Chapter Seventeen
It had taken Chase far longer than Norah thought it would to ask about the plan, and Norah was pleased with the implication that Chase trusted her.
“How did you get us into the ICU anyway?”
It was a long shot for Norah to call Jeff Timmons and ask for special permission to visit Jamie in the ICU, but she took her chances.
Although she was immune to the longing glances of men, Norah was not above using her looks to get something she needed.
And she had taken inventory of the way Timmons’s eyes had lingered a little too long when they’d left that day.
As Norah had feared, Timmons had sweetly asked her to dinner.
Fortunately, she had the excuse of trying to save everyone from a pandemic (and the fact almost all restaurants were closed to anything but takeout in the greater New Orleans area) and was able to loosely promise him a raincheck.
“Unbelievable,” Chase exclaimed with a smile. “You’re still using that pretty-privilege after all these years.”
“I have to while I still can. It definitely doesn’t have the same effect as it did ten years ago.”
The closer they got to New Orleans the more anxious Norah was becoming. She had been happy for the distraction of small talk with Chase, but now it was getting harder to ignore the chance they were about to take.
“Well, that’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“No, it’s not. I’m getting old.” It was true, too. Norah knew logically her worth was tied up in so much more than just great bone structure and beautiful hair. But that little voice that had probably come from her mother said that she wasn’t quite as valuable once her looks faded.
Chase scoffed dramatically, taking her eyes off the road just long enough to look at Norah and shake her head.
“First of all, you aren’t getting old. Second, you look better now than you did in med school.”
Norah rolled her eyes but noted her cheeks flushing like a shy teenager’s. It was crazy to her that, in their forties, Chase still had this effect on her.
“Yeah, sure.” She was still terrible at taking a compliment.
They drove the next twenty minutes in silence, Chase making sure to keep hold of Norah’s hand the entire way, her other one gently guiding the steering wheel in a way that reminded Norah of the captain of a ship.
There it was again—the serenity Chase brought.
Chase had always been a source of strength for Norah in their younger days.
But this was different. There was a maturity about her that added a layer of safety to that strength.
Norah seemed to know deep within her soul that Chase wouldn’t leave this time.
That could have just been wishful thinking though. It was certainly not worth finding out.
“We’re here.” Chase’s shoulders rose to her ears with a single deep breath, and she squeezed Norah’s hand three times. Norah had almost forgotten she used to do that—a quick gesture that said “I love you” when words just didn’t feel good enough.
“Last chance to bow out,” Norah said. She knew Chase wouldn’t, but she had to give her the opportunity one more time.
“Never.”
The ICU corridor was darker than Chase remembered.
And it was quiet. So quiet that she could hear her heart pounding in her ears as they walked.
A couple of nurses sat several feet apart at their computers, having shed their yellow paper gowns but still wearing their N95 masks.
Even with the masks on Chase could see how exhausted they were.
Had any of them been able to sleep at night, or were their nights plagued with the sounds of alarm monitors and “code blues” coming from overhead speakers?
It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. And if Chase had any doubts about what they were doing there that day, she quickly cast them aside when she realized they could at least try to save one of their own.
Norah looked nervous. Her state of mind was subtle, but also not imperceptible to Chase. It was also not something Chase saw very often, which only intensified her own anxiety.
Timmons had given them temporary badges.
They planned to act like they were meant to be there.
Don’t draw any attention to yourself. Don’t talk to anyone.
They arrived outside of Room 5. Through the closed glass doors, she could make out Jamie, almost lifeless in the bed, heavily sedated with the breathing tube winding out of her mouth.
It was so quiet on the unit Chase could hear the hiss of the ventilator through the walls.
Jamie’s chest rose and fell in a perfect, almost alien way. At least she looked comfortable.
“I’m glad she’s intubated.” It was a strange comment for Norah to make, but Chase knew what she meant.
Even though they’d suspected as much, they hadn’t been updated on Jamie’s condition yet.
If she was okay enough to be breathing on her own, it wasn’t worth trying the drug.
And although the best outcome would have been for a miraculous turnaround like Stevens had, Chase knew that was a fantasy, and both she and Norah looked at each other with the knowledge that they had made the right decision.
Without another word, Norah pulled two gowns out from the plastic cart in front of the door, holding the first one open for Chase to step into and then tying the back closed.
She handed the second one to Chase, who did the same.
They covered their heads with caps and their shoes with paper booties.
And when nothing was showing but their eyes, Norah slowly slid open the door and walked in.
“Jamie? It’s Norah. And Chase.”
They waited for a few seconds, Jamie’s glassy eyes showing no signs of recognition.
Timmons had given them access to Jamie’s medical records, which was probably some sort of HIPAA violation, but at this point neither of them cared.
Jamie was sedated, but not so much that she might not be able to hear them.
“Jamie. Hey. I’m here with Chase. We’re in love again and going to get married,” Norah said teasingly, with a chuckle.
“What are you doing?” Chase whispered.
“Trust me. If she’s at all awake, she’ll respond to that comment.”
Chase shook her head incredulously, but sure enough, Jamie blinked just twice, and Chase was sure she saw the corners of her mouth turn up a little.
“Did you see that?”
“I told you she’d like what I said.” Norah took one of Jamie’s hands in hers, then lowered herself into a squat so she was level with the head of Jamie’s bed.
“Listen. I wish you were awake enough to tell me this is okay. But I have to take the chance that this is what you’d want.
I haven’t known you long, but I think I know you well enough already.
And I’m sure you want to live. I’m going to give you some medicine that might help.
We don’t know for sure. It’s dangerous. But I think it might work. ”
Chase felt tears threaten the integrity of her mask and tried to pull herself together, but Norah was looking at her with an expression that pleaded with her to tell her she knew they were doing the right thing. Chase wanted to say that to her so badly. But she didn’t know either.
The quiet terror of the moment was shattered by the sound of the glass sliding open again. Another weary nurse appeared, moving slowly and looking relatively uninterested in them. She moved to the tree of IV pumps near the wall and pressed some buttons.
“Who are you two?” she asked, fiddling with one of the bags and glancing at Jamie’s monitor.
“Chase Durgin and Norah—”
“We’re with the CDC. Doctors.” When Norah cut her off abruptly, Chase got the picture. The less information the better. And the fewer people who knew their names the fewer people there were to turn them in.
The nurse sized them up and down, nodded once, and then left the room.
Chase exhaled hard against her mask as soon as she was gone, her hot breath ricocheting back onto her face and making her slightly nauseous. Norah just shrugged. This was good. This meant that no one else would likely be by the room anytime soon.
After one more glance out the door, Norah reached through the opening of her gown and slipped a small glass vial from her pocket.
She was already prepared with an empty syringe and needle she’d taken from one of the carts in the room before the nurse had interrupted them, and Chase wondered how she’d managed to do that without even her noticing.
Of all the things Chase would take Norah for, an efficient criminal wouldn’t have been one. But here they were.
She watched as Norah, her back turned to the glass, carefully drew up the medication into the syringe and discarded the needle.
She attached the end to one of Jamie’s IV ports and visibly steadied her breathing with a precision that reminded Chase how good Norah was at controlling her own mind and body.
Norah looked at Chase once more, as if for approval, and Chase afforded her one final nod.
She then pushed the plunger of the syringe so slowly Chase wasn’t even sure she was doing anything.
After three minutes (which Norah had clearly been counting to the second, continually glancing at her watch), it was over.
They looked at each other, waiting. Waiting for what, they weren’t sure. It would take hours, or days, even to see if the treatment would work. Nothing would happen right now.
“What do we do now?” Chase asked, although she already knew the answer.
Norah sighed despondently.
“Now, we wait. And as much as I hate to leave her, we should probably get out of here.”
Chase started to leave, expecting Norah to be just feet behind her.
But when she went to open the door, Norah wasn’t there.
She was standing next to Jamie, whispering something Chase couldn’t, didn’t want to, make out.
When they finally did leave, Chase saw a single tear spill out over the top of Norah’s mask.
Neither of them felt much like talking on the drive home.
Norah was nearly choking on the newfound terror of what they’d done, suddenly fully aware of the gamble they’d taken with Jamie’s life.
It was a panic that made her want to turn the car around, drive back to the hospital, and somehow undo what she’d done.
If this drug killed her friend, it would be all her fault.
But if the virus killed her instead, and Norah could have done something to save her, well then that would be all her fault too.
Chase tossed around the idea of telling John, but Norah ultimately persuaded her that the fewer people who knew, the less the liability.
If anything happened, they didn’t want to take John down with them.
Something about having this secret between them made Norah feel even closer to Chase, but for some reason, she just wanted to shut her out.
“Do you want company?” Chase asked when they finally walked to their tents. It was almost dinner time, but Norah knew neither one of them had much of an appetite.
“I think I just need to be alone for a while.”
Norah watched Chase’s face fall and immediately hated herself for causing the reaction.
But in that moment, everything in her told her to run.
Chase had been nothing but attentive and kind and patient since their reunion.
Yet all Norah wanted to do was get as far from her as possible.
The irony didn’t escape her that Chase had been the avoidant one in their relationship.
In fact, that was what had ruined them. But there she was, grown, self-aware, ready to stand by Norah’s side whatever the cost. Now Norah was the coward.
“Of course. But I think it would be smart of us to make an appearance in the mess tent in an hour or so and at least pretend to eat some dinner. I don’t want John to get suspicious.”
She had an excellent point.
“I’ll see you over there.”
As Norah went into her tent, and Chase turned the corner to go to hers, Norah was briefly amused at the concept of Chase “dropping her off at home.” Nothing was normal in the bayou.
She just wanted one night where they could go back to being them—share a bottle of wine in their tiny kitchen on Hannity Street listening to the indie folk music Chase loved so much while she tried desperately to explain the difference between the Decemberists and Fleet Foxes.
They’d get just a little tipsy and dance in the dim light of the table lamps Norah insisted on having because overhead lighting “is just an abomination.” And Chase would laugh as she picked Norah up and put her on the counter, kissing her neck and fumbling with her T-shirt until Norah pushed her away and dragged her to their bedroom.
After they were done, they’d lie under the covers and put on an old movie until they both fell asleep sometime after midnight.
It was all so simple. Norah unlaced her boots and collapsed onto her cot, staring at the canvas walls, pretending it was the popcorn ceiling on Hannity Street. It was all so simple. Until it wasn’t.