From a Distant Star (5 page)

Now Eric stepped forward, his hand hesitantly patting Lucas’s arm. “Hi, Lucas,” he said. “It’s me, Eric.” Lucas’s eyes widened and Eric broke into a grin. He turned to his parents. “He knows me.”

Lucas’s arm rose off the bed, reaching toward the cup on the side table. “Water,” he said, with a croak, and the entire family beamed like he’d done something amazing. Eric grabbed it and put the straw between his lips. When Lucas gulped the water, Eric said, “Wow, dude, you’re really thirsty.” He looked up at his parents. “I guess he was dehydrated.”

“That’s enough,” Mrs. Walker said, reaching over to take the cup away. “Remember what we talked about.” She turned to me and said, “I talked to one of the hospice nurses the other day and she said this might happen. Sometimes patients rally and the family is given the gift of having them back for a short while. She said sometimes it lasts minutes and sometimes it goes for hours, but that we shouldn’t get our hopes up and mistake it for a recovery.” She took a step in my direction and whispered. “She said it always happens right near the end.” Behind her, I saw Eric’s expression change, his eyes filling with tears.

Mr. Walker patted Lucas’s arm. “It’s okay, son. Everything’s okay.”

I didn’t tell Mrs. Walker she was wrong, that I knew this wasn’t the end. The potion I’d gotten from Mrs. Kokesh had worked and this was only the beginning.

I didn’t care what Mrs. Walker thought. I knew the truth. I was getting Lucas back.

CHAPTER SIX

The scout knew what it was like to have a body, of course. On his home planet, his own body laid waiting for him. Upon returning from his missions, slipping into his corporeal form always felt like coming home—comfortable, warm, fluid in motion.

But this body? It was awkward, with gawky limbs and joints with such limited motion it was a wonder these earthlings could function at all. The two viewing ports had to be aimed just right in order to work properly. Every movement took incredible effort. No wonder the inhabitants of this planet were so hostile.

When the beings gathered all around him, their audible speaking felt like an assault. He didn’t know which way to aim his vision or how he should react. When the kindhearted being gave him what she called “water,” he instinctively knew that the body craved this substance, that it was necessary for existence. If that was the case, why was this body so depleted of water? It was hard to make sense of so many things.

He instinctively knew that the audible communication was a reaction to him awakening. All around him, he felt tempered happiness, except for the kindhearted being who seemed certain his awakening was permanent. The scout processed as much as he could. The identity of his body was, he thought, “Lucas.” He was fairly certain of this, so it was puzzling that the biggest one
called him “son.” Could it be that the inhabitants on this planet were known by multiple names? He had so much to learn if he was to impersonate Lucas.

The scout needed the Lucas body to become healthy and strong. It was his only hope for finding a way back home.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lucas didn’t die that night or the next morning either, and at first, Mrs. Walker held onto her story. She said he was rallying, his body pulling up all its energy for a final good-bye. One last hurrah before he slipped away. The one good thing was that she’d forgotten I’d been banished from the sick room. Mack didn’t do as well. Ever since she’d caught him up on the bed, Mrs. Walker wasn’t letting him anywhere near Lucas.

On my own, I’d decided to go home the next morning. I took a shower and ate, then set the timer on my phone and allowed myself the luxury of a two-hour nap. Now that I knew Lucas was fine, I wasn’t so stressed about leaving his side.

When I returned, I walked in on a nurse and Lucas’s parents having a conference in the kitchen. Mrs. Walker’s lips pressed together in a thin line when she spotted me coming through the back door without calling first, but she didn’t say anything and I walked right by, going straight to Lucas. Next to his bed, Eric sat in the recliner, his hands clasped together. His eyes were on Lucas, who was sleeping.

“Hi, Emma,” Eric said. He looked happy to see me.

“Hi, Eric. What did I miss?” I slipped my backpack off my shoulder and let it rest on the floor, then sat on the edge of Lucas’s bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His breathing was
deeper now, which had to be a good sign. More oxygen going to his lungs.

“Nothing much,” Eric said. “Everything’s about the same as when you were here. He’ll be super awake for a while and then fall asleep.”

“He didn’t ask for me?”

“No. He hasn’t said anything except ‘water.’”

I shrugged. “Give him time. He’s been through a lot. He’s not going to recover just like that.”

Eric gave me a startled look. “Emma, didn’t you hear what my mom said? She said this is part of the process. He’s not recovering. It’s the beginning of the end.” And then he repeated what the hospice nurse had told his mom—how patients sometimes rally right at the end and how the family should cherish the gift, but not make it out to be more than it was.

“Yeah, I heard her,” I said, and even though I wanted to let Eric in on my secret, I didn’t take it any further. As sad as Eric was now, that’s how overjoyed he was going to be when he realized his brother really was going to live. All I had to do was wait. Soon enough, he’d know the truth.

Silently, we watched Lucas sleep—Eric thinking his brother was sinking closer to death, and me knowing he was recharging for his entrance back into life. In the background, I heard the adults at the kitchen table, talking about Lucas as if he would be gone in a few hours. At one point, my name came up and I strained to listen. It sounded like the nurse was making a case for letting me stay. She said that it would bring me closure and that my presence might help Eric too. After that, the nurse talked about who they should call when the time came, and how the death certificate would be issued. Mrs. Walker began sobbing then and Eric, hearing his mother, started to cry too. I handed him a tissue and he accepted it, dabbing at his eyes and trying to blink back the tears.

When we heard the nurse leave, Mr. and Mrs. Walker both came into the room, bringing kitchen chairs to sit on. I got off the bed and stood out of the way, in the corner. Mrs. Walker led the family in a prayer, all three of them linking hands over Lucas. I bowed my head respectfully, thinking that prayer never hurt, although this particular one was all about Lucas being released from pain and asking God to receive and guide him.

And then we all waited, the three of them sitting while I stood and leaned in the corner, hoping that Lucas’s parents agreed with the nurse and wouldn’t send me away. At one point, Mrs. Walker whispered in Lucas’s ear that it was okay if he had to go. She said, “Your dad and I understand if you have to leave us. You have our permission to go toward the light.” But even then, he hung on. We sat and sat, all of us quiet. It was almost boring, watching Lucas sleep, and I became hyperaware of everything in the room: a random fly that buzzed in from the kitchen and then out again, the sound of a car outside driving past the house, the smell of the pot roast Mrs. Walker had set up in the slow cooker.

When Lucas’s eyes opened an hour later, all of us were pulled out of our stupor. “Look, he’s awake!” Eric said excitedly.

“Hi, buddy,” Mr. Walker said.

Lucas’s head swiveled to the side table. “Water,” he said, his arm flailing in that direction. When Eric brought the straw to his mouth, he gulped thirstily. That was when I noticed the urine in the catheter bag hanging off the side of the bed. Instead of the dark color we’d been seeing for the last few days, the liquid was as light as Mountain Dew. Mr. Walker was the one sitting closest to me, so when I caught his eye, I pointed and brought it to his attention.

He did a double take and leaned over, peering down at it, before showing his wife. “What do you make of this?” he asked her.

Her brow furrowed, and she didn’t answer for a moment. Then slowly she said, “I don’t know. There has to be a medical reason. Maybe things change near the end?”

She was still in denial. After that, Lucas’s parents discussed the fact that he’d only said one word—water—and decided it was a reflex, some part of his brain that hadn’t shut down yet. One final word. But that theory was blown to hell as the hours went by and we saw more improvements. Lucas still seemed groggy, but he stayed awake longer each time and then he started turning his head when someone said his name. He held the cup himself eventually and handed it back when he was done. At one point, he tried to sit up, but had some trouble, so Mr. Walker adjusted the hospital bed to give him a boost. Now that Lucas was sitting upright, the mood in the room lifted. Somehow all of them had suddenly become hopeful. The only thing Lucas wasn’t doing was saying anything more than one word, but he followed our conversation by turning his head to look at each person as we spoke. He had an intense look on his face, one I recognized. When we used to do homework together, Lucas had always had a certain expression I associated with him concentrating hard, like when he was solving a difficult math problem, and that was how he looked now. He was fighting his way back.

It was difficult for me to have all of them in the room when all I wanted was to be alone with him. If they hadn’t been there, I would have crawled in next to him and explained everything that had happened. I would have kissed his lips, hoping to wake him up like in a fairy tale. Maybe even applied the potion one more time to accelerate the healing process. But they were his family and I was just the girlfriend, the one who always seemed to be underfoot, so I kept quiet and stood out of the way, watching the miracle unfold, knowing I was responsible for bringing Lucas back, but also knowing I had to keep it to myself. That was okay, though. It was worth it.

That day ended and another morning came and Lucas only got better. Mr. Walker headed out to the barn, and Eric drifted in and out. Only Mrs. Walker and I were glued to his side. Someone
had dropped off homemade chocolate pudding a day earlier, and Mrs. Walker decided to try spoon-feeding some to Lucas. When he greedily ate a whole bowl in about thirty seconds flat, she wiped his mouth with a napkin and allowed herself a smile. “Emma, could you put this in the sink and run some water in it?” she said, handing me the empty bowl.

“Water, Emma,” Lucas said, making us both freeze.

Mrs. Walker gave me a hard look and reached for the cup herself. “Go on. I’ll give him the water.”

My heart soared at the sound of Lucas saying my name. I grinned all the way to the kitchen and even stayed and rinsed off all the dishes in the sink and loaded the dishwasher. Lucas had said my name.
Take that, Mrs. Walker
. She could say I was in the way, but Lucas wanted me there. Out of all the people in the world, I was the one he’d called by name.

At some point, Eric brought his laptop in to watch a movie. When Lucas seemed interested in the sound, Eric moved the side table around and set up the laptop there so his brother could see it too. All afternoon Eric and Lucas watched continuously: first, an old western, then
Mean Girls
(little did I know it was one of Eric’s favorite movies), and then reruns of some of their favorite shows from when they were kids. Later, they watched some funny video clips. Lucas focused on the screen with an incredible intensity, like he was going to be tested on it later or something. At one point, Mrs. Walker said, “Eric, don’t you think this is enough? Lucas must be getting tired.”

I waited for Eric to shut it off, but he just shrugged and said, “No, he likes it. You like it, don’t you, Lucas?” As if to prompt him, Eric nodded and in response, Lucas’s head bobbed up and down in the same way.

Lucas seemed to be back, but he still wasn’t interacting much, besides a few nods and saying two words (one of which was my name!). Mrs. Kokesh’s warning about possible brain damage
crossed my mind, but I didn’t let it bother me. I had said I wanted Lucas back no matter how it ended up and I meant it.

In the afternoon, he started eating and drinking on his own, which I took as a good sign. I watched Mr. and Mrs. Walker exchange looks of amazement as he devoured a ham and cheese sandwich, and I nearly clapped when he finished the last crumb and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He was making progress, even if it was slow. It was unreasonable to expect much more at this point. I’d pulled him back from the brink of death. His recovery, I reasoned, wasn’t going to be instantaneous. I wished he’d show more interest in me than the laptop, but I figured we’d have the rest of our lives to be together. All in good time. Right now, I was willing to let Eric have him. The poor kid had been living in fear of his brother’s impending death for months and months; he was due for something good. I would have loved to have Lucas all to myself, but I wasn’t completely selfish.

When the doorbell rang that evening, we all knew it was Nancy, the visiting nurse, arriving at her scheduled time. Mr. Walker went to let her in and Mrs. Walker followed, leaving me and Eric and Lucas alone in the dining room. I listened as Nancy bustled in as usual, depositing her laptop on the kitchen table while asking how the previous day had gone. I could picture the way she stood, hand on hip, always the authority. Lucas’s parents were telling her about the recent, unexpected developments. Their voices were subdued, but I edged closer to the doorway and caught some of what they were saying.

Nancy never missed an opportunity to say she’d been a hospice nurse for sixteen years and she was telling them now that she’d seen
everything
. No two patients were alike, but there were definite patterns. And then she started talking about how some patients rally (oh, how I was beginning to hate that word) and how family members and other loved ones project their hope for a recovery and sometimes see more than is really there. “My job is really hard
sometimes,” Nancy said. “Besides providing medical care, I sometimes find families rely on me for emotional support too. They see a little thing and make more of it than it is and then I have to be the one to bring them down to earth.”