I don’t know how long I stood there, struggling to reconcile the knowledge that this was her body against the sight of the degrading form before me. The only part of her that was recognizable as being Tessa was the frizzy blond mop of her hair, and even that seemed to hang lank and lifeless against her skull.
I finally took the necessary number of steps forward to put me beside the bed and made myself pick up her limp hand, shivering in reaction to the feel of emptiness. Come on, Tessa, I thought toward her desperately. I know you’re out there somewhere. You need to come back. Time to come back now.
Eventually I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and I looked up, surprised to see Jill. Then I realized that she’d been with me the entire time, staying still and silent and giving me the time I needed.
“Come on, Kara,” she said gently. “You need to go home. It’s been a long day. She’s going to be fine.”
I looked up at her for several heartbeats, then nodded and slipped my hand from Tessa’s. I knew I should feel encouraged by Mr. Raimer’s comment, since hopefully that meant something was happening with Tessa, that maybe she was on her way back. But all I could feel was a desperate need to see some sort of improvement, a twitch of awareness. Anything but the fading body that surely wouldn’t last much longer.
I walked out of the room, feeling weighed down and empty. I started down the corridor toward the elevator, then abruptly spun back and headed for the nurses’ station.
“My aunt is not a DNR,” I said to the nurse beyond the counter, nearly snarling. “Do you understand me? She does not have a Do Not Resuscitate order on her chart. If anything happens to her, you people will fucking do everything in your fucking power to keep her alive. You got that?” I could feel Jill’s hand on my arm, but she wasn’t pulling me away—most likely just making sure that I wasn’t going to do anything more confrontational than snarl.
The nurse didn’t seem particularly cowed by my vehemence. I could see in her eyes that she thought I was in denial and was being unrealistic, but fortunately—for her—she didn’t give voice to any of that. “Yes, ma’am” was all she said.
I resisted the urge to repeat what I’d said, to tell her again that she needed to keep my aunt’s body alive. It wouldn’t make any difference, I realized. If my aunt’s body coded, they would most likely go through the motions but wouldn’t make any extraordinary efforts—a well-meaning but misguided attempt to spare me and my aunt a torturous wait for an inevitable end.
I looked at Jill. “I want to go home.”
She nodded and led me away.
A POUNDING ON MY FRONT DOOR JERKED ME OUT OF the soundest sleep of my entire life. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I moaned as I yanked the pillow over my head. I needed sleep. I deserved sleep.
The pounding came again about three seconds later, and I lifted a corner of my pillow, a bleary glance at my clock showing me that it was nine in the morning. Okay, so I’ve slept for twelve hours, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve even more sleep. Especially after the heinous day I’d endured.
I sighed as the pounding came yet again. I knew who it was even without going to the door. There was only one person who would bother to drive out here just to yell at me. And I had no doubts that he would yell.
I grumbled an obscenity under my breath and hauled myself out of bed, groaning as every bruise, scrape, and pulled muscle announced its presence. I plodded to the front door and pulled it open without bothering to look through the peephole.
“Your car went off a fucking bridge and you didn’t even fucking call me?”
I squinted at Ryan in the morning sun. A deep scowl etched his angular features, and a small vein stood out on his left temple. He didn’t look as if he was about to lose his cool. He was way beyond that. “My phone got wet,” I said. I’d thought about calling him. Briefly. But I hadn’t wanted to expend the emotional energy that calling him might take, especially since our last conversation hadn’t exactly ended on a pleasant note.
He made a strangled noise. “Your phone …” His hand tightened on his own phone, and for a brief crazy instant I thought he was going to squeeze it into a crumpled pile of metal and plastic. Then he glared at me again. “You couldn’t find another phone to call me from? After your car went off a fucking bridge?”
Leaving him in the doorway, I groaned and started walking to the kitchen. “What are you, my father? I was a little occupied and a lot exhausted. The only real rest I had yesterday was the ambulance ride to the hospital.”
He shut the door and followed me. “Were you hurt? How badly? Why did you need an ambulance?”