Olivia
“Kenneth Warner’s room,” Olivia demanded when they arrived at the hospital. The nurse at the front desk directed them to the ICU, and from there they were shown to her father’s room. When she saw him, Olivia’s hands flew to her mouth and she stifled a scream. Her father lay pale and still and small against the white sheets. She barely recognized the frail form. When had that happened? The last time she’d seen him, he’d looked so healthy and vital.
Monitors blinked and hummed and chirped, but underneath the noise a deathly silence permeated the air. With the exception of the periodic wailing of a loved one, no words were spoken. Nurses bustled about on rubber-soled shoes issuing condolences with a look or a touch or a gentle whisper.
Olivia rushed to her father’s bedside and took his lifeless hand in hers. His chocolate-brown hair, now blanched gray, stuck out in every direction and she smoothed it down. Leaning over him, she whispered in his ear. “It’s me, Daddy. It’s Livvy.”
His eyelids fluttered but did not open. She tried again. “Jonathan is here, too,” she said, “and everything is going to be fine. You’re going to be fine, Daddy. I promise.” But as she said the words, she wasn’t at all sure they were true. “You rest now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
A gentle hand touched her shoulder and startled her awake. It took a few seconds to get her bearings as her eyes darted around the room. Her father rested peacefully and Jonathan stood before her with a cup of steaming coffee. She took it gratefully and pulled off the lid. She breathed in the steam and closed her eyes as a chill ran through her. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep.
“Thank you.” She gave her husband the once-over. He was dressed in a pair of denim shorts, a blue and white striped buttoned-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of topsiders. He looked like an advertisement for a men’s magazine. She ran a hand through her own hair, sure she looked affright. She knew she should care, but she didn’t. And the realization struck her. She didn’t care how she looked. That was progress, right?
As the nurse padded quietly into the room and wrote numbers in the chart, Olivia asked why her father hadn’t woken up yet. “Is he in a coma or something?”
The young nurse with locks that looked as though they were spun of gold placed a hand on her arm and smiled sweetly. “He’s very weak, Mrs. Hunter, but he’s stable for now. You should go home and get some rest. I’ll call if anything changes.”
“She’s right, you know,” Jonathan said. “Why don’t you go to the motel and rest for a while? I’ll call you if anything changes. I promise.”
Late last night, after she’d settled into a chair beside her father, she’d sent Jonathan in search of someplace to stay. He’d found a motel just two blocks from the hospital.
“What did your boss say when you called him? Are you sure you don’t need to go in? If you need to go…”
“My place is here with my wife and my father-in-law. Now go. We’ll be fine. I’m going to read the sports page to him.” He held up the newspaper.
Olivia stood slowly, reluctantly and nodded. “Promise you won’t let anything happen to him while I’m gone. If he wakes up, call me right away.”
Jonathan bent down and kissed her. “I promise. Now go.”
An hour later, Olivia returned to the hospital wearing the mishmash of clothes she’d crammed into her overnight bag; her hair was folded into a long braid down the center of her back. After the call had come, she’d moved on auto-pilot and had no idea what she’d actually grabbed. Today, she wore a pair of white wool slacks with a cashmere turtleneck sweater and a pair of fur-lined moccasins.
A slow smile tugged at one side of Jonathan’s mouth but it stopped mid-stream as Olivia stood before him, hands on hips, lips pressed tightly together. “Go ahead and say it,” she taunted. “It’s the middle of August and I’m dressed for the North Pole.”
“I was gonna go with Iceland, but the North Pole works too.” He covered his mouth to stifle his laughter and pretty soon she laughed too. Nurse Goldilocks rushed into the room to quiet them just as her father stirred. All eyes turned to the bed. Ken Warner scanned the room and when his eyes landed on Olivia’s, he smiled. “Lamb.”
“Daddy,” Olivia cried as she rushed to his side and cradled his hand in both of hers. Tears splashed down her cheeks and onto their hands. “Welcome back.”
Her joy was short-lived as her father’s breathing deepened and he slipped back into unconsciousness. As afternoon faded into evening, they repeated this sequence a few more times until finally, just after Jonathan had gone to fetch some much-needed sustenance, her father regained full consciousness.
“What are you doing here at eleven thirty on a Wednesday morning, Lamb? Why aren’t you at work?”
Olivia’s smile lit up her face. He was remembering the last time she’d visited. “I quit my job, Daddy, remember?”
Her father’s face folded into a smile and a little glimmer twinkled in his eyes. “I seem to remember that your job quit you.”
She laughed and blinked back a few more tears. “You got me there.” She touched his cheek with the back of her hand. The part above the stubble, the part that was soft as a baby’s bottom. Then she leaned over and placed a kiss in that very spot. “I love you, Daddy. I hope you know how much I have always loved you.”
“I know, sweetheart. I love you, too. I was the best father I could be. I loved you like...like…” Her father’s voice trailed off and his eyes closed.
Olivia’s brows crimped in confusion. “You loved me like what, Daddy?” She gently shook his shoulder. “Loved me like what?” But he was already asleep.
“Your mother,” her father said a few minutes later, rousing Olivia from her own catnap. He lifted his hand from hers and pointed toward the ceiling. “Your mother is here.”
Olivia’s cheeks burned with fury. “No, Daddy, she can’t have you. I need you too much.” She placed her hand on her father’s cheek and turned his face toward hers. “Do you hear me? Please, don’t leave me.”
He turned his fading brown eyes to hers, reached his hand over and placed it on top of hers. “Have you forgiven her yet?” His voice grew weaker with every word.
Olivia’s mouth set in a tight line and she shook her head. “No, but I’m working on it. How did you do it, Daddy? How did you forgive her?”
An easy smile covered his face. “It’s easy when you really love someone, Lamb. Your mother was the love of my life. You just have to make up your mind to do it, and then don’t second-guess yourself.”
“Forgive her for what?”
Olivia spun around to find Jonathan towering over her, a combination of hurt and confusion etched upon his face.
“What did you have to forgive your mother for?” he asked again.
She pushed up from her chair and grabbed him by the elbow in an attempt to lead him from the room.
He yanked it away. “All this time I thought it was just grief. Thought you just missed her that much. But something else happened that night, didn’t it? What was it, Olivia? What happened the night I found you wandering around in the snow?”
“Not here, Jonathan. And not now.”
He planted his feet and squared his shoulders, his courtroom stance. “Answer me.” His voice was hard and cold, his lawyer voice.
Her lips pressed together in a tight line. “It’s none of your business.”
His eyes narrowed and his cheeks darkened. “None of my business?”
Olivia puffed up her chest. “That’s right. What happened that night had nothing to do with you.”
He shook his head and smiled sadly. “Except that it did, Olivia. It had everything to do with me, because whatever happened that night, turned you into a stranger.”
Olivia placed her hands firmly on her hips and took a step toward him. “It’s my issue to deal with, Jonathan.”
His laugh was flat, sardonic. “You couldn’t be more right, Olivia, because I’m done. As of right now, I’m done. We’re done.”
She opened her mouth to reply but the words halted in her throat at the loud screeching of the cardiac monitor. She spun on her heels and saw her father, mouth and eyes open, with an oddly peaceful look. “No, no, no!” She turned back to her husband. “Oh God, Jonathan, what have you done?”
Before he could reply, a team of doctors filled the room and shoved them aside. Olivia’s screams echoed through the ICU and she tried desperately to get to her father, but Jonathan held her back.
She wrenched herself free from his grasp, but by the time she got to her father, it was too late. They watched in horror as the doctors tried to bring her father back to life, but it was no use.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hunter,” one of them said.
“Time of death, nine oh five p.m.,” another one said.
Olivia crumpled to the floor.