A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic (28 page)

Up ahead, Marianne quivered as the icy rain pelted against her chilled skin, yet she refused to succumb to the agony which threatened to outweigh her desire to see Willoughby’s house. Even if it was the last thing she would ever
do, Marianne was morbidly comforted by the thought of dying within a short distance of something that belonged to the man she loved. She
would
reach the top and commanded every muscle in her body to keep up with the rhythm her heart had initiated. She was so close. . . .

At that moment, Marianne heard her name being called and, turning to look back, spotted Brandon approaching. Ignoring him, Marianne attempted to move more quickly as he called out again for her to stop.

Unable to outrun the vigor of Brandon’s well-conditioned form, it wasn’t long before he caught up with Marianne, forcing her to stop. Holding her arms to steady her weak frame, Brandon’s expression pleaded with Marianne to accept his rescue. Without warning, Marianne’s strength suddenly broke and, catching her once again, Brandon firmly grasped her fragile body. It was the closest he’d ever been to Marianne, and he was flooded with the overwhelming sensation of love. Brandon
loved
this woman, and he swore he wouldn’t let her kill herself over some stupid idiot who hadn’t treasured her as she deserved. Scooping Marianne up and cradling her in his strong arms, he started walking them back down the hill.

“No . . . please,” Marianne pleaded in a soft voice, “I need to see it.”

Brandon stopped and gazed at his beloved. Even with tear-filled eyes and gaunt, colorless cheeks, Marianne was lovely. Her request was so simple, yet it cut him deeply. The very thought of taking her to the top, in essence, taking her closer to Willoughby, was a torment—but he couldn’t possibly deny Marianne, even if it did pain him. Clenching his jaw, he responded to her entreaty by turning and beginning the trek back up the hill. Although the grass was slippery and, more than once, almost caused the two to fall headlong, Brandon pressed forward, refusing to let anything stand in the way of fulfilling her request.

At last, they reached the crest of the hill where their eyes sought Willoughby’s house which was easily found, located in the fenced yard just beyond the Palmers’. It was a large, two-story brick house shaded by several broad trees and had a long, elegant driveway. As the two took in the sight below, Brandon held Marianne close. He basked in the feeling of her warmth against his chest.

“Oh, Jim,” Marianne mumbled softly, tears streaming down her face. Burying her head in Brandon’s shoulder, she began to sob uncontrollably.

Brandon cradled her, his features writhed with pain. It hurt that she still ached for the unworthy Willoughby, a man who could care less about the feelings of those he injured. If only Marianne would give him a chance, Brandon was sure he could provide her with every happiness she desired. He wanted to give her his heart, his name, his life, his everything—and all he desired in return was her love.

Just then, the rain began to come down even harder, and Brandon heard thunder in the distance. He glanced down at Marianne who, having heard the noise as well, was looking up at him with frightened eyes. Taking this as a sign that she was ready to leave, Brandon held Marianne a little closer as he began to carry her back down the hill and to the house.

“Lean back more!” James exclaimed with exasperation.

“Since when did you become an expert!?!” Charlotte fired back.

Charlotte and James had resumed their tiresome Lamaze homework. They had been arguing for the last half-hour, and it was grating on Ellie’s nerves. Ellie, already tense and frightened for her sister, kept her post at the window waiting for any glimpse of her sister or her rescuer.

“Maybe if you’d actually come to the classes with me, you’d realize what you’re asking is impossible!” Charlotte continued. And then, struggling to get up, she added, “I need some water.” Coming to the kitchen where Ellie had stationed herself, Charlotte proceeded to fill a glass with water before sitting down next to her guest. “I’m sure they’ll be back any moment,” she tried to reassure.

Charlotte’s eyes were momentarily distracted by something out the window, and Ellie’s breath caught. Glancing quickly past the expectant mother, she froze at seeing Brandon carrying Marianne up the lane. Feeling as if her heart had dropped down to her feet, Ellie moved as if in slow motion toward the door to receive them. The panicked Charlotte followed closely behind, calling for James to assist them as an exhausted Brandon burst through the door. Taking the barely conscious Marianne from Brandon’s weary arms, they laid her gently on the couch.

“Marianne!” Ellie’s voice choked with emotion as she knelt down beside her sister.

“Ellie. . .” Marianne said so quietly that Ellie had to lean in closer to catch her words as she continued, “I don’t feel very good.”

Ellie put her hand to Marianne’s forehead. “She’s burning up,” her worried eyes sought Charlotte’s for assistance.

“I’ll call the doctor,” Charlotte nodded.

As Charlotte hurried from the room, the thoroughly worn Brandon collapsed on the adjacent couch, still trying to catch his breath. James, who had grabbed some towels from the guest bathroom in anticipation, handed one to Brandon and the hero began drying his drenched head and shoulders. James handed the remaining towels to Ellie, and she gently dried Marianne’s exposed skin before proceeding to squeeze as much water from her sister’s hair as possible.

While Ellie did this, James also secured a blanket and tucked it around the shivering Marianne. Ellie was overwhelmed by James’s sudden concern for others, and was about to thank him when Charlotte reentered the room, phone receiver in hand.

“The doctor says we need to take her temperature,” Charlotte instructed, handing Ellie a thermometer.

Ellie complied as Charlotte continued to answer the doctor’s questions on Marianne’s pallor and tremors.

The thermometer beeped and Ellie looked at it in horror. “It’s nearly one-hundred-and-four!”

Charlotte repeated this to the doctor and then confirmed Ellie’s worst fear, “We need to get her to the hospital—right away.”

As Marianne lay unconscious on the hospital bed, Ellie struggled as she surveyed her sister hooked up to so many machines with their flashing lights and ever changing stats. Marianne was too young for such ominous devices. At eighteen, Marianne should be out with her friends having fun, not fighting for her life. Ellie felt angry at the world—at herself. She should have better protected Marianne. Why hadn’t she done a better job of shielding her sister from the attentions of Willoughby and the spurning that followed in the New York ballroom? She should have—but it was too late. Now Marianne was on the verge of mental and physical collapse, and Ellie was terrified. As she sat there feeling completely helpless, Ellie glanced at the clock and was surprised to find that it was already past three in the afternoon. Despite the fact that Ellie hadn’t eaten all day, her panic had driven away any sign of hunger.

A knock on the hospital room door roused Ellie, and she turned to see Charlotte in the hallway waving for her to join them outside. Marianne’s doctor had arrived with the prognosis, and all were anxious to hear what he had to say. Ellie gently squeezed Marianne’s hand before quietly exiting the room.

Once Ellie was beside Charlotte, the doctor began. “Which of you is Marianne’s sister?” he asked.

“I am,” Ellie answered hesitantly, afraid she might be singled out with some terrible news.

“Has she been experiencing depression?” the doctor folded his hands in front of himself.

“Actually, yes,” Ellie was embarrassed to admit. Glancing around at all the curious eyes, she wished this matter could be discussed in private. Although everybody was well aware of Marianne’s emotional fluctuations of late, it was uncomfortable having to acknowledge it aloud. However, if divulging this information could help the doctor better treat her sister, then Ellie would try to be as honest as possible. In consideration of that, Ellie felt it necessary to elaborate. “Marianne recently experienced a very traumatic relationship break-up, and since then, hasn’t displayed the will to do much of anything.”

“I suspected as much,” the doctor began with a nod. “I’ve run several tests on Marianne, and I want to be up front with you—her condition is very serious. Marianne has contracted an unusually advanced strain of pneumonia.” He paused to let this revelation sink in before continuing, “Now, what makes her condition difficult for me to treat is that it’s unusual for us to encounter such severe cases like hers in a person of her age; therefore, one of the factors in medicating Marianne is finding the most effective dosage before her body decides to become immune to the medication.”

“What are you using to treat her with in the meantime?” James asked, surprising Ellie again with his attentiveness.

“I have her on a large dose of penicillin. But until we see further indication of the effect the medication will have on her, and more specifically, what other issues she’s dealing with, all we can do is hope that Marianne will respond. Can I be frank with you?” he asked, and Ellie nodded. “This isn’t, of course, a professional opinion, but as someone who has been in the medical field for over twenty years now, I’ve come to realize that it is more than just medicine that cures a person. Rather, it’s that person’s attitude.” He paused, hesitant to
finish his thought. “From my observations of her unusual test results, it almost seems as though she has lost her will to live.”

Ellie froze—had it really come to this—had Marianne really lost her will to live? Ellie couldn’t fathom the thought. Marianne, once so full of life and excited about the future . . . giving up?

“Is there anything we can do?” Brandon asked, not willing to let Marianne slip away without a fight.

“Talk with her,” the doctor replied to everyone’s surprise. “Convince Marianne she has a reason to live. Her body may not be responsive, but there’s still activity in the brain. I know this sounds off the wall, but there have been countless testimonies from recovered comatose victims claiming they could hear those speaking around them—it’s worth a try.”

With understanding, the group disbanded. Mrs. Jennings and Charlotte, exhausted from the day’s events, chose to drive home with James while Ellie stayed with Marianne. Brandon was to return with them, but only to retrieve a few items for Ellie and Marianne before returning to the hospital.

Hours later, Ellie still sat beside the unresponsive Marianne, sharing in one-sided conversations with her sister in an effort to convince Marianne not to give up. The task was draining, and Ellie had to admit she was getting hungry. Yet she didn’t want to leave Marianne, envisioning that the very moment she stepped away, her sister would wake up and she wouldn’t be there to greet her. Glancing up at the clock, Ellie saw that it was nearly nine in the evening—no wonder she was starving. Trying to fend off her hunger pains, Ellie grabbed the small television controller and was about to turn on the TV when the hospital door opened. Before she could glimpse the visitor from behind the linen curtain shielding Marianne’s bed, the smell of food bombarded her senses. Thinking she must be hallucinating, it took her a moment to identify the visitor as Brandon and realize that he had brought the meal for her. When he placed the mouthwatering Mexican food in her hand, she didn’t know quite what to say.