Chapter Nineteen
Leah didn’t return until shortly after 9:00 p.m., and she began apologizing as soon as she entered the room. “I’m so sorry, Josh. There was a suicide case in the ER and I had to admit someone. Did Marie come?”
“Yeah. I told her you worked here and she was really hoping to see you.”
“I wanted to see her, too. Maybe tomorrow if she visits?” Leah approached the bed. “And I know it’s late. If you’re too tired, we can reschedule this. I just didn’t want you to wait up for me.”
“We don’t need to reschedule,” I said. “If you’re free now, I can talk. It’s either you or something boring on television.”
She moved closer and sat down on the chair beside the bed. “All right. I can’t promise to be very exciting, though.”
“Me neither.”
She reached into her pocket for her pen. “But as soon as you start yawning, I’m calling it a day.”
“Deal,” I replied.
* * *
Because I trusted Leah, I was willing to describe every detail of my experience in the operating room, and how I floated to the ceiling and moved toward a light that drew me in and escorted me to another luminous place.
“It’s true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes,” I told her. “I saw everything. I felt it, as if it were happening in real time, yet a part of me knew it wasn’t. I knew I’d been shot and that my body was dying, yet I was reliving the past. The last memory I had was from the day I met you, Riley, and your mom in the hospital when your sister was born. It was Christmas. Do you remember that?”
Leah nodded.
“Strangely, I think it was your voice that pulled me out of that memory and helped me regain consciousness. Or maybe that’s why I was having that memory in the first place—because you were here and talking to me. Which came first? The chicken or the egg? Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was staring up at your penlight, here in this room.”
Leah pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and sat forward. “Tell me more about those beings of light. You mentioned that you recognized your grandmother? Did she speak to you?”
“There weren’t really any actual words spoken,” I explained, “but I knew she was saying hello and welcoming me. There were others that seemed familiar, but I couldn’t make out who they were. It was a bit fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy,” she repeated.
I nodded. “I was…disoriented. I was resisting everything I was seeing. Like I didn’t want to believe it was real.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Not at all.” I looked down at my hands on my lap. “It seems odd to me now, how people fear death.”
“How do you feel about being back among the living?” she asked. “Any regrets?”
I had to think about that for a moment. I hadn’t enjoyed coming back just to get dumped a second time by the woman I loved.
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “Part of me is wondering if I returned for a specific purpose. I kind of feel like I was pushed.”
“Pushed? By whom?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s crazy. Maybe all of this is crazy. But I feel like that ball of light knew something I didn’t. It struck me as being very knowledgeable.”
Leah wrote that down.
“I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” I said. “If you were any other doctor, I doubt I would say a word. I don’t want this to affect my job.”
Then came the inevitable yawn.
Leah flipped the chart closed. “It’s time for you to get some sleep. We can continue this tomorrow. There are some other things I’d like to talk to you about as well, if you’re up to it.”
“You know where I am,” I said, “although I think I’m scheduled for some physio during the day.”
“That’s all right. I’m on the night shift again anyway. Sleep well.” Leah bent forward and kissed me on the forehead. “And for the record,” she added, her face mere inches from mine, “I don’t usually make a habit of kissing my patients goodnight at the end of an interview, but this is different.”
“Because we’re old friends,” I replied, feeling a spark of awareness in my veins from the warmth of her touch.
She stroked her hand across my forehead and spoke in a whisper. “Yes. I’m glad you’re all right. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
I nodded and watched her go.
After she was gone, the room seemed extraordinarily empty.