Never Wake (33 page)

“You’re at home. You’ve been hurt. The doctor should be here soon.”

“Troy?”

“Toy? I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Troy?”

“Troy?” her mother was shaking her head. She looked at her husband for help and finally back at Emma. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know a Troy.” Emma looked at her mother desperately and then to her father.

Emma tried to speak, but this time, nothing came out.

“Don’t try to talk, Emma. Just let the doctors help you. You’ve been hurt. Things were pretty touch-and-go. We flew in as soon as we could.”

A man in a white lab coat walked in and introduced himself. Emma was having a hard time focusing. She needed to ask him something, but she was beginning to forget what it was. Emma didn’t take her eyes off her mother; a soft, sorrowful joy swept over her from both her parents. Joy at having her alive and sorrow at how much she had been hurt.

“Doctor? I think she might be trying to ask for something or someone. She seems pretty upset.”

The doctor looked up from Emma’s charts. “Ma’am, she’s been through a lot. Her brain will need time to recover.”

“Can’t you give her something so she doesn’t hurt herself?” Her mother’s breath smelled of coffee and spearmint gum.

“We need to let the other meds get out of her system first.”

Emma reached up and caught the doctor’s wrist before he could pull away. She held it as tightly as she could. She said Troy’s name again but very little sound came out.

He gently pulled his wrist from her grasp. Emma could read his confusion and wariness but nothing else. If he was trying to deceive her in any way, she would have known. She closed her eyes; a ragged painful sob escaped from her throat.
Where is she? Where the hell is she?
Tears began to gather in the back of her eyes.

“I think she’s having trouble breathing.” Her father’s voice sounded high and scared.

“Ms. Webster, are you all right?” Emma shook her head pushing his hand aside.

Idiot. Of course I’m not all right.

She felt the prick before she could do anything to stop it. “Easy now. We are just going to calm you down a little. All right. We can’t have you getting too excited right now. You’ve been through a lot,” he said as he removed the needle from her arm.

“Thank you, Doctor,” her mother said.

Dr. Shorenstein said something else to her, and then turned toward a figure that Emma hadn’t noticed before.

“Keep an eye on her. If it starts to…” Emma felt as if she was being moved away from the voices hovering over her. She tried to hold on to her anger, but it, too, faded away, and she began to forget why she was so upset.

“Will Dr. Dunham be in to see her? We want to thank him, too.”

That’s it. Now she remembered. Dr. Dunham was the one. He was the one that had done this to them. He was the one she should be angry at.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. Dr. Dunham suffered an aneurism a few days ago. He died in his sleep.”

Emma heard a quick inhale of breath and then silence. “He was so young,” she heard her father say, but she couldn’t make out the rest.

“It was quite a shock. Just a wife…no kids…brilliant future.”

She was struggling to stay awake, and although the anger was there, she didn’t remember why.

No. I remember. I remember. I don’t know where Troy is. What if she didn’t make it back?

Emma glared at the youthful face of the doctor until he cleared his throat and turned to her parents. “She needs some rest, so I suggest you two take a break for a while.” He cleared his throat again and left the room.

You bastard. What did you do with Troy? I saw the look on your face when I said her name. I didn’t dream her. I didn’t make her up.
A warm hand on her forehead pulled her from thoughts that were fast becoming disjointed.

“Sweetheart, the nightmare is over. You’re here with Daddy and me. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

She felt like she was moving through space without a tether, and really, she just didn’t care anymore. Her mother was right; she was tired, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when she woke up next time. Then she would find her. She wouldn’t forget. It wasn’t a dream. She would find Troy.

Her name is Troy and she is not a dream. Not her. Not that part.

She felt soft hands wipe tears from the side of her face with a Kleenex. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. Things will be better tomorrow.”

*

Emma watched Dr. Shorenstein go through the motions of checking her vitals every day for the next week. He had said that she needed to be observed 24/7. She had been moved from her condo to Oregon Unified Hospital, where both Dr. Shorenstein and Dr. Dunham, according to her mother, were on staff. The ride from the condo to the hospital had been quiet. Emma had spent much of the time trying to remember why she had felt so sad until she had finally fallen into a deep sleep.

Dr. Shorenstein had been in her hospital room when she had awakened and although she wanted to quiz him about Troy’s whereabouts, intuition told her to wait and watch.

Her parents might be fooled, but she wasn’t. Dr. Dunham had said his partner would bring them out. Although he avoided her eyes, she could sense his excitement every time he was around her. Excitement, coupled with fear and shame.

One thing Emma was certain of: he couldn’t know what had happened to them in that other place. And although Dr. Dunham had called him his partner, she was sure this man was no more than a flunky. With Dr. Dunham gone, he was probably dreaming of the prestige this would bring him. Emma was pretty sure that without Dr. Dunham, whatever had been done to them would lack all credibility. All he knew was that she was awake. She didn’t ask about Troy again, and she answered his questions with as little information as possible. Her parents’ arrival saved her from answering any more. She listened to the small talk between them and the doctor until one of them saw fit to acknowledge her.

“Hello, sweetheart. You’re looking much better today. Have you walked any?”

Her walks were not quite walks yet. But they would be. She was determined to get back the use of her legs. She would not rely on the cane either. She would not become what she had been. She wouldn’t let herself.

“Daddy, did you find anything?”

“Find what?” her mother asked as she sat on the foot of Emma’s bed.

He cleared his throat and sat down in a chair. “I did find her. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

“Tell me.”

He frowned. “How do you even know her?”

“Know who?” Her mother was looking from her husband to Emma.

“I’ll explain later,” Emma said to both questions. “Is she all right? Where is she?”

“She was in an accident. She’s in a small hospital on the east side. Emma, I’m afraid she’s in a coma.”

Emma stared at him bleary-eyed. “That can’t be right. No, she should be out now.”

“Out? No, she’s been in the hospital about as long as you have.”

Emma’s heart writhed. “Take me to her.”

“You haven’t recovered enough to go out yet. Tell her, Doctor.”

“Ms. Webster, I’m afraid that would be too much for you right now.” His anxiety had increased. She was done playing games with him. She was done lying around wondering when Troy was going to come.

Emma forced herself to sit up, tears pouring down her face. She welcomed the pain that racked her body; she welcomed it, but it didn’t take away from the utter desolation and fear. Had Troy become stuck in that place? Was she alone and scared? Had she not made it back to the hospital in time?

“I will check myself out of this hospital and your care right this minute if you try to stop me. I know what you did. What you tried to do, and I will tell the press and anyone else who’ll listen. And I’ll make sure you can’t put all the blame on Dr. Dunham.” She felt it when he became almost overwhelmed with shame. Emma realized that this man seemed to be nothing like Dr. Dunham, not yet, anyway.

Dr. Shorenstein’s eyes grew large at the threat. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” He was talking to her mother as if Emma wasn’t there. “I can’t force her to stay here if she doesn’t want to.” He left the room before her mother could utter another protest.

“What is she talking about?” Emma’s mother said in that no-nonsense-accepted voice that she used on everyone from children to adults. “What did he do to you?” she demanded, but didn’t pause long enough for an answer. “This is just ridiculous. You can’t go traipsing all over town to see some friend. You just came out of coma.”

Emma ignored her mother and focused on her father. He met her eyes and his shoulders slumped.
Help me, Daddy. You’ve never stood up for me. Do it now.

“I need to see her. I need to help her,” Emma said to him. She was struggling trying to find the words to make him understand.

“Don’t be silly. How can you help her if she’s in a coma?” Emma was used to hearing disparagement in her mother’s voice, but today it rankled.

Emma gritted her teeth and directed her words to her father. “I need to be with her.” She held her hand out. “Please, Daddy.”

“Emma, you need to calm down. Maybe you should get the doctor, Mark. I think Emma’s becoming hysterical. Maybe he’ll give her something to help her calm down.”

“Daddy?” Emma flinched as her father turned and walked out the door without answering her.

“Emma.” Darby’s voice had softened now that she believed her orders were being followed. I know how much you care about those…those people that come to your clinic, but you have to watch out for yourself now.”

Emma tuned her mother out and kept her eyes on the empty doorway.
What did you expect? It’s not as though you haven’t been guilty of giving in just to shut her up. Why would he be any different? Hell, he’s had more years than you have to learn how to deal with her
. No, Darby was hard to argue with, but she had hoped that when she really needed him, her father would stand up for her.

Emma realized that Darby was sitting on her bed when she reached across and grabbed her hand. Emma looked up in time to see her shaking her head. “You are too much like your grandmother—look what happened to her.”

“She had congenital heart failure.” Emma closed her eyes. It was an old argument and it was making her weary.

“She worked herself to the bone, and those people broke her heart at least once a day. Look what one of them did to you. This Troy is just going to do the same.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“I know the type.”

“You don’t even know me. How can you know Troy or her type? And as for my grandmother…” Emma was almost speechless at her mother’s audacity.

“My mother, Emma. Don’t forget that she was my mother.”

“That’s right, she was your mother. But you didn’t know her. If you did, you’d know that the people she helped at the clinic gave her life meaning.”

Her mother stood up and looked as if she was about to leave the room. Emma kept speaking because if there was one thing you could count on with Darby Webster, it was her need to have the last word. “You’re right, sometimes things broke her heart. When a baby she had given care to came in pregnant fifteen years later. Or a boy she had known all his life ended up in prison for life. But you didn’t know how happy she felt when she was able to help people feel better who had been sick for years but couldn’t afford health care.”

“Where were all those people when she died, then?” Darby was glaring at Emma now her fists furled into tight little knots of displeasure. “I didn’t see any of them at her funeral. I didn’t see one damn person who wasn’t family or friends of Mark’s come to pay their respect. She gave her whole damn life to these people, and when all was said and done, she died alone.” A sob came out of Darby’s throat and Emma felt horrible for having caused it. Emma raised her hand toward her mother, but wasn’t surprised when Darby just folded her arms and turned away. “I don’t want that for you,” she said, refusing to look at Emma.

Emma understood it now. All of the anger, the need for control, all of it stemmed from jealousy. Darby felt that the time Ida had spent at the clinic had been stolen from her. And she was afraid that Emma would be headed down the same path.

“I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, Mother.”

“I know that.” Darby sniffed. The anger was back. “But you’re too young to not have a life outside of work. You should be out with friends, maybe traveling. Hell, I don’t know.”

“You’re acting like I’m a twenty-year-old kid.” Emma smiled to soften her words. “Maybe I have been burying myself at the clinic too much, and I don’t have as many friends as I should, but I do have one close friend. She’s more than a friend, actually.” Emma saw the “I don’t want to talk about this” look on her mother’s face as she turned away to look out the window. Emma pushed on because she needed to express what she was feeling. “I miss her so much it hurts, and Daddy just told me that she needs me. Can you understand how I feel?”

She had expected something other than the silence that settled on the room.
I wonder why I keep being disappointed by her. She’s always been this way. Available only for the non-emotional things. Why would I expect any more than that?
Emma knew what would happen next, as if she had read the script beforehand. Her mother would continue to stand there as she was, arms crossed, looking out the window, and then she would excuse herself and return with coffee or a sandwich that she wouldn’t eat and armed with a safe line of conversation.