To Honor (3 page)

“Mrs. Moore?” A nurse stood before her, clip board in hand. “I see you are awake. We have some transfer paperwork you need to sign.”

Evelyn sat up, using her right hand to help prop herself. She winced as pain shot across her wrist. A glance down revealed her wrist was red and swollen. A bandage stood out in pale contrast to the irritated joint, holding an IV stint firmly in.

“Am I going home?” Her throat, raw for reasons she couldn’t fathom, caused her voice to sound raspy, tired, old.

The nurse pursed her lips and dread filled Evelyn. Nurses didn’t get that look unless they were either debating if they should tell you something, or already knew the news wasn’t something you wanted to hear. “I’m sorry—" the nurse started.

“But I’m not going home,” Evelyn finished for her. She shot a smile at the nurse’s disapproving stare. “Why am I not going home?”

“You’re being transferred to a mental health facility.”

   The dread washed away and sickness replaced it in a quick, fiery burn. Evelyn fought the urge to wretch. A cold chill, rather at odds with the burn in her stomach, prickled along her skin. “What?” The word came out in a borderline shout.

A look that Evelyn would almost label smug settled on the nurse’s features. “Well, Mrs. Moore, you did try to kill yourself. “

“With damn good reason.” She pushed herself up straighten in the bed, anger and fear helping her steady herself. “You try going through everything I’ve been through and let’s see how you handle it.”

“That’s the kind of stuff you talk about in therapy, ma’am.” The nurse waved the handful of paperwork in the air. “I just need you to sign this and we can move along.”

Evelyn shook her head, crossing her arms as she did so. She knew she probably looked like a petulant child, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. “I’m not agreeing to put myself in a psych ward. I want to go home.”

“Listen, we can argue about this all day, but it doesn’t change anything. You can either sign the paperwork, or I can get the doctor. Because you are currently considered a threat to yourself, the doctor will call the police. The police will arrest you, sign the paperwork for you, and you’ll go anyway. I’m not trying to bully you, but it is the way this will happen.” The nurse stopped and stared at Evelyn, waiting for an answer.

Not trying to bully me, my ass!
Evelyn glared at the nurse as she weighed her options. This fight was not going in her favor, and she knew it. After a few moments passed, she held out a hand while exhaling in an irritated sigh. “With the IV stint in, I’ll have to sign with my left hand. It probably won’t be legible,” she groused. “Can barely sign with my left hand either, it’s got a stint in the forearm too.”

The nurse handed her the paperwork and a pen. “I’m sure you’ll find a way,” she said, her voice back to a grating, cheery tone that had Evelyn’s hackles raising.

* * * *

Derek signed his name to the power of attorney with a heavy hand. Never, in a million years, would he have seen this coming. Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d thought something like that. The thing about tragedies and emergencies; they never sent an advanced warning of their intent to visit and wreak havoc. Rude bastards.

             
Flint had shown back up at the hospital early that morning. “Evelyn will need her rights protected. While you still can, run to the legal department on base and get a general power of attorney. I’ve already talked to the department head and explained the situation. She’ll still have to sign off on some of the paperwork, but this will give you the ultimate ability to make decisions while she’s at the facility.”

“When are we scheduled to go?” Derek scrubbed his chin with his hand then winced. He had about two days worth of growth that needed shaving.

Flint glanced at his watch. “This afternoon. Pack two bags; one for each of you. They won’t let you two room together at first.”

“Why the hell not?” Derek fought to keep is anger at bay, and lost.

Instead of chastising him, Flint patted him on the arm. The gesture reminded Derek of his own father. “She’s sick, she needs help and constant surveillance. I hate to say this, but I’ll be blunt; your actions put her in the hospital to begin with. We don’t even know if she still wants to consider herself your wife. You’ll just have to get there and hope you didn’t screw up permanently.”

Flint was right, much as it burned. This was all his fault and it would serve him right if Eva didn’t want to ever see his sorry face again. Self-revulsion seized his stomach and he experienced the sudden desire to smash everything breakable within sight. It was a damn good thing Landers was on lockdown right now, or he’d be well on his way to give her a piece of his mind.

“Moore…Derek…There’s a good chance you can win her back. You loved each other very much, probably still do. Go see if this place can help before you give up. Or,” he added as if sensing Derek’s thoughts, “before you do something stupid.”

Without a word, Derek left to visit legal. Even if his wife didn’t want him anymore, the least he could do was try to protect her to take care of her.

He just hoped it wasn’t too little, too late.

Chapter Three

The ambulance ride, boring and bumpy, tested Evelyn’s sanity. A smirk played on her lips at the thought. Sanity. According to the rest of the world, she had none left. They couldn’t understand that it wasn’t insanity that made her take all those pills that night. If anything, she’d experience a sense of calm and clear headedness that she’d never experienced before. It had been a weariness of the world, like cliff edges worn away by the tides, that made her desire eternal sleep.

With no windows, and nothing to occupy herself with, Evelyn had taken to first examining, and then chatting with her escorts. Both were burly men, with brawny bodies and kind hearts. Intimidated by them at firs
t, she soon realized they held
compassion deeper than most that drew them to their profession, despite their appearance.

The multi-hour transport had given them plenty of time to regale her with stories about their wives, children and tales of their travels and experiences abroad. Both were servicemen who were now stationed state-side. Never once did either ask why Evelyn was under suicide watch, or the particulars of her hospital visit.

Their arrival at the mental health facility seemed to come just when the silence started to stretch and become awkward. The ambulance stopped moving and, in its place, Evelyn’s stomach began doing flip-flops. She’d never been to a psych ward before, but she knew it wasn’t somewhere she wanted to be.

“We’re here, Mrs. Moore.” The bald-headed EMT, whose name she suddenly couldn’t remember, smiled gently at her. “Watch your step as you get out.”

A numbness overcame her, though instead of clear headed like that night, she experienced a form of disassociation with the world around her. Everything became surreal, as if the whole reality she currently viewed was nothing more than an intense dream.

More like nightmare. Evelyn unfastened her seat belt and stood. Her legs wobbled, but she managed to climb out of the ambulance without tripping. With a frown, she attempted to adjust to the harsh street lamps that made her envision spotlights being aimed on her. The building before her looked more like a long, low-set motel than a psych ward. She’d spent the entire afternoon envisioning a tall, brick building that resembled a prison.

“This…” Evelyn swallowed back the tears that came unbidden. She didn’t want to go inside, had no desire to be permanently labeled crazy and placed on meds. “This is my stop, huh?”

“Yup. If you’ll just come with us, we’ll get you checked in.” The blonde EMT, or Jordan as his name tag proclaimed, placed a guiding hand at her elbow.

Evelyn balked and considered running back to the familiar interior of the ambulance to hide. “I don’t want to go in there.” Her voice, barely above a whisper, reminded her of a whimpering puppy.

Jordan stopped and she saw genuine sadness reflected in his eyes. “I know it’s scary, Mrs. Moore. It may not seem like it, but this is for the best. Patterson and I don’t know you, but we can tell you are a good person. Don’t let the world lose a good person. Go in there and learn how to fight back, to be happy again.”

His speech did little to make her feel braver, but Evelyn didn’t want to let them down, either. They seemed to think she was a nice person, a valuable person.

She’s a crazy bitch anyway.

Well, at least the hussy her husband left her for had been right about one thing. Evelyn was now, officially, considered crazy. She smiled, consoling herself with a strange humor at the situation, and squared her shoulders. Even as she walked through the doors a part of her, a small part, wished her husband was there, holding her hand.

* * * *

Derek paced in his room as nerves performed a number on his stomach. He’d already performed the check-in process for his and Evelyn’s stay. Her room was located within the facility, under the watchful eye of a fully trained medical staff. His room, which reminded him of a hotel, was located outside the main facility, but still within a gated community. The walk to R&R Resort, which stood for Reconciliation & Rehabilitation, took only about ten minutes. He hated the separation from his wife, but the staff had been adamant that she was to stay in and he was to stay out.

His therapy sessions were to begin first thing in the morning. Therapy sessions. How the hell is talking about my feelings suppose to do any damn good?

Derek frowned at his reflection, hating what he saw. The man in the mirror looked older, tired, worn. He knew there was no bringing back the youthful appearance that had been there just a year or two ago. Time and circumstance had killed that man and replaced it with nothing more than a bastard who betrayed his own wife.

I wonder if it’s possible to get diagnosed with anger issues at one’s own self?
Derek cracked a smile at the thought.

A glance at the clock had him scowling again. It was almost midnight and sleep was nowhere in sight. It hadn’t been for days now. The night he’d rushed Evelyn to the hospital, he’d stayed up the entire time, worrying that even once the doctors declared her out of the danger zone and doped her up, that she would die in her sleep. The evening after, while Evelyn continued to stay in the hospital, he’d face sleeping in their bed—alone. Doing so only reinforced the knowledge that asking for a divorce was the single, stupidest thing Derek had ever done.

He approached the bed and eyed his suitcase. It remained sitting on the bed, unpacked, with an almost ominous presence. Thus far he’d managed to avoid it, but Derek was ready to face the inevitable. It was time to admit that he was really here, he was really staying, and his wife was really in danger. Even though these things bothered him, he knew he had only himself to blame.

And Landers!

Derek shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. No, he couldn’t put the blame on Landers’ shoulders. It went against his morals to do so. Granted, she’d done wrong by convincing him to distance himself from his wife and, eventually, pressuring him to divorce Evelyn. But the wrong wouldn’t have been committed if he hadn’t been so willing to swallow Landers’ bait; hook, line and sinker.

She’s a trained therapist, she knows how to manipulate people, he argued.

He rested his elbows on his knees and placed his face in his palms. Trained or no, manipulative or not; Landers wouldn’t have had a foot hold if Derek hadn’t been so willing to allow the blame for everything to be placed on Evelyn’s shoulders. Even while it happened, he’d known it was wrong. A sick sensation in his stomach, sweating palms, guilt when he saw his wife after the things he’d said about her; all of these warning bells rang the entire time. Like an alarm that went off on the weekend, he’d hit the ignore button and let the time pass unheeded.