How to Save a Life (8 page)

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“So is that a yes?”

I hesitate. My instinct is to say no, because wouldn’t I just be stringing him along, only to vanish five days from now? He’s already lost his daughter; I don’t want him to have to lose another person he cares about too. But then I remember that whatever happens today will be forgotten, for we’ll wake up in the morning and do it all over again from scratch. The only emotions at risk are mine, and I make the instant decision that the gamble is worth it. “Yes. It’s a yes to dinner.”

He looks surprised. “Really? I honestly didn’t think that would work.”

“Oh. If you didn’t mean it, we don’t have to . . .” I trail off, mortified.

“Of
course
I meant it. I’m just surprised that you succumbed to my obvious charms so quickly.” He grins. “My car’s just over there. Feel like following me to a restaurant? Kagan’s on Peachtree, maybe?”

“One of my favorites. Sure. I’ll be right behind you.”

Jamie grins and strides over to a blue Mazda parked just across from me. I climb into my own car, look at myself in the rearview mirror, and laugh. “Jill Cooper,” I say to my reflection, “what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

7

D
INNER WITH
J
AMIE
is perfect. After we settle into a candlelit back booth and order a bottle of Pinot Noir, we fall into an easy conversation. Jamie tells me about his childhood in Missouri, how having a daughter changed his life, and why it means so much to him to stay involved at Atlanta Children’s, even though she’s been gone for six years. “I just feel so connected to her there,” he says, his expression distant for a moment. “I can’t explain it. But it’s like a little piece of her got left behind. And it makes me feel like I’m doing something positive if I’m helping other kids.”

“And taking care of the tree,” I remind him. “That’s important too.”

He nods. “It was so important to Caroline before she died. If I let something bad happen to that tree, I feel like I’d be letting her down. It’s a crazy obsession, I know, but it feels right.”

“I’m growing to love the tree too,” I say, perhaps the understatement of the year. “So I’m glad you’re obsessed.”

He asks me all about my background, and I find myself telling him about my parents’ divorce when I was young, my mother’s death five years ago, and the solace I find in working with the kids at Atlanta Children’s. “Kind of amazing when you set out to help heal them, and in turn, they heal you,” I add.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

The waitress brings our wine, and after presenting it to us and letting me taste it, she pours us both glasses, then she disappears with our dinner order—Mediterranean pasta for me, grilled chicken risotto for Jamie. By the time our food arrives twenty-five minutes later, we’re laughing and swapping stories about the crazy things we did half a lifetime ago in college. I went to the University of Florida, and Jamie went to the University of Georgia, so we joke about the intense rivalry between our schools. “Hey, we should go to the Florida-Georgia game together this fall,” Jamie says brightly, once we’ve begun to eat.

Suddenly, the air seems to go out of the room. “Oh,” I say softly.

A look of alarm crosses Jamie’s face. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. That was just a classic first-date screwup, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t be implying that I assume we’ll be dating two and a half months from now. I’m really sorry. Please don’t let my enthusiasm scare you away.”

“No, it wasn’t that,” I say. But I don’t elaborate, because I can’t possibly tell him that I’ll be dead in five days. Thinking about a football game months from now makes me suddenly acutely aware of all the things I’ll miss. “Jamie, I can’t tell you how much I wish that we’ll be dating two and a half months from now.”

“Really?” he asks.

“Mostly so I can see the Gators kick the Bulldogs’ butts across the field,” I conclude, deliberately lightening the moment so that he won’t notice I’m blinking back tears of regret.

“Well, then, it’s a date,” he says.

I force a smile. What’s the harm in agreeing? It’s a future I wish could be true, and I won’t be letting him down because when he wakes up in the morning, he won’t remember any of this at all.

We toast and return to the most comfortable first-date conversation I’ve ever had. By the time our check comes—he insists on paying—I know his favorite movies (
The
Shawshank Redemption
and
Field of Dreams
), the names of his childhood pets (a bulldog named Sparky and a Dalmatian named Dr. Spots), and all about his dream of opening a restaurant one day.

“Jill, I can’t believe how perfect this was,” he says as he takes my hand and we stroll out toward the street, where we each parallel parked a block away. “I know it was sort of crazy to ask you out, considering we’re virtual strangers, but I just had a feeling that we were supposed to get to know each other. Does that sound nuts?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Because this has been the best thing I’ve done in a very long time.”

We stop under a streetlight a few yards from my car, and he takes a step closer to me as he places his left hand on my cheek. Time seems to slow as he leans in. I close my eyes as his lips meet mine in the gentlest, most tender first kiss I’ve ever experienced. When he finally pulls away, there’s awe in his eyes.

“Jill, that was . . .” His voice trails off.

“Perfect,” I complete his sentence in a whisper.

“That’s exactly the word I was looking for. I’d really like to see you again.”

“Me too.” I don’t add that I’m confident I’ll be seeing him in the morning when I repeat this day, nor do I offer up the fact that he won’t have a clue who I am when he next sees me.

“Can I call you?” he asks.

I nod and give him my number, even though he won’t know it when he wakes up.

“I wish this night didn’t have to end,” he says, “but alas, I am a gentleman, so I’ll walk you to your car, kiss you good night, and begin plotting our next date, if you’ll be kind enough to say yes.”

“Of course I will,” I say.

He takes my hand and accompanies me to my car door. He kisses me once more, slowly, softly. “Thanks for an amazing evening, Jill.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Jamie.” As I climb into my car and drive away, I feel an overwhelming sense of loss for what could have been. The future we could have had together would have been beautiful.

I cry all the way home.

I
AWAKEN IN the morning with a smile on my lips, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that what happened with Jamie hasn’t really happened yet. I’m reliving today once again—my Cat in the Hat scrubs laid over the back of my chair erase any doubt—which means he hasn’t met me yet. He won’t remember the conversation we shared or the perfect kiss that ended the evening. He won’t remember that it felt like we were enveloped in something magical and surreal.

I shake my head and get out of bed. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. Yes, the clock has reset, but wasn’t I lucky to have experienced what I did with Jamie, even if it doesn’t carry over? I know how well we mesh, and I know that the next time we encounter each other, we’ll find the same kind of spark too, even if we’re starting from scratch. I’ll just have to accept that it can’t go anywhere.

Today isn’t about Jamie, though. I’ve been thinking about the kids and what I can do for them now that I’ve joined them on their tree repetitions. Up until this point, they were trapped in the hospital because they’re all minors, but since their long-term health won’t be compromised, and since we’ll always wind up back where we started in the morning, I don’t see much of a risk in breaking them out of their confinement for a day. And I know exactly where to start.

I brush my teeth, wash my face, and sit down at my computer, where I pull out my credit card. “Can’t take it with you,” I murmur as I begin to make the first of several purchases online.

On my way into work an hour later, I make a detour and stop into the ER of Atlanta Memorial. I ask to speak to Jennifer Parker, a woman I went to nursing school with, and when the nurse on duty tells me she won’t be in until three, I ask if I can leave an important message for her. She nods and hands me a piece of paper, and I quickly scribble a note.

There will be an older man named Merel Friedl sitting on the bench outside at 5:30 today. I know this sounds crazy, but I’m positive he’ll have a heart attack before 5:45. Can you humor me and bring him into the ER before that, just in case?

I sign my name and hand it back to the nurse, who reads it and frowns. “It’s not possible to know when someone will have a heart attack,” she says.

“Please, just deliver the message,” I say.

She shrugs and looks at me like I’m nuts, but she agrees. I thank her and hurry out. I don’t know why saving Merel seems so important to me, especially considering I’ll have to do it all again the next today, but it does.

On the way into Atlanta Children’s, I see Jamie carrying a huge bouquet of balloons. He does a double take when he sees me, as if he thinks he knows me, but then he looks away. It makes my heart flutter for a second and then sink.

I hold the doors to the elevator, knowing that Jamie is heading my way, and when he climbs in, trying to stop the balloons from hitting me, I push the buttons for my floor and ask him, “Floor nine?”

“How did you know that?” he asks.

“Lucky guess.” I smile sadly at him and look down. I don’t want to spark with him today; I won’t have time to see it through, and it will only remind me of what I’m missing.

“Have we met before?” he asks as the elevator doors slide closed, and we begin to head upward.

I shake my head.

“Weird,” he says. “I have the strangest feeling I know you.” He holds my gaze for a long time, and I fight the blush I can feel rising in my cheeks. “I’m just headed up to the cardiology floor for a birthday party,” he says finally, nodding to the balloons.

“That sounds really nice.”

“I don’t suppose I could talk you into coming with me? We could always use an extra pair of hands.” He grins, then shakes his head. “Wait, that was dumb. You’re obviously going somewhere.”

“Believe me when I say I would love to help you with a birthday party. But I have a pretty special surprise for three of my favorite kids.” I pause and add, “I’m a nurse on the oncology floor.”

He looks surprised, and as he glances down at my clothes quickly, I remember that I chose skinny jeans and a black tank top instead of my scrubs today. “Day off,” I add.

“And you’re spending it with some of your patients?” He smiles at me. “Lucky kids.”

I can feel myself blushing. “Nah, they’re amazing. I’m the lucky one.”

The elevator dings as it reaches my floor, and as the doors slide open, I can’t resist saying, “I’m Jill.”

“Jamie,” he says, looking into my eyes as he reaches out to shake my hand. The doors slide closed, and I sigh as he disappears from my life once again.

“
W
HY AREN
’
T YOU dressed for work?” Sheila asks as I head toward the nursing station.

“I have that doctor’s appointment. Remember?” Of course I have no intention of seeing Dr. Frost today.

A cloud of concern passes over Sheila’s face. “Right, honey. Yes. Of course. You need to take the day off?”

“If that’s okay.”

She nods and checks her iPad. “I can call Carol in early. We’ll be fine.” She looks up. “But why are you dressed like you’re going to a bar? Does Dr. Frost have a cute PA or something?”

“That’s what I hear.”

Sheila grins. “Well, then, you go girl. It’s about time you get laid.”

“You are nothing if not consistent, my friend.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

I head down the hall to Logan’s room. “How was your night, kiddo?” I ask as I enter.

He yawns. “Same as usual. How was yours?”

I think of dinner and the kiss I shared with Jamie. “Pretty incredible, actually.” I move on before he can ask me for details. “So I have a surprise for you. But first, you have to assure me one more time that taking you out of the hospital isn’t going to harm any of you in any way. You wake up in the morning and start all over again, right?”

He smiles. “Right. You don’t even have to get back to your bed at the end of the night or anything. Frankie, Katelyn, and I tested it a while ago. We snuck up to the roof and hung out up there. We swore we were going to stay up all night and see what happened. None of us remembered falling asleep, but we all woke up the next morning back in our own beds. It’s like a reset button.”