He took a deep breath. “But most of all I was angry at myself for not being able to save her. I was her husband. I should have been able to save her...”
She let his voice tail off. She wanted to put her arms around him. She wanted to hug him as tightly as she could.
But there was a balance here that could so easily be tipped. He’d shared something with her that she doubted he’d shared before. What did that mean?
It seemed almost like a step towards her. But she couldn’t be sure. And was she ready to take a step like that while she still had demons of her own?
Something twisted inside her. Could she talk about Isabel? Was she ready to share? She was still faltering. She still had to step out of Isabel’s shadow before she could do anything else. Too much was happening all at once, so where did Sawyer fit into this equation?
She rubbed her hand over the top of his. Words seemed so futile now but she had to say something so she kept it simple. “Thank you for sharing, Sawyer. I know it was hard. And I’m glad you did.” Her words were whispered and he gave her a little smile.
“I think it’s time you went outside and faced the masses. Better share the good news and tell them what they need to know.”
She nodded and slowly stood up. He needed some time. He needed some space. She could appreciate that.
And if she really cared about him, she had to give it.
“Come out when you’re ready.” She gave him a little nod and walked out.
Sawyer leaned back against the pew. In a matter of minutes it would be chaos out there again. Everyone would have questions and be looking for answers. The people currently quarantined would need up-to-date information. They would need to know what would happen next. Everything would have to be reassessed, re-evaluated, reconfigured.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Sawyer felt the air in the room become still. He didn’t feel any urge to hurry after her. It would all still be out there in a few minutes—or a few hours. It was truly peaceful in here. No outside noises and far enough away from the clinical areas and staff to shield it from any external influences. Not even the noise of the birds tweeting outside.
He sat there for the longest time watching the colorful reflections from the stained-glass window dance on the wall to his right.
He looked at the scattered pieces of the plan around his feet.
Plans. He’d spent so long hating plans and everything about them. Blaming them and the DPA for the part they’d played in Helen’s death.
It didn’t matter that he was supposedly an intelligent, rational man. Nothing about his wife’s death had seemed rational to him.
It had all seemed so random.
The DPA planned for every eventuality—or so he’d thought. But it hadn’t planned for that. It hadn’t planned for his wife to collapse with an ectopic pregnancy in the middle of nowhere and too far away for any emergency treatment.
And it had made him mad.
It had made him behave in a way that would have embarrassed Helen. He had questioned everything. He had torn up plans and set them on fire. He’d refused to follow any of the protocols that the DPA had set. And then he’d walked away from it all.
He’d walked away because he hadn’t wanted to deal with anything.
He couldn’t possibly believe that they’d just been unlucky. That Helen’s death had simply come down to dumb, rotten luck.
He’d tried to forget everything and push everyone away.
But now it was time to stop all that. It was time to open his eyes.
It was time to remember—both the good and the bad.
And he remembered. He remembered everything about his wife that he’d loved.
And for the first time in a long time he took joy in remembering.
The dark shade of her hair, the chocolate color of her eyes. The fact that every item in her wardrobe had been a variation of a shade of blue. Her collection of bells that had sat on the window ledge in their bedroom. The smell of her favorite perfume, which she’d worn every single day. The candles she’d lit around her bath at night. The grey and blue felt hat she’d worn in winter that he’d always said made her look one hundred and five.
All the things that he’d been terrified to forget. Once—just once—he’d forgotten who her favorite author had been. It had sent an irrational, horrible fear through his entire body. How could he forget something about his darling Helen? Those books were still sitting on her bedside cabinet.
So he’d made lists and chanted things over and over in his bed at night. He hadn’t been able to stand the thought of her fading from his memory. That the love that he’d felt for her would ever die.
He remembered their first date at the movies, their first kiss, their first fight and their first home. Their wedding day. Their wedding night.
And the way he’d held her on that last, horrible day when they’d both known she was going to die.
That nothing could save her. Even though he kept telling her she’d be fine.
The way she’d felt in his arms as he’d felt the life slowly drain from her body.
The way she’d told him she’d love him forever. And to live a good life.
Here, in this special place, it felt right. It felt right to remember her. It felt like a celebration.
Of life.
Of love.
Of forgiveness.
A single tear rolled down his cheek. He’d cried an ocean’s worth of tears but now it was time for the last one.
Now it was time to let go.
Now it was time to live his life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE ALARM STARTED sounding sharply. Sawyer and Dan were on their feet almost simultaneously. Even though the ventilator was breathing for Jack, his blood results had shown that his organs were starting to fail.
“Cardiac arrest. He’s in V-fib.”
Sawyer was almost through the door before one of the nurses blocked his path. “Gown!” she shouted.
Dan hadn’t been so forgetful and already had a gown half on and his mask in place. Sawyer hated this. What was the point? How
effective were the masks really? How much protection did the gown really offer? Wouldn’t it make more sense just to get in and defibrillate him?
He hauled the gown and mask on and entered the room just as Dan placed the paddles on the boy’s chest. “Clear!”
Jack’s little body arched and all eyes fixed on the monitor.
Still VF.
Callie ran into the room, her gown barely covering her shoulders. “No!” she gasped, and ran to the other side of the room.
It was then Sawyer heard the high-pitched squeal. The squeal of a little boy watching people attempt to resuscitate his brother and not having a clue what was going on. He cursed and pulled the curtain between the beds. Why hadn’t he realized? Why hadn’t he even thought of that?
But Callie had. She had her arm around Ben’s shoulders and was whispering to him through her mask. Her face was mainly hidden but he could still see her eyes. And there were tears in them.
Dan was moving quickly, seamlessly, shouting instructions to the surrounding staff. Jack’s mother and father appeared at the window, horrified at what was happening to their son.
Jill Keating promptly dissolved into a fit of tears, her legs giving way beneath her.
They started CPR, a nurse with a knee on the bed using one hand on Jack’s small chest. Regular, rhythmic beats. It was painful to watch.
The ventilator had been unhooked. Another doctor was bagging Jack down the tube already in place.
Drugs were pushed through Jack’s IV. Anything to try and restart his heart.
“Everyone stop a second!” Dan shouted.
Callie’s head shot up, a look of horror on her face. She moved from Ben’s bed over to where Sawyer was standing. “You can’t stop!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare stop!”
* * *
A hand tapped Violet on the shoulder. “You’ve to go the boardroom.”
Her head shot up. “What for? I’m in the middle of something right now. Can’t it wait?”