Authors: Kelly Harper
Saved By You
Saved By You
Kelly Harper
Table of Contents
For you, Mom. The first of many.
Saved By You
Can one summer change your life?
One fateful night, Maggie’s life unravels before her eyes. While her mother is on her death bed, Maggie discovers a devastating secret kept by the man she loves. And it’s threatening to tear them apart.
Now Maggie’s left to pick up the pieces. She’s struggling to be the woman that her mother has raised while juggling the desires of her own heart. Secrets from her past surface — memories long locked away. And her world is rocked when she finds out that her mother has some secrets of her own.
Where do you turn when everything you thought you knew was a lie?
(New Adult Contemporary) **Mature Content** Recommended for ages 17+ due to sexual situations and language
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Inspired by true events
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Mom.
“What’s wrong?” I said, urgently. Lightning crackled all around us. The storm raged in full force. “Where is she?”
Aunt Denise gave me a stern look.
“Green Falls General,” she said. “It’s only a few miles away. I’ll drive.”
Before I could respond, hands tugged at me and led me toward the Escalade parked under the car porch—the same one I’d nearly run the ‘Vette into. Sarah piled into the truck next to me, and Aunt Denise fired up the engine. I stared at my younger cousin, disbelievingly.
“What happened to her?” I said.
Sarah’s face pinched together, and she shook her head.
“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging.
I glanced at Aunt Denise for answers, but she was focused on the road. The rain was coming down in thick sheets outside, and everything was dark.
Thoughts raced through my head, filling me with an unease I’d never felt before. I wanted answers, but everything was happening so fast. I didn’t even know the questions that needed asking.
Why is she in the hospital?
Sarah wrapped her hands around mine, and scooted in close to me.
“Everything’s going to be alright,” she whispered, squeezing my hand.
How can she say that if she doesn’t even know what’s wrong?
We drove on in silence. The darkness outside was all consuming. A thick, gray haze drown out the lights from Green Falls. Thunder blasted through the sky like I was in a scene from some scary movie.
This isn’t a movie—this is your life.
How could something be wrong with Mom? She’s the strong one—nothing goes wrong with her. She was the one that had to be there to protect me—to catch me when I made a mistake. My head sagged forward, and I stared at a spot on my lap. I’d made plenty of mistakes that night, and I had the feeling that things were only just beginning.
The truck bumped along until Aunt Denise pulled into a huge parking lot. A group of three large buildings all clung to each other, with a sign over the one in the middle that read “Green Falls General”. Arrows pointed us toward the visitor parking lot, but Aunt Denise pulled into a circular drop-off area and let Sarah and I out.
We huddled together while Aunt Denise parked the car, the silence only interrupted by the fierce pattering of the rain on the concrete. Wind whipped violently, bathing us in a cold mist. Sarah’s eyes searched me, and her mouth moved like she wanted to say something - but nothing came out.
What was there to say?
Aunt Denise led us through the lobby, and back into the hospital. It was like she knew exactly where she was going. There were few people around at that late hour, and a heavy silence loomed along the corridors. Flashes of a distant time came to me—the only other time I’d been in a hospital. I had been there to visit my mom that night, too. Hospitals creeped me out. There was too much quiet. It reminded me that there were people all around me who might not wake up in the morning—who might leave behind friends and family, all huddled around each other for protection from the horrors of life.
Would Mom be one of those people?
A fiery lump surfaced in my throat, again. It had made its home their all night, and there was no sign that it was going away anytime soon.
Aunt Denise led us up a flight of stairs, and around a few turns to a closed door. Without pausing, she tapped it lightly and poked her head in. There was a shuffling from within, and then Grandma emerged. Her eyes found me, and the steely resolve she was wearing slackened. Pain erupted in both our faces, and I felt the tears stream down my face.
She wrapped her arms around me, and pulled me in, tightly.
“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I hugged her back, not knowing what to say.
“Can I see her?” I managed, when we finally pulled back. My voice came out pitched and shaky. I didn’t remember ever seeing Grandma cry before.
She regarded me for a moment, then nodded.
The room was dark and quiet. Something told me that I shouldn’t make a peep. It was the kind of silence that shouldn’t be broken. I shuffled my feet along as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb a thing. A privacy curtain cut the room in two, and I could see the edge of a bed just on the other side.
Are you ready for this?
I took a deep breath - gathering any strength that might be hidden inside of me - and pushed forward. As I walked past the privacy curtain, I saw her. My hand clutched my mouth, stifling a gasp. Her body was thin—thinner than I remembered it from earlier in the day. Machines surrounded the bed. Tubes snaked and tentacles out of them and hooked into her, like they were trying to hold her in place. Beeps and buzzing thrummed and made the air vibrate.
Oh, Mom. What have I done? Why wasn’t I here for you?
“She’s sleeping,” Grandma whispered in my ear. I heard it, distantly, and nodded.
Terror gripped me as I stood over her. She looked more frail and broken than I could have ever imagined. She didn’t look like my mother anymore. She looked like someone else—some
thing else
. The form in the bed couldn’t possibly be the same woman that had just driven from New Jersey to Texas.
As I got closer to her, I could hear her breathing. Each breath came soft and gentle, as though she weren’t stuck in some hospital bed. If I closed my eyes, and blocked out the steady thrum of the machines, I could almost imagine that everything was alright. But the machines wouldn’t be silenced. They kept their rhythm as ominously as a timer counting down.
Counting down to what?
“Perhaps you should come back in the morning?” Grandma whispered. “She’ll be awake, then.” I didn’t respond. I barely understood what she was saying. “There’s nothing you can do for her right now, child.”
I shook my head. I should have been there earlier. If I’d stayed home like she’d wanted, instead of sneaking off to be with… instead of sneaking off… I would have been there when they took her to the hospital. I would have known, right away. I would have known what was going on.
No, there wasn’t going to be any leaving. I was going to sit there with her—all night, if I had to. I was going to watch over her until the doctors said she was fine to go home. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d stayed in the hospital all night with her. I’d done it before—a lifetime ago.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
I sunk into a chair resting to the side of the bed. I touched her leg, as much to confirm she was really there as to feel a connection with her. I needed that connection that felt so horribly damaged ever since we arrived in Green Falls. I needed her to know that I was sitting there with her—connected.
Grandma sighed, but didn’t say anything. It was a resigned smile.
“I’ll get you a blanket, dear. And some water,” she said, before padding out of the room.
As I sat there watching her, I had more questions than answers. But I knew they were going to go unanswered—at least for a time. Now was not the time for answers. Now was the time to just be. I squeezed her leg gently, and made no effort to fight back the tears in my eyes.
As I lay there watching her, a million things raced through my mind. But the emotional exhaustion of the day was weighing heavy on me. The machines continued their steady pace, and soon my eyelids started to press upon me. Grandma brought me that blanket at some point, because I remembered curling myself into it. Visions and thoughts plagued me while I dozed in and out of consciousness—images of my mother, and of Haden. With every toss and turn, those images haunted me, until I was finally consumed by the exhaustion.
Pain shot through my neck when I moved. A groan escaped me, and I clutched the blanket closer to my chin. The pain worked its way down my neck to my back, and I realized that I’d fallen asleep in the worst possible position in a chair that was not meant for comfort.
A shuffling noise woke me completely, and when I cracked an eye open I saw movement around the bed. Light was already pouring in from outside, though the heavy curtains on the windows blocked much of it out. A nurse stooped over one of the machines, apparently monitoring it for something. She scribbled something on a pad she was carrying, and moved on to the next machine.
“Good morning,” came a weak voice. Mom’s eyes were cracked open as she looked at me from the bed. A smile pinched the corners of her mouth.
“You’re awake,” I said, rubbing my eyes and trying to sit upright. The pain lessened to a dull ache once I was able to situate myself.
“Here and there,” she said, her head tilting back and forth.
“Pattie, how are you feeling?” the nurse asked, realizing she was awake.
“Fine, fine,” Mom said. She didn’t take her eyes off me.
The nurse gave her a soft smile, and finished checking one of the machines.
“You need to take it easy today,” she said. “You gave us a bit of a scare last night.”
Mom nodded and smiled at her. “I’ll be fine,” she said.
Then the nurse’s eyes darted to me. She had the same soft smile on her face, but her eyes were telling a different story.
“She needs her rest,” she said. Her tone was soft, but contained more than the hint of a threat. The panicked look I gave her must have let her know that I got her message loud and clear, because she nodded gently and left the room.
Mom and I looked at each other for a long time. I didn’t know what to say to her. A million thoughts were racing through my head, but they didn’t form into anything that made sense. I didn’t know where to begin, or what to ask.
“How was your night out?” Mom asked, breaking the silence.
Her voice was soft, and unassuming—there was no hint of anger, or betrayal. It was so different than what I’d come to expect after the last few days, that I was caught off guard. When I’d snuck out with Sarah the night before, I’d done so knowing that Mom would go crazy. She had every right to be freaking out on me right then—but she wasn’t.
“It was how you said it would be,” I said. The pain of my night with Haden was still fresh, and it constricted inside of me. I shook my head. “I should have listened to you. But it’s fine now—I won’t be seeing him again.”
Mom studied me for a second before responding. Her cheeks were so sunken into her face nearly as much as her eyes were. But those eyes were clear. They weren’t manic like they’d been in the parking lot yesterday. She didn’t give me one of her motherly
I told you so
stares. And, in a way, all of that made things worse.
“Talk to me, Mom,” I said, unable to take the silence anymore. I waved a hand around the room. “What is all this?”
She blew out a soft sigh, and her lips tightened. She considered her words, then gave me a resigned nod.
“I should have told you sooner,” she said. Her face tightened before she could say anything else. She winced as she shifted her legs to the side. “Sit with me, dear,” she said, patting a spot on the bed.