by Mandi Lynn
They didn’t let Randy finish seeing his last patient of the day.
“Dr. Ash, there’s a phone call for you. I’ve forwarded it to your office.” It was Sophie who stopped him in the hall. The corners of her mouth were pulled down. Sympathy was in her eyes that hadn’t been there the last time she spoke to him.
“Thank you,” he said quickly as he made his way down the hall to his office. His mind went to Willow, but if something had been wrong with Willow, wouldn’t she have just said something?
Millions of thoughts ran through his head as he reached his office, none of them had a good outcome. He shut the door behind him, knowing that if the call wasn’t important, Sophie would have had him take it in the break room like she did last time. He took a deep breath before he picked up the phone.
“Dr. Ash speaking,” he said as he stood in front of his desk.
“Good evening, Dr. Ash.” The voice was John Roux, the president of the hospital. There was new wave of panic as he waited for John to say something more. Part of himself was relieved that whatever the phone call was about, it had nothing todo with Willow, but the other part sunk into a sense of dread knowing full well that if John wanted to speak with him, it wouldn’t be anything good.
“How are you doing, Dr. Ash?” John’s tone was casual and Randy tried to match it, though sweat started to pool and drip down his back.
“Busy as usual.”
“Do you happen to know why I’m calling?”
Randy took the cord of the old phone and guided it as he walked around his desk and sat in his chair. “I’m not one hundred percent sure,” he said. His voice softened towards the end and dripped into a whisper.
“We’re requesting that you go on leave until further notice,” John said, his voice final.
Randy was sitting at his desk, papers astray and his world falling apart. He stared at the letters and numbers jumbled in front of him and wondered if he’d ever be able to make sense of it again.
“I’m not sure I understand,” he said. He tried to keep his voice even, but it wavered and dipped. He began to sink.
“In light of the recent events with Samantha Ellison, we request that you go on leave.” It was a rare day he spoke one-on-one with the president. He had hoped the next time he spoke with John it was going to be some congratulations for a discovery he had made to aid in finding the cure to Alzheimer’s. The phone call was ironic in its cruelty.
“And if I don’t?” The words came out like a whimper. He wasn’t threatening to stay. No, he was judging just how much trouble was in his future.
“Then you risk termination,” John spoke without hesitation, and it was the first time Randy could hear the doubt in his voice and hesitation towards making such a sudden move against Randy.
The phone line was silent and it was all Randy could do to stop himself from hanging up the phone.
“I want you to understand, Dr. Ash, that this does not mean we believe Mr. Rhea’s accusations. However, we have reporters coming to us, asking about you, what we think you’ve done, and how we’re dealing with the situation. An investigation is already underway in hopes that we don’t find anything against you, but either way, we cannot have you working here until you’ve been deemed innocent.”
“I understand.” Randy’s body revolted against him as nausea rolled up his stomach and into his throat. He feared anything the investigation might reveal. Would the serum Willow produced end up in the findings? He was almost sure it would, unless Willow found some way to tamper with it.
How had his wife done this?
“Once the findings come back, and it’s revealed that what happened with Samantha had nothing to do with your care, then we invite you back into this hospital with open arms.”
A knock sounded at the door and before Randy had the chance to respond, the door opened and Jenna let herself in. He was guarded when she first made her way through, afraid what his face might reveal of the conversation he was having with John, but one look at Jenna and suddenly talking to the president didn’t matter. Her eyes were wide with panic.
“Dr. Ash, I’m so sorry to disrupt, but Willow was found on the ground. She wasn’t breathing, and we have a team currently working to resuscitate her.”
“Where is she?”
“In ER bay two.”
In that moment, John possibility firing him, taking his license to care for patients forever, all these possibilities seemed so small compared to Willow being taken from his world. His mouth hung open, not in the type of way when one looks dumbfounded, but in the way that Randy was fighting to breathe but no air could come.
The moments that followed were done without thinking. Randy blinked and suddenly he was running down the halls toward the ER bays. He vaguely remembered hanging the phone up on John, pushing Jenna out of the doorway, and running past familiar sets of eyes following him with curiosity. His feet couldn’t carry him fast enough as his chest thudded against him, begging for him to slow down.
He thought he heard someone calling his name as he ran, but his body urged him forward without a moment to stop. By the time Randy pushed through the doors of the trauma bay, a crowd had formed around bay two. As people saw him coming, they moved out of the way.
“Randy, we found Willow.” The man was going to say more, but Randy pushed past him and into the room.
He saw Willow behind a blur of faces. They were walking around her as she was spread across the bed, her shirt hanging open electrodes strapped to her chest.
“She was found on the floor outside her room,” someone said.
Randy didn’t look up to see who it was. He bit his tongue, so eager to yell at these people who took their eyes off Willow when there was something wrong with her—he screamed at himself for doing the same. He reached out for her hand and when he was finally able to wrap his fingers around hers, he was overwhelmed by how hot her skin was.
A woman was doing chest compressions on Willow, putting all her weight into getting her heart back into rhythm, and that’s when Randy heard the unsteady beat on the heart monitor. It echoed in the room full of people and soon enough it was the only sound he could hear. When Randy looked around the room he could see people’s lips moving, but their voices went unheard. The only sound in the room was the irregular beeping of Willow’s heart.
Randy’s eyes wandered to Willow’s. Her face was sunken, her skin too pale and body too lifeless. With each chest compression, her entire body moved. Her eyes were closed but her mouth hung open.
“Clear!” a voice shouted.
Someone took Randy by the arm and pulled him away. The room stopped as each person stepped away from Willow and a bolt of electivity ran through her chest and her body jumped. Once she stilled, the room was set in motion again, and everyone found their place back into rhythm. Randy watched the heart monitor, waiting for the beats to settle into a rhythm, but nothing changed.
Her heartbeat was fading, and he wasn’t sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him or Willow slipping away.
“Damn it,” a voice whispered behind him.
Randy reached out for Willow’s hand again and put his other out to brush hair way from her face. He waited for her to open her eyes, ruffle her nose, anything but hold so still.
“Clear!” a voice yelled out again.
Someone pulled Randy away again and when his hand dropped away from Willow’s, the room felt colder.
When the second jolt of electricity went through Willow’s body, it wasn’t the beeping of the heart monitor that Randy heard; it was the soft thud of her heart, as if he was leaning his ear against her chest. The sound was fading and when the room gathered around Willow again, Randy reached out to touch her hand but she was gone.
He didn’t hear the beeping of the heart monitor shift into a long held alarm. He didn’t hear the voices of the nurses and doctors as their panic shifted into something less hopeful. But most of all, her didn’t hear Willow’s heartbeat again.
He froze by the
side of her bed. He held her hand, but he was afraid he would disturb her peace. Alive or not, she felt more delicate than ever.
Around him, bodies began to back away. He thought he felt one or two reach out and touch him on the shoulder, but he couldn’t pull himself away from Willow.
He inched closer towards her, feeling his airways closing and his breathing grow uneven.
He could see her and touch her, but he knew she was no longer there. Before these last few months, Randy never cried. Until he learned what Willow had done, he reserved his tears for her. It was when he was standing at the altar and Willow was making her slow progression down the aisle. She was glowing that day and something about the moment made him cry. The tears were of happiness, but the tears that stained his cheeks now were a whole other monster.
The tears came fast and sharp, and he surrendered into them. If there were still doctors or nurses in the room, he didn’t care. He scooped Willow into his arms, breathing in the scent of her hair, suddenly afraid he was going to forget what she smelled like.
He did not sob. His sorrow was silent, and it was vibrant.
Her death was a mystery, and part of him wanted it to remain that way. He could imagine her plunging a syringe full of the untested antivenom into her veins, letting panic guide her. The thought of poison in her body, poison that she willingly injected, made him want to vomit. Had it been her own doing, or was it some freak accident? He had hoped for the later.
“Dr. Ash?” A voice said behind him. His face was still hanging over Willow body, her thin frame wrapped in his arms. When he looked at her, her face didn’t look the same; it was missing that piece of light in her that made her glow. “Randy?” the voice was softer this time.
Randy turned, but didn’t loosen his grip on Willow. She was lighter somehow, as if the universe wanted to take her body along with her soul. He was terrified to let go.
Jenna was standing at the door. There were faces behind her out in the hall, but she was the only one brave enough to step through the door. Her face was turned down, but she gazed past Randy to Willow who was still in his arms. His grip on her loosened as the reality of the world around him began to come crushing down. Jenna took a few steps forward and stopped. She whispered something Randy couldn’t hear as her eyes blinked and tears streamed over.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. Jenna was more than a co-worker to Willow—she had been a friend, coffee date she could rely on every Monday morning. He forgot about that. He cursed himself for not remembering something so simple.
Jenna stood in the middle of the room, frozen, her face coated with a mix of horror and sorrow. Randy kissed Willow’s forehead, a small tear dripping onto her skin. He laid Willow’s body down on the hospital bed, lifting her hand one last time. His eye caught on the wedding ring on her left hand. The band was silver, the engagement ring a bright diamond against her soft skin. He ran his thumb over the ring, feeling it loosen and shift under his touch. Should he take it off?
He slid the ring away, leaving her finger exposed. He hadn’t touched her ring since he had said his vows to her eight years ago.
Randy stepped away and turned around to Jenna. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach, and she was leaning forward like she might fall at any moment. Randy reached toward her, and she fell into his arms. Holding Jenna felt different, wrong. Her body was too small, her hair the wrong scent. Was this what it would be like for now on, whenever he held someone? Would he only remember how much that person wasn’t like Willow?
The room shifted and soon all he could see was Willow. He memorized her face, the stillness of it. He watched her, waiting for the corners of her lips to twitch upwards like they would when she took naps. He waited for her to turn over in her sleep and curl into a ball. He waited, begging for her to wake up.
Chapter 41
By the time Randy came back to his office, it had been searched. Papers had always littered his desk, but now every file seemed to have been touched and rearranged. To anyone else, the office looked normal, but to Randy, his secrets were exposed.
He sank into his chair, utterly hopeless in what to do. The door to the safe by his desk was open, all the contents had been removed. All the notes Willow had taken on Sam, all the chicken-scratch from when she was trying to perfect the serum was gone. All of it had been in the safe, the secrets hidden not so thoughtfully.
“Dr. Ash.” When Randy lifted his head, John Roux stood at the door, two security guards behind him. His eyebrows were furrowed in, but his eyes were pleading, like he couldn’t believe the investigators had found something against him. John was holding papers in his hands, and one glimpse was all it took for Randy to recognize the files he held.
Randy stood from his desk. How long had he been gone? Two hours, maybe three? Long enough for the investigators to come into his office, find what they need and get John’s attention enough to cause him to see Randy face to face.
“You know why we’re here.” It wasn’t a question, but it was John’s eyes that begged for answers.
The two security guards stepped forward as John spoke.
“Files were found in your safe that documented some sort of experiment on Samantha Ellison. The notes recalled some sort of serum that was injected into her system which, at this point, leaves me to believe that this is what caused Samantha’s decline.”
Randy’s gaze never wavered away from John’s. A hint of disgust and disbelief painted his face. Was Randy supposed to say something? Pretend that the words written on those papers weren’t what they seemed?
A paper was poking out from John’s grip, and he could see Willow’s handwriting decorating the edges. He felt he could be ripped in two. He was torn between telling John what Willow had done or defending her, even in her grave.
John was still speaking, telling Randy he was no longer allowed near the hospital and that his license to practice medicine would be revoked, all pending a court hearing. The words started to blur together, but one single light of hope kept him standing. Perhaps, through all of this, Willow would be able to remain innocent.
“I recommend you get a lawyer,” John said.
The security guards walked towards Randy until there was one on each side. They gripped the tops of his arms and showed him down the hall where three police officers greeted him. Paul was standing with one of the officers, along with another man in a suit who Randy assumed was Paul’s lawyer. When Randy approached, Paul looked up and scowled. He was a good grandfather, Randy had to credit him that.
One of the officers came to Randy’s side and gripped him, rougher than the security guards had, and pushed him until his hands were behind his back and his front was against the wall. Out of the corners of Randy’s eyes, he saw some of his colleagues he had been working with for years. Each one of them looked at him wide-eyed, but as soon as he caught their gaze they looked away.
Handcuffs were strapped onto Randy’s wrists. Out of everything that was going on around Randy, the only hint of surprise that hit him was the wonder at how heavy the handcuffs were.
“Rot in hell,” Paul said. A wave of defeat coated Randy’s skin, mixing with sweat and tears.
He was guided down the hall some, pulled into an elevator, and suddenly the hospital he had worked in for so long felt unfamiliar. The elevator doors opened, and the officers kept Randy in front of him as they walked.
“Come on,” the officer said, pushing Randy forward.
They went through the double doors of the hospital, and a police car was waiting for him, the back door already open. The officer kept one hand on Randy’s cuffs while he used the other to push his head down and into the car.
No one spoke as they drove off. The muffle of reporters filling the streets as they filed out of the lobby and into the fresh air was the only thing Randy could hear over the hum of the car’s engine.
— — — — —
The prison uniform reminded him of scrubs from the hospital. All one color, baggy, and rough like it mig
ht have been ironed too much. If anything, it made it feel like home.
“Can you explain to me your side of the story?”
Randy wasn’t in his cell. He was in a meeting room with concrete walls and a mirror that was really just a double-sided window. A small camera was pointing down in the corner of the room. The man that sat across from him was David Patrini, the attorney that had been provided to him upon arrival at his jail cell.
“What did they do with Willow?”
“In the city morgue,” David said. The words were clipped and final. He brushed the words away while Randy hung onto them. Randy wasn’t sure what he expected to have come of his late wife in his absence, but he had hoped she was placed somewhere peaceful. The morgue seemed too gruesome.
“Would you like to explain or would you like to rot in jail for the rest of your life?”
David was sitting back in the chair across from him, completely at ease. He looked at Randy with keen eyes like he was searching for something. He held a pencil in his hands, tapping it against the metal table in front of him even though he had no paper to write things down.
Randy watched the pencil tap. His eyes glazed over. He didn’t have any options left. He had lost everything, most of all he had lost Willow. He had no chance to grieve her death. Her name would be ruined. All her life, she had been an amazing nurse that cared about her patients, but it was one fatal mistake that people would always remember her for. He wasn’t sure if she did have Alzheimer’s, but what was clear is that somewhere along the line, she believed she did, and to her that was all that mattered.
“Dr. Ash, would you like to explain?” David said again, this time his voice harder.
He began to speak before he thought through his actions. “I wanted to find the cure to Alzheimer’s,” Randy said, meeting David’s gaze. His lawyer was supposed to be on his side, but it felt like he was far from it. “My wife, Willow, her father had died due to complications from Alzheimer’s. Her biggest fear was always that she would meet the same fate as her father, and I wanted to take that fear away from her.”
