Forever An Ex (30 page)

“Okay.” And then, after a brief moment of hesitation, I reached up and hugged Anthony. He sobbed as I held him for a moment, but then I had to let go and I dashed toward the elevators.

My heartbeat was fast and furious. How could this be happening? My father, my sister?

Inside the elevator, I mustered up the only words I could think of: “God, please. God, please.”

On the fourth floor, I ran as if I were in a race and the nurses' station was the finish line. “I'm here for Edwin Leigh.”

“Yes,” one of the nurses said to me. “Are you his daughter?”

I nodded because I didn't have any more words in me.

“I'm Harmony McCray. I called you.”

“What's wrong with my dad? Is he okay?”

“He'll be fine,” she said calmly. But then she frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

My lips trembled. “I was just so worried.”

She came from behind the counter and held my arm gently. “He's going to be fine. He was just severely dehydrated. His heart rate had sped up and he was weak, but he was able to make the call to 911 and we got him here.”

I followed her to a room right across the hall, and in the bed next to the window, there was my father. His head turned toward me.

“Hey, baby girl.”

“Daddy,” I said, rushing to his side. “Are you okay?”

“I feel much better now, though they got this needle in me and you know how I hate that.”

On the other side of the bed, the nurse checked the bag that was connected to the intravenous needle in his hand. “We just want to make sure you're feeling better, Mr. Leigh,” she said.

Looking at me, my father said, “I did what you told me, baby girl. I called the ambulance instead of calling you.”

I nodded with a smile. That was something that my dad and I had agreed upon when I first found out that he was ill. Knowing my dad, he would've called me first, wasting moments that may matter.

“That's good, Dad. But were you drinking the water from the pitcher that I left by your bed?”

“No.” He waved his free hand. “You know I hate getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.”

I glared down at him as if I was annoyed. “You're going to have to find a way to be a better patient. You have to follow Dr. Benjamin's orders.”

“So what? I'm lying here in this hospital bed and you're lecturing me?” He shook his head and turned to the nurse. “Can you believe how my daughter is treating me?” he kidded.

I asked the nurse, “So he's going to be okay, right?”

She nodded. “We'll get him hydrated. He'll be here for a few hours and then Dr. Benjamin will want to check him out to see if he should stay overnight.” Then she turned to my dad. “But your daughter's right. You're going to have to make sure you're drinking your water at home.”

“Okay, okay.” He shook his head. “Now I got two women on my case. And you shouldn't be fussing at all. With a name like Harmony, I thought you'd be singing to me.”

She laughed, and for the first time, it clicked. Harmony. A nurse. At Cedars-Sinai. This would be too much of a coincidence. This had to be Quentin's Harmony.

But my dad brought my thoughts right back to him when he said, “I don't want you calling your sister. She has too much to be concerned about with that granddaughter of mine and I don't want her to be worried.”

Sabrina.

I nodded. “Okay. Listen, I'm going to step out for just a few minutes, Daddy, and I'll be right back.”

“Go 'head. Handle your business. I'm not going anywhere.”

I kissed his forehead, then walked into the hallway. There was a sign right across from my father's room:
NO CELL PHONES PLEASE.

I looked to my left, then my right, and tried to decide between the restroom and the stairwell. I chose the restroom. As I stepped into one of the stalls, my mind was on Sabrina, though I wasn't as concerned as I'd been before. God had certainly answered the prayer with my father and he'd answer my prayer for Sabrina, too.

Thankfully, I had two signal bars on my cell and I pressed D'Angelo's number. The first time, the call went to voice mail, and I hung up and called again.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“What's going on with Sabrina?”

“How's your dad?”

“He's fine. He was really dehydrated and they may have to keep him overnight, but he's good. How's Sabrina?” I repeated.

“Where are you?” he asked. “I want to come to you.”

“I'm on the fourth floor. Room four twenty-eight.”

“I'll be right there.” He hung up before I could ask him again what was wrong with my sister. I stared at the phone for a couple of extra moments before I stepped out of the stall. As I stood at the sink, I replayed D'Angelo's words in my head. He had not mentioned my sister's name. Why couldn't he tell me what was wrong? That as a new mom, she was just severely tired, was run-down, just needed a place to get some rest for a moment.

But he had said none of that. And I knew why.

Because the truth was, something was very, very wrong. Something was wrong with my sister.

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

I
paced back and forth in front of my father's room, thinking that it was better to wait for D'Angelo out here rather than inside. I didn't want my father to see my concern. When he found out about Sabrina, I wanted to tell him everything, and most importantly, I wanted to tell him that she was going to be all right.

The nurse came out of the room and held the door slightly open for me. “You can go back in there, you know.”

I nodded. “I will. I'm just waiting for a friend.”

She patted my arm gently. “Your father is going to be fine,” she said like she thought I really needed the assurance. “We're just going to have to tell him again about the importance of fluids.”

“Thanks,” I said, then watched her as she walked away.

For a moment I was taken back to who this nurse was and I studied her. Harmony. The woman who Sheridan had told me about. The woman who was engaged to Quentin.

It was interesting how life was, how paths crossed. She had no idea that I was the reason she'd been found. The reason why she'd come back to the hospital and was once again planning to marry Quentin Hart.

But before I could get too deep into thoughts about Harmony, my attention was brought back to my own business when I saw D'Angelo strutting toward me. But I couldn't appreciate this scene because of the look on his face and the sadness that shrouded his eyes.

“What's wrong with Sabrina?” I asked.

It was just a slight move the way he shook his head. “Where's your dad?”

“He's in there,” I said, pointing to the door, “but I don't want to say anything to him until I know first.”

He nodded, then held my arm as he said to one of the nurses at the station, “Is there a room where we can talk privately?”

“What?” I said. “No, D'Angelo. I don't want to go anywhere. Just tell me. What's wrong with Sabrina. Is it serious?”

“Kendall . . .”

“Just tell me!” I shouted.

He nodded. He breathed. And then he said, “She didn't make it.”

There were only four words that he'd spoken, but I couldn't get those words to make any sense. I tried scrambling them, changing the order, dividing them into syllables, turning the words upside down.

But no matter what I did, nothing made sense.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head and then wrapped his arms around me. But I pulled away. “You have to tell me. You have to tell me what you just said. And you have to say it slowly. Because . . . because . . . because . . .”

“She didn't make it, Kendall. Sabrina passed away.”

“No.” I shook my head.

“I'm so sorry.”

“Please take that back.”

Now D'Angelo teared up. He reached for me, but here's the thing. I knew that if I let him hold me, then what he said would be true. So, I backed away from D'Angelo, and his outstretched arms, and his words. I backed away and told him no. I was never going to accept what he'd said.

But as I shook my head no, he nodded yes. As I moved back, he moved forward.

Until I was stopped by the wall. And I could move no farther. And D'Angelo was right on top of me.

“No,” I cried as he wrapped me in his arms.

“I'm sorry.”

“No.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Nooooooooooooo!”

Chapter

Forty

S
orrow hurt.

My head pounded like never before. Not even the aspirin that Harmony had given to me helped. But as much as my head ached, it didn't come close to what was going on with my heart. Because of what I had to do.

But why did I have to do this? How had this happened? And so suddenly?

Probably an infection that had raged out of control. At least that's what Harmony said—off the record—after D'Angelo told her what he knew.

“I have to go now,” I said to D'Angelo, who knelt beside me. Then I looked up and said the same thing to Harmony, who stood at the edge of the room against the door.

We were in an empty hospital room, three doors down from my father's. A room that Harmony had led D'Angelo to, when he literally lifted me into his arms and brought me in here. I guess it was better for me to wail in private—and not disturb the patients, especially my father.

There was no way I could let my father find out about Sabrina's death by me passing out in the hallway.

Sabrina's death.

Just putting those two words together made everything that was in me hurt. And brought brand-new tears to my eyes.

“I've got to go talk to my father.”

“Are you sure you're ready?” Harmony asked. “You can stay in here as long as you need to.” She had told us that my father was strong enough to hear this news. “If you want, I'll be in there with you. For your father.”

“That would be great,” I said. I had a feeling that she wanted to be there not just for my father. She knew that I needed her. And, I needed D'Angelo, too.

D'Angelo pushed himself from the floor beside me, then held my hand as he helped me to stand. Without a word, he pulled me into his arms as if he wished to give me strength. And, I held him because I needed courage.

He kissed my forehead, then squeezed my hand as he led me from the room. It was the longest journey ever, that walk to the third door. I paused and lowered my eyes, going over in my head what I was going to say.

“I'm ready,” I whispered, and D'Angelo pushed the door open for me.

My father was still leaning back in the bed, but he was propped up a bit now, watching television.

“And the Lord is always there,” the televangelist's voice boomed from the television.

“Amen!” my father said. “Hallelujah!”

Was it still Sunday?

“Hey, Daddy,” I whispered.

He turned his head. “Hey, baby girl,” my father said with cheer. “What's up, D'Angelo?”

“How ya doin', Mr. Leigh?”

“I'm hanging in there.” Then my father turned to me and said, “You were gone so long, I thought you forgot about me.”

“I would never do that, Daddy,” I whispered.

He peered at me for a moment and then his eyebrows came together in a deep frown. “What's wrong?” he asked.

I had the words all ready for him, everything was prepared in my mind. But seeing him, and thinking about my sister . . . I couldn't look at him, and there was no way that I could say the words that I'd prepared. All I could do was lower my head to my chest and sob.

“Baby girl!” When my father tried to move out of his bed and come to me, the nurse stopped him. “Mr. Leigh, you have to stay in the bed.”

“Well, somebody up in here better tell me what's going on.” He paused. “D'Angelo?”

“Sir,” he said, and then looked at me.

I shook my head. I had to be the one who gave my father this news.

I moved toward the bed where my father lay, and as I got closer, I saw the confusion in his eyes. He said nothing, as if he was giving me a chance to get myself together.

When I stood by his side, I inhaled oxygen and wished that it came with a shot of grit. Then I took his hand that wasn't hooked up to the machine. “Daddy,” I began, and then stopped.

He nodded.

“It's Sabrina.”

He twisted his head as if my sister's name was the last thing he expected to hear in this moment.

“Daddy, your golden girl . . .” Tears came into my throat. “She's gone.” I sobbed. “She's gone, Daddy.”

“Sabrina,” he whispered. “She's gone?”

I nodded and cried some more. But through my tears, I told him, “She wasn't feeling well, and Anthony brought her here.”

“She's here?”

I nodded. “But she passed away. I don't know a lot of the details,” I said, and looked up at D'Angelo.

He stepped closer. “Mr. Leigh, I'm so sorry.”

“Lord, Jesus!” my father cried. “What happened?”

D'Angelo shook his head like he couldn't believe any of this either. “Sabrina hadn't been feeling well.”

“I know. She told me last night that she was so tired,” my dad said. “I told her to get some rest and I was gonna see her today.”

“Well, apparently, she got worse through the night and Anthony brought her here a few hours ago. But it was too late. They weren't able to save her.”

“What happened?” he shouted, and the nurse moved closer to the bed.

“I don't know everything. The doctors said something about septic shock. But Anthony . . . he'll be able to tell you.”

“Lord, Jesus!” my father said again. He bounced back in the bed and closed his eyes.

I would've given anything to take back those words. Anything to take away the agony that contorted his face.

It was the longest minute before my father opened his eyes. And just to be sure, he asked, “So, Sabrina's gone? She died?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I sobbed. “I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

“Oh, baby girl.” My father opened his arms and I laid my head on his chest.

Right there in his hospital room, as fluids dripped slowly into his veins, tears spilled from his eyes.

My father and I lay in his bed and we wept together.

 • • •

There was so much sadness in that room and I just had to step away. So, I left my father with D'Angelo and Pastor Ford and I hid out in the restroom. Just for a little while.

I stepped into a stall, sat on the commode, and held my face in my hands. I was trying everything in my power to get my thoughts under control. But I couldn't capture any—except for one.

Sabrina was dead. My sister had died.

Time passed, though I had no idea how much. All I knew was that not enough time had passed to change the facts. So, I went to the sink, rinsed my face, but when I glanced up and into the mirror, I had to turn away. I didn't want to look into my eyes. My own unforgiving eyes

At the restroom door, I heard Asia before I even opened it, and when I stepped into the hallway, Sheridan and Asia stood at the nurses' station with Harmony.

“There she is.” Harmony pointed.

Before I could take another step, Asia sprinted to me and swung her arms around my neck. “Oh, Kendall.”

I held my friend and tried to comfort her as she sobbed and said, “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.”

“It's going to be fine; we're going to be fine,” I told her.

It took a couple of moments for Asia to get herself together enough so that I could turn to Sheridan and accept her embrace.

Tears were still rolling from Asia's eyes. “I can't believe this happened to your sister after all you guys have been through. And you didn't even have a chance to forgive her! Oh, god! That must be horrible for her and for you!”

Sheridan glared at Asia, trying to get her to shut her mouth, but Asia didn't even notice. And the truth was, what she said didn't bother me. Asia was just being herself, saying the most inappropriate things at the most inopportune times.

“How're you?” Sheridan asked.

“I'm good,” I said, wanting to assure both of them. “I'm just concerned about my father, you know?”

“Well, there are a bunch of people in his room, so he's getting a lot of love.”

“Really?” I said. “I just needed to get out of there for a couple of minutes.”

“Well, let's get you back in there,” Sheridan said.

Sheridan was right. The news had spread and just about everybody that my father knew was in his room. There were far too many folks than any hospital allowed. But I guess tragedy allowed for the breaking of rules.

My eyes did a quick scan and what I noticed first was that D'Angelo was gone. That saddened me, but then I thought that maybe it was because Anthony was in here now. Maybe he didn't want to cause his brother any more grief.

I spoke to no one, at least not at first. I walked straight toward my father's bed. As I moved, sorrowful glances bore into me like a laser, but my focus was on my dad.

I held him as if I hadn't seen him in days. “Hey, Daddy.”

“You good, baby girl?”

I hoped my father didn't feel me flinch as he called me that. Baby girl. It hit me then that he'd never get to call Sabrina his golden girl again.

“Yeah,” I said.

Turning next to Anthony, I reached out my arms to my brother-in-law. And I had another moment. I was sure that this was the first time I thought of Anthony this way. Not as my ex, not as the man who betrayed me, not as my sister's boo-in-crime, but as my brother-in-law.

It was amazing how grief trumped it all. It was like grief made me forget. Or maybe it was that grief made me remember. Made me remember that all that other stuff was just stuff. None of it was as important in this moment as it was before. And maybe it had never been important.

All I knew was that as I held Anthony and laid my head against his chest, there was only one emotion in my heart—love. That was all I felt for Anthony. A sisterly love.

“How're you?”

Anthony shook his head and I understood that response completely. There was only one answer to that question—he was still standing, he was still breathing. That was as good as it was going to get for now.

Then he said, “I've got to get going . . . in a little while. I've got to get back . . .” He stopped, and I knew what he was going to say. He had to get home to his baby. Sabrina's baby.

I hugged him again. “I know,” I whispered.

From Anthony, I moved through the room, hugging my pastor, and her daughter, Gail, and Sister Henderson, my father's friend from our church who cooked occasionally for my father, and others from our church whose names there was no way for me to recall right now.

But I hugged everyone and accepted all the condolences. I had just moved away from the last person when Dr. Benjamin stepped into the room, but then he stopped when he looked at me. The shock showed in his eyes, but he recovered like any good professional.

I guess he'd been told that Edwin Leigh's daughter had died. I guess he'd just figured out that Edwin Leigh had more than one.

“Well, we have quite a crowd,” the doctor said. He nodded as he came inside and then over to my father. “The nurses told me about your daughter. I'm so sorry.” And again, he was the good doctor because there was not a drip of emotion in his tone.

But my father accepted the sentiment, and even gave the doctor a small smile.

“I know this is a tough time, but would you mind if I talked to you for a moment?” the doctor asked as he glanced quickly through the room.

Pastor Ford waved her hand in the air. “Just give me ten seconds, Doctor, and I'll have everyone out of here,” she said as she started herding the group from the room.

Sheridan whispered, “We'll be right outside.”

I nodded and moved to the other side of my father's bed. I held his hand and Dr. Benjamin stayed silent until it was only the three of us in the room.

He said, “So, you had a little bit of a scare, I heard.”

“I felt really dizzy and weak,” my father said. “I wasn't even sure I was gonna be able to dial 911.”

“Well, you already know that you were dehydrated. But I want to keep you overnight, just for observation.”

“Oh, no,” my father said. “I have to get home. We have things we have to take care of.”

“Daddy, there's nothing that we have to do tonight.” To tell the truth, I was glad that my father would stay in the hospital. Not that I knew a thing about cancer and treatments and recovery, but I was concerned. This kind of stress couldn't be good in any way for my father, and there was no way that I was going to let anything happen to him. Not now.

“I really just want to get home, Doctor.”

“I understand, but I promise it will just be tonight.”

“And I'll feel so much better if you're here, Daddy. It'll give me a chance to go home, and get some of my things, because I want to spend the next few days with you.”

The thought of that must've pleased him; it calmed him enough to finally agree.

“Okay, then,” Dr. Benjamin began, “I'll check on you in the morning and we'll get you out of here as fast as we can.” Then he stepped outside of the room and Pastor Ford, Sheridan, and Asia came back in.

The moment I told them that Dad was going to stay overnight, Pastor Ford went right into her action mode. Within seconds, she'd made the first call, then the second and third and fourth. She talked fast, she got straight to the point, and she moved on. Not even ten minutes passed before she clicked off her cell and stuffed it into her purse.

“All right, I got everything handled,” she said. “We've got a team and someone will be with you till morning.”

I could see the protest rising up in my father, but then he looked at Pastor and remembered who he was talking to.

She kept on like she was in charge—and she was. “There'll be five shifts, and I have the first.” She looked up at me. “So you get going.”

I hadn't planned to leave so early. I was bone-weary, but there was a part of me that didn't want to leave my father at all.

As if she could read my mind, Pastor Ford said, “You'll be no good to him if you're not strong.” Turning to Sheridan, she commanded, “Take her home.”