George
Aneurysm.
The word rolled around in my head as I stared silently at my wife. My chair was as close to the hospital bed as I could get it, my arms resting on the mattress as I held her limp hand, careful not to disturb the IV line taped down her arm. Soft black lashes rested against her delicate cheeks as she lay motionless. Sleeping. In the madness and fear I was feeling, it was the only thing holding me together—Charlotte wasn’t in a coma, she was just sleeping—but deep down, in a dark place I refused to acknowledge, I knew the truth.
The door to her room opened and my father stepped inside, his expression gaunt as Charlotte’s father and mother followed behind him. My father was the kind of man that liked everyone, but he didn’t particularly care for Wayne Acres, none of us did. Not after he’d cast Charlotte out into the world, refusing to believe she could see the dead. But my father, being a better man than me, had put aside his discontent and offered himself as a friend to the Acres in their time of need.
Staring at her daughter from the doorway, tears welling in her red-rimmed eyes, Tracey Acres’ hands trembled as she covered her mouth in an attempt to muffle her crying. I winced at the sound of her broken sob, her reaction to seeing Charlotte in this state every bit as gut-wrenching as imaginable. Charlotte didn’t look a thing like her mother, who looked like the quintessential small-town school teacher with her simply styled brown hair and practical clothes. No, Charlotte looked just like her father with his gray eyes and dark hair.
I forced myself to a stand, my body heavy from the nightmare of the last twenty-four hours, and I was wearing thin from lack of sleep. I edged around the bed, but stopped, unsure of what to do. Most in-laws would hug, especially in a situation like this, but the Acres and I had never really established that kind of rapport.
If there was tension or a rift between me and my in-laws, I’d have to own a part in that. Charlotte tried her best to let the past go, but I wasn’t sure I ever would. Though, one could argue had they not cast her out, I would have never met her. Then where would I be? I grimaced at that thought. High? Hiding? Possibly dead? I glanced back at Charlotte, my chest aching. She saved me.
Don’t take her, God. Please. Please don’t take her.
“Any updates since we spoke this morning?” Wayne asked in a gruff voice.
I shook my head.
“I’d like to speak to the doctor,” he grumbled.
“Rounds are in two hours,” I said flatly.
“I want to speak to him now.” His tone was demanding.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I tilted my head in disbelief. Did he think I was keeping updates from him? “Like I said,” I met his firm stare with equal determination, “they’ll be back in two hours.” My tone held a bite. This was my wife we were talking about. Did he think I wouldn’t have harassed the hell out of everyone for information already?
“I was told you found her in some crack house,” he bit out.
“That’s where the girl she was helping was,” Tracey intervened before I could respond.
“Oh, right,” he said with a disgusted snort. “This souls-lost-in-limbo nonsense. And I suppose you just let her run off into a dangerous city by herself chasing these delusions?” He spat accusingly at me.
I stepped toward him. “Wayne, if you have something to say to me—”
“George,” my father said quietly, stepping between us and laying a hand on my shoulder to keep me in place. “This isn’t the time.”
I nodded, taking in a deep breath to calm down. My father was right, but I wasn’t about to let Wayne throw his weight around and put my wife at greater risk by spewing his opinions about Charlotte’s mental wellbeing. I shifted to meet Wayne’s glare over my father’s shoulder. “I’m not interested in trying to convince you of Charlotte’s gift; you’ve more than proven it would be a waste of energy I don’t have. But if you wish to remain here and be able to see your daughter, you need to get one thing straight.”
“George…” my father began insistently, but I cut him off.
“No, Dad. This needs to be said.” I gave him a quick glance, and he nodded and stepped to stand beside me, facing Charlotte’s parents. I looked back to Wayne and continued, “I didn’t let Charlotte do anything. You know better than anyone that she does what she wants, and she wouldn’t have gone alone without good reason. That being said, you’re right. I should have been there with her, and I’ve thanked God every single second of the last twenty-four hours that I found her when I did. I am the one that’s been by her side everyday for the last three years, and I’m the one that will still be by her side when she wakes up, and everyday after that until I die because I’m her husband. I will not keep you from her, but I sure as hell won’t let you barge in here and act like you know anything about what’s best for my wife. You lost the right to demand anything on her behalf the day you threw her out of your lives.”
At that moment Tracey flew to Charlotte’s side, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “Charlotte, honey,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. We’re here now. I’m here with you, sweetie.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Where was she when Charlotte was alone and about to end her life? Where was this bleeding-heart mother then?
“Wayne, now is not the time to pick a fight,” Tracey said tersely. “Our daughter is in duress.” Casting her tear-filled gaze to me, she promised, “We won’t talk about her gift anymore.”
I turned back to Wayne, his expression slack as he watched his wife cry at Charlotte’s bedside. After a few long moments he cut his gaze to mine and reluctantly nodded. He wouldn’t press it any further, but neither would he apologize.
Fine, I’d made my point; though, part of me still wanted to throttle the man. My father must’ve seen my expression and had an idea what I was thinking because he cleared his throat, drawing my attention. The lingering anger leached out of me when I realized he was struggling to hold himself together just as much as I was. Charlotte was a part of the McDermott clan now. He considered her a daughter, and this was as tough for him as it would be any father.
“George, why don’t we let them have some time with her and get you something to eat?”
Wayne’s head perked up as he glanced at me, no doubt eagerly hoping I’d take my father’s suggestion.
I hesitated, knowing my father was right but not wanting to leave Charlotte.
“Come on, George,” my father insisted with a squeeze of my shoulder. I didn’t like it, but I nodded.
“I’ll be back in an hour.” I said tonelessly as I passed Wayne.
Out in the hall, my father rested his hand on my shoulder as we walked toward the elevators. “I know you’re not their biggest fan, but they are her parents.”
“Only when it’s convenient for them,” I snorted, unable to stop myself.
Two people were already waiting as we approached the elevator, and my father shifted in front of me, forcing me to stop a few feet away. “George,” he began in a stern tone I knew well. It was his tough love voice. He was about to say something to me that I wouldn’t want to hear but needed to. Fathers have that ability to teach you and scold you all at once and you respect them for it. My dad was a master at this. “Charlotte is their daughter, you can’t change that, and son,” his voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat, “if she dies, they’ll have lost two children. The only children they have.” The elevator dinged and we stepped inside. I pressed the button for the lobby as the doors slid closed, the weight of his words threatening to break me. In that one statement he’d summed up the impact Charlotte had on all of us, and what it would mean if she didn’t wake up. My wife, their daughter, might die.
“I know you’re hurting,” he continued quietly, “and you’re protective of her, but you’re going to have to put yourself aside here, son, and remember we all love Charlotte. We’re all scared, and we’ll all be devastated if anything happens to her.”
His words were meant to right me, keep me on track and remind me not to let my emotions get the better of me, but it felt like a punch to the gut every time he said anything about Charlotte dying. “Please stop saying that. Stop talking about her dying,” I said curtly, refusing to let my voice convey the agony I felt at just the thought of losing her. “I’ll try, Dad,” I promised. “Just no more talk about her dying. Okay?”
He nodded his agreement as the doors opened to the lobby. I bolted from the elevator, not waiting for my father as I headed straight for the cafeteria. I needed something strong, but I wasn’t sure the coffee would be enough.