Chasing Abby (24 page)

Chris drops me off near the emergency-room entrance, then he sets off with the kids to find a parking space. I race inside and dart toward the reception area. I don’t think the Jensens are here yet.

“Excuse me, miss. I’m here for Abigail Jensen.”

The woman behind the plexiglass divider has frizzy auburn hair pinned back in a silver barrette. She looks up at me from her computer keyboard with a bored expression. “Is she a patient?”

“Yes, she’s a patient! She was just brought in here with a heart attack and stroke. She’s… she’s eighteen.”

She nods as she recognizes who I’m talking about. “Oh, yeah. She’s in surgery. Are you the mother? I need you to sign some paperwork.”

I cover my mouth as I blink back tears and try not to answer this question the way I want to. 

She looks stricken by my sudden gust of emotion. “I’m sorry, ma’am. If you need a moment to compose yourself, we can leave the paperwork for later.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m… I’m not her mother. Well, not legally. I’m her biological mother. Her adoptive mother should be here soon. Oh, God. Please just tell me she’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have any news. You’re going to have to wait until she’s out of surgery. I’m sure Dr. Givens will debrief you as soon as she’s stabilized.”

I turn around and Ryder races toward me. “Where is she?”

“She’s in surgery, sweetheart. We have to wait.”

Chris, Junior, and Jimi follow after him and we all walk solemnly toward the other side of the beige and blue waiting room. The Jensens arrive a few minutes later and they get the same spiel from the woman behind the glass, but Lynette bravely sits down with her to fill out the paperwork. And, as I watch her filling out the forms while periodically wiping away her tears, for the first time in my life, I wish I could help her. I wish I could fill out the damn forms about Abby’s medical history and insurance information. I wish I knew a damn thing about any of that stuff.

Six hours and forty minutes later, Dr. Givens enters the waiting room and we all rise from our chairs to flock to him. His brown skin shimmers in the fluorescent lighting, but it doesn’t hide how tired he is. He lets out a soft sigh before he begins.

“As you know, Abigail suffered a severe heart attack, which dislodged a tiny blood clot that most likely originated in her heart. The clot traveled into the outer branch of the middle cerebral artery in her brain, causing a minor stroke. We believe that she didn’t sustain any cognitive damage. But it turns out the heart attack was much worse than we anticipated.”

“How much worse?” Lynette asks.

Dr. Givens pauses for a moment then lets out another sigh. “The trauma of the accident caused Abby to go into circulatory collapse. She was very lucky that she was only six minutes away from the hospital. We were able to get her heart started again and we put a temporary stent in two of her arteries to keep them from collapsing again. However, both the collapse and the stroke have caused too much stress on her heart. She’s on a respirator and in a medically induced coma right now… She won’t survive much longer without a new heart.”

“Then get her a new heart!” Chris roars. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll fly it here if I have to. Just make it happen!”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“What do you mean? You can’t let her die!” Lynette shrieks.

“No, what I mean is that we already have a heart. Here in this hospital.”

Chris shakes his head. “That fast? Then, what are you waiting for?”

“Well, it’s a bit complicated. The eighteen-year-old male who was brought in at the same time as Abby… he had this in his wallet.”

Givens holds out a white plastic card. The front of the card reads “Living will in place for Caleb Everett. In the event of an emergency, please contact Gill Burrows.”

“We contacted Mr. Burrows and it turns out he’s the lawyer who drafted Caleb’s living will. Mr. Everett’s wishes were for Abigail to have his heart.”

My knees give out and I grasp the arm of the chair next to me to keep from collapsing. Chris and the doctor kneel next to me, repeatedly asking if I’m okay.

I shake my head. “This will destroy her.”

Givens orders Jimi to get me some water from the cooler in the corner of the waiting room, then he stands up so he can address everyone. “We have a legal obligation to carry out Mr. Everett’s wishes. In the event that he were permanently incapacitated, he wanted Abigail to have his heart. Since Abigail is an adult and she doesn’t have a living will in place, we have a legal and moral obligation to preserve her life to the best of our ability. This is her best chance.”

I climb onto the chair to have a seat and sip the water that Jimi brought for me. I can’t bring myself to speak. I couldn’t imagine living without Chris and I know Abby will be devastated when she wakes up to find that Caleb didn’t make it. I can only hope that having a part of Caleb inside her will make it easier, but somehow I seriously doubt that. 

Chris stands up and I watch as he and Brian exchange a silent agreement. Then Brian turns to Dr. Givens and nods. “Do it. Save my little girl.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

T
HIS
IS
THE
FOURTH
time I’ve opened my eyes in this hospital room. The tube in my throat is finally gone. I have vague memories of my parents standing at my bedside, wearing gloves and masks. I think I remember being wheeled into an X-ray room. I’m so thirsty.

“Mom?”

A nurse in purple scrubs and a mint-green mask over her mouth arrives at my bedside. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

There are less machines beeping than there were the last time I woke up. My entire body feels sore, as if I did a hundred dead lifts recently. But the soreness in my chest is the worst. I’ve obviously undergone another heart surgery. I remember this pain.

“Where are my parents?”

“They went back to the hotel to change their clothes. They should be back in just a few minutes. Your… your
other
parents are outside. Can I send them in?”

“Where’s Caleb?” My voice cracks on Caleb’s name. “Why is it so cold in here?”

“You’re running a slight fever. You’re on a high dose of anti-rejection meds right now, and that suppresses your immune system.”

“Anti-rejection?”

The nurse finishes checking the drainage tubes coming out of my chest. “I’ll let your family explain everything.”

She leaves the room and I feel so alone. This room is so cold. It’s not a regular hospital recovery room. It looks cold and lifeless like a surgical room. And there’s a small antechamber off to my left where the nurse removes her gloves and mask before she tosses them into a waste bin. She steps out into the corridor for a moment, then she comes back into the antechamber with Chris and Claire. They spend at least five minutes scrubbing their hands and arms, then all three of them put on more gloves and masks.

As they approach my bed, something feels different. Quiet. Too quiet.

“How long have I been here?”

Claire’s eyes are puffy and glistening. “Fifty-two hours.”

“More than two days? Where’s Caleb?”

Claire opens her mouth to say something, then she stops herself and turns away. 

Chris looks me in the eye and flashes me a weak smile. “Your parents will talk to you about Caleb.”

“Why? Where is he?”

Claire turns around and leaves the room without another word and Chris looks stumped.

“Please tell me what’s going on here. I wake up with tubes coming out of every hole in my body and the nurse just said something to me about anti-rejection meds. Did I get a heart transplant? What happened? Please… I’m scared.”

Chris hangs his head for a moment and when he lifts it again, there are tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to be the one to break your heart. Please don’t make me do this.”

The heart-rate monitor starts beeping loudly as my pulse races. The nurse is at my side a second later, injecting something into my IV line. Within seconds, drowsiness overtakes me and I drift off with Caleb’s name on my lips.

T
HE
FIFTH
TIME
I wake, my parents are there. My dad is standing like a soldier at my bedside, his hands behind his back, his chin dimpled with the effort of holding back his emotions. My mom stands right next to him, her gloved hand wrapped tightly around my fingers.

“Don’t lie to me,” I whisper through the tears.

“I won’t lie to you, sweetheart,” my dad says, his voice thick with emotion. “But I think Caleb would rather tell you everything himself.”

I open my mouth to curse him for lying to me by pretending that Caleb is alive, but before I can speak another word, he pulls a white envelope from behind his back. The sight of my name on the outside of the envelope in Caleb’s messy scrawl sends a bolt of pain through my chest.

“I wanted to wait to give you this later, but I don’t think Caleb would have wanted that.”

“Stop talking about him like… that.” 

I want to tell my dad to stop talking about Caleb like he’s gone, but I can’t bring myself to say the words. I draw in a long breath as I take the envelope from my dad’s large hand.

“We haven’t read it. We just opened it to make it easier for you,” he assures me as he takes a step back.

“We’ll be right outside, honey.” My mom squeezes the words out through her tears.

I hold the envelope up in front of my face and stare at the letters A-B-B-Y and I imagine Caleb sitting at the table in the apartment he shared with Greg. I imagine his beautiful fingers curled around the pen as it slid across the paper. When did he write me this letter? What was he thinking?

I guess I’m about to find out.

I lay the envelope on my belly, then I struggle a bit to slip the folded piece of white paper out with just one hand. But a few seconds later, I have the paper out of the envelope and unfolded. I lay it facedown on my belly for a moment.

Caleb, wherever you are, please give me the strength to make it through this. 

I sniff loudly and let out a long sigh. Then I lift the paper off my stomach and read.

Abby,

How do you thank someone for giving you a reason to live? I’ve thought about this a lot over the last few years since you came into my life. And for three years, I came up with nothing.

Then my dad died and there you were again. My friend. My girl. My sunshine, bringing light to my darkest days. 

When the estate lawyer called me to his office to pick up the inheritance check in January after my eighteenth birthday, it got me thinking about what I wanted to leave behind after my death. Like my dad, I don’t have much to give, but I do have one thing I hope will still be useful when I go. Something you fixed up and made all shiny and new for me.

My heart.

Abby, the first time I spoke to you in the hospital, my heart danced. And I don’t think it ever stopped. You gave my heart quite a workout, sunshine. So I know that the moment they took my heart out of my chest and put it in yours, my heart danced its final dance as if nobody was watching. 

You can be anything you want to be now. Chase your dreams, Abby.

Always yours,

Caleb

I throw the letter over the edge of the bed and try to breathe, but I’m in so much pain, breathing seems secondary. The nurse rushes in and injects something into my IV line again.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out except for a soft squeak.

“What did you say, sweetie?”

The drowsiness is taking hold again, and my throat relaxes enough for me to get out four words. “You
were
my dream.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE