Be Not Afraid (23 page)

I paused as my fingers came into contact with something hard. I picked at it distractedly, unearthing a rock, I guessed, or a root. It came out all at once, with a faint ripping sensation, and I brought it into my line of vision. It was dry and bumpy, like a tiny potato. I sat up. It was the rhizome root I had pushed down into the dirt a few days ago, the rotted one, covered with fungus. And yet unbelievably, little white roots, delicate as tendrils, had begun to sprout
out of the bottom, where they had anchored themselves deep into the earth, ready to grow again.

I positioned myself on my hands and knees, pushing the rhizome back into the soil, tamping it down with my fingers. It would take another year probably, maybe even two, but I would have bet anything at that point that it would push its way back out of the earth again. Maybe even bloom.

I sat back on my heels, watching an ant as it raced along a mound of dirt. It had something in its mouth, a seed maybe, or even an egg, and it barely hesitated as it made its way to a tiny hole off to one side and then disappeared down into it.

There was a whole world under there. An entire living world that breathed and grew and then died again.…

I stood up so fast that something in my knee cracked.

An invisible trinity.

Why had I made it so complicated?

It was so simple.

And it had been right under my nose the whole time.

The call came ten minutes later. Nan was stirring; she would probably wake soon. I got back in the car with Dad and stared out the window as he drove to the hospital. It would have been nice to tell him about the rhizome, nicer still if we’d been able to have a conversation about it. But it wouldn’t happen. Aside from throwing a frying pan across the room, there were too many other things hanging in the air, too much hurt. And so neither of us said anything.

At first glance, it seemed that nothing had changed. Nan was still flat on her back, the same tubes in her nose, her mouth agape. The wound inside her chest was pulsing a faint purple color, but it looked stronger, too, maybe even stronger than before. Sharon was standing next to her bed, folding a blanket. She smiled as we came in. “She must have
heard you come in the building,” she said. “She just this moment opened her eyes.”

I flew to the bedside. Nan’s eyes were open, but barely, small slits from which tiny slivers of blue looked out. “Oh, Nan,” I whispered, taking her hand. “Nanny, I’m here.”

Dad moved in next to me, gripping the side rails with both hands.

Nan did not move her head, but her hand closed around mine. It was as weak as a child’s, no strength at all. A noise came out of her mouth, something between a cough and a gasp. Dad spun around, looking for the nurse. “Is she okay? I don’t know if she’s choking.”

Sharon moved to the other side of the bed and leaned in. The blue shape in her thumb pulsed. “No, no, she’s okay,” she said. “Her throat is just very dry. And she won’t be able to move her head for a little while, since everything is so sore. But you can feed her ice chips if you want.” She handed me a cup filled with shaved ice. A tiny spoon jutted out from the side, like a shovel buried in snow. “Just little amounts. You can slide it right down her throat. Good, good, that’s it. Perfect.” Nan made another grunting sound, and Sharon nodded, smiling. “See? She wants more. Go ahead, you can give her a little more. Uh, uh, uh! Just a little! That’s it. Just a few at a time.”

I fought back tears as Nan’s lips closed around the spoon and then lingered, looking for more; she was desperate for water, dying of thirst. The color was still in her cheeks, but I had never seen her so helpless. So feeble.

“Dr. Andrews ran a few tests while you were gone,” Sharon said, busying herself with an untouched food tray. “I think he might have some good news for you.”

“Like what?” My head whipped around. “What did he say?”

“Don’t worry; he’ll tell you.” She headed for the door. “He should be here any—oops!” Sharon sidestepped Dr. Andrews by inches, laughing. “Almost got you on that one, Doctor!”

He laughed, too, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth. For a moment, I wasn’t sure it was the same person I had seen last night. This guy was dressed in a blue suit, complete with a jacket, shiny brown shoes, and a tie. A gold tiepin accentuated the middle of the silk fabric, and his hair, or what was left of it, had been slicked back neatly. Even the purple orb behind his ear looked smaller, as if it had rested too.

“Good morning!” he said.

“Doctor.” Dad extended his hand. “How is she?”

“She’s doing unbelievably well.” Dr. Andrews took a stethoscope out from his jacket pocket and inserted it in his ears. Pressing it against Nan’s chest, he listened for a moment. Beneath her hospital robe, I could see the purple shape vibrating, keeping perfect time with her heart. Dr. Andrews stood back up and shook his head.

I felt something clutch inside. “What? What is it?”

“It’s borderline surreal, is what it is.” He folded his stethoscope and reached for the chart on the wall behind Nan’s bed.

“Surreal?” Dad repeated. “Why? What do you mean?”

We waited as he scribbled something in the chart. The yellow orb simmered in his mouth. Snapping the file shut, he looked first at me and then at Dad. “What’s happened here is impossible.” He shook his head again. “Almost to the point of ridiculousness. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Certainly never during my time in the medical profession.”

“Like
what
?” Dad pressed. “What is it?”

“I don’t mean to frighten you, but this woman should have died last night.” He held up his hands, as if surrendering, and then dropped them. “For all intents and purposes, she was more than halfway there. Between her age, the condition her arteries were in, and the attack she suffered as a result, her heart had almost completely stopped. I did everything I could last night in surgery, but there’s only so much we can do. I was almost certain that when I came in this morning, I was going to be signing a death certificate. Her heart was hanging on by a thread. A thread that I’ve seen hundreds of times over in surgery patients who end up dying the next day.” He took a breath. “I know it’s hard to hear, but there’s no medical reason why your mother is still alive, Mr. Winters. Or at least none that I know of.”

“Then maybe we should find someone who does.” It came out before I could stop it. But why was he being so negative? Why was he being such a jerk about it?

“Marin.” Dad’s voice was sharp.

Dr. Andrews smiled. “Maybe you should. And please be sure to bring that person here when you do. Because whoever can explain to me how your grandmother’s heart was able to withstand not only the stress of a quadruple bypass operation on an already massively weakened organ, but also somehow repair itself by almost forty percent overnight is definitely someone I want to meet. Someone a lot of people in the medical community would like to meet.”

I glowered at him, not sure if he was mocking me.

“I’ve been a heart specialist for over twenty years. I know how hearts work, what can be done to fix them, and when their limits have been met. I have never, in all my years practicing medicine, seen a case like this. On a scale of one to ten, her heart went from zero to six for no reason whatsoever. Right now, it’s beating with the strength and intensity of a forty-five-year-old runner. That thread it was hanging from? As strong as a rope.” He shrugged. “It’s impossible, but there it is.”

“So now what?” Dad asked. “Can we take her home? Can she—”

“Oh no, she’ll have to stay here for a few more days, at least.” Dr. Andrews smiled. “Her heart may be in decent shape, but the rest of her will have to catch up.”

“Okay.” Dad nodded. “I just … I don’t know how to thank you. Again.”

“Don’t thank me,” Dr. Andrews said. “I didn’t do much. Like I said, whatever reversed that chain of events was … I just don’t know. Maybe we’ll never know.” He looked up
as a figure appeared in the doorway. “Looks like you have a visitor. I’ll check back later.”

Father William hobbled into the room, his face drawn and worried. I moved toward him, straining over his shoulder to see if Dr. Andrews was still in sight. “Come in,” I said, pressing the priest’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

I strode down the hall, gnawing at the edge of my thumb. Dr. Andrews was at the nurses’ station a few yards away, writing inside another chart. “Doctor?”

He glanced at me and then went back to his scribbling. “What can I do for you?”

Behind the counter, two nurses looked over, waiting to hear what I would say. “Can I talk to you real quick?” I gestured toward the opposite wall with my head. “Over there?”

“Sure.” He followed me over to the wall, leaned against it with one hand. A perspiration stain, wide as a fried egg, spread out beneath his arm, and a heavy silver watch slid down his wrist.

I looked down at my shoes, fumbling with my hands.

“I know you want answers about your grandmother,” Dr. Andrews said. “But I don’t have any to give you. Believe me, I wish I did.”

“I know. But do you think …” I hesitated, hoping I didn’t sound crazy. “I mean, do you think something outside of medicine did this?”

His eyes creased, as if I had blurred in his line of vision. He pushed himself off the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you asking me if I think God did this?”

“Sort of.” I nodded, unable to look at him. “Something like that.”

“Anything’s possible,” he said. “But as a rule, medicine steers clear of using God as an answer for anything, even if we can’t explain it.” He grinned. “We’re a proud group. It goes against the cold hard facts, I guess. But I’d be a fool to tell you that the possibility doesn’t cross my mind from time to time. Especially in situations like this.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He paused, smiling again. “Have you ever heard of Albert Einstein?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“One of the most brilliant scientific minds ever, right? Found the answer to just about every problem he was ever faced with. I have a quote of his in my office, something that my wife gave me when I first started here at the hospital. Do you want to know what it says?”

I nodded.

“It says, ‘Mysteriousness is the true source of all art and all science. He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.’ ” He paused. “I don’t know if God healed your grandmother last night. We’ll never know, I guess. But I like to hold on to the idea of the mysterious, the way Einstein did. I’m going to stand rapt in awe at this one. I’m okay with that.”

I ducked my head. “Thanks,” I said softly.

He put a hand on my shoulder, the chunky silver watch glimmering. A heavy, spicy scent emanated from his wrist.
“You take care of yourself. Get some rest. You’re going to need it, keeping up with that grandmother of yours. I have a feeling when she’s up and around again, she’s going to give all of you a run for your money.”

I watched him walk away and disappear inside an elevator. A few feet away, the nurses bustled behind the counter and a phone rang.

His eyes are closed. His eyes are closed.

Maybe I was right.

Maybe it did come down to seeing, after all.

Inside my pocket, my phone buzzed. I unlocked the screen.

It was Dominic.
How r things with yr Gram?

She’s stable,
I texted back.
Doing okay.

So glad. I’m right outside. Can you talk?

Right outside? What was he doing right outside?

Give me a minute.

I ambled into Nan’s room, sidling next to the bed. She was asleep again, her mouth parted, breathing in and out. Dried saliva lay in white patches at the corners of her lips, and her tongue looked swollen. Still, she looked like a different person than last night. Alive. Dad and Father William were speaking softly in the corner.

“I’m going to get a snack.” I spoke to Dad in a low voice, not wanting to disturb Nan, not wanting her to hear me lie for the millionth time. “And then check out the gift shop. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, good.” Dad didn’t take his eyes off Father William.

Dominic was outside the emergency room, leaning against the door of his Jeep. His damp hair indicated that he had showered and he had on a clean change of clothes, but the shadows under his eyes were darker, as if they had deepened over the past twelve hours. Could I tell him what I was thinking? Did I dare? What if I was wrong?

“Hey,” he said, pushing himself off the car as I emerged from the electric doors. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Relieved, mostly.” I fought the urge to fall against him, to let him wrap his arms around me and press me against his chest. “Last night they were saying she wasn’t even going to make it.”

“Wow.” He shook his head. “You must’ve had a hell of a night. I can’t even imagine.”

“She’s up there, sleeping like a baby now. The doctor says she can go home in a few days.” I paused. “How’s Cassie?”

“She’s worse.” He looked down at his shoes. “Like five hundred times worse. Last night was a nightmare.”

“What happened?”

“She just went berserk. Put both hands through a bathroom window, cut her arms and face. They had to bring a doctor over so she could get stitched up.” I winced behind my sunglasses. “She’s still on the third floor. My dad … had to tie her up with rope because she kept ripping herself out
of the restraints.” He coughed once behind his hands and then pressed his fist against his lips. “I don’t think it’s my grandmother’s spirit in there.”

“What do you mean?”

“It can’t be. It’s … whatever it is … is trying to kill her. Literally. It’s got to be some kind of demon inside her, Marin. Some kind of evil. My grandmother would never do these things to her—dead or alive. And look.” He shoved a hand inside his pocket and withdrew a slip of paper. The number eight was drawn on the front in black marker. “You know the carving on Cassie’s face? The number eight? I looked it up. Eight is the symbol of infinity, eternity.” He turned the paper to the right so that the number was on its side. “But when it’s on its side, like this, exactly the way Cassie has it, it turns into a symbol of evil.”