Pieces of Hope (4 page)

There
was a fire burning in his eyes and an insistence in his tone that I answer. I
snapped to attention, squeezing the bedrail so fiercely that my hands slipped
through it. Awkwardly, I straightened up, catching myself just before I fell
into my body.

Slightly
out of breath, I shouted, “Yes, yes, I hear you! I’m right here!” I hoped he
would look to where I stood across from him. But his determined gaze never left
my face. I could feel the intensity rolling off him, like waves of heat on a
summer’s day. By sheer force of will, he was trying to make me wake up.
 

I wiped
my sweaty palms on my jeans, silently encouraging him to go on. Given the big
build-up, I’d expected to hear something momentous, life-changing, maybe, so it
was almost a letdown when he said, “I think . . . no, it’s stronger than that .
. . I’m certain that I know you.”

“That’s
not so odd. I have one of those faces.” I grinned. Well, on a good day.
 

“Not so
odd?” he asked, causing my heart to flutter briefly. For a fraction of a
second, I thought he was answering me. But then I realized he was talking to
himself. He squeezed my hand tighter, casting a quick glance around to see if
anyone was near, then he dropped his voice again. “I should probably tell you I
didn’t grow up here, don’t have family here, never visited here. And yet I have
this certainty. How’s. That. Possible?”

His face
brightened slightly; he seemed relieved to get this off his chest. “From the
first moment I saw you, I knew it was true. You don’t look the same, and don’t
ask me how I know it . . . but aren’t there some things you just know?” He
smiled painfully, pausing to kiss my palm again. “I don’t know the details, but
I do know this . . . You have to wake up! We need to figure this out! I get the
craziest feeling we’re—”
 

“Ethan,”
a stern voice called from the door. The older-looking blond wore scrubs like
his, but she exuded such authority that I suspected she was the manager on
duty. He placed my hand gently at my side, and stood slowly to face her
disapproval.
  

On the
surface, Ethan looked unperturbed as the blond yanked the privacy curtain
across the glass, then closed the door to my room. But I felt a confusing
mixture of anger and embarrassment that I didn’t think belonged to me. Maybe
from Ethan. Or the blond. I wasn’t sure. But if these were Ethan’s emotions,
they didn’t match his exterior. Standing at his full height in a sort of quiet
defiance, only the clenching and unclenching of his jaw gave anything away as
to the tension churning beneath the surface.

“Do you
know this girl?” Her tone was nasally unpleasant. The woman’s eyes slid
sideways to the bed, lingering, it seemed on his close proximity to me.

“In a
manner of speaking,” Ethan said vaguely.

“I hope
I don’t need to remind you about . . . attachments, and the point at which
you’ve crossed the professional line.” Her attention snapped back to Ethan.
“You should watch your step. You’re dangerously close to the edge.”

He
clenched his jaw once. “I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you, June.”

June
yanked back the curtain, mumbling something about double shifts and young
nurses and exhaustion. “And that’s a requirement, not a request.” Ethan gave a
brief nod, stealing one last look at me before following her out of the room.

3
 
Eavesdropping

Once the
idea crossed my mind, it became impossible to resist. Given my limited
experience with such things, it probably wasn’t a great idea. Not wise. Not
well thought out. Possibly dangerous. But on some unfathomable level, I needed
to know more.

It was a
mystery, this whole, “I’m certain that I know you.” But the strength of his
conviction made me question the possibility. There had to be a reason for it,
didn’t there? Either he was the most confident person on the planet—or he was
the craziest. And I was about to find out which one.

Leaving
my hospital room, I could see that Ethan wasn’t at the nurses’ station, nor did
I sense him anywhere in the ICU. The very notion that I could sense his
presence, as if a magnetic force pulled us together, led me to question if
there might be something to his confession. In reality, it seemed highly
unlikely. Forget meeting Ethan? Not in the course of several lifetimes. Shoving
aside any realistic expectations that it might be true, I focused on where he
could have gone. June had told him to rest before he started his next shift.
But where could a person rest in a noisy hospital? Did they keep a quiet little
room somewhere for such a purpose?

The
instant I wondered this, I knew where to go. I took the elevator down several
floors, carefully waiting until it was nearly empty to avoid any patients or
visitors and the possibility of experiencing their pain. All it would take, I
guessed, was for one of them to walk through me. And, somewhat ironically,
that’s just what I was counting on.

The room
sat at end of a quiet hallway. I knew this was the one because when I pressed
my hand to the door I could feel him inside. A good minute slipped by before I
found the courage to walk through the door. Old habits, I supposed, died hard.
One big breath and one strong tug later, I dragged myself through the steel
door.

Dim
emergency lighting illuminated a long, narrow storage room. Shelves stuffed
with assorted cleaning supplies and paper products ran along both walls of the
windowless room. Towards the back of the room, beyond a stack of mops and
brooms clustered together, Ethan was stretched out on a rickety cot. His long
legs extended six inches off the end of it. By the looks of it, he was
completely out.

I knelt
down and watched him for a while. It was thrilling to sit that close to him,
without his knowledge, and study his expressions as he slept. He looked at
peace. Happy, even. Much happier than he was a few moments ago. His eyes moved
rapidly beneath his eyelids, assuring me he was dreaming.

Here was
my moment.

In
theory, it seemed harmless enough. But ethically speaking, I wasn’t sure if
this crossed some invisible line so I tried not to think about it. Besides,
Ethan looked happy, not upset. And it would only be temporary—momentary, I
assumed. How bad could it be for either of us? If a living person could invade
my soul without any lingering effects, it seemed logical to assume that I could
do the same. Difficult as it was to experience the tidal wave of another
person’s emotions, the initial shock had to play an enormous role. But now, I
not only had the perfect excuse to try it myself (it seemed the only way I
would ever know what was going on in the mind of the alluring Ethan Reid); I
also had the home-court advantage of knowing what to expect.
 

Like the
boy at my accident, I planned to just step into Ethan. But with him lying down,
that would leave me standing in the middle of the cot. Also, that didn’t seem
like the optimum stance if I needed to get out quickly. Perhaps this thing
worked if there was any kind of connection—even a slight one. Still kneeling
beside him, I placed one of my hands over Ethan’s, gently at first, as though I
were merely attempting to hold it, then squeezed hard. Instantly, my hand
disappeared. And so did the room we were in.

What
felt like a hammer struck me on the bridge of my nose. Tears of pain welled in
my eyes as I dropped to my knees. Stars appeared. My eyes closed involuntarily
and I waited for the throbbing to stop. A young girl’s voice shouted in
disgust, “No fair, Finn! He wasn’t even looking at you! He never saw it
coming!”

My eyes
opened. Or rather, Ethan’s did. I saw a small lake, one that, in my mind,
looked similar to a lake near Mac. But this one had more trees, not a pasture
around it, so it couldn’t have been the same one. Ethan looked down at his
hands, but the hands that I saw weren’t his hands. They were still a young
man’s hands—but rougher, not quite as slender. This was a twist I hadn’t
anticipated! I’d encroached into Ethan’s mind hoping to glimpse his thoughts.
But, instead, Ethan was dreaming he was someone else, and I was inside
his
skin, experiencing life through
his
eyes, feeling
his
emotions as if they were my own!

The boy
scrambled up, took a few staggered steps to the lake, and knelt down. I looked
at his face in the water’s reflection. Angular, wholesome, honest. He looked
about fifteen. His hair was a dirty shade of blond and his eyes were a bright
blue. He dipped his hand in the water to wash away the blood, but it didn’t
ease the throbbing in my eyes.

“Slug
him hard!” the girl said to the boy at the water. He looked sideways at her. I
thought his heart stopped. He was clearly smitten with her. The girl had her
pale hair pulled up in a high ponytail and she was wearing a simple dress that
looked out of style. Her feet were bare. “It doesn’t matter if he’s your older
brother. He deserves it. Beat the dickens out of him!”

The
young boy scrambled to his feet, and I could feel his anger building. Ten feet
away stood his brother. They looked alike, but Finn was a few years older, with
darker hair and fewer angles to his face. When their eyes met, the boy charged
his brother like a bull gone mad.

He
tackled Finn in mid-air. They tumbled around on the ground, neither of them
getting in any good hits. Then the boy grabbed hold of Finn’s collar, drew back
his left fist, and connected with his cheek. The blow hurt my hand, and no
doubt, hurt Finn too. Finn rolled onto his side, and the boy collapsed beside
him, the two of them exhausted.

The girl
ran to comfort the boy, afraid to touch his bruised face. Her face left no
doubt that she thought it looked painful. “You’re going to have quite a
shiner,” she said proudly. “I like it. It makes you look tough.”

The boy
leaned up on one elbow. “Are you saying I usually don’t?”

She
laughed. “You almost have a prettier face than I do.”

“No one
could ever be prettier than you,” he said, smiling and wincing.

“All
right, love birds—I think it’s time for my exit.” Finn took his time getting to
his feet, the swelling of his cheek already causing his right eye to close.
“For once, you did good, baby brother. Guess I’ll make a man out of you yet.”

“You
were molding my character?” the boy said disbelievingly. Standing up now, he
reached for the girl’s hand. “Funny. I thought you were taking your personal
frustrations out on my face.”
    

“Of
course not,” Finn said wryly. “Like Lu said, your face was too pretty. That
broken nose gives it some character.” He started to walk away. Without looking
back, he called, “Bet no one ever sucker punches you again. Let that be a
lesson to you. Never look away in a fight—especially at a girl.”

When
Finn was gone, the boy and girl sat beside the lake. Lu’s eyes, alive with
adoration, never left his. And, despite the persistent throbbing that made my
eyes water, the boy was happy. Deliriously so. I could feel his adrenaline
rushing and, in turn, mine rushed too. As his heart raced, a sticky swirl of
emotions coursed through me. I could taste them on my tongue.
      

“I’m
going to spend the rest of my life with you, you know that, don’t you?” Lu
said. For looking all of fifteen, I was surprised at her boldness. But the boy
wasn’t.

“I’d do
anything for your happiness, Lu,” the boy replied with a laugh. “Anything at
all—even if it means me having to marry you someday.”

“Not
everyone could put up with me,” she replied. “I have a tendency to speak my
mind. That’s not the way women are supposed to be—I’m supposed to stay home,
cook dinner, have babies. You won’t be marrying
that
woman.”

Really?
That didn’t sound right—cook, clean, have babies? But then I thought of her
clothing. What—what year was this?
 

“I know
I won’t be marrying that woman.” He looked into her eyes and sighed. “I want to
marry
you
—feisty, outspoken, and
unconventional. I’d marry you in this lifetime or any lifetime. You’re my girl,
Lu. Always will be.” He kissed her gently. She returned it more forcefully and
he winced again.

“Sorry,
sorry!” She stood and reached for his hand. “Let’s get back to the house and
put some ice on that.”

He
pulled her back down and she fell across his lap. “Not yet.” He planted a long,
slow kiss on her lips. It left me a little dizzy. And, strangely, jealous. He
loved this girl in a way I had never been loved.

The
dream jumped.

“Coming
in?” the girl called. I heard a splash, and the boy turned in time to catch
sight of her dress lying in a heap on the grass. She was almost halfway across
the lake by now, her light blond hair trailing behind her.

His
heart sped up. Mine did, too. He gave an appreciative laugh and began to pull
off his clothes. “You don’t have to ask me twice!”

“It’s
one of the things I love about you,” she replied as she reached the other side.
“I barely have to ask once!”

Again,
the dream jumped. Now they were lying side by side, staring up at the sky. His
emotions were changing quickly, dipping into a darker place. It left a bitter
taste in my mouth, and a hard knot in my stomach.

“I guess
you heard the news.” His voice was low. “It was all over the radio this
morning. The Germans have invaded Poland,
and Britain
has declared war.”

World
War II? The 1940’s? I wondered, was he dreaming of another time?

“Maybe
it will be over soon.” Her voice betrayed her true thoughts. She sounded afraid
that the war might go on for a long time. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Hitler
seems pretty determined it won’t end soon.” He pulled her body closer. “And you
know I can’t sit back and do nothing. If it gets worse, like some people are
saying it will, I’ll join up as soon as we graduate.”