Submerged (35 page)

The argument ended in a stalemate. The
doctors all said they were sorry and started to leave.

“Wait,” Anna said. They stopped. “I know . .
. I know that death is something we all experience. If Henry were
to rise up from that bed now, he might be killed in a car accident
tomorrow, but this is different. I don’t know how to explain it,
but it is.” She allowed the tears to roll down her cheeks. This was
no time for pride or embarrassment.

“I know you see weeping widows every day, and
I don’t want to be one of those people who blame doctors for not
doing the impossible, but . . . please consider what Dr. Nishizaki
is suggesting. It doesn’t make sense, but there is a chance, and if
there is a chance we have to try.” She gazed at Henry. “I’ve known
this man for a very long time. He has never turned his back on
anyone in trouble, never turned a blind eye.”

She looked at them, making eye contact with
each one in the room. “If it were you upon that bed, and Henry
thought he had a one-in-a-million chance to save your life, he
would drop whatever he was doing and travel whatever distance was
necessary to try. He doesn’t have much longer. What can it
hurt?”

“There are certain legal considerations,” one
of them began.

“I’ll sign any agreement; any document you
put before me.”

The silence was thick and heavy. They stepped
outside the room and closed the door. Ten minutes later, an orderly
came and wheeled Henry from the room.

Alone, with her husband somewhere in the
strange labyrinth of the hospital and her son somewhere in Nevada,
Anna took her place in the yellow seat that she had occupied for so
many long hours.

She waited.

Epilogue

1974

Henry Sachs parked
his red
Triumph TR6 in the garage of his Seattle home and
walked into the house. It was late, 10:30 by his watch. He passed
through the door that linked the garage with the house. The place
was dark except for a reading lamp next to the sofa. Anna was
dressed in her pajamas, and her red silk robe hung open around her.
Her head was tilted to the side, her mouth open, and she was
snoring. A
Reader’s Digest
lay on the
floor at her feet. She had never looked more beautiful.

The trick would be waking her without giving
her a coronary. He crossed the hardwood floors, leaned over, and
kissed her on the forehead. She blinked, looked up, and smiled.
Henry was certain the room brightened.

“You’re home.” She rose and put her arms
around his neck.

Henry tried to remember anything that had
ever felt so good. “That’s what I like about you. You’re so
observant.”

She kissed his lips. “I’m still asleep. Witty
repartee requires a good night’s sleep, followed by a couple cups
of coffee.” She ran her hands through his dark hair. He winced, and
she pulled back. “Is that a lump behind your ear?”

“Yeah, a little goose egg.”

“Did you run into something?” She looked
concerned.

He smiled. “Something ran into me. It’s a
long story.”

“The kind you can’t tell?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She made him turn around so she could see the
injury. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I think.”

“Oh, good, you should be pretty comfortable
then.”

“Hey.” He turned, pulled her close, and
swatted her on the fanny. Another hug. Another kiss.

“Can I fix you anything?”

“I haven’t eaten for a while. How about a
baloney sandwich and a glass of milk?”

“I can do that.”

“Perry asleep?”

“I doubt it. I sent him to bed at nine, but I
think he’s been waiting for you to come home. If you had called
earlier, I would have let him stay up.”

“Let me see what the rascal is up to.” Henry
crossed the living room and made his way to Perry’s room. He eased
the door open and peeked in. A night-light shone in the corner,
casting its dim glow on pale blue walls and making grotesque
shadows out of the model airplanes that hung from the ceiling. The
first time Henry saw it, he thought the eerie images might frighten
the ten-year-old. It didn’t. Perry loved them and made up stories
to go with each shadow.

The bed was centered under a window, and a
lump of something rested in the middle. A vague light pressed up
and through the covers.

“You wouldn’t be reading under the covers
against your mother’s orders, would you?”

A snoring sound wafted up from the bed.

“You’re too late, you little runt.” Henry
jumped on the bed, and Perry squealed. “Come here, you little
sneak.” He pulled the covers back. The flashlight beam hit him in
the eyes. “Ouch.”

“Take that,” Perry said.

“I plan on giving more than I take.” Henry
pressed his face against his son’s and rubbed his stubbled chin on
Perry’s check. “Death by whisker burn!”

“Mom! Mom! Help! There’s a crazy, hairy man
in my room.”

“That’s just your father, dear.”

“Oh.”

The two laughed. Henry sat on the edge of the
bed, and Perry sat up and hugged his father. “I missed you.”

Henry hugged back. “I missed you, too, boy.
You don’t know how much.” The embrace lasted a long minute. “Now I
have a question for you. What am I sitting on?” Henry rose and
reached under the covers and removed a paperback copy of
Journey to the Center of the Earth
. “So
you’ve been reading after lights-out, eh?”

“I want a lawyer,” Perry said. He laughed at
his own joke.

“I’m a little behind,” Henry said.

“No problem. You can catch up. We were on
page fifty-six when you left.”

Anna walked in with a sandwich on a plate and
a glass of milk. Henry set the book down and took the plate from
his wife. The sandwich was cut along the diagonal. “You want half?”
he said to Perry.

“Henry Sachs,” Anna snapped. “You know a boy
his age shouldn’t eat this late. You should be ashamed of
yourself.”

Henry lowered his head. “I am. I’m sorry.” He
looked up at Perry. “So, you want half?”

“Yeah.” Perry took it and bit down.

“I don’t know what to do with you two. Can I
get you anything else?”

“Cookies,” Perry whispered, as if his mother
couldn’t hear him.

“I’d like some cookies,” Henry said. “Several
of them, please.”

“Chocolate chip,” Perry whispered again.

“Do we have chocolate chip?”

“You know we do.” Anna left the room.

“Scoot over, boy. If you eat half my
sandwich, I get half your bed.” Henry propped himself up, reached
for the light on the nightstand, and took the book. “Page
fifty-six, eh?”

“Yeah.”

Anna returned with a bag of cookies and one
stuck in her mouth. Henry stared at her. She bit off a piece and
said, “What? You think I work for free?” She sat at the foot of the
bed.

Henry opened the book and glanced at the
page. “Oh, this is the part about Arne Saknussemm. I love this
part.” Henry began reading aloud.

Present Day

Perry trod down the polished floor of a
corridor in Seattle Medical Arts Hospital. It was a path he had
come to know well over the last week. Each day he would make his
way through Seattle traffic to arrive at 8:00 in the morning. It
was too early for visiting hours, but no one had yet complained.
His father, Henry Sachs, had become a bit of a celebrity. For the
last two days, Perry had arrived with a laptop computer and a case
of files. Dad was growing cranky at having to spend so much time in
bed. A little work eased his nerves.

This morning was special. Henry had endured
several days of harsh chemotherapy. There were various forms of the
treatment, and Dr. Nishizaki, working with a team of doctors who
specialized in such treatment, had to guess at which approach would
be the best. Since Perry had informed him that Zeisler had received
treatment for colon cancer, he started with that. The results were
immediate and dramatic. Henry came out of the coma within a day of
the first treatment. Two days later, he was strong enough to eat
and to sit up.

There were still many questions, but a
partial picture was beginning to appear. Perry was going to share
what he knew with his father. He turned down the wing that led to
his father’s private room. He had been moved out of MICU early
yesterday, and Perry took that as a very positive sign.

Perry walked through the doorway of room 425
and found his mother hovering near his father’s bed. Henry was
eating oatmeal and, judging by the expression on the man’s face,
not enjoying it very much.

Henry looked up when Perry entered. The sight
of his father sitting up and eating brought a tear to Perry’s eye.
He blinked it away.

“Hey, boy,” Henry said. “It’s good to see
you, and I mean that literally.”

“Hey, Dad.” Perry kissed his father on the
top of his head and looked into his eyes. When Perry had left for
Nevada, his father’s eyes had been as white as milk, as if covered
with solid contact lenses. Today they were merely tinted white. His
vision had not fully returned, but the ophthalmologists were
hopeful that all traces of the cataracts would dissolve over
time.

“You didn’t happen to pack a couple of fried
eggs in that computer case of yours, did you? I need a real
meal.”

“As you can tell,” Anna said, “he’s feeling
much better.”

“Sorry, Dad, no eggs in the case, but if you
feel up to a little trip to the cafeteria, I might be able to get
you some dry, stale toast to go with the glue you’re eating.”

“You’re too good to me,” Henry said,
stressing the sarcasm.

“How about it? You feel up to a little
wheelchair ride?”

“I can walk.”

“Maybe so,” Anna said, “but you’re not going
to.”

“You’re my wife, Anna, not my mother.”

“I didn’t know there was a difference.”

Henry looked at Perry. “Do you see what I’ve
had to put up with for all these years?”

Perry smiled. “I bet you’d do it all over
again.”

Henry laughed and reached for Anna’s hand.
“In a heartbeat, son. In a heartbeat.”

Perry helped his father into a wheelchair. He
was still weak, and Perry had to support him as he negotiated the
short distance from bed to chair. Once his father was situated,
Perry stepped behind the wheelchair and pushed Henry from the room
into the corridor.

“You drive like your mother,” Henry said,
then gave a little laugh.

“Hospital rules,” Perry replied. “I can’t
afford a ticket. You don’t pay me enough.”

The banter continued, and Perry was glad for
it. The bizarre illness that had nearly taken his father’s life had
not damaged the man’s mind. For that, and for Henry’s continued
life, Perry had offered up countless prayers of thanksgiving.

In the elevator, Henry’s mood changed. “I
haven’t had a chance to say this, son, but thanks. You went far
beyond what any man could expect. At least from what little your
mother has told me. I want the whole story.”

“You’ll get it,” Perry said. “You may not
believe it, but you’ll hear it.”

The elevator doors opened, and Perry guided
the wheelchair down the corridor, his mother close to his side.
Like many hospitals, the cafeteria was in the basement. The smell
of breakfast foods and coffee hung the air. Before they reached the
entrance, Perry could hear the drone of people talking.

“The place sounds full,” Henry said.

“It’s okay, I made reservations.”

They eased through the doorway of the
cafeteria. Men and women in white smocks milled around. Others
dressed in surgical greens or maintenance uniforms carried trays of
food or sat at tables. In the corner of the cafeteria, a series of
tables had been pressed together. Perry moved in that
direction.

The other diners parted like water before the
prow of a ship as Perry pushed the wheelchair. Soon they arrived at
the tables where Jack, Gleason, Dr. Nishizaki, Janet, and Carl sat.
As Perry closed the distance, Jack stood, and the others followed
suit. They applauded. Perry noticed tears in Jack’s eyes. He seemed
unashamed.

“All right, all right,” Henry said. His voice
was choked. “Sit down.”

Perry eased the wheelchair to the head of the
table and sat to his father’s left. Gleason vacated his spot so
Anna could sit to the right.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Sachs,” Jack
said.

“It is good to be seen.” Henry looked around
the room. “My vision is still a little cloudy, but there are two
people here I don’t recognize.”

“That’s because you’ve never met them. This
is Janet Novak and Carl Subick. They’re the deputies who helped
us.”

“Former
deputies,”
Carl stressed. “We were invited to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry said.

“In some ways, it’s a relief, sir,” Carl
said.

“There’s some good news,” Janet interjected.
“Carl and I are getting married, and you’re all invited to the
wedding.”

There was another round of applause, and Jack
slapped Carl on the back hard enough to knock dentures loose.

“I’ve invited Dr. Nishizaki to join us,”
Perry said. “I think he has earned the right to be in the
loop.”

“From what I hear, you had to call in every
favor owed you to get that treatment for me.”

“It was a small thing,” the doctor said.

“Not in my book, Doc,” Henry replied. “It
takes great courage to swim against the tide.”

Anna rose and returned with a tray of coffee
cups and passed them around. One of the cafeteria staff poured
coffee, then returned to her post behind the food line.

“Get comfy, Dad,” Perry said. “This is going
to take a little time to tell.”

“I have nothing but time,” Henry said.

Perry started at the beginning and related
the story, pausing when he came to Zeisler’s sacrifice. It was a
hard part of the story to tell and, from Henry’s expression, a hard
part of the story to hear. Henry listened, occasionally stopping
Perry to ask a question or two. Thirty minutes later, the
highlights had been told. Henry sat in silence, his eyes
closed.