These Three Words (12 page)

Even though I’d tried to hold on to that moment, I’d forgotten.

Until now. Until it could be too late.

How had I forgotten all the moments I’d remembered so freely today? How had I let one horrible moment obscure them?

I thought about that same man a few floors away from me.

I wondered what else I’d forgotten.

Chapter Eight

After Siobhan left, no one else came into the chapel. After a day spent with people, all of them suffering under the weight of their waiting, the quiet solitude was a balm.

There was no hum of machines. No nurses popping in and bustling about. No doctors looking serious.

I couldn’t hear call bells or PA announcements.

I’d spent the day delving into the past, remembering what Gray and I once had. Though I could remember those moments clearly again now, I wasn’t sure we could ever get back to that easier, happier point in our relationship. There was no going back.

And it was hard to look to the future with his life still hanging by a thread.

For a long time, I sat in silence, simply trying to live in the here and now.

Here and now, Gray was alive and recuperating a few floors away.

Here and now, the divorce papers were still in my hand, unsigned.

So here and now, I was still his wife.

But keeping myself in the here and now was difficult. Try as I might, the past kept tumbling into my thoughts, intermingling with fears of the future.

I’d spent the last eight months unable to look backward and hating to look forward.

Live in the now.
I’d heard that advice or variations of it for years, but how can you live in the present without the certainty of the past and the possibility of the future?

It felt as if I’d spent the past months at Ferncliff in limbo.

In the quiet chapel, I worked to sit silently in the present.

I was here.

Gray was still here.

I started to shove the envelope back in my purse, but it seemed like too much effort so I let it fall to my lap.

For just a moment, I let the past and present take care of themselves, and I stilled. I settled into that one moment and found my respite. Slowly, even the muted sounds of the hospital faded. There was just that moment. One breath after another.

No past pulling at me. No present intruding.

I was here. Gray was just a few floors up.

I was his wife.

He was my husband.

I’m not sure how long I sat in the quiet chapel, pushing all thoughts and worries aside. Having them creep back in, then pushing them away again.

It became a rhythm like my breathing.

In and out.

Out and in.

I lost track of time. I’d almost forgotten about the world that bustled along beyond this room’s walls.

But the respite couldn’t last.

“You’ve been here a long time,” a male voice said quietly from behind me.

He hadn’t been quiet enough not to make me jump.

He looked apologetic. “I don’t want to interrupt your prayers, but I wondered if I could sit with you?”

He was a young man in well-worn jeans and an Erie Otters T-shirt.

“I’m not praying,” I admitted. “I’ve always thought it seemed disingenuous to ignore God until the moment that you needed him, then show up, hat in hand, on his doorstep, begging for favors.”

“I’m Mark, the chaplain here,” he said. “Though I guess tonight, I’m more of a visitor.”

He didn’t look old enough to be a chaplain, but I didn’t say that. I simply asked, “What time is it?”

“After ten.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “Ten thirty-one, to be precise.”

“You were right. I’ve been here a long time.” I’d been at the hospital for less than a day. It seemed like more.

So much more.

“You’re at the hospital for a relative?” he asked.

“My husband,” I said. The envelope that would have changed that sat heavily on my lap, but I didn’t let it change my answer. “I’m here for my husband.”

“Sometimes sharing your worries eases your burdens,” he said as an invitation to speak. “We can say a lot in our silences, but with people there always comes a time for the silence to end. There comes a time when the words need to be said. If it’s that time for you, I’m here.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his words. I’d never minded Gray’s quiet nature. Ash was right; Gray didn’t say much, but when he did say something, everyone paid attention.

I’d always felt I could hear the words he didn’t say. And he always said I talked enough for both of us. Remembering that made me smile.

But remembering the time I needed him to say something, and the words he’d said . . .

I shook my head.

Maybe. It’s. For. The. Best.

The words seemed heavier than ever.

Those words had haunted me ever since.

I pushed that memory aside and held out my hand. “Hi, Mark. I’m Addie.”

“And you’re here with your husband?”

I nodded and gave the envelope a twist. Then I shook my head. “Yes, my husband now, but when he collapsed I was going to put a formal end to our marriage,” I finally said.

He didn’t need to ask his questions; they were all right there in that one slightly raised eyebrow.

I slid the envelope to Mark. “I went to see him today to give him these.”

He cocked his head, asking permission to look inside the envelope. I nodded. He saw what the papers were and put the flap back in place, then handed me back the envelope.

“And yet, you’re still here?” he said.

“They’re strict on visiting hours in ICU. I understand their policy, but I can’t leave. I don’t know where to go,” I admitted and immediately felt embarrassed by the confession.

“Do you live together?”

“I left him . . .” Normally I’d say
a year ago
, because knowing the real answer seemed pathetic. But I didn’t think Mark would judge me. “Eight months ago.”

I remembered what Ash had said about Gray and did the math, then corrected myself. “Eight months and thirteen days ago.”

“Because you fell out of love with him?”

Someone asking me such personal, pointed questions would normally make my hackles rise, but Mark wasn’t pushy. It didn’t feel as if he was asking to be nosy, but rather because he really wanted to hear my answer.

I didn’t need to think about it. I shook my head. “No. Not that.”

“Because he fell out of love with you?” he asked.

Again, I shook my head. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

“I’m at a loss then.” And that’s exactly how he looked . . . as if he couldn’t fathom why I’d leave a relationship with someone I still loved.

“Maybe that’s just it. We were both lost and neither of us knew what to say in order to find our way back to the way we used to be.”

“Sometimes words can’t really convey our true meaning. Sometimes the words we don’t say are the ones that matter the most,” Mark reiterated. “I think it’s kind of like that with praying. It’s not disingenuous to say
here I am
. Just those three words.”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s not the words that matter, it’s the intention behind them. The feelings, even. Three words—
here I am
. Those and three other words are the ones that matter the most, I think.”

“What are the other three?” I found myself asking.

“I love you.”

I studied this kid and said, “You’re an odd minister.”

Mark laughed at that. “I’m a hockey fan, a farmer, and . . . yes, an odd minister. That’s a big compliment. Thank you.”

I laughed as well. It was rusty and small, but it was there. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re planning to spend the night in here?”

I nodded. “I could go back to our house, or to the house I’ve been living in, but I can’t be that far away from him. I spent almost a year—”

“Eight months and thirteen days,” he filled in.

I nodded. “I thought I could spend the rest of my life that far away from him, but I was wrong. So I’ll just wait here until visiting hours in the morning.”

“You know, I don’t have a lot of clout anywhere, but I think I have enough here that I can help you out. Hang on.”

He left me again.

I’d never thought about it before, but now that I did, I thought he was right.

I simply had to trust and say, “Here I am.”

And maybe, “Thank you.”

That was it. Whatever happened, I could give thanks. Thanks for all the love I had for Gray, because no matter what had happened, that love was still there. Maybe I’d thought it was gone. But it wasn’t. I’d only misplaced it . . . pushed it aside and let my pain and my anger obscure it.

Here I am
and
I love you
. According to Mark, those words mattered most.

I looked at the envelope in my hand. The papers in it were full of words, but maybe none of them really came to much in the end.

“Come with me,” Mark said. He led me back to the fourth floor and to Gray’s room. “This is Alice” was his introduction of a tiny, brown-haired nurse.

“I would have been here to meet you before you left, but we had a bit of a crisis at home,” she said.

“Everything okay?” Mark asked, looking concerned.

“Fine.” She looked at me. “The kids do keep life interesting.”

Mark didn’t look completely convinced, but he said, “Alice is the night nurse. And she’s got this horrible vision problem, which probably explains why she can’t see you when you sit very still in your husband’s room.”

She smiled again. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I can’t see you at all. Probably because I left a pillow and blanket on the chair, and you’re going to cover up, close your eyes, and get some sleep. So, I won’t notice you until right before shift change, when I’ll finally see you and wake you. Then you can go grab some breakfast before the official visiting hours start.”

I looked at the two of them. “Thank you,” I said.

Maude, James, Harriet, Siobhan, and now Mark and Alice. My day had been touched by so many people, and since I couldn’t thank the rest of them, I settled for repeating “Thank you” to Mark and Alice.

She nodded. “I took a look at your husband’s chart. He does better when you’re here.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “According to the numbers, after visiting hours, his blood pressure was elevated, along with his heart rate. I’m sure the daytime nurses have explained that this isn’t really a coma. The doctors are giving him drugs that keep him sedated until we get his blood pressure under control. But he can hear you. He can sense you. And when you’re nearby, he’s calmer. That’s good for his recovery.”

Gray knew I was here.

There was a comfort in that knowledge.

Alice was right, the other nurses had said as much, but I thought it was just something they said to patients’ families.

“All those things you’ve wanted to say to him . . . now is your chance,” Mark said. “So get some sleep and think about what you want to tell your husband.”

I looked at this young man who possessed a very old soul. “Thank you. I’m not sure why you were at the chapel so late, but I’m glad you were.”

“My father . . .” he started then stopped.

“He’s a patient?”

Mark nodded. “I thought that maybe being sick would soften him, but it didn’t.”

“According to a new friend, there are two sets of words that really matter.
Here I am
and
I love you
.”

“I hate it when my sage advice comes back to bite me,” he said now with vehemence. He turned to leave. “Would it be okay if I stopped in to check on you and your husband?”

“I would really welcome that.”

Mark left, and I could hear him having a whispered conversation with Alice outside Gray’s room.

I put the envelope and my purse down, slid the chair right next to Gray’s bed, and reached out and took his hand.

“I still don’t know what to say to you, but
here I am
,” I told him as I stroked his palm with my forefinger. “I’m not going anywhere, so you just sleep. I’ll stay here with you.”

I reclined the chair and turned my head toward Gray, propping it on the pillow. “I found our picture and the plastic swan on your desk. I brought them here. They’re on the nightstand,” I whispered.

“I still have my swan, too. It’s in my jewelry box. I should probably move it somewhere else because I could handle it if someone stole all my jewelry, but I’d be heartbroken if they took that.”

I pushed thoughts of the past I couldn’t change out of my mind and refused to look into the future. Right now, I was here, holding Gray’s hand.

The doctor had said the longer he survived, the better his chances.

Every tick of the clock meant he was that much further along the road to recovery.

That was enough for now.

Chapter Nine

I woke with a start and was confused by the cacophony of strange sounds. For half a second, I couldn’t remember where I was. And then I saw Gray, and everything that had happened yesterday came rushing back.

I sat up straight, which dislodged my hand from Gray’s. Numb from hours of being in an awkward position, it fell with a thud to the arm of the chair. I picked it up with my other hand and began to rub my palm.

Harmon was standing on the other side of Gray’s bed, typing something on his phone.

“Harmon?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I promised Jo that I’d check on you, but even without her nudging, I’d have stopped by. Do you need anything?”

I didn’t know this Harmon, in his white doctor’s lab coat over his powder-blue scrubs. The Harmon I knew was a man who wore jeans and old T-shirts. A man who seemed as at home with a baby on his hip as he did with his arm casually slung over JoAnn’s shoulder.

“You look like a real doctor,” I said, still half asleep. “Sorry, I mean, I know you are, but I don’t ever see you like this.”

“Well, if anyone here asks, your story is I’m a serious doctor, even at home.”

I smiled. “Sure. I can lie for you.”

Harmon laughed, then turned serious as he looked at Gray. “I checked and want to reassure you that even if it really doesn’t seem like it, he’s doing okay. I—”

Harmon’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his lab coat pocket. “Pardon me.” He turned. “Yes.” Pause. “That’s great.” Pause. “You’re just doing this to get even with me.” Pause. He sighed. “No, I’m not with a patient. I’m with Addie.”

He turned to me. “It’s Jo. She wants me to put her on speaker.” He shrugged apologetically.

“Addie, I’ll be over later,” JoAnn’s disembodied voice said. “Sorry to interrupt, but Wills made me call Harmon. Go for it.”

Harmon sighed again and then mouthed the words
I’m so sorry
before he sang, “Everybody poops. Everybody pees. All the animals, Mommy, and me. So come on, Wills, and poop with me.”

I don’t think he was aware of the fact, but he had a bit of swaying going on as he sang, as if at home he actually did a dance but he was trying to contain it here.

I couldn’t help it; I laughed.

“Hey, Wills, do you want Aunt Addie to sing with me?” he asked, grinning at me.

Three more rounds of the song and Jo informed us that mission was accomplished.

I was still laughing as Harmon hung up.

“Thank you,” I said. “Believe it or not, that was just what I needed.”

“Tell you what, if I get another emergency call from home, I’ll come back up. We had a good duet going.”

“Gee, Harmon, you’re so good to me.”

“And don’t forget, your job, if you’re asked, is to confirm my total and serious doctorness. And you must never reveal my potty-singing ways.”

I smiled and made a cross-my-heart sign over my chest.

I don’t think Harmon realized that he was humming the tune as he walked back out of the room.

I looked at the machines that Gray was hooked up to. Maybe I couldn’t read them the way Harmon could, but I could see his heart rate. It beat steadily, and even I knew that had to be a good thing.

“Harmon says you’re okay, Gray,” I said.

It was still dark out, so I lay back in the chair and asked my husband, “As I was singing with Harmon I realized that you would have been like that. Despite the fact most people would find it hard to believe, you would have stopped an important meeting to sing a potty song to our baby.”

I took his hand in mine.

I must have fallen back to sleep because the next thing I was aware of was Nurse Alice writing on Gray’s chart. I realized I still held his hand in mine.

“Sorry,” she said apologetically. “I’m glad you got some sleep.”

“How is he?” I asked, cradling my numb hand, feeling the first pricks of needles as blood began flowing.

“Stable,” she assured me in a quiet voice.

“Is he out of the woods?” I gave my hand a small shake and was rewarded by a thousand pinpricks.

I ignored the feeling and concentrated on Nurse Alice. She gave me a small, reassuring smile as she said, “Not yet, but every hour that goes by is another step in the right direction.”

She fiddled with a machine while I continued shaking the life back into my hand.

Satisfied with whatever she’d read, she said, “The morning shift will be starting in an hour. Why don’t you run home, take a shower, and grab some breakfast? You’ll feel better for it. You can’t take care of him if you don’t take care of yourself. I know that sometimes we all forget that.”

“Pot calling the kettle black?” I asked.

She nodded. “You don’t know the half of it. Between work and family I rarely have any time to call my own. Well, other than a few minutes each morning.”

“What happens in the morning?”

“I go down to the coffee shop in the lobby and get one small black coffee, then take a few minutes to just drink it.” She looked at me with a conspiratorial grin. “And sometimes if I’m being really wild, I get a medium rather than the small.”

Despite everything I couldn’t help but laugh. I laughed easier now than I had in months. “You are wild.”

“Thank you for noticing.” She looked pleased with her
wild
status. “Go home, shower, and get breakfast. And some coffee.”

“I’ll make it a medium and think of you,” I promised her.

I stood up and started to fold the blanket I’d used while I thought about taking care of Gray when he was released from the hospital. “There’s very little chance Gray will let me take care of him, you know. He likes to be the one doing the caring, not vice versa.”

“That will have to change,” she assured me. “He’s going to need care. When he’s able, he’ll need some rehab, and when he goes home he’ll have to think about restructuring his life. And it doesn’t sound like that will be easy for him.”

“Restructure how?” I put the pillow and blanket on the windowsill.

“Controlling his blood pressure will be imperative. Medication will be part of it, but it will require a lifestyle change as well.”

I picked up my purse and the now-well-mutilated envelope. “He’ll have limitations?”

“He won’t be running any marathons, but he should be able to have a normal life. But he’ll have to find time to relax.” Alice smiled again. She was one of those people who seemed to send off calming, it’s-all-going-to-be-okay vibes. I wondered if she’d always had that sort of aura, or if working as a nurse had made her that way.

It didn’t matter how she came by it, I leaned on her calm confidence. Gray would be okay and have a normal life.

And needed to relax. “If Gray were writing the dictionary,
relax
would be a four-letter word.”

Nurse Alice tucked the sheet more securely around my husband. “He’s going to have to learn. How about yoga? In the summer, there’s a group that meets on Presque Isle at sunset. I’ve always thought it would be fun. Maybe if you went, you could entice him. A long vacation on a beach with nothing to do each day but watch the sun rise and then set.”

I didn’t comment on the irony of that comment. A beach vacation had been the straw moment for me.

We’d lost our way in December and had limped along for weeks. I’d resolved to try one last time.

I’d called Missy and made sure the week was clear for Gray . . . well, as clear as any week was for him. Then I talked to Ash, who readily agreed to fill in for Gray. With the two of them on board, I put the tickets on hold and waited. Hoping beyond hope that if we could just get away, we could find our way back to us . . .

I heard Gray’s car pull into the garage. I’d been waiting for him.

I was nervous. Gray wasn’t someone who enjoyed surprises, but I was hoping that just as he’d once surprised me with the house, he’d like my plans for us.
After two aborted attempts at a honeymoon and more than a dozen discussions
about possibly getting away, I’d put a hold on the perfect honeymoon. The perfect getaway where we could rediscover who we were as a couple.

Gray walked into the kitchen and eyed me warily. “You look better.”

I nodded. “I feel better.” I wasn’t sure if that was the truth, but maybe if I said it often enough, I’d eventually believe it.

“I have a surprise for you.” I slid our itinerary across the counter.

Gray picked it up and examined it. “St. Lucia?”

I nodded. “It’s an all-inclusive resort. I went to an actual travel agent. She’s got it all ready. It’s not a long flight, but it’s far enough away to make it feel like a real honeymoon. Everything’s included. There’s a list of excursions we can take if you like, but I’d be happy with nothing more than being with you. We can take long walks on the beach, hang out at the pool. I just have to call her
. . .
”

My sentence faded as I saw his expression.

He set the paper down. “Addie, you should have talked to me about this. I can’t get away right now—”

“You can. Missy was careful about your schedule. And Ash said he’d fill in—”

He hadn’t touched me since we’d lost the baby and when he finally reached for me, it wasn’t a warm embrace. Instead, he held my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “I can’t.”

Those two words were inaccurate. He should have said
, I won’t
.

But accurate or not, they were the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I knew even as I made the decision that I’d never confess to anyone that this was my reason for leaving. It sounded frivolous and foolish.

Here he was, touching me for the first time in months only to push me away
. . .
again.

I needed him so much after we lost our son, and he’d turned away. I kept waiting for him to turn back, but he hadn’t.

“Addie, I’m sorry,” he said, “but I can’t.”

“All right,” I said softly. I thought about packing, but in the end, I kissed his cheek, picked up my purse, and walked out to the garage.

“Good-bye, Gray.” That’s all I said.

He didn’t follow me.

I got in the car and backed out of the drive. I called Jo and asked if I could stay at her Ferncliff house.

She said yes, just as I knew she would.

I walked away from the man I loved because I was afraid that if I stayed, I’d eventually hate him.

I had never minded how much Gray loved his work. Oh, I hadn’t enjoyed the times we’d planned a getaway and he’d canceled, but I understood.

Maybe I should have told him more clearly that this wasn’t some whim. It wasn’t even really an attempt to finally go on the honeymoon we’d never had.

It was a lifeline that I was throwing to us as a couple. A lifeline I threw and clung to.

A lifeline he simply ignored.

After I’d left Gray, I’d Googled the phrase
the straw that broke the camel’s back
. I couldn’t find any definitive answer as to where the phrase originated. A few sites pointed to a saying about
the last feather that broke the horse’s back
, or about
the last drop of coffee that overflowed the cup
.

In the end, I decided it didn’t matter. They all dealt with that one last, frequently tiny, thing that made something difficult become something impossible.

Leaving because he wouldn’t go on vacation with me sounded ridiculous, but it was my straw moment.

I realized that Nurse Alice was still in the room as I stared at my husband, remembering that one last time.

“You’ll be heading home for that breakfast and shower, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I promised. “I’ll just say good-bye.”

She started to leave the room, then turned around. “Addie, I work again tonight if you want to stay.”

“Thank you.” I felt my eyes well up by this unexpected small kindness. “I mean it, thank you.”

“I can see how much you love him. Being surrounded by that kind of love can only help him.”