Chapter Seventeen – NOW

Liv

The call comes in the middle of the night.

The sound of my cell vibrating against my wooden nightstand is what rouses me from a deep sleep.  I don’t check the caller ID before I hit answer and lift it to my ear.

“Ello?” I croak, my voice thick with sleep.

“Liv, I… need… you,” Celia barely manages to say.

“Celia?  Is everything okay?  Where are you?”

“Heart…  Please… come,” she pants breathlessly.

“Have you called an ambulance?!”  The fear that something terrible might happen to Celia strikes panic into my gut.  My heart lurches into my throat, constricting me.  My vision blurs.  My head swims with dread as memories of losing Brant assault my mind.  I can’t lose her.  I just can’t.  A sob works its way passed the lump in my throat.  She can’t leave me.  She’s the closest thing to family Matilda and I have, and she’s been the one source of constant since I lost Brant.  She’s my rock.  She can’t leave me.

Oh god, please don’t let her leave me.

“Yes,” she answers, whisper soft.

I swallow down my fear and take a deep breath.  I need to be strong for her, even though I’m falling apart inside.

“I’m on my way.”

I pull on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before rushing into Matilda’s room and gently lifting my sleeping six-year-old from her bed.  I wrap a robe around her shoulders and then race out of the house, grabbing my purse as I go.  I buckle Matilda in, thankful she’s still asleep, and drive the short distance to Celia’s.  As we arrive, the ambulance is loading Celia in the back on a stretcher and I run toward them.  An oxygen mask covers her face and she looks pale.  Sweat glistens on her forehead, illuminated by the flashing red and blue lights.

“Celia,” I sob. Her frightened eyes find mine.  I turn to the medic.  “Where are you taking her?  I’m her niece.”

“Greenwich Hospital, ma’am.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“We’ll know more once tests are done at the hospital,” he answers as he pushes the stretcher inside.  Before they close the doors, I jump in and loom over Celia.  Tears roll down my cheeks as she shifts the mask to speak to me.

“Leave it on,” I whimper.  “It’s helping you.”

She shakes her head weakly.  “Liv,” she rasps.

“I’m right here,” I say, gripping her hand.

“If I don’t make it,” she begins, her voice rough and weak.

“You will. Don’t talk like that,” I cut in. 

“Give in… Be with Kyle.  You won’t be losing, you’ll be winning.  Life’s too short,” she continues as if I never spoke.  Her words come slowly, peppered with large pauses, but when she finishes, my heart leaps into my throat.  “Promise… me,” she rasps.  “Be… with… Kyle.”

I nod my head, crying.  “I promise.”

“Promise,” she demands, her whisper firmer this time.

“I promise,” I repeat with a nod.

A wail leaves my throat as her eyes flutter shut and she passes out.

“Ma’am, we have to leave.  Follow us to the hospital,” the medic instructs.  I nod numbly and climb down from the vehicle.

Matilda is still asleep in my car when I pull out onto the road and drive toward the hospital.  It’s just after two a.m., but I know I need to call Kyle.

“Liv,” he answers, sounding instantly alert.

“Celia,” I cry.  “It’s her heart.  She’s on her way to the hospital now.”  I can barely get the words out through the lump in my throat.

“I’ll meet you there.”

 

I find a park close to the hospital entrance and carry Matilda inside.  She’s still sleeping, but the jostling from the car to my arms woke her momentarily.  Once inside, I’m told by the nurse behind the desk that Celia’s in good hands and as soon as they know more, they’ll let me know.  So I sit down in the uncomfortable plastic chairs, with Matilda snuggled in my lap, and I wait.

Ten minutes later, Kyle bursts through the doors, his eyes scanning the room and finding me.  He moves to us in long, measured strides.

I immediately tell him everything I know – which isn’t much – and with a sigh, he sits in the chair next to me.  Eyeing Matilda, he shakes his head, a small grin twitching his lips.

“At least she’s a good sleeper,” he remarks.

I kiss her strawberry scented hair.  “She sure is.”

“I’ll take her.  She’s gotta be heavy.”  He effortlessly lifts my daughter from my lap to his, arranging her so the robe covers her like a blanket.  Matilda instantly snuggles into his neck, lets out a content sigh, and begins softly snoring.

We sit in mostly silence, except for occasionally whispering about how long it will take, and sentiments like, she’s going to be fine, and, she’s a tough cookie.

It’s just before dawn when a doctor approaches us, asking if we’re Celia Westwood’s family.  Both Kyle and I answer yes, as we stand.  Kyle still has Matilda cradled securely in his arms, and she’s still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the drama surrounding her.

“Ms. Westwood has suffered a heart attack,” he says.

I gasp, horrified. “Is she going to be okay?”  I blurt out.

“We’ve conducted an EKG to determine the damage to her heart, and given her medicine to stabilize her condition.  We’ll continue to monitor her until we’re satisfied with her condition,” he explains.  “She is stable right now, and we’ll be moving her to the coronary care unit, where you’ll be able to visit with her.  Be mindful that she will be very tired and may exhaust easily.”

“Thank you so much,” I murmur.

“We appreciate it, Doctor,” Kyle says, giving him a sharp nod.

“I’ll have a nurse collect you once we’ve got Ms. Westwood in a room.”  He turns and walks away.

“Oh, thank god,” I sigh, exhaling heavily.

“Momma?” Matilda asks in a confused, croaky voice.  “Uncle Kyle?” she says, a little perkier. 

“Hey, sweetie,” I say softly, stroking her hair.

“Where are we?”

“Aunt Silly got sick so we’re at the hospital.  It’s going to be okay, though,” I reassure her.

“Can we see her?”  Her faint blonde eyebrows wrinkle with confusion.

“Soon, sweetheart.”

“I’m thirsty, Momma.”

“Okay, why don’t we visit the bathroom and then get a drink on the way back?” I suggest.  “I’m sure Uncle Kyle would love a coffee.”

He nods.  “Uncle Kyle would love a coffee.”  Matilda climbs down from his lap, and he gives us a heart-stopping grin as we walk toward the restrooms.

 

We find the hospital cafeteria easily and walk away with two coffees, a juice, and three breakfast muffins.  Matilda skips along beside me, sipping her juice as we make our way through the corridors and back into the waiting room.

“Look, Uncle Kyle!  We got you a muffin,” Matilda announces.

“Shh,” I whisper.  “Remember we need to keep our voice down.”

“Oops.  Sorry.”

“Thanks, sweet pea,” he says to Matilda. 

“Have you heard from any of the doctors?” I ask between sips of my brew.

“Nothing yet.”

“Hopefully it won’t be too long.”

As if summoned by words, a nurse appears, smiling.

“Ms. Westwood can have visitors now.  If you take the elevator to the third floor and exit to the right.  She’s in the coronary care unit, in Room 34.”

“Thank you,” I reply, as Kyle mutters his thanks at the same time.

I grab my handbag and Matilda’s robe, while Kyle tosses our trash in the can, then we make our way to the elevator. 

“I’m nervous,” I whisper… to myself, to Kyle, to whoever is listening.

His hand touches mine and our fingers interlace seamlessly.  He gives a reassuring squeeze, and we stay that way, holding hands, until we reach Celia’s room.  Only then do I let go to hug his frail aunt.