Your Heart to Keep: Holly and Jax (6 page)

My shoulders slumped on top of hers as the weighted anxiety I had carried with me for the last few days, eased somewhat. She didn’t blame me. She didn’t appear to hate me. Still, I had to let her know.

“Mrs. McQuade…”

“Catherine, please.”

“Catherine. I can’t express just how sorry I am for what happened. The tire blew. One minute we were driving along and the next we were upside down. I held her the whole time to keep her warm cause it was so cold out…”

“Shh. I’m just glad you were with her and she wasn’t alone.”

“If there’s anything I can do. Please, call.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you coming. I know you’ve had a lot to deal with, yourself. It means a lot to both Hank and I.” She turned to Micah and greeted him with a hug before motioning us into place. “Please take a seat. I think the service is about to start.”

I didn’t get time to greet Mr. McQuade but I would make sure I did afterwards. He’d been caught up talking with some male friends that had arrived before us.

I didn’t hear much of the priest or those that chose to get up and speak about Chloe and what she’d meant to them. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the coffin, knowing that her broken body was lying in there, so close to me, a massive stitched up gash sliced down her middle. No heart. No heart. She was minus her heart. My knee was jiggling again. And then I could feel my jaw twitch as a thought crossed my mind.

She
now had it. The stranger I hated. My hands were tight, painful balls, needing to hit something. That bitch! If I ever came into contact with her I’d give her a piece of my mind.

Chapter Nine

Holly

Friday came and with it, the miracle of my early release due to my rigid use of the incentive spirometer and the ability to get the three balls to the top. I was adamant I needed to be at home. I could move around freely there using my cane without having to think about where I was going. Here at the hospital I didn’t know back from front. In from out.

The nurses got me up walking a couple of days ago, admittedly I shuffled along like a turtle on a beach but it was movement and they were happy with that. I had to have one of them hold my arm the entire time though because I didn’t have a clue where I might end up, one blurry shape the same as the next. Plus, I had been attached to the drip which had to be wheeled everywhere with me.

I was eating relatively normal and my pain management was under control. I was good to go.

Yesterday had been an emotional day for me. My heart donor’s funeral had been held. I was saddened for all those who knew and loved her. Their sense of loss. It was still a mental hurdle to grasp that even though she was dead, her heart wasn’t. I had a piece of her in me that would keep working for hopefully plenty of years to come. She was keeping me alive. It was mind-blowing.

Her boyfriend kept popping into my head. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him and the hurt he would be going through at having to say goodbye to the person he loved. I’m glad my family hadn’t been in the same situation.

With my medical scripts in hand and mother in tow, I scuffled out of the hospital. Each new day brought a renewed sense of health. I wasn’t breathless like I had been, even after the timely journey to the front of the hospital where Dad was waiting with the car.

Luckily we didn’t have far to drive because all I could think about was typing a letter to the donor family on my voice activated computer, printing it out and getting it sent. I would need to contact the donor registry to get their address. It was fast consuming me. Now that the girl’s funeral would be over, I felt it only proper to do so.

In five minutes we were home. Lifting my cane from the car, I walked through the front door and was met by my brother, who must had been sitting on the sofa. I could hear what sounded like a ball game on the television.

“Hey, short-stuff,” he sang, walking over to greet me. “Welcome home!”

“Thanks Ty. It’s great to be out of the hospital.” I couldn’t bring my arms too high due to the pulling of the stitches so I opted for loosely wrapping them around his waist as he hugged me.

“How’s the new heart?”

“Great. It’s amazing, actually. I feel so different already.”

“You’ll be running laps of the yard before you know it.”

“Yeah, well I think I’m going to do some sort of exercise when I’m able to; something where sight isn’t a pre-requisite.”

“Sounds cool. You could organize a buddy to help out. Maybe do some swimming down at the health center.”

I wasn’t sure who that would be. Apart from Leah, who worked with me at the school, I didn’t have anyone else.

“We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m heading upstairs for a bit.”

“Sure. squirt. Good to have you home.” Even though Ty didn’t live here anymore, I guess he still thought of it as home.

I made my way to my room. There was something I wanted to do.

I’d decided to leave all the flowers I’d been given at the hospital and donate them to other patients that may need some cheering up, or those that didn’t have many visitors. There were too many to transport home. I hoped they’d brighten someone else’s day as they had mine.

Sitting behind my familiar desk, having learned the dead girls name from my parents who’d watched the accident news report on the television, I started my letter using my voice activated software:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. McQuade,

I am deeply saddened by your daughter’s passing. I can’t begin to imagine the grief you are suffering at such a tragic accident and a young life taken too soon. There is little that I can say or do that will comfort you at this time so I’ll keep this letter fairly brief.

My name is Holly Jenkins. I’m 20 years old and I am alive today because of your amazing daughter’s selfless donation. You see, I now have her beating heart where my old, failing one used to be. It is strong and I have been offered a normal, healthy life. A second chance.

I was in congestive heart failure from a dilated aorta which was at risk of tearing or rupturing. I led a limited life in many ways, unable to partake in physical activities.

With all the pain you are currently suffering, please know that your daughters’ passing was not in vain, for she gave me life and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Each day I continue to get stronger and can now look forward to a brighter future.

Please accept my heartfelt condolences. If you remain in contact with Chloe’s boyfriend, please also pass on my commiserations. It is my understanding that he was unaware that she registered to become an organ donor and reacted to the news with mixed emotions. Let him know that her death was not the end for she continues to live on in me.

If there is anything I can do for you, my home phone number is: 303-796 4421

Sincere regards,

Holly Jenkins

I didn’t want to ramble on and thought the letter was adequate. If they wanted to contact me, they could do it when they were ready.

After instructing my computer to print the letter out I left it on my desk. I’d wait another week and then get it mailed in order to give them enough time to get over the funeral.

***

I found my mother in the kitchen a week later and gave the letter to her.

“What’s this, Hols?”

“It’s a letter to the donor’s family. Are you able to call the registry and get their address so we can mail it?” I was chewing on my gums again, nervous that she may think it an inappropriate thing to do. After all, my parent’s response in the hospital had been far from encouraging. Today though, things seemed to have changed. Maybe, like me she felt like enough time had passed.

“Oh darling! You’re amazing, you know that? You’ve been through major heart surgery and yet all you care about is other people. I’m so proud of you!” She pulled me in for a hug.

“Why don’t we do one better and get a phone number so you can call? I’m sure even through their grief they would appreciate it.”

“Why the sudden turnaround?”

“I’ve been thinking about if we were in their situation and as hard as it would be, I think I would like a call from the person who had our daughter’s heart.”

“I’ve thought about it too but then I wondered if it would be, ‘in their face.’”

“I think it’s a great idea!” My dad had decided to walk into the kitchen to join in on the conversation as he fluffed my hair on the way past. I heard the familiar sound of him putting on a pot of coffee.

“Ugh. I’m not sure. They mightn’t want to speak with me. At least with a letter they can read it and then tear it up.”

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You’ll never know if you don’t at least try.”

Suddenly I was nervous. Writing a letter was one thing. Making a phone call was another.

“How about you make me a coffee Dad and then I’ll decide?” Moving to the table, I sat in a chair.

Hang on! Where had that come from? I hated coffee! Didn’t I?

Something dropped onto the counter where my dad was standing. “Sweetheart? Ahh, you don’t drink coffee remember?”

“I don’t know what it is or where that came from but the smell of that pot you’ve got brewing makes me really want one.” In fact, it wasn’t just wanting a coffee. It was needing one. I’d never craved a beverage like I was just from the smell of it.

My mother came and sat down beside me. “That is so weird. I wonder why you’re suddenly wanting a drink you’ve never been able to stand. It’ll be interesting to see if you like the taste.”

I knew I was going to like the taste. I knew it with everything I had and the cup couldn’t come fast enough.

When I saw my father placing something in front of me, knowing it was my coffee, I found the handle and practically ripped it out of his hands, taking a swig.

The divine liquid hit my taste buds and exploded in my mouth. Before I even knew it I had my eyes closed and was moaning. “Oooh, this is sooo good!”

“It is?” Both my parents shocked voices asked in unison.

“Aha. If it’s not too much trouble, I may even have another one when I’m finished.” What had I been missing all these years?

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Too much caffeine will increase your heart rate. We don’t want to overdo it or set you back in any way. Let’s just limit it for now,” dad replied.

Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. I couldn’t focus on anything except the glorious taste in my mouth as I swished it around savoring it like a fine wine. It was like liquescent energy. I was buzzing.

“Mom? Could you get the McQuade’s number now? I think I’m ready to call.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. If I don’t do it now, I’ll probably chicken, out.” I think the coffee had given me some liquid courage. I’d heard of it with alcohol but never, coffee. Then again, I was a caffeine virgin and my dad had made it extra strong.

“Mitch, Honey? Could you Google the donor registry for me?” My mother asked as I saw her shape move to the phone on the counter.

“Hang on a second.” He was fiddling around for a bit, probably grabbing his cell out of his jacket pocket where I knew he kept it. The beeps of his keypad rang out.

He talked through his search, finally finding the number.

My mother dialed as he called it. I waited, praying they would give her the information she needed.

From the one-sided conversation and all the explaining my mother had to do and then waiting while they verified my details in their database, I could hear her writing. This was where my ultra-sensitive hearing came in handy. As my eyesight had failed over the years, my hearing improved, dramatically. Not only my hearing but my sense of smell and taste had become sharper too.

The fact that she was writing, signified getting some sort of information and the tone of her voice and thankfulness at the end told me she had been successful.

“It’s done. They were quite helpful and only give out information between patient and donors if it’s requested. After verifying your name and details, Holly, they were only too happy.”

“Thanks Mom. Could you key in the number for me?”

“Sure.” She moved back down to sit beside me, bringing the handset with her, dialing and then passing me the phone. I really could have used that second cup of coffee now.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello?” It was female. Thank goodness.

“Um…Mrs. McQuade?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I’m sorry to trouble you. You don’t know me but my name is Holly Jenkins and I was the recipient of your daughter’s heart after her passing.”
I swallowed hard, hoping the woman would stay on the line. There was silence for an extended moment before she uttered a surprised, “Oh…Oh… well, hello. It’s nice of you to call.”

This was so hard. “I really just wanted to call to offer my sympathy and tell you how sorry I am for your loss.”

I could hear a sniffle down the line. This must be awful for her. Had I done the right thing?

Maybe I should have just sent the letter as originally planned.

“I appreciate you contacting us at this difficult time.” I could tell she was only just holding it together. “She…Chloe would have been so happy that she helped give you a second chance.” At this point her words began to fracture and quiet sobs broke through.

“Mrs. McQuade, I didn’t call to make you upset. I apologize. If there is anything I can do for you, please call me. Can I give you my number?”

Someone’s voice in the background. A man’s. Mrs. McQuade was telling him she was okay and explaining who I was.

“Go ahead dear, I’ve got my cell so I’ll key in your number.”

I gave it to her and was going to finish the conversation but something in me paused. Should I? I just had to know.

“I was wondering how Chloe’s boyfriend was? I heard there was a bit of a disturbance at the hospital, understandably due to the pain he must have been in.”

The woman’s voice perked up a bit, the angle of the conversation being drawn away from her own grief. “He’s been doing pretty rough. He blames himself for the accident.”

“But it wasn’t his fault, was it?”

“Oh no. Just a terrible accident. We don’t blame him at all but he’s got it into his head that being the driver of the vehicle, he was responsible.”

“Would it help if I talked to him?” I didn’t know how on earth I thought I could help when he more than likely resented me right now for having something of his girlfriends. “Maybe try and explain to him that despite such a tragedy, there has also been a blessing?”

“I…uh…I’m not sure that would be a good idea right now. You seem like a really sweet girl but Jax…well, he’s a tough nut to crack. Nice guy and treated Chloe like a queen but I don’t think they ever saw eye to eye on the subject of organ donation.”