Violet

Malory is so still. Kids aren’t supposed to be this still unless they’re exhausted and sleeping in their bed after a long day of playing in the park, not sedated because their little brain can’t process watching an Uncle nearly beat an Aunt to death.

Sabrina and I switched places for an hour so she could spend some time with Sam. Apparently, Sabrina and Sam became friends when Sabrina moved to California after her husband died overseas. She had no family in the UK or America, and she and Major had never lost contact, so Oceanside was the logical place for her to build a life.

When she walked into Malory’s hospital room, I choked on my own spit when I gasped. It was embarrassing, but she acted as if nothing had happened and hugged me like an old friend. I can’t imagine Major and Sabrina being only friends. There’s not a red-blooded man on the planet she couldn’t have with her exotic beauty. Throw in her British accent, and she’s killer.

Dressed in Victoria’s Secret pink sweat pants, a t-shirt and matching jacket with Nikes on her feet, she was hotter than any runway model. She kissed Malory and sat on the bed next to her. Malory slept like a blonde version of sleeping beauty while Sabrina spun stories about handsome princes and beautiful fairies. When I complemented her on her creative imagination, she told me she’s a romance writer. I can totally see Sabrina as a writer. Something about her screams, creative good vibes right here, get your feels on with Sabrina!

Major texted me that he was on his way with the kids and Sabrina thought it best to go and be there when they arrived. She is the same as family to them. The kids stair step in age, six, seven and eight, making her a constant presence throughout their lives. It will be good to have two adults there to comfort them when they see their mother.

I’m proud of Major. He told them what happened, no beating around the bush or procrastinating, just straight up told them. I’m sure he’s done difficult things as a Marine, and I’m sure his military family stood by him, but it’s different when your biological family is hurting.

Are Samantha and Major biological siblings? I never thought to ask, not that it makes much difference, but it would be good information in case of an emergency. I’ll have to ask him about that later.

I wish I didn’t have to meet every single person that Major loves on the worst day of their lives, or at least one in their top ten. I have a list of at least twenty of the worst days of my life somewhere. It helps me appreciate the good days and how truly blessed I am.

It’s been an hour since he texted me he was on his way. I wonder how the kids are handling seeing their mother bandaged and bruised. I lean back in a chair next to Malory’s bed and rest my head back, looking at the ceiling tiles. I wonder how many children have had to lay here in pain, staring at the same tiles. A shiver runs up my spine at the thought. I hate hospitals. Kids should never have to visit one unless they’re being born.

I hear a whimper and snap my head up to see Malory’s eyes fluttering open. She doesn’t know me, and this has been so traumatic, I’m afraid to say anything for fear of throwing her back into hysteria. I wait for her to see me. She doesn’t frighten. She has no reaction at all. She’s flat and emotionless, almost like she can see straight through me. Maybe she’s not all the way awake yet. Do I approach her and risk a meltdown or hang back and let her come to me?

The thought no more enters my head than she reaches out her hand for me. Slowly, I lean forward. She keeps reaching, and I keep inching toward her. When I’m on the edge of my chair and the tips of our fingers touch, she curls hers around mine, pulling me closer. I stand and move to sit on the bed with her, and she sits up and hugs me, clings to me, squeezes me so tight it almost hurts.

“Malory, I’m your daddy’s friend, Violet. I wanted to be here when you woke up. How are you feeling?”

Stupid question. Her world just fell apart and she’s sitting in a hospital room with some strange woman named after a flower without her mother and siblings.

She doesn’t answer, she just grips the material of my shirt at my sides in tight little wads, holding on for dear life. That’s okay, sometimes all you need is a hug. I wrap my arms around the beautiful little girl and breathe in the faint scent of strawberry shampoo in her hair.

We stay like this, her silently holding on, me doing my best to comfort a stranger without words for a long time until a nurse enters the room.

When she sees me, I try to convey that I am out of my element with a help me, I’m crashing sort of look. She understands and bends at the waist to speak to Malory.

“Are you hungry, Malory? Or thirsty? I can bring you something if you want,” she offers.

Malory shakes her head no.

“All right, would you like to see your daddy?”

She nods up and down vigorously and launches herself out of the bed into her arms.

“Oh! My goodness, you really do want your daddy, don’t you?” she says with a chuckle.

Then she looks at me suspiciously, or at least I feel like its suspicion.

“She’s never met me before. I’m her father’s friend,” I say as if that were a perfectly good reason for this child to be leaping out of my arms. She stands with Malory wrapped around her like a monkey.

“I’ll just go call her father,” she says, walking away with my charge. I’m supposed to be making sure she’s all right, not letting some stranger walk off with her. I get up and follow them out the door to the nurse’s station, where nurse Jane fuzzy wuzzy is about to call Major.

“I can text him if you like. He’s visiting his sister in ICU.”

This news seems to set her at ease. “Yes, that would be fine.”

Me – Malory’s awake. She’d like to see you.

Major – Almost there.

“He’s already on his way.”

“Thank you. We have to be really careful with our patients,” she says.

“No problem, it’s reassuring to know she’s being looked after so well,” I say, and I mean it. This little girl’s been through enough. She deserves to feel safe.

Major arrives, flanked by a shell-shocked Davy and a pale, frightened Summer. He’s shown me photographs of them several times so I know what they look like, although in the photo, they were laughing and rosy cheeked, playing in the water at a water park.

Summer is a little clone of her mother, with blonde hair and coral blue eyes, but Davy actually resembles a young Major. They must be biological brother and sister. No way could he look that much like Major without some of the same chromosomes.

Major walks behind the nurse’s station to get Malory with no regard to the hospital’s policy on patient privacy. He loosens her fingers from the middle-aged nurse’s neck and pulls her into his arms and holds her against his chest so hard she whimpers.

I reach out to touch her back with one hand and his arm with the other. “Hey . . . is everything all right?” I ask softly, looking into his bloodshot eyes.

“No, we need to get back to Sam, all of us.” The way he says all of us causes my heart to drop into my stomach. Something’s happening with Sam, and he wants us all at her bedside.

“I need discharge papers for her or an AMA form—whatever’s fastest—we need to leave.”

I glance down at the kids. Summer is crying now, and Davy has moved to her side to hold her hand. God, please don’t let their mother die, especially at the hands of their father. They will have to live with that for the rest of their lives.

Malory whines again and squirms in his arms. “Major, I think you’re hurting her. Why don’t you let me take her while you get the papers signed?”

I round the desk and walk behind Major so Malory can see me. I hold out my arms and raise my eyebrows, asking her if she wants to come to me, and she does more than willingly.

“That’s a good girl, let’s let Daddy talk to the nurse, and we will go over here with Davy and Summer.”

I take Malory to a nearby bench with the other kids in tow. When I sit down, Summer starts to talk to Malory and Davy takes her hand.

These kids know how to bond together in a crisis, that’s for sure. The sound of call lights going off and the printer whirring as the nurse prints forms for Major to sign bounce around in my head as I wonder what’s happening in the ICU with Samantha.

“Mommy’s so hurt, Mal. I’m scared,” Summer says to Malory.

“She’s going to be fine. It’s just her head, it will get better,” Davy says, trying to reassure himself just as much as the girls.

“That’s not what the doctor said, Davy,” Summer says.

“What did the doctor say, Summer?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer to my question.

“He said her brain is dead, you gotta have that to be alive, right, Violet?” she says with a quivering bottom lip.

Three sets of eyes are on me, waiting, anticipating my answer.

“Well yes, but sometimes a brain can get sick and then get better. It depends on how sick it is.” That’s all I’ve got. I can’t make it simpler than that. I need to talk to Major and find out what exactly the doctor said.

“Come on, we’re going back to Sam’s room,” he says, whizzing by and grabbing Davy’s hand.

I stand and follow as fast as I can holding a six-year-old, a small one, granted, but she’s got to weigh at least forty pounds.

“Major, wait, what’s going on? Is she okay?” I ask, taking three steps for every one of his.

“They’re talking about shutting off her ventilator. One says she’s brain dead. Another says she still has a chance. I’m not leaving her alone with those bozos so they can pull the plug while I’m gone.”

“They can’t do that, can they?” I gasp, out of breath from walking so fast.

“No, not legally, but I have a bad feeling about all this. I don’t trust them.”

Oh my God, she can’t be brain dead, this isn’t happening. Should the kids be here during all of this? Is it too traumatic for them to witness doctors arguing about turning their mother’s life support off?

Major is walking so fast I can hardly keep up, and he’s dragging poor Davy. Summer is falling behind too. I slow to her pace and take Davy’s hand from Major. I’ll let him go ahead. I know where the ICU is if we get separated.

“Why is Uncle Sawyer so mad?” Summer asks.

“Honey, he loves your mommy very much and he’s trying to make sure the doctors take really good care of her. He’s worried, that’s all.”

I pray that’s all. I could have just given a seven-year-old little girl a big helping of false hope.

“Mom’s gonna die, isn’t she?” Davy asks, and I stop in the middle of the hall and kneel down to eye level with him. I place my hands on his shoulders. “Davy, positive thinking is a very powerful thing, and so is negative thinking. Do you know what that means?”

He nods yes.

“We need to think positive thoughts to help your mommy get better. If you guys pray, now’s a good time to say a few prayers. Your mommy loves you a lot. Don’t give up on her, okay?”

Davy nods his head up and down, but I see tears forming in his eyes. I shift Malory to one hip and pull him close for a hug, and Summer wraps her arms around all of us for a group hug.

“I’m holding the elevator. Come on,” Major barks from inside the elevator a few feet up the hall. We rush to get in before it starts to alarm. He can see I’m struggling, so he takes Malory from me. I’m afraid to put her down with the sedative still in her system. She rests her head on his shoulder. She looks scared. They all look scared. I don’t know how to console traumatized kids. Please, God, don’t let their mother die. They still need her so much.

When we are close to her room, I can feel the tension vibrating through the air. Nurses who were smiling earlier have their mouths set in straight lines. Doctors are bustling around, consulting with one another on what to do next.

“How is she? Any change?”

An old doctor with a hunch in his back and grey hair looks up from examining Samantha.

“Still nothing, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you on her case anymore. Find the other doctor who was in here earlier. I want to talk to him.”

I’m standing behind Major with my jaw on the floor. I sympathize with new Marines in boot camp. If Major were my drill instructor, I’d be AWOL. He’s so intimidating.

The doctor exits the room without an argument, and I hear him speak to the nurse, asking her to call Dr. Kumar.

Oh my God, do I have to deal with this on top of everything else today? I haven’t returned his calls or texts for two weeks. They gradually stopped coming, and I felt bad for not telling him I wasn’t interested. I took the chicken’s way out, and now I’m going to pay. He knows about my pregnancy, and I’m sure he’s going to be making some assumptions, seeing me here with Major and the kids during a very private family matter.

Please, please, God, don’t let him mention that he took me out to lunch and sent me flowers, or worse yet, don’t let him congratulate us! If Major finds out like this, it’s going to be devastating. He might throw me out and think I’ve been trying to trap him. That’s what I would think if I were him. I should have told him right away. I should have told him in the hotel the other night when the moment was perfect. Now he might find out he’s going to be a father in the middle of a family crisis.

No way, I’m going to be proactive about this. I still have his number. I’ll text him and tell him what’s happening and ask him not to mention the pregnancy in front of anyone. Can he even do that? Isn’t it patient confidentiality or something? Not if I’m not his patient anymore maybe. Shit, I need a second alone.

“Davy, Summer, why don’t we wait out here in the waiting area while Uncle Sawyer sorts some things out?” I place a hand on their backs and guide them into the waiting area, where there is a television and video games. I hardly think they will be interested in either, but there’s no room for them in Sam’s room right now.

This is Violet Washington in case you’ve deleted me from your contact list. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’m in a difficult situation right now and I was hoping you would show me some mercy. I’m at the hospital with my boyfriend, the father of my baby, and they’ve just called you to come see his sister in the ICU. The thing is, he doesn’t know I’m pregnant yet. I’m going to tell him, I just wanted to wait for the right moment, and right now is the absolute worst time. Please, Sayeed, don’t mention I’m pregnant, I beg you.

No more do I press send than Dr. Kumar rounds the corner with two residents flanking his sides. Dressed in long white jackets, they look like eager beavers dying to sink their teeth into a good case.

Please look at your texts before you reach me. I’m tapping my finger against the screen of my phone like he’s going to feel it and answer his own. He’s almost to her room when he spots me. Maybe he will come down here before he sees Sam. No, this is an emergency. He’s not going to come down here and chit chat when a patient is in critical condition.

He says something to the residents and opens the sliding glass doors to Samantha’s fish bowl hospital room. The residents disappear, and Sayeed begins to walk my way, thank God.

“I’ll be right back. I see a doctor I know and I’m going to say hello, okay?” I tell the kids. They nod numbly and stare at the television.

“Violet, I’m so glad to see you, how have you been?” Dr. Kumar says, opening his arms for an embrace. Surprisingly, I walk straight into them. Sayeed exudes such a calm, caring vibe. It’s a little addictive, I’ll admit, and I could use some calm right now. I hug him tightly. “Whoa there, you and that baby are going to break my spine,” he says, pulling away.

“Shush, please, Sayeed. I just sent you a text explaining what’s going on, but since you probably haven’t read it, just please don’t mention to anyone that I’m pregnant, please,” I say pressing my palms together between us in prayer form.

“All right, but . . . I assumed you had gone back to the baby’s father, since you didn’t return my calls or text. Is there a reason you haven’t told him yet?”

His voice is laced with hope, and I feel so shitty. He thinks maybe I haven’t told Major because we aren’t together.

“No, yes, I mean crap. This is all such a mess.”

“Calm down, it’s fine, just start at the beginning. That’s always a good place to start,” he says, smiling at me with the most compassionate, warm smile I’ve ever seen.

“You’re such a good man, Sayeed. Thank you for being a good friend to me.”

His face falls ever so slightly.

“But . . .”

“I knew there was a but coming.” His black eyes fill with understanding and disappointment.

“I’m trying to tell him, there have just been so many things happening and we didn’t talk for a long time, and now his sister is so sick.” I gesture toward Samantha’s room, and his eyes widen.

“Samantha is the father’s sister?”

“Yes, are you taking care of her?”

“I was consulted earlier, but it seems your boyfriend just fired one of the oldest and most intelligent physicians in the hospital. So now, yes, I am taking care of her.”

“Oh good, you have to help her, Sayeed. These kids need their mother. Their dad went to jail for doing this to her, and if she dies, they’ll be orphans.”

“I’ll be honest. It doesn’t look good, but I’ll do everything I can, I promise. And don’t worry, I won’t mention the pregnancy. But take my advice. Tell him, sooner than later. He deserves to know.”

“I will. I’m going to, just not today.”

“All right, let me go examine Samantha again and talk to Mr. Steele—or uh, your boyfriend, I guess, isn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s him,” I say, grimacing.

“Got your hands full with that one.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it.”

He hugs me again, and when I look up, Major is standing just outside Sam’s room, holding Malory and staring at me.

I don’t know why, but I jump backward out of Sayeed’s arms. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I have every right to hug a friend if I want to, but the look in Major’s eyes when he saw me . . . it was so cold and angry. I’ve never seen him look that way before, and I never want to again. Chills run up my spine, and I wrap my arms around myself and rub my palms up and down my biceps.

Sayeed turns to see who I’m looking at and returns his attention to me.

“I’ll tell him we’re old friends. Don’t worry, Violet.”

“Okay,” I whisper, still locked in Major’s icy glare.

Sayeed makes his way to Major and ushers him back into the room. Major doesn’t release my eyes until the door is closed, and I want to cry for so many reasons. But most of all, I want to cry because he’s hurting and he’s thinking I’ve done something wrong.

And I haven’t.

Once I decided to keep the baby, I stopped seeing Sayeed. He only kissed me once. It was nice, but it lacked the electricity and chemistry that is there when Major and I kiss. Even when we don’t, a look from Major across a crowded room can make my heart race and my palms sweat. Dr. Kumar is nice, sweet, even, but Major is . . . well, Major is Major.

I’m going to need a new shirt if they don’t come out of there soon. I’m sweating like I just ran a 10K. I have the overwhelming desire to explain myself to Major, but there isn’t anything to explain.

“Violet? Can we get something out of the vending machine?” Summer asks, tugging on my pinky finger. I look down at her, and she’s pointing to another waiting area just outside the ICU with a row of vending machines.

“Did you eat at your neighbor’s house?” I ask.

“Yeah, but that was at six. It’s almost twelve and my tummy hurts.”

“Okay, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the time. Of course you’re hungry. Let’s go get you both a snack.”

I start for the doors and remember my purse is still in Sam’s room and I don’t have any money on me.

“Hey guys, hold on. I don’t have any change. Let me go and get my purse. I’ll be right back.”

Davy slumps down into his chair and Summer sits next to him and takes his hand. My heart aches inside my rib cage, watching them lean on each other during the worst time of their lives.

A nurse is sitting outside the room using a computer. Maybe I can get her to go in there and get my purse so I don’t interrupt? Why am I being such a damn chicken? I haven’t done anything wrong. There is no reason I can’t walk my ass in there and get my own purse.

I slide the doors open just enough to squeeze through. Major is standing on one side of the bed with his arm wrapped around Sabrina, and she has her face pressed against him with her hand splayed on his abdomen. I bite my lip to keep the green goddess of jealousy at bay. It’s not the time or the place. “I just need to grab my purse. The kids are hungry. Sorry to interrupt.” I lower my eyes, feeling very much like an intruder, and round the bed to where my purse is hanging on the back of a chair. It’s also directly behind where Major and Sabrina are standing.

He reaches out and gently takes my arm. I glance at his hand on my arm and then into his endless green eyes. I’m forgiven. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I’m still forgiven. I can see it in his eyes.

“Stay for a minute while Dr. Kumar explains what’s happening.” He pulls me under his arm on his other side and presses his big hand on the small of my back, securing me there as if I’d ever leave. Sabrina steps away and dabs at her eyes with a tissue.

“Where’s Malory?” I ask when I realize she’s nowhere in sight.

“Over there. The nurse pulled two chairs together and used some blankets to make her a bed. She’s tired. I should have left her in her hospital room, but I was afraid she wouldn’t get to say goodbye. That’s not an issue now, so we should probably get her home—all of them.”

He sounds so normal, so calm and full of hope. Not like a man with severe OCD about to take three young kids into his perfectly clean, germ-free, sterile home. And he definitely doesn’t seem like a man preparing to say goodbye to his sister forever.

“Yeah, it’s late, but wait, what do you mean there isn’t an issue anymore? Has something changed?”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t go so far as to say there are no issues, but there are options. Dr. Gram believes Samantha to be brain dead, which is absolutely no brain wave activity. But I think we should give her some time, let the swelling go down, allow her brain to heal. She’s not responsive, and that’s not good, but I think if we wait a few days, there’s a chance. I’m not giving up hope on her yet.”

I love Dr. Kumar right now. Not the romantic kind, of course, but he’s going the extra mile to save Major’s family, and I can never repay him for that.

“Do you hear that, Sammie? Don’t give up. Keep fighting. Davi and Summer and Malory are waiting for you to wake up. They need their mommy, so you work hard to get better, okay?” Major speaks to Sam like she’s already awake and able to follow instructions, and Sabrina lays her hand on Sam’s leg.

I always wondered why people ask comatose patients to fight hard and get better. What are they actually asking them to do? They’re stuck inside their own brain in the dark, frustrated by their lack of ability to communicate, and people are telling them to heal. How the hell do you heal yourself?

He’s trying to help. I get it, but how is that helpful?

“So you really think there is hope? How long do we wait? What should we expect?” I have a hundred more questions, but those are the first off my lips.

“Yes, I believe there is hope. Her MS is very mild, and she’s young and in good physical condition. I can’t tell you how long to wait or what to expect though. We could be looking at days, weeks, months—maybe even years for her to respond.”

Years? I might be helping Major raise three, no, four kids for years. Wow, zero to four in one year’s time. It’s mind-boggling. I have no idea what the everyday schedule of a mother of four is like.

“It won’t be that long, will it, Sammie? You’ll be back on your feet before you know it. I know you won’t ignore a Major’s—or more importantly, your brother’s—request.”

He covers her purple hand with his and squeezes me tight.

I told Davy he needed to have a positive attitude. Now that we have everybody on the same page, maybe we really can get her back.

Now to go home and give this man another shock. The timing isn’t great, but I’m quickly learning that even when I’m presented with the perfect time, I still hesitate. No more procrastinating. It’s got to be tonight. I know he’s had a long day of stress, but maybe, just maybe, this won’t be the horrible news I’m afraid it will be.