Life Support: Escape to the Country (21 page)

It was an hour before Judy stirred. Sophie was in the corner feeding Lily, her daughter’s mouth covering her breast, Lily’s chubby hand reaching for the necklace around Sophie’s neck. Alex stood to the side, stroking the downy blonde fuzz on Lily’s tiny head, his love for his wife and baby evident on his face.

“Mum?” Tom spoke, breaking the silence. Everyone shifted position to stare at Judy.

Sophie disengaged her nipple from her daughter’s mouth and pulled her shirt down. Lily wailed her disgust. Emma held out her arms and Sophie wordlessly passed her over. Emma laid the baby across one shoulder and patted gently, hoping to elicit some wind. She was rewarded with a healthy burp.

Emma glanced down at Judy’s hand, resting in Tom’s. Her fingers twitched and contracted. Emma’s gaze traveled up to Judy’s face. It was contorted, as though she was in pain or trying to speak.

“It’s okay Mum,” Tom croaked.

Judy moved her head slightly to one side and struggled to open her eyes.

“Hi Mummy, I’m here,” Sophie whispered.

“You’re in hospital, you’ve got a breathing tube in,” Tom said.

Judy frowned.

“I know you didn’t want one, but we didn’t have a choice,” Tom said. “You were really sick and we needed time for Sophie and Alex to get here.”

Judy grimaced, biting down on the tube with her teeth. An alarm sounded. Amanda, Judy’s nurse, silenced the machine and spoke softly to Judy who closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.

“I’ve brought Lily to meet you.” Tears rolled unchecked down Sophie’s cheeks.

A lump grew in Emma’s own throat and tears pricked behind her eyelids.

Judy’s eyes closed again. Emma found some lavender massage oil and passed it to Sophie. For the next half an hour Sophie massaged her mum’s hands and feet as Judy opened her eyes long enough to gaze steadfastly into their eyes before closing them again. The effort of breathing was clearly exhausting her.

“I love you so much Mum,” Sophie said as she wiped at her bloodshot eyes. “You have been the best mum in the world.”

Emma swallowed over the lump in her throat.

“Please wake up Mummy. I’ve got Lily here. She wants to meet you.”

Judy’s eyes cracked open again and she stared unseeing at the wall. Alex passed Lily over to Sophie.

“Why don’t you sit her on the bed so your mum can touch her,” Emma suggested quietly.

Judy looked straight at Emma and blinked slowly, once then twice. Was she saying thank you? A single tear formed in one corner of Judy’s eye and Tom wiped it away.

Pain flooded Emma’s chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“It’s okay, Mum,” Tom said, his chin trembling as he tried to stem his own tears. “Open your eyes and you can see Lily.”

Emma touched Tom gently on the arm. “Have you got your phone?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“Take some photos.”

He frowned.

“Trust me, take some photos.”

“I don’t want to remember her like this,” he whispered.

Emma took the phone from him. Sliding her fingers across the screen to zoom in, she clicked away as Lily curled her hand around Judy’s finger in a tight grip. Everyone held their breath as Judy opened her eyes and seemed to smile. Lily giggled and Emma snapped another photo of the baby’s delighted face. Unaware, Lily clawed her upper body onto Judy’s chest and stared at her grandmother’s face as though committing it to memory. No one moved.

“It’s okay Mum,” Tom whispered. “We’re all here and when you’re ready, you can go. You’re going to a much better place and we will see you again soon, I promise. We love you so much.”

Judy’s eyes closed and her breathing rate slowed. Sophie looked up in alarm. Amanda stepped in and adjusted a setting on the machine.

“Can we speak to Simon please?” Emma asked. It was time for the family to decide what to do.

Ten minutes later Simon ushered Tom, Sophie, Alex and Lily from the room for a family meeting. Emma declined to join them and stepped out of the ward to phone her own mother.

Lorraine answered immediately. “How’s she doing?”

“It won’t be long,” Emma said as her vision blurred.

“How’s Tom holding up?”

“He’s strong now. Better than I thought he’d be, but he’s going to be a mess once she goes.”

Moments later Tom and Sophie appeared, their faces battle-weary.

Emma raised her eyebrows in question.

“We’ve decided to take out the tube and …” Tom choked on the words, causing Sophie to begin to cry again, silent tears streaming down her face. Emma pulled them both into an embrace and they stood outside Judy’s room composing themselves.

“Did Simon explain what will happen?” Emma asked.

Tom nodded. “Yes. He said she won’t be in any pain.”

“That’s right. Amanda will give her morphine. It will slow down her respiratory rate.”

“I don’t know if I want to be there,” Sophie said.

“I think you should,” Emma said gently.

Tom nodded. “Emma, can you let the nurse know what we’ve decided?”

She touched his arm. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I want you to help them do what they need to do to get her ready,” he said.

Emma looked from Tom to Sophie. “Are you sure? It’s a very private time.”

“I want you there.”

With another hug, Tom and Sophie headed toward the waiting room with Emma’s promise that as soon as they were ready, she’d call for them.

Back in the room, Emma introduced herself properly to Amanda. “I’m Emma, one of Tom’s friends. I’m also Kate Kennedy’s sister-in-law.”

“I thought you looked familiar. I remember you from her wedding. Kate told me you’d become a nurse.”

“Tom’s happy for me to stay and help you, if that’s okay.”

Amanda nodded her consent. “Mitch will be here to help too.”

At his name, a young redhead with a warm smile and a face full of freckles entered the room and Amanda introduced them. “Nice to meet you. Sorry about—” He gestured in Judy’s direction.

Fresh tears pricked Emma’s eyes. “Thanks.”

“We’ll make it as peaceful as we can,” he said.

“I know.”

They got to work. Amanda switched off the fentanyl infusion and IV fluids and left to get morphine. Mitch disconnected the arterial line and removed it, waiting long moments for it to stop bleeding. As he pulled the central line, Emma removed the ECG monitoring leads from Judy’s chest. She placed the catheter bag out of sight under fresh sheets while Mitch removed the nasogastric tube. Amanda returned with the morphine and showed Mitch. They took the poles and pumps from the room while Emma washed Judy’s face and brushed her hair, privileged to have the opportunity to provide care in such an intimate way. As far as equipment went, all that remained in the room was the ventilator, still breathing on Judy’s behalf.

Emma looked around. They were ready. She pulled three chairs up on either side of the bed and lowered the bed rails. Amanda dimmed the lights as she left the room, returning shortly with a CD player that she plugged into the wall. Soft classical music floated soothingly from the speakers.

“Are we ready now?” she asked Mitch.

He nodded as he untied the tracheostomy tape. “I’ll suction as you pull the tube.”

Amanda withdrew air from the balloon and Mitch suctioned as Amanda pulled the tube from Judy’s mouth. It barely elicited a cough. The machine screamed, letting them know they’d disconnected the circuit, and Amanda hit the silence button while Mitch discarded the plastic tubing before switching it off. As they undid the oxygen and air from the nipples on the wall, Judy took slow, shallow, rattling breaths.

Mitch left the room, wheeling the ventilator ahead of him.

Tom and Sophie rounded the corner, supported by the hospital chaplain. Emma smiled encouragingly at them.

“She’s ready.”

Tom held his sister’s hand and they took cautious steps toward their mum. Sophie’s knees gave way as Tom assisted her to the seat. He smiled gratefully at Emma. “Mum’s hair looks lovely. Thank you.”

Sophie rifled through her handbag. “She’d want her lippy on.” She glanced over at Emma. “Is it okay if I put some on?”

Emma smiled. “Yes. Go ahead.”

Tom took the seat opposite Sophie and grasped his mum’s hand. He pulled it to his mouth and grazed his lips over the wrinkled and freckled skin. “It’s okay Mum. We’re here. You can go now.”

“Mummy I love you so much,” Sophie said as she gently applied lipstick to her mother’s dry lips. She smoothed the skin around her mum’s cheeks, pulling back in shock when Judy opened her eyes and looked at her daughter.

Judy drew in a small breath then there was a long pause before she took another tiny breath.

Amanda quietly administered another dose of morphine and Judy’s eyes partially closed. Tom and Sophie held her hands, silent tears coursing down their cheeks.

“Fly Mummy, fly,” Sophie said softly.

And with those words of love, Judy Henderson gripped her children’s hands and released them before taking her final shallow breath and letting go.

Tears rolled down Emma’s face in earnest and she let them fall, not stopping to wipe them away and not caring about the mascara she knew would be leaving trails down her cheeks. Tom laid his head on the pillow beside his mum’s and as the truth that she was gone hit him, he silently wiped tears from each eye with his thumb. Emma stood behind him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He grasped her hand, squeezing so tightly her fingers cramped. Amanda slipped unnoticed from the room, allowing them the opportunity to grieve in privacy and peace.

Half an hour later, Emma slid into the small chapel and looked around. Judy’s passing had drawn her to this sacred place seeking solitude and comfort. The chapel was deserted but rather than feeling desolate, a hollow but holy silence permeated the room. Emma drew in a ragged breath before sitting down in the farthest corner of the room where the soft candlelight didn’t reach. She sat transfixed, staring at the marble statue of Jesus suspended on the wooden crucifix. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, before letting her breath out slowly and noiselessly. A sound at the door caused her to turn. Two women entered. One knelt to pray. The other bent over her and placed a supporting hand on her shoulder. Emma snuck out before they turned and saw her. Unexpectedly, she’d received the comfort she craved.

Back in the unit Tom and Sophie were still sitting with Judy. Tom’s eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Sophie sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a balled up tissue. Emma moved easily into Tom’s open arms for a hug.

“Thank you for being here for us Emma,” he murmured into her hair.

“Thank you for letting me.”

Bright moonlight flooded the veranda of Bluestone Cottage. Tom and Emma stepped inside into the silence. The place already felt empty of Judy’s presence. Tom switched on a lamp and soft yellow light flooded the inside of the cottage.

When he had closed all the curtains and flicked on the lamps, he stood in the center of the small lounge, looking lost. Emma smiled sadly before stepping toward him and pulling him into a tight embrace. She didn’t need to say anything.

His arms came around her in one quick and desperate motion as though he needed to hold onto her before he fell over. He pulled her closer, crushing her to him, clutching her, clasping her so tight she could barely breathe. It was as if he was drawing strength from their hug. She stood rock still as a barrage of emotions washed over him and for the next few minutes, his body trembled as he sobbed on her shoulder. She let him cry until there was nothing left inside him and the tears finally subsided.

Finally he pulled apart, wiping his face with the heel of his hands. “I need to check on the horses and feed the dogs.”

“It’s all sorted.”

He shot her a questioning look.

“I rang Joel and Kate. They came out and did it earlier.”

“But they won’t know how to …”

“They sorted it,” she interrupted. “It’s okay.” She touched his arm. “I’ll go home. You need to go to bed.”

“I won’t be able to sleep.”

“How about I make a cup of tea before I go?”

“I’d prefer something stronger.”

“Beer?”

He shook his head. “I’m thinking a coffee would be perfect.”

“That will keep you awake.”

“I
need
to stay awake.”

Emma frowned. “Why?”

He ran his hand across his face, the skin scratching against his new beard. “We need to plan the funeral.”

“Not tonight, Tom. There’s no rush. Wait until tomorrow when you and Sophie have caught up on sleep. Your poor sister is so jetlagged she can hardly walk in a straight line. Give her a chance to catch up before you plan the funeral.” Sophie, Alex and Lily had stayed in Birrangulla and were spending the night in a motel.

He sighed. “You’re right. Skip the coffee. I wonder if Mum’s got any Bundy in the house.”

Emma bit her tongue. Now wasn’t the time to tell him alcohol was exactly what he
didn’t
need.

“I’m going to make myself a hot chocolate. I’ll see what I can find for you.”

He slumped into the chair. “There’s drinking chocolate and Milo in the pantry. You choose. Help yourself.”

“Thanks. Are you hungry? Can I make you something? A toasted cheese sandwich perhaps?”

He shook his head. “No thanks. I’m fine.”

Emma busied herself in Judy’s little kitchen. Everywhere were memories of the woman they had just lost.

When she returned, Tom’s boots were off and he was sprawled across the couch, eyes closed. The television was on, sound muted, and the credits of a movie rolled upward. She placed a cold can of rum and cola and her steaming mug of Milo on the coffee table beside him. A blanket lay across the back of the couch and as she went to cover him, his eyes opened.

“Stay with me.”

She hesitated, not sure what he was asking. “I’ll finish my drink then I should get going. It’s been a big day and you need time on your own.”

He sat up and held out his arms to her. “Stay. Please. I need you.”

She checked her watch. Ten thirty. “Are you sure? It’s late.”

She shared his reluctance to leave. All she had to do was say the word. Yes. So why was it so hard? What was holding her back? She knew the answer. It would be easy to stay with him, but it wouldn’t be right. He wanted one night of comfort. She wanted more. So much more.

Tom made the decision for her, pulling her down toward him so she fell into his lap. He pulled her tighter and she nuzzled into his chest.

“Okay, I’ll stay a little while longer.”

Another movie started, a popular nineties one she’d seen before. Tom reached for the remote as Hugh Grant woke up late for his mate’s wedding and his expletives filled the small room. They both laughed and the sound pushed the day’s sadness back into the shadows where it belonged. Tom lifted the drink to his lips and it wasn’t long before five cans and the movie were finished. She was still ensnared in his lap.

“I don’t think you could get any closer to me if you tried,” she teased, lifting her chin and meeting his eyes. She regretted the flirtatious words the moment they left her lips. She clamped her mouth shut and hoped he couldn’t see the way the blush was spreading across her face.

“Is that so?” His voice was raspy and filled with desire. His hand traced up her leg.

She pushed away from him and put distance between them on the couch, clutching a cushion to her chest. “Don’t Tom.”

He rested one hand across the back of the couch and gazed at her. He was close enough she felt the warmth coming from his body, making her temperature shoot up several degrees. Her stomach squeezed into her chest, crowding her lungs and making it difficult to breathe. Blood thundered in her ears. She hugged the cushion tighter. She couldn’t let him see how much his nearness was affecting her. How much it was making her want him more than ever.

He inched closer to her and before she knew what was happening his mouth came down gently on hers. She tasted the alcohol on his breath. All sensible thought fled as her hands found their way around his neck. He tangled his own fingers through her hair, angling her head and kissing her deeper. Her brain screamed at her to resist but her body refused to listen. It responded, leaping with excitement at his touch, his scent, his nearness. She felt the flare of pleasure low in the bottom of her belly.

His hands ran down her arms and found her hips before they slipped beneath her shirt. She gasped as his fingers grazed the smooth silkiness of her waist then, with a jolt, her lust-induced brain kicked into gear.

What am I doing?
The sparks were palpable, but it wasn’t right.

Deep down she knew she loved him – always had – but as much as she wanted him now, she wasn’t going to let him use her as a comfort cushion after his mother’s death. She wasn’t that stupid. Or desperate.

She pushed him away and saw the surprise in his desire-filled eyes. She met his gaze head-on, and saw the determined jaw, saw the slightly crooked nose, saw the confusion in his electric blue eyes framed by a thick layer of dark lashes.

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Not now.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Emma stood and surveyed the mess of empty cans. “I think you should go to bed.”

“Come with me.” His words were ever-so-slightly slurred.

“You’re drunk,” she said, scooping up the cans and heading for the kitchen.

He called after her. “If a country bloke can’t sit down and polish off a six pack while he’s grieving for his mum, he should pack up and move to the bloody city.”

She ignored his comment. He was tired, he was upset and he was drunk. If she ever had sex with him again, she wanted him to remember it. Not like last time.

When she returned from the kitchen, the gentle snores from the couch told her he’d fallen asleep. She covered him in the blanket and closed the door quietly behind her, unsuccessfully shutting off the memories of the past and the last time she’d seen him asleep like that.