The Healing (23 page)

Who can I call to stay with Mike?
She wracked her brain. The first person she wanted to call was Grace, but she didn't have her phone number. Aunt Vera and Uncle Stan had long since moved down to Florida. Anya was living in New Jersey, and her brother Danny was across the continent in Denver. There was nobody Karen could call to come and sit with her husband if she wanted to accompany Lori to the hospital. Even the visiting nurse service might not be able to send someone over on a Sunday evening if it wasn't an emergency.

Suddenly Karen was overcome with regret. Why had she given in to the belief that their quality of life would be better if they moved to Southold? Had she allowed sentiment to overshadow her reason? Had she been selfish in her desire to revisit a happier time in her life at such a cost to her husband and daughter? The previous year, when they were facing financial ruin and felt that such a move would save them, perhaps make them feel more alive, Karen had relished the idea of living in her family's old summerhouse. At the time, the dream of a more peaceful daily routine and a fresh start for Lori seemed to outweigh the fact that they would be farther away from their doctors and from people who could have supported them in an emergency. But now they were faced with some very practical challenges.

Karen looked at Mike, torn. “You have to go with her,” he said.

She didn't answer.

“I have the medical alert pager. That's what it's for, babe.”

She still didn't say anything.

“Why are you even thinking about it?” Mike asked. “It's a no-brainer.”

“Maybe the paramedics can put your chair in the ambulance,” Karen suggested. She was grabbing at straws.

He softened. “I think it's better if we let them take care of Lori.”

“Then I'll take you in the van and we can follow them to Stony Brook.”

“You should ride in the ambulance with her,” Mike said. “She needs to know one of us is there.” His voice quavered a little as he added, “I don't want her to be afraid.”

Karen knew he was right, but she didn't like it. Mike wasn't supposed to be left behind. He was the one who had always been Lori's hero. It wasn't right that he was going to be left alone to agonize over his daughter when he was captive in his own body. Karen wanted to relate all of these reservations, but the words wouldn't make it past her throat.

The ambulance pulled into the driveway a few moments later, and this time when Luka started barking, Karen realized she had left the poor dog outside on her run. She also realized how serious Lori's condition was. Ordinarily, Lori would've been upset that nobody thought to bring her lovable Lab into the house; she would've run outside vocalizing her affection in that tone of voice that Lori saved for her animals. Instead, she was huddled in her mother's embrace, shuddering and spent from her hours of sobbing.

It broke Karen's heart to see her like that.

There was a light rapping on the side door, and Karen called, “Come in!”

Three paramedics filed into the living room, towing a gurney. They automatically moved toward Mike, but Karen drew their attention where it was needed. “Over here,” she said.

The veteran of the trio squatted down beside Lori to examine her and ask her a few questions. He was a handsome man about Karen's age, and his tranquil brown eyes seemed to infuse her with the feeling that everything was going to be fine. There was even something familiar about him, which comforted her on a level she couldn't understand.

“Do you know if your daughter took anything?” he asked as he took Lori's vital signs. “Any drugs or alcohol?”

“I don't think so,” Karen replied.

The paramedic tried to direct a question at Lori, but all he got was a blank stare. He finished his assessment in spite of Lori's nonresponsive state and gave instructions to his two cohorts. As they prepared the gurney and retrieved the requested supplies, the man with the kind brown eyes helped Karen and Lori to their feet. He seemed connected to everyone in the room, but especially to Karen as the emotional stabilizer. Lori didn't even protest when he guided her onto the gurney and started an intravenous line.

Karen was grateful for the paramedic's patience and competence. “What's your name?” she asked, thinking she might write a letter of commendation.

“Greg Allen.”

She realized there was a reason he looked so familiar. “Did you know Danny Sikora?” she asked, drawing up a mental picture of her cousin's group of friends.

The paramedic fixed his gaze on Karen, and it was obvious his mind was racing backward in time. Then a smile creased his face. He glanced at Mike, and if he was surprised to realize the disabled man in the bed was none other than Mike Donnelly, the lifeguard who couldn't be beat at
anything,
he didn't show it. “I thought you people looked familiar,” he admitted.

Even Mike managed a tight grin. Like Karen, he had to remember Greg as a wiry sixteen-year-old who liked cars, bikinis, and any kind of racing. “Take care of my baby,” he said.

Greg nodded. “Are you going to be all right here by yourself?” he asked Mike.

Karen jumped in with her own concerns. “Can one of you stay with him while the rest of us go to the hospital?” she asked.

“Karen—” Mike reprimanded. The paramedics exchanged glances. They seemed willing to comply, but Mike quickly added, “That's not necessary. I have a LifeNet pager.”

Greg nodded again.

“But you can do me one favor,” Mike said. “You can wheel that gurney over here and let me kiss my daughter good-bye.”

Karen was the first to spring into action, not anticipating how the next few moments would impact her. Darting over to Mike's bed, she lowered the railing and raised him to an upright position while the paramedics brought Lori closer. As soon as the gurney was adjacent to the bed, Mike reached out a quaking hand and touched Lori's face, stroking her pink cheek with the backs of his fingers . . . like he used to do when she was a baby. She turned toward him, her hollow eyes filling up with both recognition and anguish. “Daddy.”

“You just get better for me, hear?” he said, struggling to keep his voice from faltering.

Lori leaned toward him, closing her eyes to revel in the touch of his hand. “Are we in heaven, Daddy?”

When Mike's eyes suddenly welled with tears, Karen couldn't detach herself quickly enough. And when his whole face contorted to repress the sob that threatened to erupt out of the deepest part of him, Karen didn't have a chance to shroud herself with emotional armor or busy herself with some other distracting task. She felt like someone had speared her to the wall; she was rendered immobile by the sight of Mike leaning over to kiss his little girl good-bye. Greg and one of the other paramedics supported him as he pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead.

“I love you, baby,” he breathed over her like a blessing. The tears that had welled up in his eyes now spilled over when he blinked. The paramedics eased him back onto his pillows, and Mike flung an arm across his face in an attempt to screen his tears.

All three paramedics were swallowing and blinking in a bustle of silence as they wheeled the gurney away. Karen stood frozen in her spot at the head of Mike's bed, her chest aching with the need to vent her anguish. Raw grief crept up like a contagion she feared would destroy her. She felt like she was at a crossroads, yet any path she took would lead her to disaster.

She couldn't just walk out without offering Mike a gesture of comfort or at least some sign of alliance. But acknowledging her husband's heartache meant Karen would have to acknowledge her own. And that was unthinkable in a moment of crisis.

Lori called out to her, and she was forced to move. Pressing the medical alert pager into Mike's palm, her hand lingered in his for a moment. He raised his arm just enough to look at her through his veil of pain, and a strong current of tenderness passed between them. His fingers closed around hers, and for the first time in more than two years they drew strength from each other.

Karen's knees weakened, and she broke away before the last of her defenses was compromised. “I'll be back as soon as I can,” she said, and followed the paramedics out without looking back.

chapter twenty-seven

Karen sat beside Greg in the rear of the ambulance as it pulled out of the driveway. She sensed he was watching her and was almost grateful for the scrutiny of a virtual stranger. Without it she would have fallen apart completely. As it was, she clung to her daughter's hand and allowed a few tears to escape as the house disappeared from view.

Greg tried to allay her fears. “He'll be all right,” he said.

Her head bobbed in agreement. “I know,” she replied. “I just would've been more comfortable if someone stayed with him.”

“He didn't want it,” Greg reminded her.

“I know,” Karen said again. “But he doesn't always do what's best for him. And right now, to be honest, he has a bit of a death wish.”

Can't say that I blame him,
was written all over Greg's face. But out loud he asked, “Was it a spinal injury?”

“No. He has MS.”

Greg expelled a little blow of astonishment. “Wow. What a raw deal.”

Karen was struck by his sincerity. “It sure is.”

Lori fell asleep within five minutes, utterly exhausted from her hours of emotional purging. But Karen didn't let go of her hand. She studied her daughter's face, so recently twisted by anguish, and was relieved to see the features relax in slumber. It might have been temporary, and it might have been an illusion, but it was nice to see her at peace for a while.

“You didn't give her a sedative, did you?” Karen asked.

Greg shook his head.

“I feel a little foolish,” she confessed. “If I had known she was going to sleep on the way, I would've put Lori and Mike in the van and driven to the hospital myself.”

“You couldn't take that chance,” Greg replied.

Karen knew he was right. Thinking about what she could have done was a waste of mental energy. And wishing that her daughter was different or that Mike was well was just as futile. “We always try to do what's best for Lori,” she said in a voice so hushed it was barely audible. “She's been through so much.”

“You'd never know it,” Greg replied, his voice just as hushed. “She looks like the picture of health. She's very pretty.”

Karen stopped another sigh before it escaped. “She looks like her father.”

Greg turned toward her. She could see the movement out of the corner of her eye. “Well, I know it's been over twenty-five years since we were on the beach together,” he said, “but I'm not sure Mike the Lifeguard was ever
that
pretty.”

There was a quickening in Karen's spirit in response to the humorous remark. Her face felt brittle as a smile stretched her mouth. She turned to Greg, who suddenly felt like an old friend, and tried to convince herself that the grinning, suntanned paramedic sitting beside her was the same skinny, long-haired kid who had hung out with her cousin.

“And Lori's mom isn't so bad, either,” he said, inciting a rush of blood that reddened her complexion.

“You're just saying that for old times' sake,” Karen accused, knowing she looked like something the cat dragged in. Her hair had been clipped up without the aid of a mirror, and she was wearing a ratty T-shirt and cutoff shorts.

“No, honestly,” Greg said. “You haven't changed a bit.”

“Well, you have,” she replied. “You've obviously gone blind.”

Greg laughed, his soft brown eyes shining with warmth.

An odd self-awareness gripped Karen. When was the last time she critiqued what she was wearing? Why did it suddenly matter what some old acquaintance thought?

After a comfortable silence, Greg asked, “So do you have any other kids?”

“No.” She paused, glancing at him sideways. “How about you?”

“Two. A boy and a girl. But they live with my ex-wife.”

Karen's gaze fluttered away from him. “Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.”

“
C'est la vie,
I guess,” he said. “The woman I married came to the conclusion that she preferred guys with lots of money. Unfortunately, roofers don't make that much.”

“Is that what you do for a living?” Karen asked.

“Yeah,” Greg replied. “So now my ex is remarried to a very successful financial planner, and they have a big house in Mattituck, a Cadillac Escalade, and a cabin cruiser floating in the nearby marina. And I live in an attic apartment by the American Legion so I can pay child support.”

Karen twisted her lips in distaste. “It seems so unfair.”

Greg shrugged. “So tell me, what's going on with Danny?”

Karen was relieved to talk about something other than illness or marital misfortune, so she grew a little more animated as she spoke about her cousin's life in Denver.

“Is he still with Barbara?”

She nodded. “Yup. And they have two teenage boys.”

“That's great.” Greg's next comment came out like a sigh. “I guess some are made to last.”

Karen thought about her own marriage, knowing it fell into that category. “Do you keep in touch with Danny at all?”

Greg shook his head. “Most guys aren't good at that kind of thing.”

They continued to talk until they arrived at Central Suffolk Hospital in Riverhead, where they brought Lori into the emergency room. When the paramedics were about to leave, Karen thanked them profusely. “How are you going to get home?” Greg asked.

“I'll call for a taxi,” she replied.

“If we didn't have to get the rig back, we'd wait for you.”

“Not to worry,” Karen said.

Greg looked at her thoughtfully. She could tell his mind was racing. “Maybe those two can drive back without me, and I can make sure you get home,” he suggested.

“Is that standard procedure for all your passengers?” she asked.

“Not really.”

They grinned at each other again, recognizing the teenagers they had left behind and getting some midlife pleasure out of it. “I'll be fine,” she said. “Thank you, Greg. For everything.” They embraced briefly. “You made a difficult time a whole lot easier.”

Greg released her with the same friendly smile, but they didn't separate and step back quickly enough. There was some reluctance to say good-bye, some question that needed an answer. Still linked by their forearms, Karen made the mistake of looking up at Greg at close range, and something happened that had never happened before. She saw a man within her reach . . . a man who wasn't Mike . . . a man who was strikingly good-looking, warm, and obviously virile . . . and something stirred inside of her. In a split second she became aware of his mouth, his breathing, the firm grip of his hands. She could smell his faint, masculine scent and imagined that the glow in his eyes reflected more than rekindled friendship. And her reaction was purely biological.

A fiery heat rose up in her face before she could turn away. Momentarily paralyzed by thoughts that were so foreign to her, Karen hoped to blink and find herself back in the comfort zone. The comfort zone was a place where she didn't have any needs. But Greg was still gripping her arms, and she realized he was figuring it all out. He was clearly reading both the unexpected surge of attraction and the ensuing confusion in her wide, flickering eyes. She might as well have come right out and told him she hadn't been touched in years. Really touched.

Without a word, Greg stepped back. He strode away and glanced at her over his shoulder, Karen couldn't bring herself to pretend nothing had happened. She couldn't wave and smile and call out a congenial,
Thanks again
. She just watched him walk through the automatic emergency room doors with an emptiness that threatened to cripple her.

It took a long time for her blood to cool down. But the guilt was instantaneous.

Once again, her life seemed surreal, and she was on the outside looking in.