CHAPTER DEUX

We both jumped when the phone rang. Marti kept an arm around me as she stretched hard for the phone as if determined to win a game of “Twister.” She listened a moment then whispered, “It’s your parents.”

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” my mom’s voice came over the line, breathless with worry. “We were away from the phone and just got Helena’s message on the answering machine. She didn’t have your number at the apartment. Marti says you saw it on the news… ” Mom’s voice faded as if a volume knob turned it down. Denial was screaming too loud in my ears for me to hear her. This is not happening. It’s a dream. Wake up, Esther!

But the horrible reality rolled on, endless crashing waves tumbling me deeper into darkness. I couldn’t breathe. I was trembling from head to toe. The words from the TV still scrolled in my mind. Both drivers were dead? I squeezed my eyes shut but there was no hiding from the image I’d seen—twisted metal, broken glass, chaotic flashing lights. My stomach was an iceberg with jagged edges that threatened to rip me in two. I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming.

Mom was praying, a calm, tearful voice that slowly penetrated into the dark cavern of my shell-shocked mind. “Dear Father, please wrap Esther in Your arms right now. May she have strength to help in this, her time of need… ” Her voice continued but it wasn’t the words I noticed anymore, rather the sensation of pure love pressing around and through me. I dissolved into silent tears as I relaxed into that embrace, letting the fear flow out even though it felt like an ocean that would never end.

“I’m okay,” I lied as Mom and I finished our call. I retreated to my room, mindlessly piling necessities into a suitcase.

“Dear God, help…. ” I whimpered. I didn’t know how I would get to Sky, didn’t know how much it cost, didn’t know which hospital Sky was in. But I had to at least walk in his direction or I’d explode.

The phone rang again and I jumped at the harsh sound, cut off mid-way by Marti’s quick response. I crawled to the extension on my bedside table and picked it up to hear Kate’s Scottish brogue.

“Kate! It’s Esther,” I broke in.

“Ah Dearie! I spoke to yer mum to get the number. It’s so good ta hear yer voice.”

“How is he, Kate?”

“Weel now, at the moment, we don’t know a lot, but the missus is beatin’ the bushes ta get some real information. Lester’s at a hospital in London, that much we know. We’re packin’ ta join ‘im there. The Missus wanted me ta give ya some information about yer flight that, I think, will be leavin’ in aboot two hours by yore time. Can ya make it?”

“Oh yes, Kate! Yes!”

So I ended up praying my heart out on my flight to the UK, grateful no one occupied the seat next to me. I was free to read my Bible and talk to God. When I wasn’t saying something hopeful, or if I quit talking at all, my frantic thoughts escalated to panic. The phrases, “He will be fine,” and “God didn’t bring us this far for Sky to die,” were my constant companions on the dark flight over the ocean. I stubbornly painted pictures in my mind of life with Sky. Lazy Saturdays fixing a late breakfast, perhaps taking a walk with our dog—we’d have to get a dog. Someday we’d have children. I dreamed of Christmas visits to Gram Helena’s, of boisterous laughter and pattering toddler feet on Helena’s gleaming wood floors. I imagined hearing a new song Sky was working on, perhaps I’d even recommend a random lyric.

Mostly, I held desperately to the image of Sky, healthy, happy and full of life, eager for the next adventure life brought our way. “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide in the shadow of the Almighty… Sky dwells in the secret place of the Most High and abides in the shadow of the Almighty,” I stated over and over. I shoved down the relentless panic that pounded my soul as I fought the urge to run to the cockpit of the plane and step on the accelerator. But, trapped in my flying information vacuum, each excruciating minute dragged by like hours.

Landing in London was a confusion of sights and sounds that, honestly, I knew I would need to re-live at a later date because of my tired, overwhelmed state of mind. I was so grateful for the driver sent to meet me at the airport and settled back in the mid-sized car for the ride to the hospital, attempting to freshen up as best I could despite my frazzled nerves. But every swerve and honk sent a shock of fear up my spine.

I was unprepared for the mass of reporters and camera crews outside the hospital. The driver slowed at the front entrance, drove to the back hoping for less of a crowd, and finally decided to escort me in. I probably didn’t look too conspicuous in my jeans, boots and a turtleneck, but the overnight bag I carried, and the driver holding the umbrella to protect me from the light London rain, probably raised some suspicion. The driver spoke with a policeman who yelled and pushed, making a way through the crowd for us.

The reporters shouted questions and shoved microphones at my face. I wasn’t sure if they realized my connection to Sky or were simply desperate for a story, but the chaos increased as I neared the hospital entrance. When the policeman opened the door and I was about to step through, one strident voice rang clear. “Hey, Esther! They’re saying Sky will die. What do you say to that?”

My heart stopped. I looked in the direction of the voice as camera flashes popped like gunfire from all sides.

The driver pulled at my elbow. “Ignore it, Miss. Just their dirty tricks.”

We stepped out of the cacophony into the hospital’s foyer where Quentin, Kate’s husband, stepped forward and shook my hand. I blinked back tears at the sight of his calm, familiar face.

“How is he?” I questioned, as Quentin guided me toward the elevators.

“I’ll let the missus answer that, Lass,” he evaded as we made our way to one of the top floors in the building. Two more uniformed police officers were outside the elevator doors, but backed away when they recognized Quentin. In a lobby around the corner, I caught sight of Chloe and James, surrounded by official-looking men. “Look,” I heard Chloe state as we passed, “there’s not a lot we can tell you at this time. We’re just going to have to play this by ear.”

Quentin led me to another waiting area. Kate rushed to me as the door opened. “Ah, there ya are, Esther Dear. Ya must be exhausted. Ken I get ya anythin’ ta eat?”

“Please Kate.” I took her by the shoulders. “How is he?”

“Weel now,” she glanced toward Quentin. “Perhaps the missus… ”

“Kate, please. What happened and how bad is it?”

“It muyt help to be a bit prepared at that.” Kate looked steadily into my eyes. “‘Twas a drunk driver. Came barrelin’ through the traffic signal and hit ‘em broadside. I’m afraid ‘tis fairly grim, lass.”

A strange, determined calm descended. “Please take me to them.”

~~

Kate led the way down a corridor to the critical care entrance where we encountered more uniformed guards who stepped aside for her. We entered an open area surrounding a desk with several windowed rooms leading off it. Helena sat outside one of the rooms speaking with a white-coated doctor. When she saw us, she reached out a hand to me.

It seemed she had aged ten years in the days since I had seen her. Helena’s normally jaunty posture was bent and the hands that reached for mine trembled. I wrapped my arms round her thin shoulders.

“Thank you so much for coming, Dear,” she whispered.

The doctor walked away as Helena informed me of Sky’s condition. I heard descriptions of internal bleeding, head trauma and broken limbs, but honestly, my mind went a bit numb, rejecting the bad news.

He was alive. That was good. I could go in and see him. Also good. But the reason I was allowed to see him was… not good. The doctor didn’t expect Sky to make it through the night.

As we entered Sky’s room, there were whirs, beeps and blinking lights but I only had eyes for the form at the center of it all. For one horrible instant, the absence of Sky’s charisma gripped my soul with dread. It was like returning to a beloved childhood home only to discover a razed foundation, tumbleweeds and ghostlike memories. Helena held my hand as I crossed to his bedside.

His right arm and leg were in plaster casts and the bulky bandage on his head seemed to glow in contrast to the dark purple bruises and black stitches on his face. I reached out a trembling hand to touch his cheek but it was hard to find a spot with no wounds. A sob caught in my throat. How I wished those eyes would open and crinkle at the edges with a smile for me. As it was, the familiar, handsome planes of his face were hardly recognizable. His body too was covered with wires and tubes. My dream of holding Sky faded. I’d never make it through the landmine of machines. Hot tears roll down my cheeks as a tidal wave of helplessness and horror washed over me.

“I’ll give you a few minutes alone.” Helena gave my hand a squeeze and exited the room.

“Alone at last,” I quipped, sad he wouldn’t have a smart aleck reply.

I talked for a moment, just mindless banter to beat back the fear. But hopelessness was a toxic, choking fog billowing up and weighing me down until my knees were on the antiseptic floor and my head fell against the metal bar of Sky’s bed. I tried to pray though my words seemed to poof and vanish as soon as they left my lips. I couldn’t think of anything to say. “When peace like a river attendeth my way… ” I choked on the lyric. I was so far from peace. “When sorrows like sea billows roll.” That, at least, was very true. I continued singing though the words felt like acid to my raw heart. Gently, like the relentless tide coming in on a calm evening, a picture formed in my mind of Sky bathed in love and contentment. A plan began to develop. I didn’t know how long it would be until Sky would return to consciousness (I didn’t allow myself to consider “if”) but the atmosphere in that room needed to be one of peace and love. I thought about the supplies needed to implement my plan, made a list on a scrap of paper, gave Sky a kiss on the forehead and said, “I’ll be right back, Love.” I took the list to Kate. She and Helena perked up at the thought of doing something rather than sitting and worrying, and even added suggestions of their own to the list.

Soon, Quentin and Kate left to collect the necessary items. I begged Helena to go with them and get some sleep since I would stay behind and call her immediately with news of any change. She hesitated but agreed.

One of the nurses stopped me as I headed back to Sky’s room. “I don’t want to bother you, Miss,” the nurse introduced herself. I didn’t catch her name but the kindness in her eyes was unforgettable. “We have flowers and cards arriving by the hour. What would you like us to do with them?”

“Can we have any in the room?” I asked.

“Perhaps a small arrangement or two back by the window would be okay, as long as no one is allergic to posies.” She tapped a finger to her lips, “How about, since his fans want to do something nice, you folks tell them to contribute to one of the charities Sky supports?”

I grasped her shoulders, grateful for a ray of hope. “Sky would love that!”

The nurse beamed with pleasure. “Would you like for me to pass the news on to the one they call Chloe?”

“Perfect!” I read her nametag. “Um, Twila, could I ask a couple more favors?”

Soon, with Twila’s help, I had permission to remain in Sky’s room. She even brought a small cot for me though I was under strict instructions to hop out of the way when asked. By the time Kate and Quentin returned, the room was already a bit homier and I was in hospital scrubs, per Twila’s suggestion, to keep Sky’s environment as clean as possible. In just a few minutes, Sky’s favorite rain shower cassette buffered the room’s beeps and whirs with a soft thunderstorm, and a pretty little reading lamp softened the hospital’s fluorescent lighting.

Kate brought out a case of oils such as she had used on me when I’d injured my ankle before Helena’s birthday party. “Ya always begged fer a foot massage when ya was injured or sick, didn’t ya, lad?” She chatted as she gently maneuvered around casts, bruises and stitches. Her cheerful brogue further chased away thoughts of fear. “He always enjoyed a little pamperin,’ especially after ‘is mum died. My heart just broke for ‘im, poor tyke.”

When Kate left, I started reading aloud one of my very favorite novels, “Girl of the Limberlost” by Gene Stratton Porter. I hoped somehow Sky was as soothed by the gorgeous descriptions of nature as I.

Sky’s doctor returned later to check vital signs. He paused before leaving the room. “I was prepared to make you stop your experiment, but his heartbeat is steady and his blood pressure is stable so, for now, you have my permission to continue.”

I shook his hand and continued reading of the kindness of Elnora’s Limberlost neighbors and new friends. Porter’s words were so rich, I could smell the sweet breeze of the Limberlost wilderness, hear the cries of the native birds, and see the vibrant colors of moths’ wings.

Nurses and technicians came and went. A couple times I vacated the room for their procedures and paused when Quentin brought in sandwiches for supper. But as the day ebbed into drizzly night, I kept reading.

Around midnight, my body reminded me I hadn’t slept the night before, so I collapsed on the little cot in the corner.

I dreamed I was lost in a maze in an enormous garden. I called Sky’s name and caught a glimpse of him in the distance. I ran to catch up but he was nowhere in sight. I saw him again, farther away and raced frantically to reach him. Once more, he disappeared.

I woke, drenched in sweat and tangled in the white hospital blanket. The clock over the nurse’s station read four a.m. Sky appeared to be resting comfortably, so I showered and dressed in a facility down the hall and returned for round two of creating a good recovery atmosphere.

The days began to meld together. My only outing was the sad pilgrimage to attend the funeral of Frank, Sky’s faithful driver. Photographers and reporters were undaunted by the day’s somber event and were quite aggressive, trying to sneak past police barriers, snapping countless photos through long-range lenses and yelling questions at funeral attendees. Afterwards, I took up residence in the hospital, not willing to leave Sky’s side or run the gauntlet through news crews that clogged the hospital entrances.

The doctor said Sky’s bones and lacerations were healing well but his brain needed more time in what the doc called a “medically-induced coma.” So, with renewed hope, I continued the task of talking and reading to Sky with no hint of a response.

After a week, the crowd of reporters thinned although those who remained were even more desperate for news.

I talked a few times with Wally and Chloe who stopped in for short visits as they juggled the business side of Sky’s life. James, Sky’s brother, checked in almost every day and even brought Jeremiah with him a couple times. Jeremiah was getting so tall I almost wouldn’t have recognized him as the scrawny kid who had hidden behind convention center tables at that fateful concert two years before. His visits were a bright spot in those long days, though it hurt when he had the nerve to say what no one else would.

“What will happen if he never wakes up?”

“The doctors are keeping him this way to help his body recover… ”

“Yeah, but will he forget how to wake up?”

I assured him Sky would be fine but deep down it was difficult to resist those fearful thoughts.

I don’t know what I would have done without Kate who looked after my health as well, bringing in homemade meals, vitamins and herbs. “’Twon’t ‘elp him none to have you ailin’ too,” she declared.

She was teaching me a bit about her therapeutic massage and old-world healthcare techniques, passed down by her grandmother who had been legendary as a natural healer on the Isle of Skye.

“Folks’d come fram miles ‘round fer her remedies and massage. Said she ‘ad healin’ hands, they did. I tried ta learn everythin’ I could fram ‘er, but I’m afraid there’s a good deal she took ta the grave.”

In about seven days, I had read aloud “Girl of the Limberlost,” all of the “Chronicles of Narnia,” and was halfway through Tolkien’s epic Lord of the Rings tales. I read passages from the Bible and even used the morning newspaper to carry on one-sided conversations about current events—Lady Di and Prince Charles were always a hot topic—as well as news of Sky’s favorite football clubs.

Helena came every day, though I encouraged her to sleep away from the hospital at night and leave the cot to me. I was concerned about her health since she much preferred the pastoral existence of the Isle of Skye to London’s hustle and bustle but, understandably, she couldn’t bear to be away from her grandson.

A few of Sky’s friends were allowed through the juggernaut of security for short visits. Jake told me he was recording with another artist. “Sky won’t be playing any time soon and it was a great offer. A bloke’s gotta make a livin’.”

Keyboardist Adam, goofy as usual, spent his lengthier visit reminiscing at Sky’s bedside of their hijinks on the road. “There was a hotel in Florida where the cockroaches were as big as my arm. We had to put them on bathroom rotation in the morning. Ya’d knock on the door and they’d growl, ‘In a minute.’” As he was about to leave, Adam flashed his roguish hint of gold. “Admit it. Ya liked me bettuh as a blonde.”

I giggled, recalling the costume party where Adam had only used Harpo’s horn to communicate. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you, Harpo. But you weren’t talking,” I teased. “Way out-of-character.”

“I thought you were in college to be a reporter?” Adam said with a sly smile. “Need to work on those observational skills, country gal!” he yuck-yucked with laughter.

A wide-eyed Twila stuck her head in the room, “This is a hospital, sir! You will be silent or exit the premises!”

Adam flashed a roguish grin and shook the dreadlocks back from his face. “Ooh! I do adore a wo-man who takes charge,” he declared in melodic Jamaican tones.

The prim Twila tried and failed to keep a straight face as her cheeks flushed and she hastened from the room.

“You’re terrible,” I admonished.

With a mournful nod, Adam said, “Yes, but it is one of my finest qualities, mon!”

Adam’s visit was the best therapy. It felt so good to laugh again.