The Year of Chasing Dreams (32 page)

The enclosure was square, generous in size. The stone walls were covered with climbing vines, now bursting with new growth. Meandering walkways led to benches or an occasional piece of metal artwork. Along the paths were small reflective pools of water, melodious fountains, Zen patches of pure white sand with candles to light. The garden’s beds had been planted with spring flowers. Arie once confessed, “This is where I talk to God.”

Although the morning had started cool, the sun had chased away the chill. Ciana watched the joyous, carefree dance of butterflies fluttering over flowers, listened to tingling wind chimes in a nearby stand of bamboo. She closed her eyes, let her mind drift and meld with the solitude, gradually felt her heart grow peaceful and her soul grow light, weightless. She might have remained in this place under the warming sun for hours, but for a woman’s voice that asked, “Are you Ciana?”

Ciana’s eyes snapped open, and she looked up to see a tall, pretty woman with brown hair and blue eyes. She appeared frazzled and stressed, very upset. “Yes?”

“I’m Angela Mercer, Jon’s mother. I got here as soon as I could. How’s my son?”

The set of her eyes and high cheekbones were Angela’s true calling card. Flustered and so unexpectedly dropped into reality, Ciana leaped up from the bench. “I—I’m so glad you’re here.”

Angela took Ciana’s hands in hers. “Left Amarillo soon as your mother called me yesterday. Flew into Dallas, then to Nashville, drove a rental car to the hospital. Trip took all night, but this was as soon as I could make it.”

Ciana felt a rush of guilt over not being in the ICU. “How did you find me?”

“The information desk in the main lobby sent me up to the ICU and the nurses there told me where you’d gone. Will you take me to my son?”

Her voice held no rebuke, only concern, and Ciana clearly saw that along with being exhausted, Angela looked frightened. “This way.” Ciana led the way out of the garden and to the elevators.

On the ride up, Angela said, “I heard on the news that Windemere took a direct hit. I’ve been calling and calling, but couldn’t get through. I—I hadn’t heard from Jon, knew he’d call when he could. I just figured—” Her voice broke. “I didn’t know …” She gathered herself. “I was coming up anyway, just to check on him, then got your mother’s call.”

Ciana’s heart went out to Jon’s mother, and she explained about Jon’s missing cell phone.

The ICU was as Ciana had left it, and Jon was as she had left him—unresponsive, on a vent, in a coma. Seeing him, Angela clamped her hand over her mouth. Tears filled her eyes. The sight was wrenching.

“Oh, my son,” Angela whispered. “My precious son.”

“Talk to him,” Ciana urged. “His doctor says talking’s a good thing.”

Angela leaned in, smoothed Jon’s hair on his brow tenderly. “Jon … it’s Mom. I’m here, honey. Look at me, Jon. Will you look at me?”

Jon never moved. To encourage Angela, Ciana said, “I know he hears us on some level.”

“You think?” Angela closed her eyes, rocked back on her heels, ran her hand along his arm, cupped his hand resting on the white sheet. “I always feared this day would come. That I’d be standing alongside his hospital bed.” She turned to Ciana. “I just thought it would be because he’d been thrown by some bronc. You know? He loves the rodeo and living on the edge. I was prepared to hear that kind of news. But not of him being smacked by a tornado.”

Guilt swept through Ciana. Jon had saved her, not himself.

Angela said, “Life never happens the way we think it will,
does it?” She forced a teary smile. “I’m just glad you were with him. He—he loves you very much, Ciana. You were all he talked about when he was at home.”

Ciana’s own eyes filled. “I love him very much too.”

Not letting go of Jon’s hand, Angela sat in the straight-back chair beside Jon’s bed. “Do you … would you mind if I stayed with him by myself for a few minutes?”

“Stay as long as you want,” Ciana said quickly, emotion raw in her throat. “I’ll be in the waiting room. When you’re ready, I’ll tell you all I know about his condition.” She bent, kissed Jon’s mouth, and left the man she loved alone with the woman who had given him life and loved him first.

When Angela emerged, she looked pale and fragile. Ciana’s heart hurt for the woman. Except for Ciana—a girl she had only heard stories of, Angela Mercer knew no one. She was far from family and friends, alone with a terribly injured son. Ciana’s sense of pity for Angela morphed into feelings of responsibility. Jon would want Ciana to treat his mother as her own. “Let’s go down to the cafeteria. I’ll bet you haven’t had a meal since you left Texas.”

“Not hungry.”

“Doesn’t matter. Atmosphere is better down there.” She put on a smile, urged one out of Angela. “And the food here is pretty good. I’m not making that up.”

In the cafeteria, Angela chose soup and a small salad, and Ciana chose a table by a window that looked out on a sloping slice of lawn. The lunch hour was passed, so the room held just a smattering of employees working cell phones and laptops.

Wearily, Angela stirred her soup. “Tell me what you know.”

Ciana explained what Dr. Patel had shared with her. “You’ll like Jon’s doctor. He’s honest and truthful and very kind.” What Ciana didn’t say was that while Patel was forthright with the truth, he didn’t divulge it all at once. He released it in bits and pieces. Maybe it was easier on the listener to get the truth in small doses, but it was also nerve-racking. She explained what she’d been told about comas, where Jon was on the Glasgow Scale, and then told the best news from her morning consult with Patel. It didn’t appear as if surgery would be needed to relieve inner cranial pressure.

Afterward Angela’s spirits looked buoyed, so Ciana shared the most difficult pieces of information. People in comas were often left impaired to some degree, especially if the coma lasted several weeks. “But some are perfectly fine,” Ciana added hastily, recalling how deflated she’d felt when Patel had told her as much.

Angela pushed away the half-eaten salad and bowl of soup. “Thank you for telling it like it is, Ciana.”

Ciana chewed her bottom lip. “I know it’s hard to hear, but I hang on to knowing that Jon’s in there somewhere under all that trauma. And I believe with all my heart that if there’s any way out, he’ll find it.”

Angela bobbed her head and smiled, but Ciana noted that the smile didn’t make it into her sad blue eyes.

Ciana drove Angela’s rental car to the motel, where Eden and Garret met them. After a round of introductions and hugs—Garret was a natural-born hugger—Angela said, “Good to put faces with the people Jon’s told me so much about.”

“He’s a good bloke.”

Eden said to Ciana, “We’ve heard that the roads are clear enough for us to return to Bellmeade. We’re going tomorrow.”

“What’s left of Bellmeade,” Ciana said.

“Guess you’ll be staying here,” Garret said. “Motel’s cleared out a bit, too, so I know you can corner an extra room.”

He said this to Angela. She said, “I’m not leaving until Jon’s out of the woods.”

“We’ll bring his truck over soon as we can,” Eden promised Ciana.

A feeling of homesickness rolled over Ciana. She pushed it down, reminding herself that there was no home, just rubble and ruin. “We should go out and get some supper.”

“Great idea,” Garret said.

“Not me,” Angela said. “I just want to get a room and get some rest.”

“Come with us,” Ciana begged, not wanting to leave her alone. They were all in this life drama together now.

“Next time,” Angela said. “You kids go enjoy yourself. You deserve it.” To Ciana she said, “Let’s meet in the motel lobby early and go to the hospital together. I want to be sure and be there when his doctor comes through.” She went to the lobby desk to secure a room.

Garret trailed after her, telling Eden and Ciana, “I’ll get her bags up to her room for her.”

Eden wrapped her arm around Ciana’s waist, and they leaned against a nearby wall to wait.

By the end of Jon’s first week in a coma, his vent had been pulled, he was breathing on his own, and he was out of the ICU and into a private room. His vitals had improved. His
Glasgow score had risen a point. Patel was encouraged. Everything looked positive—with one exception. He wasn’t waking up. Jon moved, even thrashed, “normal and expected” Patel told Ciana and Angela. He moaned. But he never opened his eyes and seemed totally unaware of all that went on around him. Still Ciana and Angela talked to him, stroked him, willed him to come back to them.

Jon was assigned a physical therapist, who arrived daily and performed various exercises to keep Jon’s joints limber and his muscles active. Soon Ciana and Angela helped with the exercises. Something, anything, to keep up their spirits because the longer Jon was under, the harder it was to believe he’d awaken fully recovered. “About eighteen percent have no lasting effects,” Patel told them. The number seemed infinitesimal to Ciana. He could suffer memory loss. What if he didn’t remember her? Or them? She’d cried herself to sleep the night she heard the statistic.

The days and nights blurred together. Alice Faye came to visit, bringing news of Arie’s family showing up at Bellmeade, of Eric and Swede and various aunts and uncles bringing food for meals and chain saws for clearing. “Swede is saving the best of the old trees for cabinetry when we rebuild,” Alice Faye said. Ciana was grateful, but the idea of rebuilding was too much to think about just now.

Eden and Garret brought Jon’s truck as promised, and stayed the day. It broke the monotony, but made Ciana feel lonelier than ever once they left. Still, she and Angela kept their vigil, talking, watching, waiting for a change that didn’t come.

A few days later Alice Faye marched into Jon’s hospital room and took Ciana by the elbow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you home for the day.”

“Not happening.”

“I’m your mother and I can see you’re at your breaking point, Ciana Beauchamp. Don’t argue with me.”

Angela came quickly to Alice Faye’s side. “Your mother’s right. You need a break. I’m here and if anything changes, I’ll call.”

“It’s almost two hours there and back,” Ciana cried, hoping they’d see the lunacy of the plan.