her lab coat, but it doesn’t look like she’s just come from a bloody operating room. Maybe that’s a good sign.

  Her resident is a young, blonde man who looks more like a boy. I decide to ignore him for the moment. I hope that if he has been involved with caring for my family members, he knows what he’s doing.

  There are exactly six chairs in this little room, situated in a semi-circle facing the door. I’m already beginning to feel claustrophobic.

  “I’m Dr. Adams,” the doctor says as she extends her hands to shake ours. “I understand you folks have had a long couple of days. Can I get anyone a beverage before we begin?”

  Roddy scoffs. “How about you don’t be so damn condescending?” he says under his breath.

  “Fine,” Dr. Adams says. “I’ll get right to it.”

  I scoot up to the front edge of my chair and clasp my hands together in order to steady myself as I listed.

  “My team and I are treating your family members.”

  I gasp with relief as air that I’d been holding onto escapes my lungs in one fast burst. A smile spreads across my face and I put my arm around Roddy and give him a squeeze.

  He raises one hand up to tell me to stop as Dr. Adams flips open a clipboard to look at her charts.

  “Go on,” my father-in-law says to the doctor.

  “Under our care is one Marjorie Dyer, one John William Hartmann, one Leo Hartmann, and one Ethan Hartmann. There are injuries and they suffered from dehydration, but, in time and with proper treatment, they are all expected to make a full recovery.”

  I fall right to my knees on the floor as I hear the names called along with the words full recovery. I cover my mouth with one hand as a warm rush of happiness envelopes me.

  Then I realize what Dr. Adams didn’t say.

  “You’re missing one,” I implore, as I look back and forth between Dr. Adams and Officer Dunley. “My Ali. My wife... Alessandra Davies. She should have been with them. They should have all been together.”

  Dr. Ad
ams purses her lips and looks over at Officer Dunley. He raises one hand and places his thumb and forefinger along the bridge of his nose as if he’s trying to steel himself for what he has to report.

  “George, Roderick,” Officer Dunley begins.

  I don’t like the way he’s suddenly using our first names.

  “Please brace yourselves,” he begins. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I’m afraid Ms. Davies was not recovered.”

  “What?” I exclaim, standing up and lunging towards the officer.

  Liam stops me just before I grab the man by the throat. Roddy is on his feet, too. He’s tensed up and looks like he may injure someone if I don’t. Liam steps further in front of me so he can put a hand on Roddy. He faces us both and holds one hand on each of our shoulders.

  “I’ve got you,” Liam says. “Both of you.”

  I see a tear roll down Roddy’s cheek. I’ve never known him to shed a tear in all the years I’ve been married to his daughter. I take a deep breath before I try to speak.

  “Tell us,” I say.

  Officer Dunley gives us a look that lets us know he feels genuinely bad delivering this news.

  “As we suspected, Marjorie Dyer reports that someone in a truck ran your family’s van off the road while Alessandra was driving. When the van left the roadway, it tumbled over the guardrail and rolled multiple times before landing in a ravine. Marjorie indicates that Alessandra became seriously injured and pinned by a tree trunk which entered through the front windshield during the crash.”

  I nod, feeling detached from myself again.

  Officer Dunley continues. “Marjorie was pinned also, although she was eventually able to free herself and then remove the boys from their car seats.”

  “Marjorie can tell you what she and the boys have been through,” Dr. Adams adds. “She’s alert and resting comfortably now. I’ll take you to her as soon as we’re finished here.”

  A small smile spreads across Roddy’s face. It’s barely perceptible, but I see it. He can’t help but respond to his wife’s name, even though his daughter didn’t make it out.

  “What did she say about Ali?” I ask. “I didn’t think Marjorie would leave her behind.”

  “Agreed,” Roddy continues, leaning forward towards Officer Dunley. “The next sentence out of your mouth had better be about how rescuers are working to free my daughter.”

  Stuart Dunley glances over at Dr. Adams as if he’s looking for reinforcement. Or maybe someone to call for reinforcement. I don’t envy him right now.

  “I wish... ” he begins. He clears his throat as if he’s mustering up the courage to say the words. “I wish I could tell you that we were working to free your daughter. But it isn’t so. We don’t know where the crash site is, exactly.”

  “Oh, no,” I say.

  “Marjorie reports that she walked with the boys for miles before they came upon a couple of volunteers who were out searching the area. We’re trying to find the wreckage and to recover Alessandra. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to do so yet.”

  “And what else?” Roddy asks, apparently knowing there’s more.

  “Oh, God,” I say. “Is there something else?”

  “Yes,” Officer Dunley replies reluctantly. “I’m afraid that Marjorie Dyer has reported her daughter’s condition as grave. She tells us that Alessandra lost a lot of blood and was in and out of consciousness when Marjorie left her in an attempt to get your young sons to safety. Marjorie doesn’t expect Alessandra to survive her injuries.”

  Upon hearing this soul-crushing news, I fall to the floor in a heap. My body gives out completely and I fold up into a fetal position. This is the worst news I could ever receive. Losing Ali again has been my greatest fear. And it’s happening. I’m helpless. I can’t save her. Oh, my God. I can’t save my wife.

  “I’m a failure. I can’t save my wife,” I mumble as I curl more tightly into a ball. “This must be what I deserve for the bad things I’ve done.”

  I think I yell out in anguish, but I don’t know for sure. It might be only in my mind. I’ve never been so traumatized. I can hear Roddy roaring at what seems like a far distance.

  “Say a prayer for me,” I implore anyone listening. “Say a prayer for my Ali. And for our sweet, innocent boys. I may deserve this. But they don’t.”

  Liam leans down near me, close enough that I can hear his voice clearly.

  “Don’t let those thoughts creep in, nephew,” he says. “You’re a good man.”

  “I’m scared!” I cry out.

  “I’m right here, buddy,” Liam assures. “I’ve got you.”

  “I’m a failure, Liam. I deserve this.”

  “Come now, George,” he replies. “You carry a heavy load already. Don’t saddle yourself with the guilt of this. Your boys need you to be strong for them. You must endure.”

  I muster enough energy to reach out one arm and grab onto Liam’s knee. I prop myself up with the other elbow, then raise my head to try and look at him.

  “You don’t understand,” I say. “I remember us living in Ancient Greece. Ali and I were there together, but I lost her. And we lost Ethan. He was killed and I didn’t protect them.”

  “What?” Liam says. “What are you talking about? I think you’re confused right now, George. Let’s talk about this another time.”

  “No,” I say emphatically. “I’m telling you, you don’t understand. I needed to figure it out. To put the pieces together. I had to find out why. To save my family so the same people didn’t hurt them again. And I didn’t. Now...”

  Everything becomes blurry. My vision is suddenly limited, splotchy. I think I see Liam’s face in front of mine just before I close my eyes and everything goes black.

  I begin to dream. At least, I think it’s a dream. The lines between wakeful consciousness, past life memories, and dreams are hard to distinguish anymore.

  Ali is in front of me this time and she’s smiling broadly like she has a secret that I’m not yet supposed to know. Her pretty, golden hair dances around her strong shoulders and frames her elegant jawline and long neck. She looks as beautiful as ever. She looks like perfection. She is perfection.

  I can sort of see light around the edges of the scene. I can’t tell for sure where we are though. This is one of those dreams where we seem to be communicating without words. In that way, it’s much like the dream I had the night of the break-in where I saw Dad and communicated with him. My wife looks completely at peace, much like Dad did in that dream. And much like John Wendell did when I saw him in the moments after he died. A wave of despair washes over me as I make this connection and realize what it must mean.

  Here is my beloved Alessandra Davies, the love of my life both now and in Ancient times, my soulmate, and my one true love. And I think she’s here, connecting with me like this because she is no longer alive. My dearest, beloved Ali is dead.

  My entire being aches for her. The sadness I feel is deep and all-encompassing. I don’t want to go on without her. I want to join her. To be with her. To go wherever it is that she’s going. I don’t care about anything else. I will join my love. My mind is made up. We can go, together. Right now. After we were separated in Ancient Greece, I waited for thousands of years to rejoin her. I’m not about to spend any more time without her. Never again. Not another minute.

  My wife apparently senses and understands what I’m feeling because she shows me an image of our little boys. I see each of their faces. They’re scared. They’re in a hospital room, clinging to Marjorie and Roddy. But I know they need me. I suddenly feel split in two. I don’t know how I could possibly go on without Ali. But I also know how important it is for me to stay with the boys. I love them so very much. They need me to love them. To be there for them as they grow up into men and navigate life’s ups and downs. Most of all, they need me to protect them. I can’t leave them when the monsters who are after our family are still out there, on the loose.

  I look at Ali, heartbroken. She re
aches to embrace me and we bury ourselves in each other’s arms. We press hard against each other’s chests. Tears stream down my face and it feels like I’m made of nothing but raw, painful emotion. Like my life force has become dangerously high voltage. I imagine myself as a frayed electrical wire pumping too much and falling around indiscriminately, becoming a danger to myself and everyone around me. This is the most horrible feeling I’ve ever had to endure. I know I have to go on, but I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I am completely and totally crushed. I’ll never be the same again.

  When I wake up, I’m in a hospital bed wearing a cotton gown. There’s an IV in my arm. As I look around the room, my first thought is that maybe I am delusional. Maybe my mind is failing me. Dr. Epstein seemed to suspect as much the last time I was at his office. Maybe I’m wrong about Ali being gone. I’d rather be losing my mind. But, deep down, I know I’m not.

  I see Liam, dozing off in a recliner beside me. I consider waking him up, but the urgency and anxiety I felt before I blacked out is gone. It’s over now. There’s no more hurry. I’m sure there will be a sense of urgency again on another day since there’s much more to deal with. But for now, I’m getting a reprieve.

  I feel a hand on my forehead and realize it’s coming from someone on the other side of the bed. It’s Mom. I know it before my eyes land on her face. I would know her touch anywhere. It’s a small comfort right now, but it’s one I sorely need.

  “I got here as fast as I could,” she says through tears. She looks utterly exhausted like she’s been crying. This is going to take a huge toll on all of us.

  “I know,” I say, sounding surprisingly calm. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Mom pats my forearm with one hand and strokes the top of my head with the other. I remember the feeling of her stroking my head from when I was little. It’s been many years since she’s done it like this. Maybe that’s why I smooth the hair on the top of my head when I’m nervous. I must be soothing myself the same way Mom used to soothe me as a kid.