chapter Thirteen
Ivy walked onto the floor twenty minutes prior to shift change. The pod was busy. A cafeteria worker was gathering the dinner trays that were stacked outside patient rooms, nurses were taking vitals and documenting them, TVs were a constant buzz of chatter and canned laughter. A new patient was brought in on a gurney, a little girl with toffee colored hair. Ivy paid particular attention to her as she was hooked up to a ventilator that was pushed alongside the bed. From the incision site, she knew the girl had had open heart surgery, and this late in the day, the surgery had either gone long and been complicated, or it had been unexpected. Ivy would keep vigil over her through her shift.
She moved to the patient board and noted the children receiving respiratory therapy. She would have seven patients on ventilators tonight, another four with whom she would coach through breathing exercises to expand their lung capacity. The longer the human body relies on artificial respiration, the tighter the lungs when that apparatus was removed. Kids regained quickly, though. Unless there were complications, and Ivy noted one little boy who had developed pneumonia while intubated. He was listed in critical condition, as were all the children on this emergent pod. But the notations next to that indicated that he had arrested once the week before. Orders were to wean him from the ventilator through the night with the hope of extubation in the morning. The sooner he was breathing on his own, the sooner his lungs were working and gaining strength, the better his chances of a positive outcome.
Pneumonia screwed up everything. It put prognosis in a tail-spin.
“Fancy seeing you tonight.” Genny had come up behind her and now they stood elbow to elbow at the board. “I thought you’d be in Mexico sealing the deal with the Marine.”
“Why Mexico?”
“You can get married there in five minutes, no questions asked.”
“Married? Been there done that,” and Ivy’s voice made it clear what she thought of the idea.
“Oooh, really? The secrets come tumbling out of the closet.” She smiled to lighten her comment. “You must have been a child bride.”
“We were both children,” she confirmed. And one of them never grew up.
Genny tskked her feelings about that. “All you can do is learn from a mistake like that.”
“And make sure you don’t repeat it.”
“You’re a big girl now. You’ll know when you’ve got the real thing.”
“How did you know?” Ivy wondered about Genny’s relationship. She’d met the woman’s husband on several occasions. He was laid back but attentive to Genny, and despite the woman’s woes about the loss of romance in her life, Ivy had witnessed her husband’s commitment to the small things—helping her on with her coat, consulting her for decisions; last week he’d arrived on the pod with her dinner.
“It’s different for everyone,” Genny said. “But I can tell you I knew one week in but it took me almost a year to do anything about it. I was still in nursing school. My parents were paying my tuition and they would have skinned me alive if I even thought about marriage. Mel was managing at McD’s—this was before we bought into the franchise—and my parents had a difficult time with that. It was the kind of job a kid picked up in high school, they said. They didn’t know he was on the fast-track to ownership. They wanted him to have a college degree. They settled down when Mel showed them his paycheck and the accrued credit towards a shop of his own.” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her scrubs and regarded her thoughtfully. “Pay attention to the little things,” she advised. “The grand gestures are usually the first to fall away. And make sure you agree on a lot and can compromise on the rest.” Her smile grew and she arched a knowing eyebrow. “So, how was your run?”
“Amazing.” Every moment with Jake had been so much more than Ivy could have dreamed. Bigger than life, that was the term she was looking for. When she was with him, only the two of them existed. And now that they were apart, and each submerged in their own lives, Ivy was having a hard time convincing herself that it had been real.
“Amazing?” Genny repeated the word like it was an unknown language. Then said, with sudden understanding, “Ah, the afterglow.”
Stan came up beside them. “It’s the endorphins,” he said. “No better opiate.”
“You don’t have to be in a pair of running shoes to experience runner’s high,” Genny agreed.
Ivy accepted their good-natured teasing and fell in beside them as the shift change began. She listened attentively to the round-up, jotting notes to herself about individual kids and needs, but at the back of her mind Genny’s comments surfaced and bobbed around awaiting attention—You’re a big girl now. You’ll know when you’ve got the real thing. The trouble was Ivy didn’t believe it. She’d failed at it miserably, once, and everything about Jake felt right. And that’s just not possible. No one’s perfect.
The night progressed slowly and Ivy lingered with her patients, returning often to the side of Rafael, the two year old boy with pneumonia. He was not tolerating the withdrawal of oxygen and Ivy couldn’t get him below eighty percent O’s. That wasn’t good. X-ray came in and the images showed that both lungs were heavily scarred. The infection had cleared up enough that there was no fluid left in the tiny sacs, but it would be a lot longer before he would be removed from the respirator. The surgical repair—a Fontan procedure to improve the workings of his heart—looked good, the pneumonia was a complication. And a setback. Ivy knew his parents, a young couple who hovered over his bedside, would be scared and disappointed.
Ivy conferred with the cardiologist, documented her adjustments in Rafael’s file, and headed to the staff lounge for her break. She had purchased an already-prepared Greek salad when she was at the grocery store and pulled that from her lunch bag along with sliced chicken breast and a peach. She uncapped her water and drank from it. She was tired. She needed the electrolytes added to her drink and knew that replenishing her body’s water supply would provide her with more energy.
She had expended quite a bit with Jake. They had barely slept.
And she couldn’t believe how easy it had been to fall asleep next to him. She had drifted
off with the feel of his body along her back and his hand on her hip, and it had been comforting. And she had awoken the same way—with a delicious feeling of satisfaction that was intimately connected to a peace she wasn’t familiar with but she knew came from the man laying beside her.
She could rest in him.
That was a profound thought for Ivy. She had hoped to find that with Trace and not long into her marriage had decided such a thing did not exist. She would always be her own comforter and rescuer.
Jake had proved her wrong on so many levels.
She remembered his stern countenance on the side of the freeway, disturbed by her lack of concern over her circumstances. His fiery remarks when the attraction between them flared, his discipline that paced their relationship. She felt safe with Jake. She had learned to find that safety herself. Oh, but how good it felt to ease into someone else. Someone with broad shoulders and strong arms and a code of honor that she could rely on to build them up.
It made her skittish, though, to try and define what they had. It was too soon. And she couldn’t ignore that trickle of fear that struck whenever she thought about Jake long-term. It was better to stay in the moment. Wasn’t it? But Ivy no longer hid from challenges.
How did she swing so fast from a trust no one, to a he could be the one attitude?
She tried to recall some of the facts she’d unearthed about flings. Very few developed into something more substantial. Something like a paltry twelve percent of flings developed into lasting relationships.
She picked through her salad, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth as she turned her thoughts to what she and Jake did have. A common interest—running and maintaining a healthy lifestyle. A shared sense of humor. A strong work ethic. A troubled past they both used as a compass into a brighter future. Ties to family that were important to them.
Could she do Thanksgiving with Jake and his sister’s family?
There was something exciting about boarding a plane with your lover for parts unknown, even if it was only for a few days.
But something very nerve-wracking about spending that time with that person’s extended family.
And why hadn’t she told him about Holly’s injuries? She carefully guarded her sister. Every time she’d thought about telling anyone about Holly an image bloomed in her mind of the tall, lithe, athlete she had been in high school, whipping around the track, her long blond hair flaring out behind her. Holly was strength. She was sunshine. She was all Ivy had in the world. She didn’t want people to see her disability because that was so not who her sister was.
She pushed her salad away and picked up her peach. She gazed out the large window where lamp posts were shrouded in pre-dawn fog. The night sky was still an impenetrable hue of black. Holly was doing so well now, she’d told Ivy she was returning to work full time next week. She’d refused Ivy’s money this visit, too. She’d let her pay the conference fee, which included hotel, but tore Ivy’s check in half and laid it on the table between them.
“I don’t need it anymore,” she’d said. “I’m almost up to full time again. I will be next week.” She’d smiled at Ivy, her eyes filling with tears.
And Ivy had reached for her sister in an embrace that was part celebration part relief, part exaltation. Full time meant many things. The most important was Holly’s independence. She was firmly rooted in her new normal, which, Holly liked to say, “was a pretty good imitation of the before me.”
Ivy pulled her cell phone from the side pocket of her lunch bag. She needed to check her messages and make any adjustments to her work week. She was on-call at the senior rehabilitation center and could fit in a shift for either later today or tomorrow. Fridays were big need days. She supposed she didn’t have to work like this anymore, but she had no intention of changing yet. If it turned out that Holly could work full time, that she now had the stamina for a demanding schedule, then Ivy would rebuild her savings. She would put money away for a dream vacation. Maybe something Caribbean she and Jake could share. . .
She liked thinking ahead, planning for two, and yet it scared her, too.
Trusting in the past had only led her to heartbreak. And yet, she wanted to trust him.
Was Jake thinking the same way? His purpose for pacing them was to see if they had a future, she reminded herself. He wanted to give them that chance.
So take it slow, she told herself. As if she could turn back the clock. Right. She didn’t want to erase the hours they had spent in her apartment, tangled in a heated mess, tempting and pleasing each other. She still felt his touch on the intimate parts of her body.
So they would date. Really. They would spend as much time vertical as horizontal. She would make a point of it, and with that in mind she picked up her phone, ignored the flashing red light that indicated waiting messages, and surfed the internet for fun things to do in San Diego. They had the dinner cruise this weekend but she made a list of activities she thought would appeal to both of them. There was a kayak trip through the La Jolla caves, a hike that wove its way along wetland habitats, whale watching, Sea World, and Restaurant Row’s Summer Surrender which combined eclectic meals with thematic showings of movies, new and old. There were nights of comedy and horror, romance and adventure.
While she was online she searched for the principles of a healthy relationship, never having had one herself she thought she had something to learn. Mutual respect was a given. Trust and honesty a no-brainer. Supporting each other—now wouldn’t that be nice, having someone who cheered you on through everything. Good communication—they certainly had that. A sense of playfulness—well her list would take care of that. And separate identities. That gave her pause. She and Jake already had that, but how did two become one and maintain a healthy sense of self at the same time?
How did she maintain her hard-won independence? How did she not revert to the Ivy of old, who had clung to Trace, believing he was the answer to a prayer?
Tricky. This was new territory. But with anything that posed a challenge, Ivy reminded herself that she would proceed with caution. She had no illusions about slowing down their sexual escapades, but she could hold her heart aloof while she was figuring things out, couldn’t she?
She had ten minutes left to her break when she scrolled thorough her text messages. She made a note to confirm with the senior center, who had asked her to come in from ten to two Friday, a shift she could easily fit in before showing up back at the pod for a brief turn providing break coverage. And then her heart skipped a beat when she saw a message from Jake. It had come in at seven-fifty the night before. She opened the message.
It was a photograph. Snow-capped mountains and wind-swept flurries dancing in the air.
Montana.
She wanted to type back a simple ‘yes.’
It didn’t matter that Thanksgiving was three months away.
She wanted to go to Montana with him, and if they were still together at the holidays, then they’d found a way to balance their lives. And discovered that there was more to them than the bump and grind.
She searched Google images and found a cartoon of the Tasmanian Devil on a snow mobile. He was wearing a helmet and was choked-up on the handle bars, his face scrunched into a ferocious frown of determination. She sent the picture to Jake, a slight tremor in her fingers as she pressed ‘send.’ It was a simple reply, but her commitment was unmistakable.
While she still had a few minutes left to her break, and clinging to her positive mood, Ivy entered the pass code to her bank account and transferred into her savings the funds she would have given to Holly. It may as well earn interest while it sat there. She wanted to believe that her sister was ready for full time work again, that she would soon put on a pair of running shoes and take her first new steps on the open road. But she had been so tired last weekend, and the doctor had reminded them that with every recovery there were setbacks and an end run.
There were also full recoveries, Holly had told him. And while she wouldn’t grow a new leg, she would get around as she had before with the new and improved model they had given her. Soon she would have what medical engineers called a sport leg. Last summer she and Holly had watched the Ironman Triathlon where a female athlete with a full prosthetic not only competed but had a respectable finish.
“Full recoveries are few,” the doctor conceded. “You may be one of them. You have the determination. But life after a catastrophic accident seldom resembles life before.”
People change. Some are defeated by their new circumstances. But some found a strength they never knew they’d possessed. They made of their lives greater successes than they’d experienced pre-accident.
Holly had grown tense and let her anger with the doctor show. “I won’t be limited by your attitude,” she’d told him. “Maybe you’re not the doctor for me.”
“It’s my job to encourage you, to celebrate your achievements, and to impart reality.”
Holly had it in her heart to run her first prosthetic mile by the two year mark. That was five months away. The doctor didn’t think she’d make it.
Holly had a saying she lived by now, “You can have wishbone and you can have backbone. Only one will get the job done.”
Ivy knew her sister could do it. It was a matter of faith and effort.
Anything worth achieving took backbone. That included relationships. And work ethic was one area where she and Jake were mutually compatible.