CHAPTER FIVE

“Calla!”

I groaned as I faintly heard my name.

“Calla!” The sound of my mother’s voice echoed in my pounding head. “Calla, speak to me!”

“What?” I snapped, causing my head to hurt even more.

“Why aren’t you at the hospital with your father?”

I bolted upright but quickly groaned as the blood whooshed around my brain.

“You better answer me!”

I grabbed my head and then slowly opened my eyes to see my mother with her hands on her hips, peering down at me. “I saw Dr. Young last night and ...”

And fuck.

Everything came rushing back. Did he carry me to bed? Did my dad’s doctor fucking carry me into the house? Carry my heavy ass as though I weighed as much as a feather? Did he struggle? I didn’t remember the details, but the mere fact that Draven had carried me was enough to make me want to crawl into a hole and die.

“Of course you did, but that doesn’t explain why you’re here and not at the hospital!”

“No,” I corrected. “Dr. Young wasn’t on duty last night. I saw him when I was ...” I paused again, not knowing how to tell my mother that her husband’s doctor was flirting with me last night. Was he flirting with me? Again, the details were hazy. “I saw him when I was grabbing a bite to eat across the street. He assured me there’d be no change, and ...” I trailed off again. How could I tell her that he drove me home and tucked me into bed too?

“And what?”

I had to tell her he drove me home. I didn’t have a car except for the one my family had taken home when they left the hospital. I sighed. “And he drove me home.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head toward me. “You had your father’s doctor drive you home? Why didn’t you go back to the hospital? I don’t get it. Am I missing something, Calla?”

“I was drunk,” I blurted before I realized what I was saying.

Mom glared at me. “So you weren’t just getting a bite to eat? You got drunk to the point that Dr. Young had to drive you home? I don’t know what you were thinking, but it wasn’t about your father. You’re a selfish girl.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling shameful.

“We need to get to the hospital. Are you coming or not?”

“Okay. I’m getting ready now.” I swung my legs out of bed, and my head throbbed as the room swayed slightly.

“We’re leaving in ten minutes with or without you, Calla.” She slammed the door as she turned and left.

Fuck. What had happened last night? Had Draven really flirted with me? I remembered that I didn’t want to leave once we started talking. I just couldn’t resist him. And he’d given me his number. My stomach tingled at the thought, and a smile formed on my lips. But my smile was quickly replaced with a frown as I thought about my mother’s words. She was right. I’d been selfish, but I’d needed a break for a few minutes. A break from staring at my dad who looked like he was peacefully sleeping when really he was fighting for his life. That plan had quickly changed the moment Draven sat next to me, and now my mother was pissed.

After I quickly changed out of yesterday’s clothes, I took a two minute cold shower to try to wake me a little and then threw on some clean clothes, leaving my hair damp. By the time I made my way downstairs, my mom was pacing the kitchen. I earned another look of disapproval from her.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I made a mistake.” I filled a travel mug to the brim with the freshly brewed coffee, then turned back around to face her.

“A mistake? Leaving your father on his own was not a mistake, Calla. It was negligent. And drunk in a bar? What if Dr. Young hadn’t arrived? Would you have stumbled back to the hospital drunk?” Mom snatched the car keys and her purse, and then called to my brother and sister that it was time to go.

The high pitch of her voice reminded me I needed to take something for my throbbing head.

As we drove the hour to the hospital, I took the time to try to piece together what had happened the night before as my mother gave me the silent treatment. Draven seemed like a really nice guy and that, along with his looks, just made for a man I’d like to get to know better. But it didn’t matter how I felt about Draven because once my father recovered, I needed to return to Seattle and wouldn’t see him again.

When we arrived at the door of my dad’s hospital room, doctors stood near his bed. One glanced up as we arrived, and a look passed between him and his colleague that made my heart sink.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Mom looked from one to the other.

The look on one of the doctor’s faces told me everything I needed to know, and I slumped into a chair as tears started to sting my eyes. “Mrs. O’Bannion, I’m Dr. Barr, your husband’s heart doctor. I’m afraid your husband is showing signs of heart failure.”

“So ... So what do we do next? Does he need a transplant?”

My sister, Betha, took hold of my mother’s arm, and Mom clutched onto it.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing more we can do for him now other than to make him comfortable. We need you to consider removing the life support.”

“There must be something you can do.” Mom’s voice was an anguished plea.

“You have to be able to do something. Anything!” I cried. I could feel a lump forming in my throat like it was going to choke me. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when I hadn’t been there with him. When he’d been alone.

One of the doctors spoke again. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t. I’m Dr. Connor, his pulmonary doctor, and without the machines breathing for him, he’ll die. There really isn’t more we can do. I understand how difficult this must be, so we’ll give you some time together now. One of us will return later to discuss things further, and if you decide that it’s time, we’ll call Dr. Young in since he’s the main surgeon to make the final call.” With a nod and a tight smile, he left the room, followed by his colleague.

My mom rushed to my dad’s bedside and stroked his face, tears racing down her cheeks. “Miles? Miles, honey. We need you to wake up. Can you hear me? If you can, squeeze my hand, okay? Just squeeze my hand. Please!”

We all waited and watched as if some miracle would occur through our mother’s words, but nothing happened. Mom turned to me, her light-brown eyes blazing and pure hatred in her expression.

“You did this! You left your father, and something happened to him while you weren’t here. I should never have gone home. I trusted you!”

“Mom, it’s not Calla’s fault,” Alastair tried to reason with her.

“No? I’ve stayed with him every night. She made me leave, told me she’d be here, and she left.” More tears streamed down her face as she spat out the words in her Irish accent. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Calla. Never.”

“Mom, I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself either.” I held my head in my hands and sobbed.

“I can’t believe Dad’s dying,” Betha sobbed. I stood and pulled her into my arms, and Alastair joined us. Then we dragged chairs to our father’s side. I reached over and held his hand. How could he be dying? What would I do without him?

The four of us sat by his bed for hours, waiting for any change before we made the most significant decision of our lives.

“I think I should call Dr. Young and make sure he agrees with the other doctor,” I finally stated.

“I thought they said they’d call when we made a decision?” Betha asked.

“Have we?” I countered. “I’d rather him tell us that he could do something before we decide to ...” I trailed off, not able to finish the thought.

My mother gave a slight nod, and I pulled my phone out of my purse and sent Draven a text.

I’m sorry about last night. Thank you for making sure I was home safe. I’m at the hospital now, and the doctors are telling us it’s time to remove the life support. There has to be something you can do to save him. I’m not ready to say goodbye.

Sometime later, I heard a throat clear, and Draven walked in. I exhaled deeply, so happy to see him. His gaze caught mine, sorrow flashing in his eyes.

“Dr. Young!” my mother cried. “Please do something.”

I watched as Draven moved to my father and evaluated him. Then he uttered the words I didn’t want him to say, “I really wish I could, but I’m sorry. There isn’t anything more we can do.”

A lump returned in my throat. “Are you sure he won’t ever wake up?”

“No, he won’t. He’s showing signs of brain death now.”

My mom’s wracking sobs filled the room. “Can I have a moment alone to say goodbye?”

Betha began sobbing, and Alastair held her tightly as we all left the room and Draven closed the door behind him.

“Thank you for coming,” I told Draven.

“I really am sorry,” he stated. He reached out and very briefly touched his fingers to mine as though he wanted to hold my hand causing me to want nothing more than to fling myself into his arms and feel his strong embrace as I sobbed.

“I know, and I know you did what you could.” He stepped a foot away, and I stared at the closed door, tears running down my cheek. “I left him. I left him and got drunk. I was drunk in a bar while my father was dying.”

Draven pulled me around the corner, and after making sure the hall was empty, he cupped my cheeks with his hands. His cold hands felt good against my hot skin. “Don’t do that, Calla. Your father has been dying since he arrived. I told you last night that it wouldn’t matter if you were here or not, and that’s the fucking truth.”

“He was stable,” I cried, looking up into his eyes.

“He’s in a coma with failing organs. He’s never going to wake up.”

I didn’t want to believe him, but a part of me knew he was right. “My mother blames me.”

“I’ll talk to her and explain it wasn’t your fault.” I nodded, and Draven looked up as though he heard something. “Come on. Time for you to say goodbye.”

We rounded the corner, and my mom opened the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t say anything while my siblings and I went back into the room. Draven didn’t follow us. Instead, he started to speak to my mother like he said he would.

I dropped to my knees at my father’s bedside and held his hand. “I love you, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much, so, so, much. And we’ll find who did this to you and they’ll pay.”

My brother and sister each said their tearful goodbyes, and then Draven and my mother came in. I watched as Draven took my dad off the machines that were helping him stay alive. It felt as though I was watching the end of the world unfold in front of my eyes. It didn’t take long for the machine monitoring his heart to give the sound I’d only heard before on TV shows.

The haunting sound of a flat line.