Memories (16 page)

Chapter Eighteen

 Michael awoke in his own bed in the Southampton house not really knowing how he got there in the first place. He remembered leaving the hospital and walking to the car and driver still waiting for him, but his mind went numb after that. Yet, here he was. Vanessa lay in the hospital, Matthew was dead. It wasn't a bad dream, but reality.

 Studying the familiar room around him did little to pacify his feelings of dread. The soft gray tones that once seemed soothing to him now looked morbid and forbidding. Gray curtains held the sunshine at bay from the large windows that flanked the four-poster bed, but he had no desire to let the flood of rays in or look out at the rolling ocean waves that so often soothed him.

 He pulled himself up to a sitting position and ran his fingers through his hair as a great sigh escaped his lips. He was still tired, so very, very tired. Never in his life had he felt so weighted down from weariness. Yet there was so much to do. He wanted to get to the hospital as soon as possible to check on Vanessa and talk with the doctors. But he also had to contact Matthew's parents about the funeral. That task seemed as unpleasant as the first. He'd grown to love Matthew like a son in the few short years he and Vanessa had been married. Burying him would be another tear in his soul.

 He also had to call Cathy and let her know what was going on. And Dani. He should call Dani. Or should he? He pondered this as he forced himself out of bed and stared at his haggard expression in the dresser mirror. Another sigh escaped him. How could he call Dani and lay all this pain on her now? He knew how she felt about Vanessa and this would be a big blow to her. How could he do that to her after all the pain he'd caused her in the past?

 No, he decided. He wouldn't drop this on her until he knew more about what was going on. Or until Vanessa's condition grew better. Then he would be able to let her know.

 The very first thing he'd do is see Michelle. His face brightened a bit for the first time in twenty-four hours at the thought of his granddaughter. Yes, he'd see her and make sure she was safe and sound. She'd bring a smile back to his face and hope back to his heart. With that thought in mind, he walked across the plush gray carpet to his bathroom to clean up for the trying day ahead.

 Less than thirty minutes later he encountered Mrs. Carols in the hallway on his way to the nursery. He had showered and put on clean jeans and a sweater, but his face still held the tired look of a man with pain in his heart. Mrs. Carols reached out a hand for his and held it warmly in her own.

 "Oh, Mr. DeCara, I'm so glad you are home. We've all been so worried about Mrs. Chandler."

 "Thank you, Mrs. Carols." Michael tried to smile at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. It seemed so hard just to smile. "I'm afraid I can't tell you much yet about her condition. It was late when I arrived last night so there was no one to talk with me about it. But I'll be going there first thing this morning."

 Mrs. Carols nodded, slipping her hand from his. "Don't worry about Michelle. I'm taking good care of her, poor little thing. She's so young; she doesn't even know anything has happened. She's asked about her mother, but I haven't told her anything because that's not my place to do so. I thought it best to leave that up to you."

 "I appreciate that. And thank you for taking such good care of Michelle. I'm going to need your help more than ever now."

 "Anything you need, just let me know. I love that little girl like one of my own. And I'm praying her mother will come back to her."

 The sincere look on the elderly woman's face both warmed and tore at Michael's heart. He wasn't use to his emotions running so rampant and had trouble trying to control them again just now. He squeezed her arm in a friendly gesture. "I'm going in to see her right now," he offered.

 Mrs. Carols nodded, understanding his need to see his granddaughter. "She's still asleep, but go right in. I won't disturb you." Then, with another reassuring smile, she went into her own room which was adjacent to Michelle's.

 Michael entered the semi-dark room gingerly, afraid of waking Michelle and frightening her. Light crept in through the corners of the closed curtains, enough so that he could peek into her crib and see her peaceful sleeping face. Small red curls hung over her closed eyelids and her arms hugged a small pink rabbit she'd received for Easter that year. Just the sight of her eased Michael's tension and he physically relaxed his shoulders.

 As he turned to leave the room he noticed all the little details that Vanessa had done to make it the perfect nursery for Michelle. The beach mural she'd painted on the wall by the window that overlooked the real ocean. The stenciled seashells that framed the wall. The glittering stars that reflected from the ceiling. All done with love by a mother for her daughter. His emotions flowing again, Michael quietly closed the bedroom door vowing to his little granddaughter as much as to himself, "I'll bring back your Mommy, I promise."

 Michael arrived at the hospital a few minutes past nine o'clock and retraced the footsteps he'd taken the night before to the ICU. The hospital was a much friendlier place in the daylight, a bustle of people and activity, the halls brightly lighted. He hoped the ICU room reflected this cheerier appearance because he dreaded returning to the room of last night. But when he approached the desk, he was told by the nurse in charge that Vanessa had been transferred to a private room this morning on the second floor. Relieved, thinking this was a good sign, he found the elevator and headed to room 207B.

 Down the corridor and past the nurse's station, Michael found the room by himself and entered quietly through the closed door. Two men in white coats stood beside Vanessa's bed with charts. Both turned as Michael entered.

 "I'm Michael DeCara, her father," he offered, walking toward them. Both men turned completely to face him, the man on the right offering his hand in greeting.

 "I'm glad you have come," he said, shaking Michael's hand briefly. "I'm Dr. Bradseth, Chief of Surgery, and this is Dr. Carlson from Internal Medicine." The other man nodded, but stood quietly by as Dr. Bradseth continued talking.

 "We just came in to check on Mrs. Candler's condition. Have you been briefed on it yet?"

 "No. I came in late last night and the nurse wasn't able to tell me much."

 Dr. Bradseth cleared his throat. "Your daughter has been through much trauma since the accident. When she arrived, she had a severe head injury and was already in a coma. After monitoring her for some time we found there to be extensive swelling of the brain from the head injury, so we had to operate to relieve the swelling. Dr. Kantak, our specialist on brain injuries, performed the operation. So far there are no signs of swelling again, so we are hopeful the surgery was a success."

 Here the doctor took a breath before continuing. "Also, one lung was punctured, which we had to operate to repair, so that is the reason for the respirator she is attached to right now. We hope she will be able to breath on her own in a few days." He gave Michael a moment to take it all in.

 Michael stared past them to the sleeping form of Vanessa. She looked a little better than she had the night before, but that could be due to the light. She was still very pale, but less tubes and wires were connected to her.

 "How long will she be in the coma?"

 "That, I'm afraid, we cannot answer. It will depend upon how the rest of her body heals from the trauma it has received."

 Frustrated, Michael ran his fingers through his beard. "Can you tell me if she'll come out of it at all?"

 "Again, Mr. DeCara, I sorry, we can't predict these things." Both doctors looked at him squarely. They'd done all that was possible and there was nothing they could say to give him any shred of hope.

 "Are you telling me...," Michael hesitated, afraid to ask the question. "She might die?"

 "I can't tell you what might happen," Dr. Bradseth said. "I can tell you that she is off the heart machine and monitor and her heartbeat and pulse is at a normal level, which is a good sign. In a few days we hope to get her off the respirator and breathing on her own. As for the head injury, well, I'll be quite honest with you. We aren't yet sure how much damage, if any, has been done to the brain and we won't know until we are able to do a CAT scan, which we have scheduled for later this week. All we can do is continue monitoring her progress and pray for the best."

 Dr. Bradseth raised his arm and placed his hand on Michael's shoulder, the first human gesture he had made since Michael entered the room. "We have done all we can for her and we'll continue to do all we can. All we can do now is wait."

  Michael looked into the doctor's eyes and knew he meant what he said. They'd done as much as possible, now it was only a matter of time. He only nodded his head at them, then they both left the room after assuring Michael they'd keep him informed.

 With heavy footsteps Michael walked to the side of Vanessa's bed and fell into a chair. She continued sleeping on, as if without a care in the world. Someone had combed her long hair and it fanned out around her. Her face was freshly washed and the tubes that had been in her left hand were now gone. He gingerly touched a tip of her curly red hair then clasped her pale hand in his.

 "Well baby, it's up to you now," he whispered as he laid his head on her hand and began to pray.

Chapter Nineteen

 Early Tuesday morning Dani appeared at work with so cheery an attitude that her co-workers couldn't help but comment.

 "Must have been some weekend," Traycee said, noting the sparkle in Dani's eyes. She couldn't remember ever seeing Dani so upbeat and was happy for her.

 "Actually, it was quite a weekend at that," Dani commented, giving Traycee a mischievous sideways glance.

 Later that morning, Dani took a break and went down to the coat department to buy the red wool coat Miguel had teased her about the previous Saturday. Kelly recognized the coat immediately and was surprised to see Dani purchasing it. "You had a change of heart I see," she said as she whipped a Chance's coat bag over it.

 "You could call it that," Dani replied.

 When she arrived home that evening she took the coat out of its bag and pinned the enamel brooch on the lapel, admiring the effect of the two together. She couldn't wait for Michael to see it on her. He'd be shocked with surprise.

 Although she hadn't heard from him yet, she wasn't worried. She figured he probably got home late and had some phone calls to return and it was too late to call her. She'd actually tried calling him last night to thank him for the pin, but only got his answering machine, and from the long beep at the end of the message she could tell he had a lot of messages. She was sure he'd try to call her tonight, or at the latest, tomorrow night.

 Dani placed the bag back over the coat and hung it in the hall closet. She wouldn't wear it until she saw him again. Maybe this weekend. She could hardly wait to see his face when she stepped off the plane wearing that coat. She actually hoped the weather would be cold so she could wear it. As the hall door closed on her new purchase, she had no idea just how long it would hang there, unworn.

 As the days passed, her mood became more sullen. When Wednesday had gone by without a word from him, she didn't think too much of it. By Thursday night when there was no call, she fell into a gloomy state. If he'd meant for her to come for the weekend, he'd have called by now. By Friday she was edgy at work and Traycee noticed the change in her attitude immediately but was tactful enough not to say anything. Carl asked her if she was feeling all right to which she replied a short, terse, "I'm fine."

 Friday night found Dani on her stair-step machine in front of the television paying little attention to the show while reflecting on the events of the past weekend.

 He'd done it to her again, she thought as her legs pounded up and down on the machine. And she had let him. This time she couldn't blame him for taking advantage of her. She knew what she was doing when she let him back into her bed. But did she regret it?

 She pondered this one over and over as the sweat trickled down her neck and back. Although she felt she'd been used again, she couldn't really bring back the hate she'd had years before. They had worked through that and she did believe he was sorry. But then, why leave her hanging again?

 Tired and sweating from her workout, Dani tried turning her thoughts from Miguel and showered, then had a bite to eat while she watched the news. There was still the slim chance he might call her, but she really doubted it. One thing she knew for sure, he wasn't going to show up at her door tonight as he had only a week before. She resigned herself to spending another weekend alone, in a series of lonely weekends to come.

 Two weeks later Traycee was opening Dani's mail at work as she usually did, stapling the envelopes to the letters and sorting it by matter of importance. One particular letter caught her eye.

 "Dani, isn't Catherine Jamison a friend of yours?" she asked from her side of the partition.

 Dani looked over the wall that divided their desks. "Yeah, why? Something interesting in the mail?"