T Wave (4 page)

CHAPTER 8

Nancy Goins emitted a passionate cry, long and animalistic. Dennis’s simultaneous groans were quieter but of the same intensity. They separated and lay on their backs, panting and sweating.

After a minute of silence, Nancy finally spoke. “Wow. That was…amazing.” She rolled over and gazed into her companion’s eyes. “How’d you learn to do that, anyway?”

“From you, I think,” said Dennis with a grin. “Hey—I could ask you the same question.”

“Ken won’t be home for a few hours,” said Nancy. “We don’t have to rush.” She didn’t want their time together to end.

Later, as they began to dress, Nancy’s mind drifted back to the first meeting with Dennis, her counterpart at Oak Manor, Stokely’s other hospice. When Serenity had opened for business two years ago, Dennis had met with Nancy regularly to help her get the new facility up and running. Over time, they had inevitably become a bit more acquainted. She had admired his friendly, intelligent nature and willingness to take time out of his obviously busy schedule to help her. She had admired his physique, too, but had expected to keep that observation to herself. That is, until he had surprised her one day at the conclusion of a late-afternoon office meeting.

“Nancy, would you like to continue discussing the hiring plan over dinner?” he had asked.

She had eyed him narrowly, but his countenance had betrayed nothing beyond a cordial business demeanor. What harm could it do?

“I guess so. Did you want to bring some take-out back here?”

Dennis had laughed. “I admire your dedication to work, but I was thinking of something more like Anna Maria’s. Would that be okay?”

Nancy loved the Italian restaurant. She wasn’t sure what to make of the offer but couldn’t see any harm from accepting. Ken was on a business trip, as usual. He wouldn’t care. “Okay. Can I meet you there in an hour or so? I’d like to go home and change.”

“Sure. How about seven-thirty?”

“That sounds great. I’ll see you then.”

Upon arriving at their table, they had chatted about Nancy’s plan to staff Serenity with two more nurses. They had then moved the conversation to the comfortable, superficial topics typically bantered about in the office.

After ordering drinks, Nancy had studied Dennis for a moment. “I hope I’m not taking you away from your family for too long.”

“I…um…don’t have a family. That is—I did until three years ago. That was when Grace, my wife, died.”

“Dennis, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” said Dennis, studying the table for a moment. “Grace and I were trying to have kids. When she couldn’t conceive, she went to see an OB/GYN. That’s when we found out she had stage two cervical cancer.

“She made it four more years. We tried everything, including some experimental stuff at the end. Nothing helped. Finally, she just…slipped away.

“You never really get over something like that, you know? You just figure out how to get out of bed each day, whether you want to or not. Eventually, I discovered that putting in long hours at the office helped me focus my mind on something else—at least until I got home.

“Geez, what a cheerful companion I am,” he had said with a shake of the head. “Tell me a little about you.”

“I was just thinking about your comment on throwing yourself into work,” Nancy had replied. “I never thought about it before, but I guess I’m doing the same thing.”

“You don’t have anyone waiting for you at home, either?”

“I do. Well, sometimes I do. Ken, my husband, is a marketing executive for Harris & Faber.”

“The advertising company?”

“Yes. He travels for work a lot. And when he’s in town, more often than not he’s out schmoozing with clients or other members of his firm.”

“That must be tough on you.”

“It is, but you know what? It’s harder when he’s home.” Dennis’s raised eyebrow had asked the unspoken question. “Ken is a charmer. We started off strong, but over the last few years, he’s drifted away. We just don’t feel connected any more. I guess I’ve turned to my work at Serenity as an outlet, too.” She hadn’t intended to share so much. Somehow, the words had just spilled out.

Dennis had swallowed. “I used to think being a widower was the most terrible kind of isolation a person could experience. After hearing this, though, I’m not sure which is worse: the loneliness you feel when you’re alone, or the loneliness you feel when you’re not.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.”

At the end of the meal, Dennis had nervously asked, “So…would you like to get together again sometime? I mean…like this, not just at Serenity?”

Nancy thought again about the nights Ken was on the road or with friends. Those nights seemed to be more common of late, and spending time with her had long ago fallen off his priority list.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

They began meeting regularly. Several months later, it happened at the end of another dinner at Anna Maria’s. At the conclusion of the meal, they had reached for the check simultaneously, and Dennis’s hand had somehow ended up on top of hers. Rather than drawing back, he had closed his fingers around hers. He had looked up at Nancy, eyes wide, as a drowning man might look towards one throwing a safely line that offered the only chance of life.

“Come home with me,” he said, swallowing.

Nancy had wordlessly nodded and followed him as if in a dream. That evening marked their first occasion of intimacy. That first time, they had started out slowly, each unfamiliar with the other’s preferences. Before many weeks had elapsed, though, Dennis knew more about her desires than anyone living.

Dennis took Nancy to heights in a way Ken never could. At first, Nancy had simply enjoyed the exquisiteness of the experience. Over time, though, she began to contemplate the difference between the two men. She soon realized Dennis’s advantage lay in his apparently greater concern with her pleasure than his own. His ability to touch her in all the right ways inspired in Nancy an ever-growing desire to please him, resulting in a hedonistic contest in which they were both winners.

And yet, as Nancy ended these reminiscings in the hotel room, she realized her relationship with Dennis was—in the long-term—untenable. They must either move forward or backward. She couldn’t walk the razor’s edge of infidelity forever, even with a husband as disengaged as Ken.

“Dennis…” Nancy didn’t know how to proceed. “I need to know about us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, our future. Do we even a have a future? Or are these…
meetings
all we’ll ever have?”

Dennis seemed both surprised and pleased. “I thought you just wanted to have fun on the side. You know…friends with benefits.”

“I did at first, but after a while I started to feel different about all this. I want more. I thought you should know the truth. I hope I’m not scaring you off.”

“Not at all. To be honest, I’ve been having the same kind of thoughts and fears—thoughts of feeling differently about you, and fears that you’d bolt if I told you so.”

Nancy raised her head, and gazed into Dennis’s soft, brown eyes.

“I’m starting to view you as more than just a friend,” he said.

Nancy’s heart quickened, and she felt a warm flush wash over her body. “How much more?” 

“Honestly? I’m not entirely sure…but I’m becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the prospect of a future without you in it—not just the occasional rendezvous, I mean, but all the time.”

Nancy experienced the pleasure of realizing the goal she had considered at best a remote possibility was already at her doorstep. But her excitement diminished as she considered Ken, knowing her husband would never agree to a divorce.
She wondered how all this could be worked out.

Dennis wrapped his arms around her. “Nancy, I don’t know how all this is going to unfold, but I do know that I…I love you.”

Nancy could scarcely trust her ears. Had he truly just said he loved her? She laid her head on his chest, and wondered how she could live without him.

TUESDAY, JULY 10

CHAPTER 9

Returning to Atlanta after his weekend visit with Mallory and Beverly Wilson, Alton had resumed his normal work routine. As he drove to work on Tuesday, he contemplated his better understanding of the men of Mallory’s past, an understanding which couldn’t help but highlight his importance in securing her future happiness. He promised himself he would use this better understanding for Mallory’s benefit. If she decided she wanted him to take up permanent residence in her life, he would justify her trust with an unwavering commitment.

Upon arriving at Kruptos, Alton wound his way through a maze of cubicles and settled into his office to begin the workday.

He received a mid-morning call from David Dunlow, who, like Alton, had served as an Army officer in Afghanistan. David now worked for the Secret Service in Washington. Besides Mallory, David had been Alton’s closest friend in Kabul. Among the circle of fellow soldiers, David had been the cutup of the group, unilaterally assigning Alton the nickname of “Al.”

Although David lived in the same town as Mallory, he nonetheless conversed more regularly with Alton, his closest colleague while in the Army. Normally, David’s conversations consisted of quirky insights into his work assignments and married life. In the current phone call, though, Alton sensed an uncharacteristic seriousness in his friend’s voice.

Alton closed his office door to block out the sound of muted conversations and clacking keyboards drifting in from the cubicles just outside his doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“My dad is in the hospital,” replied David.

Alton remembered the stories David had told in Afghanistan about growing up on a cattle ranch in Wyoming. Most of the stories had centered on the challenges he and his father had overcome—wayward calves, complicated birthings, coyotes on the hunt.

Just over a year ago, Jacob Dunlow had retired from the ranch and moved to Washington, DC to live closer to his son. Alton remembered the cookout he and Mallory had attended in Jacob’s backyard last fall. The string of David’s barbeque apron had caught on fire, and Jacob had laughed until tears had rolled down his face. Alton had difficulty imagining the tough cattle rancher brought low.

“I’m sorry, David. Is it serious?”

“Yeah. He’s had esophageal varices for a few years now. It’s like high blood pressure in the blood veins at the top of the stomach. The doctors thought they had it under control, but he’s taken a turn for the worse.”

“What happened?”

“The biggest risk from varices is that the blood veins under pressure will rupture. The docs put Dad on medicine for high blood pressure when they first diagnosed his condition. They also restricted his diet—no salt, no alcohol, that kind of thing. Dad called me last night. He’s been bleeding internally for a few months. The docs put in a stent—a kind of tube to reinforce the vein—a few months ago, but he’s starting to bleed anyway. They’re not sure if they can stop it anymore.”

“What can the doctors do now?” asked  Alton.

“They’re going to try the stent one more time. They weren’t optimistic, though. Last night, they said that if he has any family, now would be a good time to call them. Al…can you come? I know it would mean a lot to Dad.”

“Of course. I’d be honored. David…I’m really sorry. Is there anything I can do for you or Fahima in the meantime?”

“Just come. We’ll all feel better if you’re here.”

“I’ll be there straight away.”

Alton called Jake Hines, President and CEO of Kruptos. After a recent promotion, Alton was now a member of the Executive Board, reporting directly to Hines. Alton explained his friend’s request and made arrangements to work remotely for the next few days. After notifying his team members, Alton hurried to his condo to pack a few essentials. He gathered Buster into his SUV and found himself cruising north on I-85 within the hour.

As he drove, Alton considered the grim task that awaited him. He felt thankful that his friend at least had a good support network. Two months ago, David had married Fahima, a resourceful Afghani citizen he had met during his deployment in Kabul. Alton felt grateful for Fahima’s presence in David’s life, as she was sure to play a key role in maintaining David’s spirits through the trials to come. In addition to the natural ties and fidelity of newly-acquired love, Fahima possessed a unique window into David’s difficulties: her own father had died only a year ago, and the empathy she derived from that experience, as well as her normal compassion, would guide her well as she helped David navigate the turbulent waters that lay ahead.

As he cruised up the interstate, Alton called Mallory to bring her up to speed.

“I’ll be glad to see David and Fahima,” said Mallory, “but not so glad about the circumstances. First Fahima’s dad died last year, and now this.”

“I know. I feel so helpless. Really, what can we really do to alleviate their grief?”

“Just being there is the best thing we can do for them,” said Mallory. “That reminds me…what hospital is Jacob in?”

“Let me check my notes…Stokely Memorial.”

“Weird—that’s where I am now. I’m working that drug case I told you about last weekend.”

“That will be convenient, at least,” said Alton.

“Yeah—for sure. When will you be here?”

Alton checked the travel app on his phone. “Not until ten p.m.”

“I’m going to go visit Jacob and David for a few minutes and then run home for a little while. Let me know when you’re close, and I’ll meet you in the main lobby.”

“Okay—thanks, Hon.”

Alton pocketed his phone and sighed, a wave of melancholy washing over him.

As promised, Mallory was sitting in one of the lobby chairs when Alton arrived at Stokely Memorial Hospital. They exchanged a quick kiss and turned towards the lobby elevators, shared worry for their mutual friend overshadowing the pleasure of their unexpectedly-early reunion.

Alton felt the weight of his friend’s sorrow. For a moment, he recalled the old sense of dread, helplessness, and despair he had experienced when the explosion in Afghanistan had killed the majority of soldiers under his command. He once again lifted a silent prayer of thanks for Mallory’s timely intervention in that dark period of his life, and he hoped David would find an equal solace in Fahima. As he made his way to the elevator, the intensity of his feelings passed, but the shadow of the emotions lingered.

The couple stepped off the elevator onto the fifth floor. They turned left and entered the section of the hospital in which Jacob Dunlow rested. A small “Gastrointestinal Disorders” sign appeared over the double doors leading into the wing.

They entered Jacob’s room and discovered David and Fahima already there.

“Remember when El Loco kicked Clyde in the family jewels?” David was asking his father. “He limped for three days and told everyone it was saddle sores.”

Jacob shook his head and emitted a wheezing laugh. “That was a hoot. His leg was purple for a month, too.”

Alton and Mallory stepped up to the bed and exchanged heartfelt embraces with their friends.

“Thanks for coming,” said David. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Fahima grasped her husband’s hand and nodded in agreement.

“You know it,” said Alton, resting his hand on David’s shoulder. “I want to be here.”

Mallory shared her special brand of sympathy and cheer, and Alton noted the spirit of the room becoming a little less somber. As Alton studied Jacob’s prostrate form, he struggled with his helplessness in the face of his friend’s grave condition. Alton decided the best gift he could give Jacob was a final confirmation that his son was a man of honor, a man who would continue the traditions Jacob himself had established. With this goal in mind,
Alton pulled up a chair and regaled Jacob with stories of David’s friendship and courage in Afghanistan. Mallory seemed to sense Alton’s design and skillfully recounted the occasion on which David had rescued her and Alton from an ambush at a seedy hotel in Virginia, saving their lives. Fahima as well described David’s unwavering friendship and round-the-clock efforts to free her from a band of Al-Qaeda kidnappers in Kabul. Jacob acknowledged the stories with all the fatherly enthusiasm and pride Alton could have hoped for.

The four friends talked well past the official visiting hours. Eventually, Jacob’s nurse chased off Alton and Mallory but allowed David and Fahima to remain.

“Will you be able to visit them tomorrow while I’m working?” Alton asked Mallory as they wound their way through hospital corridors on their way to the parking deck.

“Sure. I’ll be in the hospital for another day or two anyway for my drug case. I’ll just slip up here in the morning and again in the afternoon. And I’ll be here when you visit in the evening, of course.”

Alton nodded and slipped his hand into hers, pleased but not surprised. Mallory was always cognizant of the needs of others and knew exactly what needed to be said and done. It was one of her most defining qualities. Unfortunately, it was a skill she would be putting to use more than usual in the coming weeks.