If the Shoe Fits (39 page)

His words trailed off into a tunnel, and Shannon struggled to follow them. She saw his lips moving, and the echo of his voice took on a metallic quality as it clanked at her. He continued to speak as he leaned over her and replaced the oxygen tube she’d removed before they arrived.

“Deep breaths,” he instructed as he came back into focus. “Slow and deep.”

Shannon clamped the tube to her nose and closed her eyes as she inhaled. When she opened them again, her aunt glared at the doctor as he inspected the monitor behind her again.

“So that’s why I’m here,” she surmised. “Because of the diving accident.”

“Yes,” he said. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest the way he had when she’d first met him, and he smiled in the same way too, that deep dimple at the center of his chin flashing at her. “You’ve been in a coma ever since that time. You spent several months at Austin-Bryant Regional Hospital—”

“Months!”

“—and you were transferred here to Draper Long-Term Care that Christmas.”

“Christmas,” she repeated, and her eyes darted to her aunt. “What about Edmund? Where is he?”

And with that, Mary descended into tears, burying her face in her hands.

“Aunt Mary? Where is he?”

“Let’s approach this a little more slowly, Shannon,” the doctor suggested.

She scowled at him. “What’s your name again?”

“Dr. Petros.”

“Dr. Petros,” she repeated. “Where is Edmund?”

“We’ll discuss your husband in just a moment, Shannon. I just want to make sure you’re clear on what led up to this day. Is that okay with you?”

She gulped around the dry spot at the back of her throat and sighed. “So I was in a coma through Christmas. How long ago was that?”

Dr. Petros reached over and set his hand to rest overtop hers. “Almost ten years.”

The room began
to gyrate, and Shannon pushed the oxygen nozzle deeper into her nose as she inhaled several times.

“Could you repeat that?” she finally asked. “I thought you said—”

“Almost ten years,” the doctor answered softly.

Shannon’s eyes had widened to the point that they ached and burned, and the inner corner of her left one twitched sporadically. She met her aunt’s gaze, and she cocked her head slightly. “Aunt Mary?”

“I’m afraid he’s right, Shannie.”

“I’ve been—
what?
—sleeping all this time?”

“We started to notice some increased brain activity about a month ago,” Dr. Petros informed her, and she felt as if she were an outside observer. She could hardly grasp the fact that it was
her
brain activity they were discussing.

“But it didn’t last long,” he continued. “Then a couple of days ago, it started up again and you eventually opened your eyes.”

Shaking her head, Shannon held up her hand to stop him from speaking. After he’d been silent for a few seconds—or it could have been minutes for all she could trust of her sense of time now!—she grunted in protest. “You said
ten years
?”

“Yes.”

“So … what year is it?”

“Twenty fourteen,” Mary piped up.

“Two thousand fourteen,” she said in shock. As a new realization suddenly struck, Shannon whimpered. “Poor Edmund! I’ve been in a coma since we got married?”

“Oh, dearie, that boy was—” Mary faltered, starting to cry. “He—he was a
saint!
He hardly left your side. He slept right there in that chair,” she said, pointing out a leather recliner in the corner of the room as she wiped her eyes. “The nurses finally started bringing him meals because he just refused to leave you.”

A smile twitched at one corner of Shannon’s mouth. “Where is he?” she asked, realizing again how anxious she was to see him. “Will you call him? Does he know I’m awake?”

Mary bit her lip, crying harder, and Dr. Petros placed a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“What is it?” Shannon asked him. “Where is Edmund?”

His expression frightened her, and her heart began to pound, harder and faster, harder and faster.

“He got tired of waiting and he finally gave up and—and left me?”

“No!” Mary shouted. “He would never! That boy loved you so much! But he—he—”

Her aunt’s eyes darted to the doctor’s pleadingly as she struggled for words. The doctor took up the explanation.

“Edmund fell ill three years ago.”

“He-he’s—
sick
? What’s wrong with him?” she jabbered. “Is he here at this hospital?”

“No,” he replied gently. “Shannon, you’ve had more than your share of shocking news for one day, but the truth is, Edmund was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of malignant brain cancer several years ago.”

“No!” she gasped.

“It’s called gliobastoma, or GBM,” he continued, “and it presents with nausea and headaches at first. Later, there are seizures and neurological deficit to the temporal and frontal lobes—”

“Stop!” she shouted, holding up both hands. “Stop talking!”

“I know it’s overwhelming, Shannon, but we’re here to help you—”

“Please! Would you please just stop talking for a minute?”

She tried to lift her knees, but her heavy legs wouldn’t budge, so she simply leaned forward as far as she could manage and began to rock from front to back as tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know how much time passed while they sat silently with her. When she finally pulled herself together, she felt ready for more details.

“Is he at Bryant?” she asked, wiping the tears away. “I want to see him.”

“No, he’s not at Bryant,” Dr. Petros said.

“Well, where is he?”

When her aunt started whimpering again, Shannon felt something heavy finally settle on the center of her chest and she couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, she began to hear again all the past tense descriptions they’d used, thudding like a bass drum in her memory.

“… that boy was a saint …”

“… He slept right there in that chair …”

“… he loved you so much …”

“… Edmund fell ill three years ago …”

“No,” she began. “Wait …”

“Oh, Shannie. Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

She stared at them in bewilderment, the pounding of her heart thudding in her ears.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Petros said.

The silence that followed felt hollow and awkward. When he crouched near her side, she shrank back on the bed, as if distancing herself from whatever awful thing he had to say.

“You’re sorry? What do you mean? Why are you sorry?”

A biting frost of cold perspiration created a film over her upper lip and across the back of her neck. Her eyes stung, and she realized she’d forgotten how to blink.

“You don’t mean—what do you mean? Just tell me where Edmund is!”

“Shannon,” the doctor began gently, “Edmund died two years ago.”

She shook her head in quick denial. “No.” A roller coaster of emotion ticked slowly up its track as Shannon weighed the words. How was that even possible? Edmund couldn’t be—

The coaster peaked, and her breath caught somewhere in her throat as her insides plummeted. She looked to her aunt to deny the doctor’s horrible declaration, but what she saw in Mary’s face brought no comfort.

“I’m so sorry, dearie.”

“No,” Shannon managed. “Aunt Mary, no! Edmund?”

Her aunt nodded sorrowfully. The doctor’s eyes darted toward the floor.

“He’s …
gone
?”

The flames of grief in Mary’s eyes set Shannon’s heart ablaze.

Yes. She finally understood. She’d come back after such a long time, greeted by this unimaginable, cruel truth. Edmund was gone.

* * *

We hope you enjoyed this excerpt from
Rise and Shine
. For more from Moody Publishers in this genre and others, visit your favorite local or online bookseller.

River North Fiction is here to provide quality fiction that will refresh and encourage you in your daily walk with God. We want to help readers know, love, and serve JESUS through the power of story.

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