Mrs. Farmer?” The ER doctor came through the door into the waiting area, and Beth lunged to her feet. She had been waiting for nearly an hour with no word, and she felt that if she had to wait another minute she would go stark raving mad.
“I’m Dr. Atkinson, and I’m afraid—” The kindly doctor took a deep breath and shook her head. Beth felt her heart sink.
“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said. “We did everything we could.”
“No,” Beth said. “There must be something more you can do.” The tears rolled down Beth’s face and into the corners of her mouth.
“I think you should say your good-byes,” the doctor said. Beth wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her sweater and followed the doctor down a long white corridor.
Moments later, Beth stood in the doorway of a dim, dreary trauma room. There was only one soft light and the faint green glow of the heart monitor to illuminate it. Andrew Farmer lay motionless on the examining table, a white sheet covering everything but his head.
From where she was standing, Beth thought how pale and small he looked. She hesitated; she was afraid to approach him, for she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up even for the few short steps to the table. She glanced over at the barely beeping heart monitor and then moved toward her lifeless husband.
Standing over Andrew, Beth gently fingered the bandage that was wrapped around the top of his head. His eyes were black and sunken as if he’d gotten the worst end of some back-alley brawl.
She reached down, took his lifeless hand, and held it to her quivering lips. “What were you thinking? Shoving me out of the way like that. It should have been me. It should have been—”
The heart monitor stuttered, flat-lined, and let out a monotonous, piercing wail. Startled, Beth dropped Andrew’s hand as if she were the cause of it.
“Andrew, no! Andrew!”
The doors flew open, and Dr. Atkinson rushed in. She checked Andrew’s heart with her stethoscope, then switched off the sound on the monitor and put a hand on Beth’s arm.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss, Mrs. Farmer.”
When the doctor retreated from the room, the last thread of Beth’s composure snapped. She began to sob uncontrollably. She put her head on Andrew’s chest and desperately listened for the heartbeat that was no longer there.
“Andrew, I love you. I love you so much . . . I’ll always love you.”
Her faltering words were finally drowned out in sobs. He was gone now. Her best friend had left her behind to raise their child alone.
Beth almost didn’t see it when it came. One faint pulse of the flat green line against its black background. Then another. She stood up and peered at the heart monitor. Did she imagine it? Then it came again . . . another pulse . . . and another. She stared hard at the green line. The flat line shot upward again and again. The heart rate counter rose from zero to ten beats a minute, then twenty, then thirty.
“Andrew?”
Andrew opened his bruised eyes a slit and looked up at his wife.
“Oh, Andrew! You’re alive! You’ve come back to me!”
Beth took Andrew’s face in her hands and kissed him. “I thought I’d lost you,” she said. “Do you know what it feels like to lose the love of your life?”
“I can imagine,” Andrew said. “I can imagine.”