Chapter 26
Kandace
I ’m having trouble fathoming the last seven hours as I sit beside my mother and brother in the hospital waiting room.
It’s a blur, and yet as I sip my stale coffee, I’m numb.
Beyond the windows the sun is rising, bringing color to the sky.
Justin has been drifting off to sleep for a few minutes and waking back up with a start.
Each time, he asks the same question. Mom is quiet, too quiet, as her bloodshot eyes continually fill with tears.
It’s possible I’ve also slept, but it doesn’t feel like it.
Dad suffered another heart attack—that’s his preliminary diagnosis. The ambulance rushed him to Washington, a bigger town than Riverbend. I’m full of wishes. I wish we knew he wasn’t feeling well and had time to get him to Bloomington or down to Evansville. The doctors said that wasn’t possible.
Our time was up.
No time for a transfer.
The last person who came to talk to us told us that Dad needed three bypasses, and he was being prepped for surgery. While Mom was allowed to go back and see him, Justin and I stayed here in the waiting room. It has been over four hours since that visit, and we haven’t heard a thing.
It’s as if my nerves are about to stretch to the point of snapping.
The buzz of people in the waiting room and hallways is getting louder as morning brings the hospital to life. We silently watch as people get in and out of the elevators and walk from here to there. I can’t help but wonder what their stories are and if they’re hopeful or not.
I want to be hopeful.
Last night, I called Chloe. She was as wonderful as ever, coming to our house so that Molly could stay asleep. Since today is Sunday, Chloe doesn’t have patients.
As I sit here, I’m wondering if she’s awake and if Chloe has spoken to Molly.
Being that it’s not even six in the morning, I’m afraid to call and wake them.
It was after midnight when Chloe arrived.
I also called Dax. We didn’t talk long. I am too emotional and feel too uninformed to tell him much of anything.
There’s a part of me that’s happy I have him to call—to talk with. Right now, it’s the part of me that I’m trying to hold onto. If Dax and I can come back together, miracles are possible, and Dad will be okay.
Justin taps my arm. “You want to go with me to the cafeteria? We could get Mom something to eat.”
Mom looks up at us.
“I can stay with Mom,” I offer.
Mom shakes her head. “I’m okay. I’d like a yogurt if there’s any.”
“And coffee?” Justin asks.
“Only if it’s better than what they have up here on this floor.”
Going to Mom, I crouch down. “Are you sure? Justin can get everything. I hate to leave you alone.”
Mom nods. “Walk around. You have your phones. I can call.”
When I look at my brother, he nods.
It feels good to walk, to be out of the uncomfortable chairs. I lean my head against Justin’s shoulder once we’re inside the elevator and close my eyes.
“Have you gotten any sleep?” he asks.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “It’s all a blur.”
The doors open and more people enter.
As we’re walking the hallways, the same ones we did six years ago when Dad had his first heart attack, I scrunch my nose and say, “Why do hospitals smell?”
“Because no one wants to be here.”
The cafeteria is filling with people as workers place items in the different bins and the grill is firing up with eggs and bacon.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
“No. You?”
He shakes his head. “Just some decent coffee.”
“Me too. I’ll get Mom’s yogurt.”
It’s as I’m reaching into the ice and choosing a flavor that someone comes up behind me. I’m a bit put off by the proximity, ready to call for Justin, when I turn and am met with the most handsome golden stare. I can’t believe my eyes.
Is he a hallucination?
“Dax?”
My head shakes as I forget about the yogurt and lift my arms to his shoulders. He wraps me in his embrace, and for a moment, I’m safe. When I look up, there are new tears in my eyes. “How did you get here? How did you know where we were?”
“How are you?”
“Surprised to see you.”
His eyes are tired, yet he forces a smile. “Remember me saying that I’ve been recalling a few things?”
“Yes.”
“I remember when you told me about your dad, years ago. I asked why you didn’t tell me.”
A grin lifts my cheeks. “I asked you what you would have done.”
“Here I am, Kandace. I’m here to hold your hand or whatever you need.”
My eyes close as I lean against his broad chest and inhale his scent. It’s bodywash and deodorant and worry that emanates from within. Compared to the scent of the hospital, it’s heavenly.
“Dad—” I begin.
“I went to the waiting room first and talked to your mom. She said that he’s still in surgery.”
I nod as more tears clog my throat, making me gasp for air. “We just don’t know.”
Dax looks down at my tray. At the same time, Justin joins us.
My brother looks at Dax. With his lips in a straight line, Justin nods. “Thanks for coming.”
“There’s no place else for me to be.”
“Do you want to eat?” I ask Dax.
“I’ll join you drinking coffee. There was late-night construction on 65. I’ve been driving for a while.”
“Did you sleep?”
He shakes his head. “My guess is as much as you did.”
With coffees in hand and one for Mom plus her yogurt, we head back up to the waiting room.
“Thank you for coming, Dax,” Mom says as she takes her coffee and yogurt.
“If there’s anything I can do,” he says.
The two of us sit a little bit away from Mom and Justin.
With the lids off our cups, Dax reaches for my hand.
In my tired state, I stare down at our connection, unsure if I’m dreaming.
When I look up, his gaze is on me. “You didn’t have to come.
” Lifting my chin, I focus on him. “But I’m glad you did. ”
“I meant what I said that I want to be part of your life. It’s what I told Randy the other night when we had a talk.”
“A talk? You had a talk with my dad?”
Dax nods. “It was while you were putting Molly to bed.”
I wiggle in my seat. “Dax, what did you and Dad talk about?”
“I didn’t plan on you knowing, not yet. I don’t think we’re ready or you are. I know I need to prove to you that I mean what I’m saying. I hurt you and that’s on me.”
My curiosity is piquing. “What am I not ready for?”
Our conversation is put on hold as a man in scrubs walks into the room and my chest tightens.
“Mrs. Sheers?”
Mom stands as Justin stands beside her. She reaches for his hand.
Dax and I both get out of our chairs and move closer. He still has my hand in his, keeping me steady. Yet, I’m now trembling, as if the temperature of the room suddenly plummets. Letting go of my hand, Dax wraps his arm around my lower back, and I lean into him.
“I’m Dr. Lambert. First, let me say, Randy did well in surgery.”
My knees buckle as I fall into Dax. Seconds later, I’m with Mom and Justin and we’re all hugging.
Dr. Lambert lifts his hand. “He did well in surgery. It’s good that he got here when he did. The blockage in two of his arteries was nearly one hundred percent. We were able to harvest healthy arteries from his lower leg.”
We are all nodding as if we totally understand.
All I can concentrate on is that my dad is alive.
The doctor goes on, “We weren’t able to do the less invasive surgery. That means his chest was opened, and he will be in some pain for a while.”
“But he’ll be okay?” Mom asks.
“We aren’t out of the woods, Mrs. Sheers, but we can see the path.
” He smiles at Mom. “It will take a while for him to come out of anesthesia. And a nurse will come out to let you know when you can come back.” Dr. Lambert looks from one person to the next.
“I’m sure you all want to see him. I’m going to say that for today, we keep him to one visitor.
In many cases, the patient has little memory of the day of surgery.
May I suggest that you decide which one will stay and the rest of you go home and get some rest. Randy will be staying with us for about five more days.
It could be less or more. Come back tomorrow, and he’ll be in better sorts to see you. ”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Mom said.
As the doctor walks away, we all stare at Mom.
“You haven’t slept,” I say.
“Neither have you.” She squeezes Justin’s hand and reaches for mine, giving it a squeeze. “I’m not leaving your father. I can’t thank you enough for being here. I’m glad I wasn’t alone.”
Wrapping her in my arms, I speak softly, “We love you, Mom. We love Dad. You’re stuck with us.”
After we wipe the tears of relief and exhaustion from our cheeks, I ask, “May I get you anything from home?”
Mom gives me a list of personal items and some food.
“I’ll bring everything later today.”
“The doctor said?—”
“He said I can’t see Dad,” I say. “I can bring things to you. Text me when you have a room number or if anything changes.”
“Me too,” Justin says.
“I should get home to Molly.”
Mom nods.
As the three of us get into the elevator, Justin looks our direction and lifts his chin. “I suppose this means I’m driving solo?”
Looking up at the handsome and tired man holding my hand, I say to Dax, “That is if you’ll give me a ride.”
“Anywhere, anytime.”