Your Heart to Keep: Holly and Jax (5 page)

Chapter Seven

Holly

Today I was being transferred out of ICU to the cardiothoracic floor where I would stay for about a week, maybe two, depending on my progress. I had been grateful for the constant presence of nursing staff in Intensive Care. Knowing there was always someone there around the clock if I needed anything. I hoped it would keep up for the rest of my stay but the reality was that once I was back in the ward I would get the same attention as everyone else.

I was given an incentive spirometer which was a plastic device, sectioned into 3 pieces with a small ball in each. A tube was attached to the device and it was my job to breathe into the tube to see how high the air from my lungs could raise one or more of the balls. At present I could only raise the first ball but with practice it was my goal to raise all three, together. That would signify that my lungs were working at full capacity.

I had to do around ten to fifteen repetitions of this exercise every hour, daily to help keep my lungs healthy and to avoid an illness such as pneumonia.

It was an effort at best with not only the discomfort it took to breathe deeply but also due to weakness.

Everyone in ICU had been fantastic and was so caring. It was sad to say goodbye to them as I was wheeled to the cardiac floor.

Still, at least now I’d be able to start moving about more. I needed to try sitting up on my own in order to get some blood circulating to my nether regions which would also help remove any secretions from my lungs. Wiggling my toes and moving my legs had been about all I’d been capable of.

I had two different drips attached and they were wheeled with me to my new home for the next week or so.

It seemed like two thirds of my blood had been taken for testing since I’d woken which I’d been assured was normal and essential to check to see how my new heart was coping. Thank goodness they were extracting via the cannula in my hand otherwise I’d be starting to resemble a pin-cushion.

When I was wheeled into my new room which as luck would have it, I had all to myself, a smell hit me. The scent of a garden in full bloom. I could see a mass of blotchy shapes, all different muted colors. The smell was divine, lifting my spirits immensely.

“Flowers?” I asked my footmen wheeling me forward. There were two orderlies and a nurse. One orderly at each end of the bed and the nurse pushing the two drips on their stands.

“They sure are. It looks like someone’s popular!” said one of the men.

“Who sent all these?” I asked.

“Your fan club. I wish I had that many friends!”

“I don’t!” Mentally, I listed all the people I knew and came up short. There were more flowers than friends, including mere acquaintances. 

When my parents came to visit I’d be sure to get them to read all the cards to me. I would need to thank everyone when I got home. It was such a lovely surprise and humbling that so many people cared.

The ward bed must have been removed from my new room because I was wheeled into position and the brakes deployed on the one from ICU.

“Have you been doing your breathing exercises?” asked the nurse.

“Yes, but I think I’m due to do them again.”

“Alright. We’ll be stuck to you like glue so make sure you do. If you want out of here in a week, just do them every hour on the hour and you’ll be on the top of our best patient list in no time.”

I tried laughing but started coughing which in turn made my chest sore. I could feel my stitches pulling so I had to try and cough without actually coughing.

The nurse came and stood by me. “It’s okay, Sweetness. You won’t pop those stitches. You’ve got them inside and out as well as suture tape and then the bandage. Feel free to cough away. It helps keep your lungs clear.”

That was easier said than done. She didn’t feel like her chest was going to rip open with the movement.

After a moment it stopped but she must have taken sympathy on me. “I’ll go and get you a glass of water.”

Everyone left and all that remained was the fragrant blossom of my indoor garden.

Thoughts drifted to my heart recipient’s boyfriend. Was he still angry that she became an organ donor? To try and see things from his point of view would mean, what? That he’d been cheated in some way by her decision? Why? What would get a person so angry at another’s gift of giving? Organ donation was the final selfless act a person partook in even after death. It couldn’t be seen as anything other than a blessing. Could it? I was trying to understand an anti-donors mindset. Was I just prejudiced because of my situation?

And the donors parents? How did they feel? Would they feel angst towards me?

I needed to know. I needed to get in contact with them. Soon.

Chapter Eight

Jax - Thursday 8th January

Today was a day I’d rather avoid. Chloe’s funeral. At some point during my nightmare week, Mrs. McQuade had called mom to let her know where and when the service would be held. She didn’t ask to speak to me and I’m glad. I didn’t know what I would have said to her. I still didn’t know how I was going to face her or her husband today. I harbored a certain amount of guilt over the accident. I was the driver of the car. I hadn’t carried out my job of getting Chloe home safely. I’d failed. I deserved their anger and blame.

My gut was in turmoil and had been since Saturday night. I’d barely eaten and was only managing around four hours of sleep a night.

My beloved Mustang was still in the repair shop but I simply couldn’t bring myself to go and see it yet. There was too much pain at what the damage represented. Maybe I’d never be able to drive it again. I hadn’t even bothered to find out the cost of the repairs. Insurance could handle all that. It was something I didn’t need. The mechanic had called a couple of times. My mom let the guy know I’d be in touch but I wasn’t sure when that would be.

My poor mother was taking all my calls. My cell had been switched off, so the home phone had been inundated by people trying to get in touch with me to offer their condolences.

Micah, my best friend had stopped by the trailer twice and called numerous times but I just wasn’t up to company or small talk. I knew I shouldn’t be shutting him out since he always had my back but this crushing grief had me being selfish, needing to wallow alone. My heart was physically in pain and I didn’t know what to do to take it away.

“Jax? You ready? We’ll need to leave if we’re to be in Sterling in time for the memorial,” mom called from down the short hallway.

I was standing in the bathroom dressed in my finest black suit, trying to scrub up half-decent. Both hands were clenched on the edge of the vanity as I studied my reflection trying to work out who the fuck the vagrant was staring back. My face normally carried a two day growth but having not shaved this week, it was more of a beard rather than prickly stubble; a comforting mask to hide behind. Bags bracketed my bloodshot eyes that begged for sleep. A request I was unable to fulfil.

“Coming, Mom!” Fingering my hands through my wet slicked back hair I walked with lead-filled shoes into the small, cramped lounge room.

Mom came and embraced me, already knowing how I was feeling about today. “You’re going to get through this, Jax. I know it seems impossible right now but the hours and days will somehow get that little bit easier.”

“I don’t want things to get easier, Mom. I want things to be the way they were. I want Chloe so bad. It hurts.”

“I know it does. Today is probably going to be one of the toughest days you’ll have to face but I’m here for you, Son. You don’t have to deal with this alone. Let those that care about you, in.”

I blew out a breath on her shoulder, sinking in to her embrace. “How do I do that? I don’t know how. I don’t know anything anymore except for the fact that I drove Chloe to her death.”

Mom pulled back and shot me a reproachful look with her tired brown eyes. “Now you listen to me Jaxon Reynolds! Don’t you pull that blame nonsense on me! It wasn’t your fault. It was a terrible accident. You hear me? You heard what the investigators said. Your front tire blew, causing you to careen out of control, roll and then hit the safety rail on the side of the road. That was nobody’s fault. It was God’s calling.”

“Even so, we should have stayed the night when Mr. and Mrs. McQuade offered. I should have listened but I was so hell bent on driving back to get to the gym Sunday morning.”

I withdrew from her embrace. Nothing she could say would erase my frustration at my own poor choice. One choice! That’s all that would have changed the course of events. My ego had led my decision to get in that car and drive at a stupid hour. For that, I would never forgive myself.

“Your tire would have blown anyway, regardless of the hour you departed.” My mother was trailing after me, following me out the front door of the trailer, locking it on her way out as we headed to her 2000 model silver Ford Mercury. Sure it was climbing to fifteen years old but apart from some rust, it was still in fairly good condition. I did most of the mechanical work on it I could, to help Mom financially and so far she hadn’t had anything major go yet.

“Yeah but maybe in daylight I could have regained control. The lights on the mustang have never been as bright as they should have been.” I got in and slammed the door shut, throwing my seatbelt across, wincing at the pain in my still, bruised chest. Mom followed, leaning into the back to put her purse on the seat.

“Who’s to say what could have been? No one will ever know. Once we’ve made a choice and taken action, it’s permanent and can’t be changed or taken back. What’s done is done. Now we just have to try and help you move forward.”

The car throttled ahead as I rested my head back on the seat, willing this day to end so I could get back home and pound into the punching back some more. I hadn’t ventured to the gym at all; preferring to stay locked up in the confines of my bedroom where I could voice my emotions verbally as well as physically and not have to worry about anyone else.

Peering out the window, my eyes caught Mount Evans in the distance with its sharp snow-capped edges. Micah and I, along with some buddies liked to go there every year during ski season to do some snow-boarding but this winter I’d be a no-show. It would be the first time in seven years that I wouldn’t be attending. I didn’t have it in me to bring the team down by moping when I was meant to be having fun. They’d just have to go without me. Micah hadn’t mentioned it this year yet because he was working a fair bit so maybe he’d give it a miss too.

As the miles ticked by and we came closer to the crash site, I started to become fidgety and anxious. My feet were bouncing up and down and my fists were closing and unclosing. Even though it had been pitch black when the accident took place, I just knew we were nearing it. A strange sense of doom came over me. Checking my cell, it had been fourteen minutes since leaving Denver.

“Honey? Are you alright?” My mother cast a quick glance my way, trying to keep her eyes focused on the road.

“Shit. Shit.” My breathing was changing and I couldn’t stop my hands from hammering my legs to try and get them to quit moving. A dribble of sweat formed on my left temple.

My mom’s hand came to rest on the flexed muscle of my forearm. “Jax?”

And then the large, taped X on the side of the road with the dented guard rail and black skid marks taunted me with their appearance, begging me to burn the image into my head like the evil picture it was. The only part of my body I could move was my head as my eyes clung to the dent. The point of impact. The piece of metal that had killed Chloe!

My mother’s head moved to the direction I was fixed on. She took a sharp breath and squeezed my arm tighter before placing her hand back on the wheel.

The voice of wretchedness came out in the form of two croaky groans as I fought to hold in what I needed to let out. My jaw was locked tight. I could feel the veins in my neck throbbing. Trying desperately to keep my shit together, I knew I was losing. The raw beast wanted out and was too strong for me to overpower.

“Fucking Jesus Christ! Asshole! Stupid God damn, shitty, world!” My temper flared. My emotions like an open wound. Exposed. I needed my fists to be pounding into something. The car was too confined to contain my rage.

I wound down the window and stuck my head out, sucking in the torrent of air that rushed by, needing to calm down. The tears were blown off my face as soon as they fell as I sucked back lungful after lungful of oxygen until I could feel the beast subsiding and I felt I had it contained enough to wind the window back up.

“I’m so sorry, Chloe. I never meant for this to happen! You didn’t deserve this. Me. Any of what I brought into your life.” I confessed, hoping wherever she was now, she’d be able to hear and accept my apology.

As I sobbed and spoke at the same time, I gulped in between, throwing my arm across my eyes, head back in the seat. My mom was silent, letting me deal. She was good like that. She knew when I needed to be left alone most of the time.

Thoughts drifted in and out of my mind, reliving Saturday night, still not remembering hearing the tire blow or the car rolling. Only waking to the carnage.

We drove the rest of the way to the small church in a weighty silence, a sniffle or whimper the only sound I offered.

***

Arriving in Sterling at 1:45pm we had fifteen minutes to park and make our way into the chapel to await the service.

I didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to face what was scheduled inside those two wooden arched doors, one open in greeting.

A couple of people had arrived moments ago and made their way up the two concrete steps, disappearing inside. I could feel my arms and legs trembling, not knowing whether I could walk the distance. Before I could even try, my mother was at my open door, offering me her arm.

I really needed that arm to help carry me forward so I took it and clung on tightly, my head bowed as I sucked in another deep lungful of air. I hadn’t bothered with a tie. Chloe wasn’t into formalities so I knew that if she were looking down on me she’d be smiling at the fact that I knew her well enough not to have worn one.

When we reached the double doors and stepped through into the dark interior and I heard the organ music piping out, my chest contracted. I wasn’t into religion or going to church but something about that damned organ music punched into me, hard, every time. It symbolized only one of three things to me. Baptism, marriage or death. Those were the only three times I’d ever ventured into a place of religion, this being the first death.

Before even recognizing any of the faces in the small crowd of people huddled towards the front, my eyes found the brown, high-gloss, closed casket standing mighty like the beacon of mortality it was at the bottom of the two stairs that led to the dais. It appeared tiny like only a child would fit inside, but then it was Chloe. A small, beautiful package.

Thank Christ for the closed lid because there is no way in hell I could have looked in to see her all made up in her finest clothes like she was on her way to somewhere special. She was going in the damn ground!

“Hey man!” A hand touched me on the back causing me to jump and swing around. Micah.

“Hey.” I replied as we did our guy hug thing which was more of a shoulder bump and a slap followed by a knuckle punch.

“How you holding up? I tried calling and visiting but Ma kept telling me to get lost. Didn’t you, Ma?” He kissed my mom on the cheek, giving her a hug. They both loved each other. Although not related by blood, he was as much of a brother to me as one could get and so he loved jabbing and stirring my mother. He called her ma because he considered her his second mom.

“Believe me, I didn’t want to Micah. I was just taking orders from the boss.” She gave me one of her looks and then returned her attention to Micah. “You’re welcome over any time, right Jax?”

Mom knew how to put me on the spot, knowing full well I might still not want visitors. I turned towards Micah who now wore a fake puppy-dog face. It was quite comical to see considering my best friend was six-two with a blonde buzz cut and even more ripped than I was. He had a right tattoo sleeve and the same tongue stud as me. We’d double-dared each other to get it done during a drinking binge a few years back before Chloe had come on the scene.

I’d woken up with a dog of a hangover and my tongue swollen to double its size with a chunk of metal attached.

How could I refuse my brother? “Yeah, man. Come on over. You can watch me destroy my punching bag.”

“Ma kept that thing?”

“Yeah and thank fuck, she did!” Mom smacked my arm for cussing in a church and I widened my eyes at her. As if I wasn’t already on my way to hell!

We morbidly made our way up the aisle, my mother in front and Micah and I hanging behind. I needed her to break the ice with Chloe’s parents first so I could feel them out and try and read their attitude towards me now. Did they hate me?

As we approached, the huddled group broke apart. Mrs. McQuade spoke first, moving forward. “Cynthia, I’m so glad you were able to come.”

She looked smaller today. Delicate. Shattered. The black attire swallowed her up. Her red-rimmed eyes spoke a thousand words.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Catherine. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Catherine could only nod as emotion overcame her and she dabbed at her nose with a tissue.

Mom moved aside and I was faced with the one thing I had wanted to avoid altogether. That look from a grieving mother that pierces you with its intensity, corroding a little more of your heart. We stood for a minute just staring at each other, wondering who was going to speak. It started to become awkward as I tried to swallow my surmounting guilt.

“Jax,” she whispered, moving in closer so that we were only a foot apart.

I held my breath waiting for the cold sting of a quick brush-off but was so relieved and a little surprised when she pulled me into a fierce hug, uttering into my ear as I bent down to her level. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Chloe would have wanted that. She loved you with everything she had. It was such a horrible accident.”