Song of Renewal (13 page)

“Where the heck are you?”

“In Greece.”

“I always figured you’d end up in something hot. Grease is as good as anything.”

“Corny, corn corn.” Her sister snorted. “Seriously, sis.” The gruffness left her voice. “What’s happening there?”

“Nothing’s changed.”

A long silence ensued. Then her older sister said, “Wish you’d have let me come on home to be with you. If you need me, I’ll fly out – ”

“Finish your vacation or I’ll beat your fanny. I’m good.”

“You promised you’d call if – ”

“I’ll call.”

A long sigh rippled over the line. “Okay. I’ll be home at the end of the week anyway. Liza?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

Another pause. “I’m good.” A bold-faced lie.

Long moments of silence, of simply feeling and being there. Then a deep drag of breath and exhaling. “Okaaay. See you in a week, Duck Feet.” She chortled. “Speakin’ of duck feet, you should see the new Louboutins I’m wearing. Oh, just wait till you see all the new shoes I picked up in Milan. There might even be a little gift for you somewhere in there. I don’t know; I’ll have to think about that.”

“I hear you, Dumbo ears.”

“Hey! Don’t knock ‘em. They’re great for tethering dangling diamond baubles.” Then more quietly, “Hang in there, honey. Love you bunches.”

“Me too. Bye.”

Liza rang off and wept. How precious was her sister’s voice.

Garrison watched Liza lean to kiss Angel’s pale cheek and something clutched at his heart. They drove home in silence, and during the meal of carryout cold cuts, she took her tray into the den, kicked off her slippers, and turned on Fox News, leaving him alone at the bar. Alone didn’t sit too well just then. He wasn’t in the mood. He took his own tray to join her.

“You forgot your iced tea,” he said and returned to the kitchen. He placed her glass on the coffee table next to his own and sat beside her. And he realized that he hadn’t been so considerate of such small needs in a long time. Still, Liza never glanced his way. Not even a thank you. That sniped at him a bit.

For the next thirty minutes, they ate in silence except for broadcasting clatter. Soon, the revolving news updates became repetitious. Garrison switched to another channel. He wasn’t up to reality television – too intrusive. And
Cold Case
was too heavy, too close to death.

“Anything you want to watch?” he asked Liza.

“No.” She shook her head, staring blankly at the screen.

“Would you like some ice cream?” Garrison headed for the kitchen.

“No, thank you.”

Disappointment swamped him. For some reason, having her eat with him tonight was important. He missed her optimism, her coaxing him toward hope.

But what about when my anger rises again?
He’d gotten what he asked for, hadn’t he? He aggressively scooped Butter Pecan balls into a bowl while his emotions warred.

His hand paused midair
Can I truly forgive her? And forget? Be honest, Wakefield.
Angel’s prone figure and Troy’s casket flashed before him along with the moment he’d told Angel, “No. It’s too dangerous.” His hand thudded to the counter, dropping the metal scoop with a splat into the stainless steel sink.

No. No, he couldn’t say that he could. And yeah, he was a jerk to expect anything from Liza under the circumstances.

He rejoined his wife, this time seating himself across from her, his bowl of ice cream melting atop the coffee table. “Liza,” he said. “We need to talk.” He hooked an ankle over his leg and steepled his long fingers before him.

She looked at him, features empty. “So talk.”

“Liza, I love you. Please, I want you to know that. With everything in me, I love you. But I can’t shake loose from this anger inside me. I’m trying not to blame you, to accept that it just happened.”

He shook his head. “But at this moment, I can’t wrap my mind around it. You see, this tragedy has handed me a whole new set of emotions to deal with.” Tears gathered in his eyes. His voice dropped to a husk. “And I don’t know how.” He shrugged and spread his hands in helplessness. “But I do know that I can’t stand to see you suffer because of my attitude.”

The expression in Liza’s eyes shifted suddenly. Fear? Apprehension? Like she braced for something bad coming.

“Don’t – please don’t look like that,” he said. “I’m trying not to hurt you any worse.” His gut hitched. He had to release her from all this. “This anger – it’s nestled deeply in my spirit and no matter how much I reason with myself, I can’t shake it. At the same time, I miss your warmth.” He rolled his eyes and spread his hands. “I know what that makes me. I know I’ve driven you away with my coldness.”

He leaned forward, face intent, desperate for her to understand. “This anger is a new thing, something I’ve never dealt with before. It’s like being gripped in a vise, unable to twist in any direction – standing toe to toe with these hostile demons. They torment and harass me. They woo me.” He sat back and sighed wearily. “They conquer me, Liza. They’re destroying our marriage.”

If anything, Liza’s face grew paler and more vigilant. He wasn’t doing too well with this.

He shifted forward in the easy chair, clasping his hands together between his knees. “I’m going to move out for a little while. Give you some space. You have enough to put up with without my adding to your burdens.”

Liza sat up straighter, perched on the seat’s edge, peering at him with undisguised incredulity. “Now let me get this straight, Garrison. You’re leaving me because you love me?” She shook her wheat blond head, eyes narrowing. “Am I missing something here?”

Garrison stood in one decisive motion. “Trust me, Liza; I’m doing this for you.” Then he turned on his heel and strode to the bedroom.

“Trust you?” she rasped, then arose, following Garrison into their room, where he took a suitcase from the closet and began to pack. “What are you doing?” Her voice was whispery.

He looked at her white, shocked face and nearly backed down. No, this was for the best. If he didn’t go, he would only hurt her more. He looked over his shoulder. She had her head bowed, eyes tightly shut. Face stark pale. He looked down at her slender hands clutching the bedspread, knuckles white. He started toward her –

The bedside phone rang. Garrison turned and snatched it to his ear. “Yes, this is he.” He listened for long moments “What? What did you say?” He felt the blood drain from his head. “Oh my God! We’ll be right there!”

He turned to Liza. “That was the hospital. Angel just went into cardiac arrest. Let’s go.”

Pain! Ungodly pain…crushing…grinding.
Oh God
, free me…spinning, spinning, swirling…blackness….

Lights so bright everything glowed. Angel floated above a room…hospital again. Same patient in bed that centered the white and stainless steel chamber with its many machines that pumped and whirred constantly.

Troy? Where’s Troy? He stood apart from the doctors and nurses rushing frantically from one procedure to the next. The two paddles appeared. Angel felt something like dread hovering….

Troy! Help me!
She could not speak but he heard and gazed up at her, his dark eyes appealing to her in some way that calmed her. As long as he was there, she would be okay. Somehow she knew that.

Another doctor entered the room. Angel couldn’t see the face behind the mask and scrubs, but she detected that it was a female by the size and shape and the feminine way she moved. From overhead, Angel watched her approach the one who was about to administer the strange paddles. The others didn’t
seem to notice her. She seemed hesitant and unobtrusive. Once removed. But Troy watched her intently, as though he wanted to say something to her. Angel was now intrigued by Troy’s interest, but just as she would have asked him why, the paddles pressed to the patient’s chest and….

Wham!
Spinning, swirling, swirling downward…fog….

Aargh
! Pain…bursting with agony….

Blackness, welcome, blessed blackness swallowed Angel.

At the hospital, the medical team hustled them directly to the consultation room. There, they learned that heroic measures had revived Angel’s heartbeat. The team’s projection for recovery, however, remained grim.

“Why did this happen?” Garrison asked in a hoarse voice.

Dr. Abrams, the designated spokesman, seated them at the table. “It was brought on by an electrolyte imbalance that sent the heart into ventricular fibrillation, then heart failure. It was sudden, but fortunately, immediate CPR kept her blood flowing until defibrillation. Her condition is still grave. The next forty-eight hours are critical.”

Dr. Abrams then pointed to some X-rays and explained the severity of Angel’s injuries. “As for the head trauma, we’re still on wait and see. There seems to be some bruising,” he pointed to a slight shadow in the neck region, “right here, near the brain stem. Unfortunately, we can only guess the extent of the damage or the outcome. The spinal cord is intact and the bruising isn’t directly on the brain stem. The affected area may or may not have long-term effects.”

He pointed lower. “Next to the head injury, however, this is what concerns me most. The vertebrae in the lower back between the thoracic vertebrae, where the ribs attach to the pelvis, are the lumbar vertebrae. The sacral vertebrae run from
the pelvis to the end of the spinal column. Injuries to the five lumbar vertebrae and similarly to the five sacral vertebrae generally result in some loss of functioning in the hips and legs.”

He pointed to another X-ray “Besides these injuries, she has a fracture to the shaft of the left tibia. The bones pierced through the skin and the degree of resulting damage to the nerves and muscles are difficult to ascertain until the patient is recovering. Both legs are in casts, as you know.”

He faced Garrison and Liza, his features grim. “Do you understand what this implies?”

Numb with overload, Garrison nodded and glanced at Liza, who sat motionless, white as chalk, hands spread limply in her lap.

Dr. Abrams continued. “Brain function recoveries are unpredictable – your daughter’s brain may not regain all its potential. Then again – ” He shrugged. “So far, she’s holding her own. If she survives, the back and leg injuries will render her, at best, severely limited. It’s unlikely she’ll walk.”

The doctor peered at Liza. “Mrs. Wakefield, do you understand? I know this is a lot to take in…are you all right?”

Garrison rushed to her, his features worried. “Liza? Are you okay?”