Come Back To Me (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Beau pushed through the large double doors and into the bitter air of the intensive care unit, his facial muscles twitching. Kevin steered Beau toward the waiting room. Beau took two steps into the waiting room, then turned and walked back out.

“This is where we wait,” Kevin said.

Beau shook his head, walking toward the double doors that separated the patient care area from the waiting room.

Kevin grabbed him by the arm. “Beau, this is the waiting room,” he said, reading disorientation in Beau’s eyes. “C’mon, buddy,” he urged and guided him back.

Beau stared straight ahead, his body numb.

A gray-haired woman sat knitting, stopping every few seconds to wipe her eyes. In the seats next to Kevin, a young woman sat with her head on the shoulder of an older woman, her face drawn, her eyes rimmed in red. Lives held on by strings, family members hoped for miracles.

Where was his goddamned miracle, Beau wondered? Had he already used it up? Was returning to the United States his one chance at good fortune? Did he somehow steal Tess’s chance at survival? Was this his penance for his loyalty to Samira? Each unanswered question tightened Beau’s chest. Minutes passed like hours.

“Do you want me to call your parents?” Kevin asked.

Beau shook his head. “I can’t…don’t.”

“Want me to get you a drink?” Kevin nervously played with his keys.

Beau heard the words Kevin spoke but couldn’t comprehend or focus on them. If only he’d called Tess, she wouldn’t have been driving. She’d have been in the house waiting for him, or she’d have met him at the airport.
Goddamn it
. The accident was his fault. He’d been selfish to want to surprise her. Beau paced, crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned his head against the door jamb, then turned and lifted a fist above his head, poised to strike the wall.

The old woman stopped knitting and shrank back in her chair.

“C’mon,” Kevin tried to bring him back to his chair.

Beau twisted out of his grip. “This is my fault,” his spat. “Me and my goddamn five-year plan,” he seethed. “What the fuck makes me so special?” He turned and walked to the nurses’ station.

Kevin followed.

The nurse looked up from the desk, “Yes?”

“My wife is in there. How is she? What’s happening?” Beau demanded.

The nurse’s eyes softened, “What’s your wife’s name, sir?”

“Tess, Tess Johnson,” he said with hope.

She looked down at the schedules before her. “The doctor is still with her. If you’ll just have a seat, they’ll be with you as soon as they’re done evaluating her.” Her voice left no room for negotiation.

Beau was not going to be dissuaded. “I want to see her,” he said. “Where are they?” He took two steps to the right.

The nurse rose quickly and stood between Beau and the doors.

“Sir, you can’t go into the operating room. I know you’re upset, but please wait in the waiting room. I assure you, the doctor will see you as soon as they are finished.” She gestured toward Kevin and escorted them back to the waiting room.

Two hours later, a tall woman wearing blue scrubs and a surgical cap came into the waiting room, “Mr. Johnson?”

Beau sprang to his feet, his heart pounding, “Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Kelly,” she extended her hand.

“How is she?” Beau couldn’t slow his mind or his mouth, “What’s happening? Is she alive? Is she o—”

Dr. Kelly spoke calmly, “She’s undergone a great deal of trauma. She’s in a coma.”

A pain, greater than any pain he’d endured while in Iraq, ran through Beau’s heart.
Coma?

Practiced at speaking with grieving families, Dr. Kelly urged Beau to sit and continued with her explanation. “Head trauma can cause the brain to swell. When the brain swells, the fluid pushes up against the skull. The swelling can cause the brain to push on the brain stem. We’re controlling the swelling and hoping to reduce it with a drug called Mannitol.”

“What if the swelling doesn’t go down?” Beau’s voice quivered.

“Let’s hope it does,” she said matter-of-factly. “This medication takes fluid from the brain and passes it through the kidneys. We’ll monitor her closely.” She paused, letting Beau digest the information. “The baby is fine, so far, but we’ll have—”

Beau grabbed her forearm. “Baby? My wife isn’t pregnant.” A rush of relief swept through him. “That’s the wrong person.” Beau turned to Kevin with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Dr. Kelly flipped through her chart.

Kevin took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. The doctor beat him to it.  “Tess Abigail Johnson?” She looked to Kevin for confirmation.

He nodded.

Beau’s legs weakened, he backed into a chair and sank into it.

Kevin went to him, “I didn’t say anything at first because I thought Tess would want to tell you,” Kevin’s face reddened, “and then, I just didn’t think of it.”

Beau ran his hand down his face, then lowered his face into his hands, his elbows propped on his knees.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Kelly drew her eyebrows together in confusion. “You didn’t know?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Monitors beeped in irregular rhythms. Tess lay unconscious, a ventilator mask strapped to her face, its ominous pump and suck echoed in the stark room. Sickeningly-dark purple and red bruises covered the left side of her jaw, disappearing beneath the bandages that covered all but her eyes and ran beneath the brace wrapped around her neck. Tubes ran from her arm to an intravenous fluid bag which hung beside her bed on a metal pole. Across her chest were small plastic circles with metal nubs on the top, like faux robotic nipples, each one connected to a wire that ran to another monitor, beeping in a constant tempo.

Nausea rose in Beau’s throat. He stood above Tess, his hand resting upon hers, his eyes drawn toward her swollen belly and the fetal heart monitor strapped across it. Beau tensed with each approaching footstep.

“She’s a very lucky woman, Mr. Johnson.” Dr. Kelly’s voice was soft and thoughtful as she checked the monitors. She reviewed the chart as she spoke, “The next twenty-four hours are critical.”

Beau’s body revolted against the words, standing stiff, refusing to turn and face her. His throat grew dry. He tried to find his voice and failed. Beau didn’t want to hear about the next few hours and what could happen. He wished he could cover his ears like a child and create a silent cocoon. He wanted Dr. Kelly to tell him that everything would be fine. He needed her to assure him that his wife would be okay. He wanted assurances that he knew the doctor could not give.

Beau covered his face with his hand, trying to block the antiseptic smell that settled around him and failing to discern the stream of information that Dr. Kelly spewed. Everything felt wrong. Beau’s face reddened, his breathing came in fast bursts. The sun shouldn’t be shining. People in the hall shouldn’t be walking around as if his life were not falling apart. The damn doctor should be hovering over Tess, making her better, not watching and waiting and speaking in terms of statistics.

“Mr. Johnson?” she touched his shoulder.

Beau bristled.

“Perhaps you should sit down. This is a lot to digest.” She guided him to a chair. “Take a few deep breaths.”

He did, the redness slowly drained from his face.

“That’s better,” she said. “The good news is that the Mannitol seems to be working, and her kidneys are draining appropriately.”

Beau sat in the chair next to Tess’s bed and laid his head on her hand and wept.

Darkness seeped through the blinds. A nurse came in to check on Tess, smiling at Beau in a way that said,
You’re the poor husband.

“Mr. Johnson?”

Beau lifted his head in response to the high-pitched voice. There was that pitying smile again.

“Your parents are waiting outside the ICU,” she spoke matter-of-factly, unaware that they’d believed Beau to be dead. “Your wife can only have one visitor at a time.”

Beau trudged wearily toward the double doors, avoiding the sorrowful glances of the nurses. The earlier surge of adrenaline had left him hollow, unable to corral his thoughts. He stopped just short of the doors. The oversized doors swung open, a grief-stricken woman who looked as if her whole life held on by a string walked in. He watched the doors shut solidly behind her. Each time the doors opened, he tried to walk through them. He was unable, his feet heavy as lead. He knew his parents needed to see him as much as he needed to see them. He craved his father’s strength, the sound of his deep voice,
You’re lookin’ good, son. We’re proud of you.
He envisioned his mother, her sandy bob bouncing as she’d run up and hug him like she’d never let go. Just the thought of the surge of emotion made Beau dizzy. He backed against the wall, sliding down, resting on his heels. Beau rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at the crick that was on its way to full-blown pain.

His legs grew cold. He used the wall for support as he rose to his feet.

“Are you okay, sir?” It was the petite nurse who had told him his parents were there to see him.

He stared at her, unseeing.

She touched his arm. “Sir? Do you need a doctor?”

Red lights blinked on the walls, and a calm, electronic voice boomed from a loudspeaker above Beau. “Code blue, room 242. Code blue, room 242.”

Two men in scrubs rushed past Beau and the nurse.

“That’s Tess’s room!” Beau yelled and pushed past the nurse. “Tess!”

A nurse stopped him from entering the room. He peered around her, “What’s going on?” Through the window behind the nurse he saw the two men in scrubs, their voices silenced by the closed door. Their actions were swift. One of them grabbed something from the wall. “What’s that? What’s he doing?” Beau’s voice cracked.

The taller of the men looked down at Tess’s stomach, then up at the other man. His eyebrows pulled together. He shook his head.

“Defibrillator,” the nurse said. “They’ll take good care of her. They’re the best code team around.”

Dr. Kelly pushed past them and entered the room. A second later, the blinds were closed.

“She’s stable,” Dr. Kelly said, watching for the telltale sign of relief, for Beau’s shoulders to drop a quarter inch. They didn’t. “She stopped breathing, from an arrhythmia, we think.”

The questions in his mind formed faster than he could speak. “Arrhythmia? What’s that? Why? How?”

“Your wife has undergone an incredible amount of stress, and the baby takes everything it needs from her, leaving her…not quite as strong as she might be otherwise. We believe she had a ventricular arrhythmia, possibly caused by stress, or perhaps by an underlying conduction problem to the heart.”

Beau’s lips pushed tightly together as he listened, trying to follow her explanation. “Conduction problem?”

“We can’t be sure. We’re monitoring her—and the baby. Hopefully, this was an anomaly. If she stops breathing again, we may need to take the baby.”

The blood drained from Beau’s face.

“We would do an emergency cesarean section,” she explained. “If this is a conduction problem, then there are a few ways to proceed, none of which we’d want to chance while she’s carrying a baby.” Dr. Kelly handed Tess’s chart to a heavyset nurse. “Your wife is very strong, Mr. Johnson, but comas are very tenuous, and the baby is very premature. We’ll have to monitor her and see what we’re dealing with. Let’s hope this was a one-time event caused by the stress of the accident.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next morning, Beau awoke to the portly nurse bustling around Tess. Jet lag settled upon him like a night of hard drinking. He pried his eyelids apart, gathering his thoughts.
Tess. Hospital.

“Good morning, Mr. Johnson,” she said with a warm southern drawl and a sincere smile. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Beau sat up in the chair, his back ached from slouching all night. “It’s okay,” he said with a yawn. “How is she?”

“Why, she’s just lovely, isn’t she?” she tucked Tess’s blanket around her still body. “Can I get you something? A pillow? Blanket?”

“No, thank you,” Beau said. “How long do you think she’ll be in a coma?”

“Sweetie, I think she’ll be in there just as long as she needs to be.” She bent close to Beau. He could feel her breath on his cheek, “I’ve seen them stay in a coma for weeks, I’ve seen them stay in a coma for hours. It just depends on how tired they are, that’s all.”

Beau smiled.
Yes
, he thought,
maybe that’s it
.

“And look at her!” she exclaimed. “Look at that belly. You’re going to be a father!”

Beau gazed over at Tess’s rising abdomen.
My baby.

“See this monitor?” She pointed to the monitor that was strapped to Tess’s stomach. “That there’s a fetal heart monitor. If anything goes wrong with your baby, we’ll know like that.” She snapped her fingers and walked toward the door. “But don’t you worry yourself over her, she’s safe and warm inside her mama.”

Beau watched her waddle out into the hall, desperately wanting to believe her. He brushed Tess’s bangs away from the bandages and kissed her forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

Her stillness seemed to magnify his question.

Her skin was warm and soft. The faint scent of vanilla lay under the bitterness of the antiseptic. He picked up her limp hand and drew the letter “I” with his index finger, then he drew a heart. His eyes drifted to her swollen middle. He released her hand and turned away, perplexed, his brows furrowing in confusion.

Outside the intensive care unit, Alice, Kevin, and Beau’s parents waited for news. Alice had convinced an ICU nurse that she’d gone to school with into giving them enough information to know that Tess was still in a coma and that the baby was doing fine.

“Why hasn’t he come out to see us?” Carol Johnson’s eyes were red. She gripped a tissue as if it were a security blanket.

Her husband, Robert, sat forward, elbows leaning on his knees. He turned toward her and shook his head. “He’ll never leave her side.”

“Two minutes, that’s all I want with him.” Carol stood, her arms crossed, her shoulders rounded forward. “I just need to see him,” she said in a thin voice.

Robert reached up and pulled her gently back toward her seat. His enormous hand encircled her tiny forearm. “We’ll wait, Carol. He’ll be out when he’s able.”

“I’m going to get coffee. Carol?” Alice asked.

Carol sank down beside her husband.

Kevin stood. “I’ll go.”

“Shouldn’t we call Louie?” Alice asked in an urgent, hushed tone.

“No,” Kevin answered.

“But he’s got no idea she’s here,” Alice pleaded.

“Beau’s here. What are you gonna do, have another guy come in and be like, ‘Um, here I am. I was sleeping with your wife.’?” He glared at her.

“We don’t even know they were sleeping together.” Alice picked up her pace. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you at the cafeteria.”

Safely secluded in the ladies’ room, Alice withdrew her cell phone and called Directory Assistance. “Bethesda, Maryland. Tole, Louis Tole, please.”

The pleasantly-plump nurse changed Tess’s IV bag. “There, that should do.” The nurse moved gracefully despite her large size. “How’re you holding up, hon?” she asked Beau with a smile in her eyes. She took a washcloth and dabbed the exposed parts of Tess’s face. “Let’s see what we have here,” she bent down to check the bag of urine that hung from the side of the bed.

Three nights without sleep had left Beau shaky, his eyes swollen and tired.

“What a good girl,” the nurse said. She emptied the urine and replaced the collection bag, then turned back toward Beau. “Oh, hon, you’re looking a little tired. Why don’t you go get yourself some breakfast? Your family’s still waiting out there for you.”

Beau rose to his feet. He’d forgotten about his parents. Suddenly it dawned on him that he’d forgotten about Samira all together. “Shit,” he mumbled.

“Something wrong?” the nurse startled.

“Nothing. I…forgot something,” Beau paced. He’d left Samira at the army base with her children and an interpreter. She was safe. It was her fear that worried him. He was all she had, all she knew. He withdrew his cell phone.

“Uh-uh, hon. No cell phones in the ICU,” she shook her head. “Why don’t you just use this bedside phone?” She tapped the green receiver next to the bed.

“Right,” Beau said. He waited until the nurse left, closing the door behind her. Beau picked up the phone and dialed. “Mr. Fulan?”

“Yes?” he said.

“It’s Beau Johnson.” Beau squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the disbelief, then the joy, both of which came quickly.

“Yes, I’m thrilled to be home,” he proceeded to explain Tess’s situation to Mr. Fulan, then asked for the biggest favor he’d ever had to ask of the man, and hoped Mr. Fulan would agree. “I traveled with a young Iraqi woman and her children. She speaks little English, and she doesn’t know anybody.” Beau ran his hand through his hair, his eyes washing over Tess. “I was hoping you might be willing to go sit with her, just for a few hours. I don’t know who else to—”

Before he could finish, Mr. Fulan interrupted, “It’s the least I can do.”

Beau took a deep breath and pushed through the doors that separated the ICU from the waiting room. His mother glanced up, tears instantly filled her eyes. She brought her hand up to her mouth, tissue pressing against her teeth. Beau’s eyes welled with tears.

Carol stood, trembling. The wrinkles on her face were new, the gray in her hair seemed out of place.

Robert rose to his feet, his strong demeanor melted before Beau’s eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Beau bit his upper lip, unable to keep his tears at bay. His father’s embrace sent his heart racing. His mother’s frailty brought sobs from Beau.

“Son,” his father’s voice cracked.

Beau squeezed them to him. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed them. He’d been running on adrenaline, using all of his energy to get from one painful second to the next. His defenses down, he reverted back to a scared ten-year-old. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone. It’s all my fault.”

Robert kissed the top of Beau’s head, then rested his cheek there, fitting perfectly. “No, son, no. Thank God you’re home.”

Carol cried softly. She pulled back from Beau, looked him up and down, then pulled him to her again.

“Mom,” he whispered.

Kevin and Alice stood to the side, holding hands. Alice turned away from the private scene, wiping her own sadness away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come out yesterday,” Beau said. They sat in the chairs, Carol’s knuckles white around Beau’s hand.

Carol shook her head. She reached across the seat and stroked Beau’s cheek.  

“How’s she doing?” Robert asked.

“She’s still in a coma,” he wiped his eyes. “She stopped breathing—” sobs stole his words.

“Oh, son,” Robert put his arm around Beau.

“They said it might’ve been caused by the stress of the accident.” He stared straight ahead, hoping they were right. “She’s pregnant,” his eyebrows lifted.

“We know. Alice told us,” Robert said. “And how’s the baby?” his tone was gentle.

 “So far, so good.”

One by one, they had gone in to see Tess, Alice first, then Carol, Robert, and, finally, Kevin.

“She’s gonna be okay.” Carol sat next to Alice and squeezed her hand.

Alice cried openly.

Carol drew strength from comforting Alice. She’d needed a purpose. She gathered Alice in her arms and consoled her.

Beau and Robert sat silently staring at the double doors. Every passing second was one less he had with Tess. Beau’s leg bumped up and down. He twisted his wedding band.

Kevin burst through the doors, his face sheet white. “Beau, she stopped breathing. Get in there.”

Beau was through the doors and down the hall in seconds. Tess’s door was closed, the curtains drawn. “What’s going on?” he yelled to a nurse sitting at the desk down the hall.

“She stopped breathing, hon. They’re taking care of her.” The southern nurse from earlier came to stand beside him.

“Why? I thought it was a fluke!”

“We don’t know yet, sir.”

Tess’s door flew open. The doctor led the way, followed by nurses pushing Tess on a gurney. Beau ran beside them, “What happened? Where are you taking her?” he yelled.

“It wasn’t an anomaly, Mr. Johnson. She must have a conduction issue,” she motioned for the nurses to take Tess into the operating room. “We have to take the baby. If we don’t, they both might die.”

Beau couldn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard her. His tongue felt as if it had doubled in size. His throat was closing.
Tess might die.

“Mr. Johnson, every second counts. I need your consent.”

A nurse rushed over with a clipboard and put a pen in Beau’s hand.

He looked at her with tears in his eyes. “Will she be okay?” his voice was barely a whisper.

“We’re trying to save her. There are no guarantees about the baby. She’s very premature, but many—”

“Tess!”
Why don’t they understand?
“Is Tess going to live?” Beau grabbed the clipboard from the nurse and scribbled his name.

“We’re doing everything we can.”