Memories (17 page)

 "Here, take a look. Seems there's been some changes as Regal."

 Dani took the offered letter and sat back down at her desk to read it over. It was from the Chicago Corporate office of Regal Coats and was addressed to the Coat Buyer at Chance's.

"Effective immediately: Catherine Jamison, Assistant Executive Vice-President of Regal Coats, Chicago, will be taking over all duties previously held by the president of the company. President Michael DeCara has returned to the New York Office for an indefinite period of time.

Please direct all inquiries or concerns about operations to Ms. Jamison."

 The letter continued on but had lost Dani's interest. She could only stare at the sentence that stated Miguel had returned to New York. So that was it. He was gone for good. He'd decided to put as much distance as possible between them. She waited for the news to hit her hard, but instead she only felt numb.

 "That's good news, right?" Traycee broke in.

 "What?"

 Traycee walked around the partition placing the rest of the mail in Dani's IN box. "Good news about your friend. Head of the division now. It's great for her, huh?"

 "Oh, yeah. It's great." Dani tried to sound enthusiastic for her friend but it was hard, considering her promotion meant that Miguel had run away from Dani a second time.

 Michael's days became such a blur that he didn't know which day was Monday or Friday, nor did he care. He spent each day from early morning to late evening at Vanessa's bedside, leaving only to sleep and eat, doing the latter out of necessity, not hunger.

 Three days after he'd returned to New York, he attended Matthew Chandler's funeral, another sad affair. It was a quiet service attended by immediate family only. He'd been the youngest of four sons, and watching his mother bury her baby boy made Michael's heart ache.

 He offered his deepest sympathies to the family, shook Mr. Chandler's hand and hugged Mrs. Chandler who expressed concern over Vanessa's condition and told Michael she was praying for her.

 They had all agreed it was best not to bring Michelle to the funeral. At two-years-old she was too young to understand and neither family wanted her to have any memory of the sad event. When Michael left the Chandlers with a final goodbye, he hurried back to the hospital to see Vanessa and assure himself how lucky he was that she was still, at least, alive.

 But as he watched her sleeping peacefully he realized that maybe she was the lucky one for not having to go through today. Although it would be a painful loss to her when she finally awoke, it was far better than having to walk through the motions of a funeral, hear endless condolences and watch tear-stained faces.

 His days went on, hospital, home, hospital, home. He ate so many meals at the hospital cafeteria that the workers all knew him by name. The nurses who came periodically into Vanessa's room to check her pulse and IVs and record everything on her chart also became familiar with the ever-present father. They all made an effort at lifting his mood from time to time, but the truth was Vanessa's condition was serious and they could never offer him even the slightest ray of hope.

 He spent his time talking to her about everything he could think of that might spark her interest. Someone had told him that talking about past experiences and common things sometimes brought coma victims awake. He talked about her past and the times they'd shared with Dani, which he knew had been happy ones for Vanessa. He talked about work, what little he kept in touch with out of necessity, hoping she might respond from the commitment she'd always had over her position at Regal. He talked about Michelle and what new word she had said that morning or new antic she'd been involved in the day before. He read to her from books by her favorite authors, even books from her childhood that he hoped might bring her back. Daily, he'd massage her legs and arms to keep the muscles limber and the blood flowing smoothly and he'd continue his trail of conversation while he did so. Sometimes he'd sit there for so long he'd fall asleep holding her hand and a night nurse would wake him gently and send him home. The very next morning he could be found by her bedside once again as if he'd never left.

 All through these days and nights the doctors could give him no morsel of hope. He really needed someone to talk to, to share his pain, to tell him everything was going to be okay, and his thoughts instantly returned to Dani. It took everything he had to keep himself from calling her, asking her to come and be by his side. Yet, how could he do that to her? He didn’t want to add more pain to her life so he continued on his own, waiting, talking, reading and praying.

 The results of the CAT scan showed no major damage to the brain and the swelling was still under check. If she did come out of her coma, she should have all of her functions in working order. But that didn't explain why she wasn't waking, which continued to puzzle the doctors.

 They had also tried, unsuccessfully, several times to take her off of the respirator, but each time her breathing became so labored that they had to put her back on. Dr. Bradseth ordered full ex-rays to recheck the condition of her lungs. It was important that they get her breathing on her own, he explained to Michael, who didn't understand why but just took each thing as it came.

 The nurses took good care of Vanessa, and Michael was thankful for their tender touch. Her hair was always clean and combed, her nightgown changed and fresh smelling. The bandage on her head had become only a small patch and the hair around it was beginning to grow back like the soft fuzz on a fresh peach. The nurses had lovingly dubbed her Sleeping Beauty, and whenever one would come in she'd ask Michael how the princess was doing. He took it in good humor and began calling her that himself.

 One night, after an especially long day, Michael sat next to Vanessa in his usual place, holding her hand, frustrated that he hadn't yet got her to open her eyes. A male nurse, unfamiliar to Michael, came in to check on her IV and pulse rate and smiled at him good-naturedly.

 "So, how is our Sleeping Beauty doing?" he asked, but Michael only gave him a suspicious sideways glance. The male nurse looked more like a football player to him with his closely cropped hair and thick build and Michael resented his familiar attitude with his daughter.

 But the nurse seemed unaware of Michael's suspicious looks and gently took Vanessa's pulse and adjusted the IV to make sure the drip was perfect. As he recorded the information on the chart, he looked up to see Michael staring at him hostilely.

 The nurse smiled at him again showing less than perfect teeth. The smile revealed lines around his eyes that gave away his true age, much older than Michael had first thought. He had to be in his forties, like himself, which still did little to endear him to Michael.

 "Well," the nurse offered, "her vitals are still steady. Maybe we'll see the princess smile sometime soon."

 Michael made no response as the nurse hung the chart back at the foot of the bed and turned to leave the room, then turned back and faced Michael again.

 "You know," he offered gently, "I've been told that if you keep up a steady stream of conversation, or read to a coma patient, that it sometimes helps bring them around." It was an innocent piece of advice, but it totally outraged Michael who stood suddenly with his feet planted apart, fists clenched.

 "I have been talking to her," he started in a slow, angry voice that grew louder as he continued. "I've been talking to her, and reading to her for days and days and it's not working. She just lies there, asleep, not responding or caring or even listening. So, who the hell are you to come in here and tell me I should..." Michael stopped mid-sentence and slumped his shoulders, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

 "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

 The nurse nodded, his face calm as if he were used to these kinds of outbursts. "It's okay, I understand." He turned and left, leaving behind a torn, confused father grieving for his daughter.

 Mid-October came to Long Island in all its fall glory, bringing with it tourists from all over the country to bask in the colors and admire the rich gardens so famous in the Hamptons. But Michael saw none of this as he made his way back and forth to the hospital. He spent time on work that he couldn't ignore in his home office, having papers and files sent by FAX or to his home computer. He didn't want to go into New York City for even a moment in case Vanessa's condition changed.

 The only joy in his life during this time were his visits with Michelle in the mornings, and sometimes in the afternoons when he'd force himself away from the hospital to give her the much needed time she deserved. She didn't understand where her parents were or why they were never around anymore. Michael did the best he could explaining to her the circumstances without trying to scare her. But how did you tell a little girl that her father was never coming home and her mother might not either? He kept waiting and hoping that Vanessa's condition would turn around and he could then tell her that Mommy would be home soon.

 But life never works out as one hopes, and Vanessa's x-rays came back showing more damage to her lungs, necessitating another operation. So, two days later, Michael sat for hours waiting for Vanessa to come out of the operating room and recovery, praying that this might help to bring her back to him.

 And even though the doctors said the operation was a success, and even after Vanessa no longer needed a respirator to breath for her, she continued to sleep on as Michael sat beside her bed, waiting.

Chapter Twenty

The choppers flew in low through the mist and smoke of artillery as the men below hurried to place bodies of the dead and wounded into them to be taken to the nearest medical unit. Miguel DeCara helped the medics load the men from his unit. There had been heavy casualties all day from grenades and gunfire and it seemed they would never be done with the gruesome work of body counting.

Gunfire continued all around them as the men filled one chopper after another with casualties. After placing a man who had lost his arm into the chopper, Miguel crouched and headed toward the next wounded man when one medic, carrying a dead soldier, called after him. "Hey, this one lost his dog tags. Come see if you can identify him."

Grudgingly, Miguel turned back to the noise and wind of the chopper blades to perform a task he had no heart for. He hoped it was a stranger he didn't know or else he'd see that face for the rest of his life in his nightmares. As he approached the body, slung in the makeshift hammock between the two medics' arms, he couldn't see the face at first because the helmet had slid over it. Coughing from the smoke that the whirling blades of the chopper only made worse, he watched as the medic moved away the helmet so he could get a closer look. But it wasn't the dead eyes of a stranger that looked back at him. As the helmet was lifted, a shock of red hair tumbled out and the lifeless emerald eyes of Vanessa stared back at him.

 Anguished screams could be heard up and down the second floor corridors of Southampton Hospital. Kevin Lindstrom, the floor's night nurse, ran into room 207B where the screams were coming from and stopped for only a second to see Michael DeCara thrashing beside his daughter's bed screaming "No!" His eyes open but glassy and unseeing.

 Kevin quickly grabbed him bear-hug style from behind to prevent any harm to Vanessa and pulled him away from the bed, all the while talking in a calm, even tone. "It's okay DeCara, you're okay. Calm down, you’re in the hospital and everything is okay." He continued saying this over and over, all the while holding Michael tight until finally Michael's eyes began to focus and he slumped in Kevin's grasp.

 Kevin led him toward the door when Michael suddenly turned back to Vanessa. He had to make sure she was still breathing, still alive. When he saw that she was, he let Kevin gently lead him from the room, past the staring faces of the other nurses and to a bench down the hallway.

 "Stay here a minute," Kevin told him. "I'll get you some coffee." He was gone for only a minute and returned with two paper cups steaming with vending machine coffee.

 After handing one cup to Michael, Kevin sat opposite him on another bench. The hallways were dimly lit as they were every night to allow patients enough dark to sleep. But it gave off an eerie, quiet, almost deathly feeling to the hallways and rooms when all was still and dim.

 Kevin sat staring at the man across from him for a few moments, then broke the silence. "Some nightmare, huh?"

 Michael looked up, still a bit dazed and glassy-eyed and nodded his head.

 "How long were you in Nam?"

 Startled, Michael stared at the large man in front of him, finally recognizing him as the male nurse he'd blown up at before. He wrinkled his brow. "How'd you know I was in Nam?"

 Kevin's face softened, but no smile appeared. "I've been around enough vets to know the look. I was in for two tours myself. I worked the 254th MDHA Unit west of Da Nang as a Corpsman in '68 'til '70."

 Nodding his head, Michael stared into his cup of coffee. "I was at the Da Nang Fire Base in '70. But I didn't finish my tour. I was wounded and sent home after 10 months."

 "Ah, one of the lucky ones, huh?"