Lulu's Loves (35 page)

“He
is
a good man.” I thought before I said what my heart thought next. “I confess that I wonder many times what if this, or what if that, but my heart always leads me back to what we have.”

“Will you marry him when he asks, because he’s already told me that when he feels that you’re ready he will,” he replied looking at me in such an endearing way that I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

“I will.”

He reached across the table and petted my hand. When I look at him, I think about all we’ve been through over the years. This man, my dad, has taught me resilience, character, and love. All these years later, he has never given his heart to another woman–because she was ‘the love of his life’. My mom was a lucky woman.

The conversations that Keelin and I shared were different than those that I had with my dad.

“He loves you, Lulu. Do you see how much?” he asked one day over coffee in the break room. I nodded and smiled. “I’ve never seen anyone appreciate their mate as he does you. He’s atoned for his mistakes.”

“He has, Keelin. I have forgiven him, and myself. I can’t change what happened, and neither can he. We’ve moved past it. When I got that first message from him, I broke in a million pieces. I focused on every bad thing that happened, and one day, as though someone opened a window, all of that drifted away because my heart said, “You love him.”

“It wasn’t just that you hadn’t had sex in a while?” Keelin asked with a grin.

“Oh, Keelin,” I said with a teasing smile. “Thom and I don’t have sex.”

His eyes rounded in question.

“We make love–long, languishing hours of passionate, sometimes ravishing, lovemaking.”

“Lulu,” he said, and I looked up. “I just got a boner and I don’t even like you that way.” We both laughed out loud and the others in the room turned to look.

November came and we were finally able to head to Kiawah. We would be there for Thanksgiving. Dad was coming Wednesday evening to have dinner with us at the resort, and returning on Friday morning. I was anxious to get to the beach. As Thom had said, this place was ‘us’.

Our first stop was at the Do Drop and when we walked in, the regulars were there and let us know they were happy to see us. Danno had a glass of wine on the bar waiting as soon as we were in the door. It felt like home. Hooligans was getting there, but it didn’t quite have that feel yet. Thom went straight to the kitchen and Danno moved closer to where I sat.

“How’s it going, beautiful?”

“How is it that you’re still single,” I smiled.

“Haven’t met a woman that meets what I’ve learned a woman should be.”

“You will.” I smiled thinking of the man Danno was and said a prayer for him.

“You’ve spoiled me, Lulu. There are few like you out there.”

“Thank God,” I laughed as Thom came to sit beside me.

“You flirting with Lulu?” he laughed.

“I pray every day that she has a clone,” he chuckled and turned to a cute, giggly blonde at the other end of the bar.

“I am a lucky man,” Thom whispered in my ear.

“What’d you say? You want to get lucky? I’m ready to leave when you are,” I suggested.

Thom went to the back to pack a to-go package for us to take. “Come with me,” he whispered in my ear, and led me to the car.

As we sat down to eat, Thom seemed to have drifted off somewhere–away from our moment. He put our dinner on the table and joined me.

“You got so quiet,” I observed after a few minutes had passed.

“Reflective,” he replied.

“I’d give you a penny for your thoughts, but my purse is in the other room,” I joked.

“Sometimes, hard as I try not to, I remember those missing days.” He looked up and his expression was sad. Before I said anything, he reached across the table for my hand and continued. “Some of them are lost to me, still, but seeing you there with Danno reminded me of the many times I was at the Do Drop seeing that empty stool. Danno would tell me I needed to find you. I tried in the beginning, but I know you didn’t want me then. I would dwell on those last moments we shared–the ones here and at your home. I didn’t think you’d ever be part of my life again.”

He paused. It was as though he was gathering the words for the rest of what he wanted to say, so I waited.

“I tried to call, but I never got through. You never answered. I thought of every way I could to find you, and then I would stop–asking myself if you even wanted to be found. I’d wonder about your life–tried hard not to think about you sharing it with anyone else. All those days, Lulu…” As he said those words, tears kissed the corners of his eyes. Finally, they slowly rolled down his cheeks.

I rose and gathered our plates taking them to the kitchen. I grabbed the wine bottle went back to the table. Reaching for his hand, I led Thom to the porch. We sat on the sofa.

“I know those feelings. That first year, after you, after the baby…” I felt a knot in my throat that threatened to keep me from saying the rest. He put his arm around me and pulled me close.

“I guess we were both a mess,” were the only words I could muster. “Let’s continue moving forward. We can’t go back.”

“Sometimes, I just can’t forget,” he said, honestly.
“Sometimes a moment brings a memory that opens the dam to a flood of emotions-the flood forces you to stop and think about something you may not want to remember-to push back feelings you don't want to feel.”

“Look what we’ve learned,” I said
.

Dad

Christmas 2013

For Christmas Eve we were at my dad’s. I was in the kitchen fixing dinner, waiting for Jesus’ birthday cake to finish baking. Thom and Dad were in the living room.

“Lulu! Call 911! Now!” I’d just closed the oven door when Thom yelled. “Now!”

As I dialed, I ran to the living room. My dad was slumped over on the sofa and Thom was tending to him. Frantically, I answered all the questions the operator asked having to ask Thom for most of the answers as we went.

At last, Rescue was at the door and came in asking Thom what happened and what he’d done as I stood on, watching. They hooked him up to something and loaded him on the gurney. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t responsive. When they took him to the ambulance, I could see them working on him inside.

We were standing in the yard watching. “What do we do?” I wailed, as Thom wrapped his arms around me.

Before he answered, one of the paramedics called out to me, “Park South ER.” Finally, they sped away, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

I grabbed my purse, while Thom made sure everything in the kitchen was all right. We headed for the emergency room.

“We were talking and all of a sudden he grabbed his chest and just fell over on the sofa,” Thom said, trying to explain, his emotions overcoming him.

I was making an attempt to stay calm, but not having much success. I called Welkie to tell her he was on the way to the hospital, and that I’d keep her posted. She didn’t drive any more. Finally, we arrived and Thom grabbed my hand as we rushed into the emergency room.

“Welk,” I said.

“Please have a seat, someone will be right with you,” the nurse at the desk told us.

It seemed like hours passed. I know it wasn’t, but I heard each tick of the clock as every minute passed. I looked up as a man in a white coat came toward us.

“He’s had a heart attack. It’s not good,” he said trying to prepare us for the severity. “He’s breathing on his own, but we have to get him to surgery, quickly. They’re prepping him now.”

“What exactly does this mean?” I asked.

Another doctor walked up. “I’ll take over. Dr. Lawaski,” he said.

I noticed that his white coat said ‘Damon Wise-Cardiology Associates’.

“Louisa Welk. This is Thom Miller. What does this mean?”

“We won’t know for certain, until they go in and see how much damage was done,” he explained. His expression left no question in my mind that this was not a good situation.

Thom squeezed my hand.

“I’ll come back, when I know more, to keep you informed,” the doctor said and left us.

I couldn’t breathe.

Hours passed. Finally, Dr. Lawaski returned.

“He’s in Cardiac Intensive Care. The next few hours will be critical. Go home and get some rest.”

“I can’t leave.”

“There are couches in the CICU waiting area, you can wait there,” he said.

Thom went to get pillows and blankets, and we settled on the couches to wait. I lay with my head in his lap, Thom stroking my hair, and finally dozed.

I heard something, and when I opened my eyes, a nurse was standing there.

“He’s resting,” she told us. “We’re monitoring everything. Go get some rest. I have your number. I’ll call you.”

It was after three in the morning. I hesitated. If something happened while I was away, I’d never forgive myself.

“Thom, I can’t go.”

“I know. I’m right here with you,” he said.

At nine, the nurse came to tell me I could go in. I squeezed Thom’s hand and went to the door. When I looked back over my shoulder, Thom gave me a look of reassurance.

“Hey, Daddy. I love you.” I leaned to kiss his cheek. There were tubes in his nose, his mouth, his arms, his hands, and his chest.

I sat beside him until the nurse said I needed to leave for a while.

I found Thom dozing in the waiting room. I thought about him. I thought about my dad, and I prayed.

“Miss Welk,” I heard my name. I’d dozed off. Dr. Lawinski was there, and I shook Thom to wake him. It was after eleven.

“You’ve had a long night,” the doctor said with a comforting smile. “He’s comfortable.”

“That’s all I can hope for,” I replied. As I looked up, his smile remained, but it was a sad smile. “There was considerable damage. We can only wait and see now,” he said, but I knew what he was telling me.

I saw a woman approach. “This is Claire Boman. She’s a social worker with our palliative care team. I’ll let her talk to you and we’ll talk again later.”

Palliative…

“This is the end of life conversation, isn’t it?” I asked. I felt myself sit up straighter, to brace myself for whatever this conversation would bring. Thom reached for my hand as she replied.

“Yes. Before I begin do you have any questions?” She was sweet. Comforting. Her blue eyes reflected my fears. She knew what was ahead. I only suspected.

“How long?” I asked.

“The prognosis is very poor.” Thom squeezed my hand as she explained that there were decisions to be made.

“I’m his power of attorney and healthcare surrogate. He has a Living Will and wants no heroic measures to keep him alive. I can bring you whatever you need.” I heard myself talking, and it sounded like I was giving her bullets of information. “He told me if it was ever necessary that he’d want hospice.”

“We can take care of that,” she said.

“Well then, I understand what you’re telling me,” I said, with tears rolling down my cheeks. “Thom, I’m going to need your help with this. I can’t leave him.”