Letting Go (The Callahans #1)
1. Vivian
Chapter one
Vivian
Double-checking to make sure I have everything, I toss the keys in my purse and head to the foyer as a soft knock interrupts my thoughts announcing our beloved babysitter’s arrival. “You’re a lifesaver, Abby! Eloise is still sleeping, but I need to grab a few last-minute things from the store before Trent gets home from the hospital.”
“No problem, Mrs. Stone. She’s the easiest kid, and I brought my Kindle to keep me company until sleeping beauty joins her own party.” Abby has babysat Eloise since we moved into the building two years ago and thankfully is home from college on school break. Abby’s parents, Jill and Greg, are not only wonderful neighbors but have also become good friends of ours over the years.
“We’re more than happy for you to babysit whenever you’re available. Eloise adores you and we definitely miss you.” I give Abby a quick hug before I slide on my navy puffer coat and pull my wavy blonde hair over one shoulder. Having grown up in the South, I may never get used to the chilly winters in Chicago. So far, February has been brutally cold, and spring feels so far away.
“I’m happy to spend time with my favorite kiddo while I’m home on break.” Abby grins and waves goodbye, once again reminding me how she still looks like she is barely sixteen, let alone almost twenty.
“We’ll catch up more when I get back. Text me if you need anything.” I slip out the door and wait for the elevator. It’s just after 8 a.m. and I hope to return in less than an hour, which should give me plenty of time to be back for the birthday cake delivery. I already pushed back the delivery time so we could start celebrating Eloise’s birthday immediately after Trent’s shift, also eliminating the battle of keeping her away from the cake until then. Eloise is going to be ecstatic when she sees her perfectly pink birthday cake.
As I ride the elevator down to the lobby, I check my phone and frown. There still aren’t any new texts or calls from Trent, but he must still be in surgery. I’m not surprised I haven’t heard from him since midnight, but I was hoping he would be home at a reasonable time this morning, if only to make Eloise happy. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, hoping today is a good day. Honestly, we all need a good day after the last few months—or six—but my daughter deserves the best day. She only turns four once, and I’ll do whatever I can to make it special for my girl. Even if Trent and I need to pretend like we’re fine … although everyone knows when a woman says something is fine, it’s usually anything but.
It might feel nice to only need to fake it a little today; lately, it feels like everything is just so hard between us. It never used to be like this. We were the couple always in a good place. We were great friends, had a wonderful relationship, fantastic chemistry, and he would take my breath away just by walking into a room.
Until this last year.
The changes were slight at first, minor things really, but one morning I realized my husband hadn’t kissed me goodbye in months. He always used to kiss me goodbye, even if he was leaving for a 6 a.m. surgery. At a time in life when we should turn toward each other, I feel like he’s turning away from me, and maybe even intentionally.
My husband and I had very different childhoods. I grew up surrounded by a close—sometimes too close—family with five siblings in a small town where everyone knew everyone. While not perfect, my parents loved each other fiercely and showed the six of us what it meant to be a loving partner.
Trent’s childhood lacked that type of stability. He never met his father, and he moved around a lot with his mother. By the time he graduated high school, the two of them had lived in six cities throughout four different states. When he lost his mother at nineteen, Trent lost the only significant relationship in his life.
But then we met, and he was no longer alone. Since our first date fourteen years ago, I always thought I was his tether, and he was my rock.
Maybe I underestimated our foundation if one terrible storm in life is all it took to flip everything upside down. Plenty of marriages go through the tragedy of experiencing a miscarriage and are able to come out stronger than before. I’m doing everything I can to get us through this, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
I once read an article about medical professionals processing grief when it’s a regular part of their careers. Our loss wasn’t a situation he could control or help, and as a surgeon, he thrives on being in control and loathes when any situation is out of his hands. I make a mental note to talk to him about this on our next date night, but then I realize I can’t remember the last time we even had a date night.
If I could somehow magically fix everything, we wouldn’t be here, but if I had that kind of control, Eloise would celebrate her birthday today with her baby brother trying to steal the spotlight. Thinking of my sweet angel requires a deep breath as I try to focus on the present, tucking the grief away deep in my heart. I need to do whatever I can to make today joyful. While I carry that loss every day, today my focus needs to be on Eloise.
I take another deep inhale, trying to refocus on the good in life right now. I repeat the mantra my therapist taught me: “Focus on the good, be intentional with my thoughts, and control what I can.”
If I have time, I’ll swing by the coffee shop a few blocks out of my way that has Trent’s favorite espresso. Eloise loves their blueberry scones, and great coffee always makes the day a little better.
The elevator dings as it opens to the lobby. I walk toward the front doors as our kindly doorman, Larry, calls out my name, “Mrs. Stone? Can you come over here for a moment, please?” I turn and notice two police officers standing at the front desk with Larry.
“Good morning, ma’am, are you Mrs. Vivian Stone?” the older officer asks in a thick Chicago accent. The younger officer standing next to him pulls on his collar and wipes his brow with the back of his hand.
“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you, officers?”
“Mrs. Stone, I’m Officer Mullens and this is Officer O’Grady. I’m terribly sorry, ma’am, but there’s been an incident, and your husband is at Fairview Hospital.”
“Yes, he’s a cardiologist there. Did something happen at the hospital? Is he okay?” I look back and forth between the two officers waiting for one of them to explain what's going on.
Officer O’Grady shuffles his feet and looks anywhere but at me as Officer Mullens steps closer, gently placing his hand on my elbow. “Ma’am, your husband was shot earlier this morning. He’s at the hospital as a patient, not as a doctor.”
My knees give out and my stomach lurches as I sit in a chair I didn’t even know was there. “Shot? What? Are you sure? Dr. Trent Stone?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry. If you’ll come with us, we’ll get you there as fast as possible. We really shouldn’t waste any time, Mrs. Stone.” I nod and stand to follow the officers, noticing Larry’s eyes tearing up. The silence in the lobby is jarring as I follow them out to their patrol car. I try calling Trent, but it goes to voicemail, so I send him a text message.
Me
911. Trent, please call me ASAP. There must be a mistake, but I’m riding with the police on my way to Fairview. This is not a joke, call me immediately please!!
My last text from him was at 12:10 a.m.:
Trent
Viv, looks like it’s going to be a long night for me. There’s a patient being flown in from a lower tier trauma center for urgent surgery. Doubt I’ll be done before 8 AM depending on complexity. I’ll be home as soon as I’m done for the princess’ birthday brunch, hopefully 10 at the latest. Love you, T.
I click over to text my sister after letting Abby know I may be gone a bit longer than I planned but not explaining more.
Reaching out to my sister next is just instinct; Savannah is not only my sister, but she is my best friend. I wish we lived closer to each other. Even having one of our brothers closer would be helpful. But in this moment, four hundred miles feels like an ocean away.
Me
Sav, I can’t talk right now, but something happened. Not clear on details. Cops came to our building saying Trent’s been shot??? He was operating this morning. This must be a mistake. I’m riding in a police car to Fairview to clear this up. I’ll call you when I can.
Savannah responds moments later, and we are already halfway to Fairview. It’s impressive how much faster traffic moves when your vehicle has lights and sirens blaring.
Savannah
Viv! What?! Are you ok? Is Eloise ok? Where is she? Who’s with you right now?
Me
I’m alone. Eloise is home with the sitter and probably still sleeping. I was just leaving to run last-minute birthday errands before brunch and the police were in the lobby waiting for me. She’s ok and Abby will stay with her.
Savannah
Ok, keep me in the loop. I’ll let Daddy and the Cavalry know. Love you, Vivi!
The Cavalry includes our four loving—yet overprotective—brothers, and they will blow up my phone as soon as they hear about the situation. They always mean well, but none of this feels real. I can’t even process my own questions right now, let alone answer anyone else’s. This all has to be a mistake.
I put my cell phone back in my purse as the officer whips into the emergency lot and quickly opens my door. Inside the emergency entrance I see Dan, Trent’s colleague and friend, waiting for me at the registration desk.
Dan gives me a hug and I accidentally smear eye makeup on the embroidered Dr. Sampson on his coat. I didn’t even realize I was crying. “Thank you, officers, I’ll take her from here. Come on, Vivian. Let’s go back to a private room.”
He uses his badge to open the secure doors. With a hand on my lower back guiding me, we weave through the hallways silently before entering the secluded waiting room.
A woman I don’t recognize follows us in with a few bottles of water and a box of tissues. There are a few other people sitting in chairs along the wall, but I sit on the opposite side, away from the sympathetic stares the strangers are giving me. I cling to my phone, but despite the almost-constant vibrating notifications, none of the incoming messages are from Trent.
Setting my bag down, I turn to Dan for answers. “Dan, what the hell is going on? Is it safe to even be here if there was a shooting? Shouldn’t this all be locked down? How many people were hurt? Where is Trent right now?” I try to keep my voice down, but suddenly everyone in the room is now watching the two of us.
Dan sits next to me and leans in as he quietly explains, “They are saying he coded twice in the ambulance en route. He was rushed directly into surgery as soon as they arrived. I know they’re doing everything they can for him, and we know Trent is a fighter. He is strong Vivian; you need to be strong for him too. ”
“What?” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “I mean, yes, he’s strong, but what are you talking about, Dan? Why was he transported anywhere at all when he was shot here?”
Dan tilts his head, looking at me confused like I’m the one not making sense. “No, Vivian. The shooting wasn’t here. He was brought here to Fairview by ambulance.”
“What do you mean, he wasn’t here? He told me he was operating early this morning. Where was he?” None of this is making any sense, let alone trying to wrap my head around Dan informing me that my husband coded multiple times.
“Honestly, I don’t know where he was, but Trent isn’t on the schedule until tomorrow, so there must be some kind of miscommunication, or maybe his on-call shifts changed.”
I need to straighten this confusion out so I’m home before the cake arrives. “Can someone please get ahold of Trent’s head nurse? Lisa will confirm he was here, operating, and this is all some terrible mix-up.”
Dan pauses before taking a deep breath while he looks away, as though unable to look me in the eye. After a moment, he softly replies, “I’ve been here for over forty-eight hours. He wasn’t on call and Trent wasn’t here at the hospital last night or early this morning before being brought in, let alone operating on anyone. Vivian, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to tell you.”
My phone buzzes again, but it’s my sister, not my husband.
Savannah
Vivi, I don’t want you to be alone right now. I know you didn’t ask, but I’m pulling the sister card and coming. You know it’s what Mama would’ve done. Shane has the girls covered. I called Jack and his pilot will get us in the air within the hour coming to you. Jack talked to Liam and he’ll join us in Chicago this afternoon. Whatever is going on, Jack and I will be there with you in 2 hours or less.
Savannah
We love you, sweet girl. The Cavalry is coming. Call me as soon as you can or when you know something.
By the time Savannah gets here with our brother Jack, I’m sure this will all have been cleared up. Our other brother Liam can join us for cake as we celebrate our birthday girl. I can just tell Eloise that her aunt and two of her uncles flew in to visit for her birthday.
But right now, I still have more questions than answers. Dan insists Trent wasn’t here, nor was he operating, but that’s not what Trent told me. Did Trent lie to me? No, my husband wouldn’t do that. Someone else is confused. There has to be a logical explanation, even if nothing is adding up. I sit and stare at my phone as if Trent is going to call me back and clear everything up.
But my husband doesn’t call or text me back.
The clock moves agonizingly slow if I watch it, so I continue to pace the small waiting room with clammy hands that started to shake at some point, despite my unsuccessful attempts to steady them. The familiar sterile scent of a hospital is anything but comforting right now, and the harsh aroma is only contributing to my rolling stomach. Although I appreciate Dan waiting with me, I wish one of my friends from back home was here with me.
Other people are talking in the room, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I feel like I’m in a tunnel far away from anyone else. At some point, I faintly hear someone tell me my husband is in critical condition, and they are doing everything they can.
Trent is a great surgeon and he should be operating on someone right now, not in an operating room as a patient in critical condition. My husband said he was on call last night but … if he wasn’t, then where was my husband texting me from at midnight saying he had an early morning surgery? How did he get shot? And who would shoot my husband?
“Where was he? Where was the ambulance coming from?” I ask to anyone willing to answer me in the private waiting room.
Dan picks up his phone and starts texting with someone before shaking his head. “I don’t have that answer right now, but my head nurse is calling the dispatch center to see if she can find out for us. Things have been chaotic since he came in and everyone wanting to help, especially since he’s one of our own. I’ll tell you as soon as I can get an answer.”
Another hour creeps by before the door to the private waiting room swings open. I recognize the surgeon walking into the room from last year’s holiday party, along with Trent’s head nurse, Lisa. My initial relief at seeing Lisa is fleeting once I see her face. Their expressions are somber and stoic as they knowingly approach me.
“Can we clear the room, please?” Dan announces to the few colleagues of Trent's who joined us waiting for news. I stand as I notice Lisa avoiding making eye contact with me, which sends chills down my entire body.
“Mrs. Stone, I’m Dr. Robert Carlisle. I’m not sure if you remember me, but would you please take a seat?” The surgeon is using a polished soothing and calm tone, but I know that’s not necessarily a good thing. Trent always said the eyes give away the truth when a doctor has bad news. Dr. Carlisle’s eyes appear to be troubled and tense. If he had good news, he would be smiling—but no one in this room is smiling right now.
“I’d rather not. I’m just waiting to hear from my husband to clear this misunderstanding up,” I reply.
Dan gently places his arm around my shoulder, easing me back into the chair, and reaches for my clammy hand.
“I’m the head cardiothoracic surgeon at Fairview North, ma’am. I was called in once the patient was identified as one of our own. Mrs. Stone, we did everything we possibly could to repair the damage to his heart from the bullet, but it was far too extensive. I am so sorry, but Trent passed away a few moments ago.” Dr. Carlisle continues, but I can’t hear anything else he says. I can’t breathe. This can’t be happening. This must be a bad dream, and I just need to wake up. I reach over and pinch my forearm. It doesn’t help, so I pinch myself again. Why can’t I wake up?
“Vivian, did you hear what Dr. Carlisle said?” Dan places his hand over mine to stop me from pinching myself once more.
“No, no, no. I just need to wake up,” I murmur to myself.
Dan gently squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry, Vivian. This isn’t a bad dream. It’s a horrible nightmare, but Trent is gone.”
Gone.
My husband, my best friend, the father of my child is gone.
No.
This can’t be happening.
I have so many questions. Tears begin streaming down my face as I struggle to breathe. My shaking hand presses against my lips as I try to clear the bitter taste flooding my mouth.
Did Dr. Carlisle say there was bullet damage to Trent’s heart? Someone shot my husband in the heart ?
Why can’t I take a deep breath? Why is this room so hot? Why are these people all looking at me like I hold any answers right now? I don’t even know most of the people in this room. And my biggest question as I try to take a breath that isn’t shallow and jagged: how is this real? I just wanted to run some errands before Eloise’s perfect pink cake arrived, but instead, my entire world has just been shattered.
Dan walks with me to see his body. The dim lights of the room slightly flicker above the hospital bed as he carefully pulls the sheet back. My husband’s beautiful face looks so peaceful, like when he falls asleep on the couch watching football on a Sunday afternoon. I hesitantly brush his blonde hair off his forehead as a wave of fresh tears break free.
I shake my head, as if I can deny what’s right in front of me. A stark feeling of frigid cold expands from my gut and engulfs my entire body.
“He wouldn’t leave us. He wouldn’t leave me and Eloise. He can’t leave! We were supposed to have so much more time. Eloise deserves more time with her daddy. I deserve more time with you, Trent! You can’t fucking leave us!” Devastated, I can’t help but sob as tears stream down my cheeks. I gasp as I try to catch my breath, but all I can do is wail as I stand over his body. My hand automatically reaches out to grab Trent’s hand, but the moment I do, an eerie chill goes down my spine—his hand feels unnaturally cold and just … wrong. I would know. I’ve been holding this hand for the last fourteen years of my life. My stomach churns; dizziness causes the floor to feel unsteady, and I think I’m going to be sick. Collapsing into a chair next to his bed, I pull my hand away from his and wrap my arms around myself.
My sorrow is briefly interrupted as a nurse enters the room. “We have his personal effects and I’m so sorry, but there are detectives that want to ask you a few questions when you’re ready. Take your time, though. They can wait, Mrs. Stone.” Dan steps forward to take the bag of Trent’s things as I try in vain to take a deep breath. He walks around the bed to where I’m seated and hands me the clear bag as something lights up inside.
Dan’s phone dings at the same time, and he pulls it out to read a text message. I hear him cursing under his breath and look up to meet his apologetic gaze. “Vivian, I don’t know how to say this, but Trent was transported from a crime scene in front of the Plaza Hotel.”
Did I hear him correctly … a crime scene at the Plaza Hotel? Maybe he was walking by and not inside the hotel when he was shot, but that doesn’t clarify why he wasn’t at the hospital as he claimed or what he was actually doing this morning.
Trent wouldn’t have been at a hotel without me knowing why, especially if he told me he was operating. I try to recall our last conversation, but everything is hazy and I can’t quite make sense of it all. But I know he didn’t mention anything about the Plaza, or anyone coming into town, or really anything other than Eloise’s birthday plans.
No, this doesn’t make sense. I’m still trying to make sense of what Dan said as Trent’s phone continues to light up in the plastic bag, a stark contrast to the dimmed somber lighting in the hospital room.
Without thinking, I reach in and grab it before it rings on silent again. The screen displays: Incoming call: Bianca Bishop .
She’s an old friend of Trent’s from medical school and in the extensive hierarchy of people I need to speak to today, but she is not a priority right now. I send the call to voicemail and unlock his phone with his passcode. Trent has eighteen missed calls and twenty-five new text messages. Before I lock the screen and put away his phone, a new text arrives from none other than Bianca Bishop.
Bianca
T, please call me back. I didn’t mean it. We can figure this out. Messy, but worth it, right? I’m in our room, waiting for you to come back.
My mind tries to comprehend this text, on top of everything else. But this doesn’t make sense. What room would Trent have with Bianca? She couldn’t be referring to a hotel room, like the ones at the Plaza Hotel, right? Unless … my stomach drops before I even finish the thought and now I really am going to be sick. Before I can grab a trash can, another text comes through.
Bianca
I’ll call David today. I don’t need to wait. I’m so sick of waiting for you and for us! I’ll even go with you to tell Vivian. We can do it together. You and me, babe. Just come back. I love you. XX -B
She loves him?
My husband, whose body lies cold and lifeless in front of me, was at a hotel with another woman. The man I promised forever to was cheating on me. Trent was not only cheating on me, but on our family, on our lives together, and on our future. While I was taking care of our daughter, grieving our baby boy, and fighting for our marriage, he was in a hotel room with Bianca Fucking Bishop!
He lied to me.
He betrayed me .
He betrayed us. Those few text messages obliterate the illusion of what I thought my life was in so many ways, and my husband can’t even explain or defend himself.
The hospital room starts to sway as I turn and rush toward the garbage can before emptying my stomach as Dan holds my hair back. I finish puking only for my numb body to collapse onto the floor, sobbing.
Strong arms that remind me of home suddenly wrap around me, pick me up off the floor, and hold me tight. “We’re here, sweetheart. Savannah and I are here.” My big brother Jack holds me close while Savannah wraps her arms around me and hugs my back. I can barely hear anything over my sobbing other than my brother gently say, “We’ve got you, Vivi, it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay.”
As thankful as I am to have them here and holding me, I know they are lying to me right now. Things are never, ever going to be okay again.