Forever This Time (20 page)

“Emmy was just telling me she might be back tomorrow.”

“We're hoping.” Steph handed the Popsicle to Emmy.

“Well, good thing. The nurses said they're running out of lime Popsicles.”

Emmy giggled as she slurped the Popsicle. “I'm hungry! And supper isn't for an hour.”

Steph caught Ethan's eye and gave him a tiny thumbs-up. He looked at Emmy sitting in the bed, a tinge of pink coloring her cheeks, and felt relief course through his chest.

The door swung open and a nurse bustled in with a tray on wheels. Ethan looked up. “Uh-oh. The evil nurse is here.” He stood up and made his best pretend-firm face. “Now you be extra nice to my friend here. She has a very important job waiting for her and we need her back at Avery's House.”

Emmy giggled from the bed. “She's always nice.”

“Are you sure? She has a grumpy nose.”

“Ethan Miller, you get out of here before I swat your behind and call your father.” The nurse waved her pudgy hands toward the door.

“Yes'm.” Ethan ducked, sending a sly smile toward Emmy. “I'm sorry, Emmy, but I know she'll do it. Celia's known my dad for a hundred years or so, so I have to listen to her.”

“A hundred
years
?”

Celia wound the blood pressure cuff around Emmy's arm and pushed a button, but leveled her eyes at Ethan. “Not quite a hundred, young man. But guess what, Emmy? I used to change Ethan's diapers.”

“
What
?”

“It's true.”

“An-nd that would
definitely
be my cue to leave.” Ethan shook his head at Celia and waved as he headed for the door. “I'll see you tomorrow, squirt!”

“I knew that would get rid of him,” he heard Celia say as he rounded the corner.

“Gotta love small towns,” he muttered, smiling.

“What's so funny?” Josh looked up from a chart as Ethan passed the nurses' station.

Ethan shook his hand. “Well, if it isn't Dr. Mackenzie. Celia was just threatening to tell Emmy stories from my diaper days.”

“Ouch. Good thing she never babysat
me.
She keeps me in line just fine
without
blackmail at her disposal.”

Ethan still hadn't figured out how Josh had time to pull long shifts at Mercy
and
oversee the medical end of things at Avery's House, but he insisted on doing both. They'd been friends since third grade, and after med school at UVM and residency at Dartmouth, Ethan had been sure Josh would head to a big hospital out west. Instead, he'd turned down six different offers and had settled right back here in Echo Lake and Mercy Hospital.

“So Molly said everybody else is fine at Avery's House this morning?”

“So far so good.” Josh nodded. “I just got back from doing rounds over there. Hopefully we kept it contained to Emmy.”

“Thanks for getting her here so quickly. And for helping Steph not flip out.” Ethan leaned his elbows on the chest-high counter. “Feel like I haven't seen you in weeks. How are things here?”

“So busy I'm not sure I remember where I live. How come the new guy gets suckered into every committee under the sun around here?”

“Because he's the new guy.”

“I think we need a
new
new guy. Hey, by the way…” Josh raised his eyebrows. “You know that Hospital Hero award they give out every year?”

Ethan nodded. “Vaguely. Never paid it much attention.”

“Well, you might have to pay attention this year.”

“Why? Are you nominated?”

Josh shook his head. “Nope. You are.”

Ethan stepped back and swallowed hard. “What are you talking about?”

“You've been nominated.”

“Can't be. I don't even work here.”

“You might as well work here, buddy. You're here all the time with your patients.”

“Guests. Who in the world nominated me? And what do I do to politely refuse?” Ethan felt a strange sensation in his chest. He was nobody's hero, most especially this hospital's.

“Well, nominations have been coming in for the past three months. Patients, staff, docs, nurses, you name it.”

“Are you going to tell me who put my name in?”

“Nope. Can't.”

“Why? Is it confidential? Anonymous? Come on. We've been friends for twenty years.”

“None of the above.” Josh smiled, clearly enjoying Ethan's discomfort. “I just don't have
time
to tell you. You got one hundred and fifty-three nominations.” Josh slapped him on the back. “It's apparently a record.”

Ethan shook his head in disbelief. “Not possible.”

“Every nurse and physician on this floor, the chemo bay, radiation area … the gift shop ladies, Marla and Julie from the front desk. Even Dottie from the kitchen. Plus every patient who's ever enjoyed your free tickets to Snowflake Village.”

“It sounds like a conspiracy.”

“Only the best kind.” Josh stepped from behind the desk and slapped Ethan on the back. “So congratulations, buddy. Really. You deserve it.”

He shook Ethan's hand, then headed down the hall toward Emmy's room. Just as he got there, he turned to call over his shoulder. “Oh, hey. You'd better get yourself a monkey suit. There's gonna be a big shindig to celebrate the newest Hospital Hero. I'm trying to get them to spring for a red cape.”

*   *   *

“No freaking out, Mom.” Josie was trying to calm her mother down, while inside, she felt like someone was grabbing her stomach with two hands and twisting it. The neurologist had closed the conference room door behind him, and neither of them was making a move to return to the depressing waiting room. “It's good. He's waking up.”

Mom dug for another tissue. “I know. I know. I do. But oh my God. What if this is—what it is?”

“It won't be. He's
just
waking up.”

“I know. And hopefully things will improve.”

“Of course they will.”

“Of course they will.” Mom's voice echoed hers, but didn't sound remotely convinced. “I'm sorry, Jos. I'm really trying not to fall apart in front of you.”

“It's okay. Falling apart is a pretty standard reaction in this sort of situation.”

“Well, it's not what
you
need to see right now.”

“Mom, no offense, but I do see kind of a lot of this in my line of work.”

Mom sniffed a short chuckle. “Good point. Sorry—I wasn't thinking. Sometimes I feel like you're still seven years old and I'm supposed to protect you from the bad stuff.” She put her finger up. “And just so you don't have to choke on words you're too polite to say right now, I know I did a spectacularly lousy job of it back then.”

Josie bit her lip, saying nothing. Mom was right. She
had
done a spectacularly lousy job of it back then. But seeing this different mother, this woman who was sad and scared, but ultimately healthy for the first time in a long time, was sobering.

As she watched Mom dab her tears and take a deep breath as she gathered her purse, she realized she really didn't even know her.

She knew a mother who was alternately depressed or giddy, depending on the time of day and how much liquid had gone down her throat. She knew a mother who might or might not be hanging her head over the toilet by the time Josie got home from school. She knew a mother who ranted and cried and threw things when she suspected her husband was playing around because he never came home.

She knew a mother who had never seemed to know
her
at all.

So this current version of her mother, who defined
freaking out
as shedding some quiet tears in a hospital conference room, was essentially a stranger. And although a part of Josie was quietly clamoring to push the past out of the way and open her heart to this new person, a bigger part of her was still scared that once they left the confines of the hospital, her mother would use the stress as an excuse to revert to old habits … and seek solace in a bottle of Stoli.

“Okay.” Mom tossed her tissue in the trash can and stood up. “I'm going to peek in on your dad and see if Gayle is finished with him.”

“Be careful. If Ida finds out you've been in there
twice
this hour, you'll be in big trouble.”

“Ida can kiss my—”

Josie laughed. “Ida can what, Mom?”

“Nothing.” A tiny smile crept up the edges of Mom's face. “What I was thinking was not at all appropriate. Want to sneak in with me?”

“Two visitors at the same time?” Josie shivered. “Going full-on rebel now?”

“If the nurse comes in, you just hide under the bed.”

Josie linked her elbow with Mom's as they meandered toward Dad's room. “Thanks, but I've seen what they hang from those beds.”

When they reached his room, his eyes were open, but he didn't seem to register their presence. Mom perched on the edge of the bed and motioned Josie into the chair on Dad's left. “Hi, sweetheart. Nice of you to wake up and join us.”

Sweetheart? Had Mom just called him
sweetheart
?

“Andy?” Mom took his left hand in hers, but it was limp and unresponsive. Josie saw Mom's shoulders shake just a little as Dad continued to stare just to the right of her, unblinking. “Look! Josie's here. She's helping Ethan out at the park until you're better.”

“Hi, Dad.” Josie kept her hands clenched in her lap. His eyes didn't move, just continued to stare to the right.

Mom tipped her head to the side as she looked at him. “Do you think he's really awake?” She waved a hand gently in front of his face. He blinked, but the stare remained. “I don't like this at all.”

“Time, Mom. It'll take time. It's still really early. He's been down for days.”

“But this is weird, isn't it?”

“I don't know. I've never been with a stroke patient who's just waking up.”

“We should Google it. Where's Gayle, anyway?” Mom kept hold of Dad's hand, not looking away from his eyes.

“Want me to go find her?”

Anything to get her out of the stifling, beeping room and a Dad-shaped man with staring eyes.

Mom nodded. “Maybe she can give us some information.”

Josie pushed out of her chair. “Be right back.”

As she got to the doorway, a growling noise from the bed made her spin around. When she did, she felt her eyes widen.

Dad had slumped strangely off his pillows, but looked like he was trying to point at Josie. His head leaned to the right, and though his mouth sagged to the left and his voice was raspy and rough, she distinctly heard him say, “No!”

 

Chapter 21

“Maybe he didn't want you to go?” A little while later, Ethan had his hands on the wheel, but they hadn't left their parking spot at the hospital. “He's not himself, Josie. You can't take this the wrong way. I'm sure he didn't mean he didn't want you there.”

Josie felt tears prick the backs of her eyelids. “Why wouldn't he? In his mind, I left him, I left Mom, and I thumbed my nose at his lifelong creation. Not to mention I allegedly left his favorite guy practically at the altar.”

“You're his daughter, Josie. I'm pretty sure he realizes your reasons for leaving had a lot of layers.”

“That's an understatement.”

“I know.”

“No offense, but you don't know the half of it.”

Because if you had, you would have been off like a rocket.

“Don't be so sure.”

“Seriously, Ethan. And you know what? I don't even know why I'm so upset about it. I've been pissed at him since I was fifteen, and I can't say I ever made any secret about it. Why am I sitting here all upset that he didn't wake up from his stroke and reach out his arms to his long-lost daughter?”

Ethan started the truck. “Come on. Let's get out of here. You need to go for a drive.”

Josie started at his words, so familiar. The slight tilt of his head made her think he was surprised at them as well. Was he remembering all of the times he'd said them way back when? All the times when he could tell she just needed to be somewhere, anywhere, but in her own life? Even though she was sure he didn't know why?

“It's already eight o'clock. Oh God, Ethan. You've been here for hours.”

He steered out of the parking lot and headed west toward the lake. “Just talked to Ben. Everything's all set at the park. The guys helped him close up.” He paused at a stop sign, then drove through. Only in Vermont would people stop so thoroughly at an intersection when, clearly, no one else was ever coming through.

Ethan tapped on the wheel, thoughtful. “Andy's been unconscious for days. You said yourself he was just staring into space like a zombie. I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't really even awake, in a way.”

“It was so eerie. He was just sitting there, and Mom was holding his hand, and it didn't even seem to register that we were there until he yelled at me.”

“He was probably yelling at something he was seeing in his head.”

Josie nodded. “I know. I know you're probably right. But it was—awful. We haven't talked in so long, and now … this.”

“Just give it time. The neurologist said it'll take some time.”

“I know. It's early.” She shivered as Ethan meandered the truck around the curves that hugged the river's edge. “You know what? Let's talk about something else. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please. Yes. I can't process Dad right now. I just need to … I don't know … think about something else, do something else.”
Because—you know—I'm a counselor, and yet my best coping strategy seems to revolve around me avoiding my own issues.

“Anything in particular you want to do?”