He scrabbled at the splintering wood of the floor, scooting himself ever closer to the hatch, still hoping to get down by himself. It suddenly seemed a million miles away and the pain was getting worse. He had to make every second count. He belatedly thought of dialing for help and dipped his fingers into his left back pocket for his phone. It seemed determined to stay put, despite Elliot’s best efforts, but he finally got a couple of fingers around it and eased it out of the pocket that seemed just as desperate to keep it. He got a better grip on it at last and pulled it forward to dial. As he brought his right hand nearer the phone, his left arm shuddered with pain and the phone dropped through the opened hatch. He reached through as if trying to retrieve it, but the pain got so bad he could barely move. He could feel himself losing consciousness and all he could think was that if he died here, he wouldn’t be able to get back to Ben.
Before the world went completely black, he heard voices approaching. “I’m still surprised Mr. Graham wasn’t waiting for us.” It was Terry’s voice. “This seemed so important to him.” Some shuffling of feet as the voices came closer, then, “But I can at least show you where it is.”
“Maybe he had an early business meeting,” another voice answered. “I know he’s a busy man.”
“He is that,” a third voice said.
A closer, fourth voice sounded concerned. “Boss, there’s a cell phone here.”
Sounds of running feet and a frantic voice. “Someone’s up there.”
Terry’s stern voice barked, “Who else knows CPR? He has a heart condition.” Elliot could hear Terry’s voice getting closer still and knew he was climbing the tree as he said that.
“Mr. Graham?” Terry was beside him, turning him over. “Stay with me, Mr. Graham. Elliot!” He patted Elliot’s cheeks and turned his head toward him, trying to get Elliot to look at him. “Stay with me. We’re going to get you down. Help is coming.”
“STAY WITH
me, Patrick.”
I lift my eyelids as best I can.
“Wha’ happened?”
“You fell out of the tree. We were replacing the steps, remember? Pa gave us the leftover wood after he finished making the table for Ma.”
I vaguely remember that, but my head hurts so bad I can barely think. I let my eyes close again.
“No, Patrick! Wake up.” Ben sounds frantic. “Please, Patrick.”
I open my eyes again and notice I’m in Ben’s house. “How….”
“I carried you back. I thought Ma was gonna die from angina when she saw you draped over my arms. Samuel ran to get the doctor and Martin went to your house to get your ma.” He cups my cheek and moves my head until I am looking at him again. “Stay awake. Stay with me. You hit so hard and there’s a huge lump on your head. I’m no doctor, but it can’t be good for you to go to sleep right now. Please stay with me. You can’t kiss me last week and die on me this one.”
I attempt a grin, but I can feel my eyes closing again, and this time I can’t stop them no matter how hard I try.
ELLIOT WOKE
in the hospital.
“You scared the ever-loving hell out of me,” Sheri admonished him before he was even completely awake. Her stern face filled his field of vision. “This is why we didn’t want you up here by yourself.” She pulled away a little but was still leaning on her elbows where they were perched on his mattress, his hand clasped firmly in both of hers. “At least I have medical proxy and you have the alert bracelet that connects to your medical file.” She sighed and brought his fingers to her mouth for a gentle kiss. “God, Elle, you could have died.”
“I thought I was going to.” Elliot’s voice was hoarse and it seemed to take all of his energy to turn his head to follow her movements. “I didn’t know how I’d get back to be with Ben.”
“Be with—” She was incredulous and squeezed his hand. “Elliot Graham. You scare your living friends half to death and you’re worried that you can’t be with your dead one?” She paused and shook her head, then dropped it and their hands to the mattress. “I don’t even believe I just said that sentence.”
“Has anyone told Ben what happened?”
“No, Elliot. We have not.” She said in a snippy tone, picking her head back up. Elliot wished she’d stop moving so much because he was having a hell of time tracking her and he was getting sick to his stomach. At least she left his hand where it was on the mattress. His whole body seemed heavy, as if someone poured cement over him and it was drying quicker than he could remove it. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two days. They had to do emergency bypass surgery. It was touch and go for a while, Ellie. They called me and I managed to convince your private pilot to bring me up.” She tickled his fingers and smiled that shit-eating grin of hers. “I think I owe him a lap dance or something.” Leave it to Sheri to trade sexual favors for something like that.
“Someone needs to tell Ben,” Elliot croaked, then swallowed hard.
“Ellie—”
“Really, Cher. He’ll worry. Wouldn’t you want to know?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing. He’s just like anyone else.”
“He’s dead,” she droned on.
“Sheri, stop.” Elliot was too tired to have this argument again. The beeps of the machines were getting on his nerves, the lights were too bright, and his throat and chest still hurt. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but he had to take care of Ben first. “Please get someone to go out with a laptop and tell him.”
Sheri’s expression softened, and she brushed a lock of hair from his face. “Okay, Elle, I’ll call Malcolm and see what I can do.”
“Okay. That’s all I ask.” His eyes were getting heavy again, and he felt himself falling asleep.
“PATRICK, YOU
scared me.” Ben’s voice is shaky, and I can tell how upset he is.
“I didn’t do it on purpose, Ben.” I grin.
“I know.” But he doesn’t seem ready to forgive and forget. “But I can’t lose you. We’re not even fifteen yet, Patrick. No one should die before they’re fifteen.”
“And yet I’m sure they do all the time.” I’m a realist at heart, but now is probably not the best time for it. “But I’m not dead, Ben. I’m still here. My head hurts like Sam Hill himself is using it to drive nails, but I’m still here. And besides, not even death could keep me away from you. I’d find a way back somehow.”
ELLIOT WOKE
with a start.
How am I getting Patrick’s memories here?
Sheri was asleep in the chair beside him in a position any contortionist would envy.
“Cher.” His voice sounded somewhat steadier than the last time he visited consciousness.
She woke up slowly, then grabbed his hand. “You okay, Elle?”
“Yeah,” he answered but wasn’t exactly sure it was true. “I was confused about something and wanted to talk about it.”
She leaned closer to him, concerned. “What is it, Ellie?”
“I’ve been having… flashbacks, of sorts. I see things the way they were during Ben and Patrick’s time. At first I thought it was just imagination, but the more I see…. Well, I think now that what I’m seeing are Patrick’s memories.”
She scrunched up her face in disbelief. “How can that be? He died in SC, didn’t he?” She scooted to the edge of her chair, her shoes scuffing on the floor. Elliot instinctively moved to look at what made the sound and winced. God, his incision hurt.
Sheri handed him a button with a cord leading to a machine he hadn’t noticed the last time he was awake. “Here, Elle. They said to push this when you’re in pain. It’s morphine, so it’ll most likely make you loopy or knock you out, but they said it was important to keep your pain managed as well as possible.”
Elliot nodded his understanding, but he didn’t want to go back to sleep yet, and she was right. He was so sensitive to morphine, it would more than likely put him to sleep—or at least out of his head—and he wanted to finish this conversation first. “I’m pretty sure Patrick died in SC. I know he died in battle in the South somewhere.” He turned his hand over in hers and she squeezed it. “But… well, at first I thought he could be in the house and in the tree house because his body was buried nearby. I haven’t gotten to research that yet, but that was my theory.”
“Was?” Her eyebrows crawled under her long, dark bangs in query.
“Well, that wouldn’t account for getting one just now.” He became fascinated with their hands again because he didn’t think he could handle seeing her incredulous face.
“One what? Memory?”
“Yeah. I just dreamt through Patrick’s eyes again. He shouldn’t be able to contact me here. Should he?”
“Elle, you know what I think.” She rubbed her thumb in circles on his hand. “You’re an imaginative guy. They’re simply dreams.”
“How can you say that? You’ve
talked
to Ben. You know he gave me his memories. I’m not imagining this.” Elliot met her gaze at that statement. He was getting a little miffed at Sheri’s disbelief. “And it’s not only dreams. I see scenes when I’m awake too. So, unless you’re suggesting that I’m having a psychotic break and these are hallucinations….”
“No, Elliot, that’s not what I’m saying.” She gave his hand a little shake, seemingly to get his attention. But she already had it. He wasn’t looking away again. This was important to him, and he was going to face it head-on, despite Sheri’s continued argument. “But you said yourself that he wouldn’t be able to get to you here.”
“Well, Cher.” Elliot adopted a tone of voice he usually reserved for obtuse business partners. “He obviously can. It just doesn’t fit into my current theory. So I need to come up with a new one that fits all the facts. I don’t know what that is yet, but I’ll figure it out.”
Sheri broke the staring competition first. “Well, don’t discount the imagination theory. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Okay. Fine. It’s on the list.” Elliot scoffed, then pointed to the door. “Now go call Malcolm and get someone out to talk to Ben.”
“Can I visit with you a little first? I’ll call when I go back to the hotel the next time you fall asleep. Now that I know you’re going to be okay, I may actually use the room I rented. I’ve been staying here in the hospital most of the time since I got to Pennsylvania.”
“How long can you stay?” Elliot reached for her hand again. “In Pennsylvania, I mean. I know you probably have catering functions and stuff to get back to.”
She took his hand and leaned toward him. “I plan to stay as long as you’re in here. I only had three events coming up anytime soon. One the day after I got the call about you. For that one I had most of the food prepared anyway, so I called another caterer in town—kind of a friendly rival—and she agreed to take the food to the party and serve it, clean up, all that day-of stuff—for half of the fee, of course. And I just passed the other two events off to her, with the clients’ permission. Debbie’s a good caterer and she’ll do right by them.”
“Cher,” Elliot squeezed her hand. “You can’t put your business on hold just to stay here with me. You’ve worked hard to make a name for yourself.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think missing a couple of events is going to kill the business, and—”
“But you’re giving the other lady more business, more word of mouth advertising. There can’t be enough catered events that there’s not competition among the caterers.” Elliot lifted his head off the pillow.
Sheri chuckled and shook her head. “Oh, there’s competition all right.” Then she leaned even closer, leaned her chin on his hand, and gave his wrist a little kiss. “Look, Elle, I barely need the business anyway. I’ve got the trust fund that would have me living just fine without working at all. I just love to cook. But even if I lost the business”—Elliot opened his mouth to protest—“which I won’t, I want to be here for you. I
need
to be here for you.” She raised her head and playfully smacked his hand before pulling hers away and sitting back in the chair as if to settle in for a long stay. “Whether you want me to be or not.”
Elliot pressed his morphine button and fell back to sleep a short time later.
THE NEXT
time he woke was to a nurse gently jostling his arm. “Wake up, honey. The doctor needs to speak with you.”
Elliot was groggy but tried to sit up. “Oh God.”
The pain erupted in his chest. It wasn’t the same kind of pain he had felt in the tree house, but it was excruciating.
“Be careful there,” she warned. “Your incision is going to hurt if you move too much. Just tell me when you want to move and I’ll see if I can help you a little, so it won’t hurt so badly. But you don’t have to sit up. We’ll just raise the bed.”
Elliot carefully eased onto his back and the nurse helped him scoot over to the middle of the bed. It took forever, and Elliot was in so much pain he could barely breathe. The nurse handed him the button to the morphine machine and folded his fingers over it.
Oh good. I like this thing.
He depressed the button, hoping it just took the edge off the pain and wouldn’t put him back to sleep, but he was willing to take the chance.
“Mr. Graham.” The doctor offered his hand by way of greeting. “I’m Dr. Sowder. I’m the cardiologist in charge of your case while you’re here with us.” Elliot felt the morphine try to pull him under, but he focused hard on what the doctor had to say. “That was good thinking on your part, getting the QR alert bracelet. We accessed your medical files and called Dr. Abernathy down in South Carolina to okay a coronary-bypass surgery. We contacted your medical proxy and took a voice authorization instead of waiting until she got here. There really was no time to wait.” He hovered at the base of Elliot’s bed, which made Elliot wonder if all hospital-based doctors did that. Dr. Proust had too, that first time. “You gave us all quite a scare.”
“Didn’t do it on purpose,” Elliot slurred as the morphine started to affect how much he thought about what he was going to say before he actually said it.
Dr. Sowder chuckled a little and jostled Elliot’s big toe as if in solidarity. “Well, the bypass surgery was a success, obviously, and since we had your chest open, we replaced your pacemaker with an ICD, an implantable cardioverter defibrillator. Basically it’s a pacemaker that can also provide electroshock when needed to convert your heart back into regular rhythm.”