Chapter Sixteen
Catherine
––––––––
T HE PHONE WAS STILL in my hand with my foot on the gas pedal. My entire body was shaking like I’d been sitting in the freezer for an hour. Timothy’s words were running through my mind on repeat. It was my worst fear coming to reality. I jerked the steering wheel, whipping into the parking lot of our little hospital with my wheels squealing.
I cut the engine and hopped out, not bothering to lock the doors or grab the keys. I ran across the parking lot as if I was going to be the one to save his life. I burst through the doors of the hospital, my heart pounding in my chest and my breath coming in ragged gasps. Fear gripped me like a vise, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. I had never felt so terrified, so utterly helpless.
Turning a corner, I spotted Luke pacing anxiously, his brow furrowed with worry. My stomach twisted with dread as I approached him, my mind racing with a thousand terrifying possibilities.
“Luke,” I called out, my voice trembling with fear. “What’s happening? Is my dad okay?”
Luke turned towards me, his eyes filled with concern. “Catherine,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “Your dad had a heart attack.”
A sound escaped my throat. “No.”
“He’s alive,” Luke said calmly.
“Where is he?” I asked. “I have to see him!”
Timothy came out of a door that I knew from personal experience led to the patient area in the emergency department. “Where is he?” I rushed toward Timothy.
Timothy pulled me into his arms, holding me. My body was shaking so hard I could barely draw breath. I didn’t want to be hugged. I needed answers. I shoved against Timothy and then looked into his eyes. I saw pain and fear. He was pale. The world started to tilt and spin. I couldn’t hear the bad news. I refused to listen to him tell me my father didn’t make it.
I shook my head. “No. Don’t. No.”
“Catherine, he’s alive,” Timothy said. “They’re prepping him for surgery. He had a heart attack. There’s a blocked artery.”
My heart lurched in my chest at his words, a cold wave of terror washing over me. A heart attack? Surgery? The words echoed in my mind, filling me with a sense of dread unlike anything I had ever experienced.
There was a giant lump forming in my throat as I struggled to find my voice. I couldn’t find the words.
“Timothy,” I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Is he going to be okay?”
Timothy turned towards me, his eyes filled with sadness. “They need to transfer him to a hospital in New York City,” he explained, his voice tight with emotion. “A helicopter is on the way to pick him up. He’s stable for now, but he’s unconscious.”
The words hit me like a sledgehammer, knocking the breath from my lungs. My dad, unconscious, in need of surgery... It was too much to bear. Tears pricked at my eyes, blurring my vision as I struggled to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. The shaking stopped, but now I was so weak. I could feel my knees buckling.
Timothy reached out to me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting embrace. He held me against his body, giving me the physical and emotional support I needed. I buried my face in his chest, the tears flowing freely now as I allowed myself to finally let go. He rubbed my back, holding me and just letting me cry it out.
“He can’t die,” I sobbed, my voice choked with emotion. “What will I do without him?”
Timothy held me close. “We’ll get through this, Catherine,” he whispered, his voice filled with determination. “We’ll be there for each other, no matter what.”
But even his words couldn’t quell the fear that gnawed at my heart, the overwhelming sense of loss threatening to consume me. My dad was my rock, my anchor in a world filled with uncertainty. Without him, I felt adrift, lost in a sea of despair. Timothy wasn’t telling me my dad was going to make it. He was telling me we would get through it. That was not comforting.
“I have to see him,” I choked out. I wiped my face. “I need to see him right now.”
“Luke, watch her,” Timothy said before releasing me.
I had forgotten Luke was there at all. Timothy approached a nurse, said a few words, and then came back. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yes!”
As we were led back to see my dad, my heart hammered in my chest, each step bringing me closer to the unknown. I was terrified of what I would see. It was just another nightmare I had so many times that I’d hoped would never come true. Timothy’s arm was around my shoulders. We walked into a room, and I finally laid eyes on him. He was lying unconscious in his hospital bed with his chest bare and various monitors hooked up to him. He didn’t look like my dad at all. A sob tore from my throat, the pain of seeing him like this too much to bear.
My knees gave way, and Timothy caught me, gently holding me upright. He held me as I sobbed, my tears dropping onto his shirt. He spoke softly, words of comfort that were lost in the deafening fear inside my head. All I could see was my father in that bed, looking so small and frail, a stark contrast to the robust man who had raised me.
The nurse from earlier entered the room quietly, her face a mask of professional concern. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “It’s time for his transfer.” My heart dropped at her words, the reality of the situation hitting me like a punch to the gut.
“He can’t leave me,” I whispered, my voice breaking with emotion. “I need him.”
Timothy squeezed my hand, his eyes filled with empathy as he led me away from the bedside. “We need to go,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “We need to make it to the other hospital.”
“Just a second.”
I stepped up to the side of his bed and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Dad, don’t you dare leave me. I’m not ready for that. You’re going to get your surgery, and you will be okay. Do you hear me? I am going to be waiting for you to come out of surgery.”
A few more people came into the room, crowding us out. Timothy carefully guided me out of the room while they bundled him up. “Can I go with him?” I asked anyone that was listening.
“I already asked,” Timothy said. “It would be better if we drove. They’re going to have nurses and equipment on board. They need the room.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, refusing to believe the last time I was going to see him was lying in that bed. “Okay.”
We walked back to the waiting area where Luke was still pacing.
“The helicopter is here,” Timothy said. “I need to get her to the city. Can you lock up the shop? I need to call Paisley.”
“I’ll lock the shop, and if you don’t mind, I’ll go up to the house and pick up Paisley and take her to the hospital.”
“Thank you,” Timothy said gratefully. “I appreciate it. I know she’ll want to be there for Catherine.”
I listened to them make the arrangements, but it felt like I was far away. It was an out of body experience. Somewhere in my head, I was searching for a clue that this was just another nightmare. I was at home in bed.
But Timothy’s arm around me felt too real. “Where’s your purse?” Timothy asked as we walked outside.
“I don’t know,” I murmured.
“That’s fine. You don’t need it.”
“My truck,” I said.
“It’ll be here.”
“My keys. I think I left my keys in the truck.”
He put me in his car and then jogged over to lock up my truck. A minute later, he was pulling out of the parking lot. As Timothy drove us to the hospital in New York City, the world outside blurred into a hazy backdrop. Every passing moment felt like an eternity. I was thinking about everything I needed to do. I had to lock up his apartment. There would be clients waiting on jobs. I would have to call them. Timothy’s hands gripped the steering wheel with a fierce determination, his jaw set in a steely resolve. But despite his efforts to maintain his composure, I could sense the tension radiating off him in waves.
I sat beside him in silence, my own thoughts consumed by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. There was just no way I could lose my father. I refused to bury him. I wasn’t ready. Period.
As we arrived at the hospital and made our way to the waiting room, I felt a sense of numbness settle over me. My legs moved of their own accord, carrying me forward in a haze of uncertainty. Timothy brought me a cup of coffee. I dutifully sipped it, but I tasted nothing. I kept checking the clock. Every minute that passed seemed to drag on for an hour, each tick from the second hand echoing loud in my ears. It was a strange sensation, the anticipation of waiting, the fear of what might come.
As the hours passed, Timothy never left my side. His quiet presence was comforting. I couldn’t sit still. I paced the room restlessly, my heart pounding in my chest, my hands trembling with nervous energy. The dark thoughts wouldn’t stop coming. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my dad, of facing a future without him by my side. A wave of powerful grief and fear slammed into me, knocking the air from my lungs.
Suddenly, Timothy was there, enveloping me in a warm embrace. I melted into his arms, the weight of my fears crashing over me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, my body shaking with the force of my sobs. I wasn’t strong enough.
“I love you,” I whispered, the words tumbling from my lips in a desperate plea.
He kissed my forehead gently, his lips warm against my skin. “I love you too,” he murmured. “Just have faith. He’s getting the best care here. These guys are experts. He’s in good hands. This is the hard part. I know it sucks, but we just have to wait. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be by your side through whatever comes our way.”
I felt a glimmer of peace wash over me, knowing that no matter what the future held, we would face it together. It would be beyond difficult, but I was confident Timothy would stand by me. The wave of grief subsided and I was able to breathe once again.
“Why don’t you sit and I’ll get you something to drink,” Timothy said. “Something sugary. I know you’re not going to eat, but you’re going to need the fuel.”
“Are you Catherine Jacobsen?”
I spun around and saw a doctor in green scrubs. My heart skipped a beat, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I braced myself for the worst, steeling my resolve for whatever news he delivered.
“Yes,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
Timothy stood beside me, once again supporting my weight.