Final Call, page 5
And each one had been a disappointment as painful as the last. It had been so easy with Cherry – she had stopped taking the pill, and, the next month, she was pregnant. The pregnancy had been a joy: some mild morning sickness, cravings for tomatoes with balsamic vinegar and feta cheese, which was weird as she didn’t recall ever having eaten that in her life, but she just got this picture in her head of a plate of delicious red tomatoes swimming in dark balsamic with crisp white feta crumbled on top of them. She must have eaten this meal thirty or more times, but one day the craving had left her, and she had not eaten it since. In fact, the thought of it made her feel nauseous.
Once the cravings passed, she felt great. She felt complete, like she glowed. The birth itself was how she’d always dreamed it would be: hard, and painful, yes, but beautiful and rewarding in ways she still didn’t understand.
So the years that followed – of periods that came like clockwork – were a shock. They tried everything: sex when she was supposedly most fertile, diets that promoted sperm health, a fertility charm they bought in New Mexico.
None of it had worked. Until, that was, now. This time felt different. This felt like it had with Cherry. She couldn’t explain it – but a few days ago her period had not come and she had thought, This is it, this is real. Before that she couldn’t have said how it had felt with Cherry, but now she had the feeling again she recognized it.
So she had bought a test that morning after driving Cherry to school, which she was going to take when she woke up the next day. That was when the hormones were strongest.
She knew what it would say, though, and she couldn’t wait to share it with Dan. It had been a long time – they had both questioned whether it would ever happen – but finally it was here.
She lifted her phone from the desk. Normally she didn’t answer personal calls at work. She and Dan had an agreement: anything non-urgent could be done by text. If it needed to be dealt with, they would call, hang up, and call again.
So this wasn’t Dan.
Her eyes strayed to the screen.
It was Cherry’s school.
It was probably nothing – Cherry was five and very shy, so it was unlikely she had been fighting or acting out – but when the school called you had to pick up. Most likely, Cherry had come down with a fever or a cough or some other minor illness which meant she had to be picked up and taken home. She’d had the call a few times.
Hi, this is the school nurse, is that Cherry’s mom? She’s not feeling too great, so I was wondering if you could come get her?
Stacy didn’t like to leave the office in the day, but Dan had gone to Bangor to meet a client who wanted their camp remodeled for the summer, which was a good two hours away.
So it would be on her.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘This is Stacy.’
‘Mrs. Evanston? This is Carol Smalling. The principal.’
Her tone was flat. There was a hint that she was struggling to control her voice. Stacy sat upright. It was rare for the principal to call, and she did not like the way she sounded. She thought about checking her computer – maybe there had been a shooting, or some other event that would be in the news, but it would come quickest from the principal.
‘Is everything OK?’
There was a long pause.
‘I’m afraid’ – another pause – ‘I’m afraid Cherry has been taken ill.’
Taken ill? Her throat constricted. ‘What do you mean? She was fine this morning.’
‘She started to feel unwell half an hour ago, so Ms. Jackson sent her to the nurse. She had a slight fever, but was otherwise OK. Then she started to vomit.’
‘Oh my God,’ Stacy said. ‘What happened?’
‘I’m not sure. But if you can, you might want to leave immediately.’
‘I’ll come and get her. I’m at work but I can go now.’ She’d have to find someone to cover for her, or at least inform the CO she was going to have to hotfoot it. ‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’
‘Mrs. Evanston,’ the principal said. ‘You shouldn’t come here. We called an ambulance. Cherry’s on her way to the hospital.’
2
‘The hospital?’ Stacy said. ‘She’s going to the hospital?’
‘Yes. The ambulance left as I was calling you.’
‘Why’s she been sent to hospital?’ Stacy said. ‘Because she’s vomiting?’
‘No,’ the principal said. ‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Mrs. Evanston, but Cherry is unconscious.’
It was as though she had been punched in the stomach. It was hard to draw a breath. ‘Did you say unconscious?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Why? What caused it?’
‘I don’t know. The nurse was alarmed at how quickly it progressed and decided to call an ambulance.’
‘OK.’ She fought to think clearly through the shock. It felt like her world had changed utterly in an instant. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘Keep me posted. We’re very fond of Cherry,’ the principal said. ‘And good luck, Mrs. Evanston.’
Stacy ended the call. She sent a message to her CO – Got to go, Cherry’s been taken ill, will fill you in later – and ran out to her blue Honda Pilot.
She could not understand what was going on. Cherry was in hospital? She had dropped her off at school that morning and she’d been totally fine. Was there something she’d missed? Had Cherry been off-color in some way? She tried to remember in detail how the morning had gone. They’d had waffles and blueberries and maple syrup – Cherry had eaten plenty so no lack of appetite – and then they’d read a book about a girl who survived in the wilderness for a week. It was something Dan had bought for her to try and inspire his daughter into the fishing and hunting lifestyle.
On the way to school she’d been laughing about her friend Ella’s dog, Ruby, which kept eating Ella’s socks. The two of them, who had been inseparable for the last two years, thought it was the most hilarious thing they had ever seen, so had kept feeding Ruby socks. Ella’s mom, Stacy thought, probably found it less amusing.
She had seemed fine, her normal chatty self. It was a puzzle to Stacy that her daughter was so ebullient with her and Dan and Ella, but so shy as soon as anyone else was there.
Either way, there were no signs of anything wrong, so whatever it was had come on very suddenly. But what could come on that quickly, and lead to unconsciousness?
Nothing good, that was for sure.
She called Dan. His phone rang out to voicemail. She cut it off without leaving a message and called again.
Two calls. Their urgent signal.
‘Hey,’ he said. His voice went faint as though he was holding the phone away from his mouth. ‘Sorry. I have to take this. It’s my wife.’ He came back on the line, full volume. ‘What’s up?’
‘It’s Cherry.’
‘What about Cherry?’
‘The school called. They sent her to hospital.’
‘They sent her to what?’
‘Hospital.’
‘Jesus. Why?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did something happen?’
‘She felt sick, then started to vomit.’ Stacy paused. ‘And now she’s unconscious.’
He did not reply for a long moment. ‘OK,’ he said eventually, the effort to stay calm clear in his voice. ‘Do you know why?’
‘No. I’m on my way to the hospital now. You should come.’
‘I will. Of course.’ She heard another voice – presumably his client asking what was going on – and Dan’s voice went faint again. Something came up. Family. I’ll have to go.
Then he was back.
‘I’m leaving now. Call me as soon as you hear anything.’
3
Stacy held her warrant card up to the screen. The woman at reception studied it then gave a nod.
‘How can I help?’
‘My daughter was just admitted. Cherry Evanston. She came in an ambulance.’
The receptionist gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Let me check.’
‘She came from school,’ Stacy said. ‘She fell ill.’ She realized she was babbling. The extra information would make no difference.
‘Yes,’ the receptionist said. ‘I see her. She’s in—’ She stopped and gestured to a seat. ‘Let me get someone to come and see you.’
Stacy’s stomach lurched. Why would the receptionist not say where her daughter was? And why did she need to get someone to come and talk to her? The awful thought, the one she had been avoiding, forced its way into her head.
Was Cherry dead?
‘Is she OK?’ she said. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Take a seat,’ the receptionist replied. ‘Someone will be right along.’
Stacy sat down, then, a second later, got up and walked to a window. She had too much nervous energy to stay seated for more than a second or two. She sent Dan a message.
Here now. Not seen Cherry yet. Waiting to find out more.
About two minutes later – two minutes that felt endless – a door to the right of the reception opened and a tall, thin man in his early forties walked out. He was wearing glasses, which he pushed up onto his forehead. He turned to the receptionist and she nodded at Stacy.
‘Mrs. Evanston?’ he said, as he walked over. ‘I’m Dr. Neal Williams.’
She cut to the chase. ‘How is she?’
He sucked in his top lip. ‘It’s a difficult situation,’ he said. ‘She’s stable, but she’s in a serious condition.’
She heard stable; that was good. She heard serious; that was not.
‘In what way?’
‘She’s in a coma,’ he said. ‘And it seems she’s suffering from liver damage.’
‘Liver damage?’ Stacy said. ‘How can she be suffering from liver damage? She’s five.’
‘It’s odd. But it certainly looks like it’s the case.’
‘But how?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t have the answer at the moment. For now we need to continue to keep her stable, and focus on helping her recover.’
Many questions swirled around her mind, but there was only one she really needed an answer to.
‘Is she going to be OK?’
‘I hope so, Mrs. Evanston. Whatever this is, we caught it early, which is good. But I have to be honest. I haven’t seen anything quite like this. Not ever.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘I understand.’ She didn’t; she didn’t understand any of this.
‘You can stay here,’ he said. ‘And as soon as we can get her out of the intensive care unit and into a room we’ll make up a bed for you.’
‘When will that be?’
‘I can’t say. But I can say we’re doing our best.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That means a lot.’
He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, then turned and headed back to the door he’d come from.
The receptionist came over to Stacy. ‘Would you like a coffee?’ she said. ‘Or something else to drink?’
Stacy shook her head. ‘No thank you.’ There was no way she could eat or drink at a time like this. If Cherry didn’t recover, she wasn’t sure she would ever eat or drink again.
‘Let me know if you change your mind.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I will.’
4
Was there anything worse than this? Than waiting, alone, in a hospital for news of your five-year-old daughter, who had slipped suddenly into a coma?
Was it a coma? Or was it just unconsciousness? Stacy realized she didn’t know when one became the other. It wasn’t something she had ever thought about.
It didn’t change the question. Was there anything worse than this? Yes, there was. And that was hearing that – she shook her head to clear the thought. It made her legs weaken and her stomach shrink and her mind go blank.
It was not going to come to that. Something had happened to Cherry and the doctors would resolve it. They had to.
Because the alternative was – she tried again to push the thought away, but it was too insistent, too strong – the alternative was unthinkable. What would she do if Cherry died? What would she do if that door opened and a solemn Dr. Williams walked out and looked at her sadly and gave a shake of his head? What would happen then? She had no idea, but she had never been as scared of anything in her life.
Because it could happen. Cherry could die. People – children – did, and this was how it happened. A sudden, mysterious illness, intensive care, failed treatments. A serious, sorrowful, doctor.
Death.
She sat forward, curling around herself, her knees on her thighs and her face in her hands. She gave an involuntary whimper, and realized she was crying.
There was a touch on her shoulder and she looked up. The receptionist was standing next to her, holding a bottle of water.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘I know it’s hard, but if you want a sip, I brought this.’
Stacy started to sob, and the receptionist sat next to her, her arm around her shoulder.
‘I’m Daniela,’ she said. ‘It’ll be OK.’
‘May—’ She started to say Maybe it won’t, but the words were stuck in her throat, and all that came out was a lurching sob.
‘Shh. Just take a deep breath.’
‘Hey.’ It was a familiar, welcome voice. She glanced up. Dan was walking toward them, his face unsmiling. ‘Did you – did you get some news?’
Stacy shook her head. She tried to speak but only a choked sob came out.
‘Still waiting?’ he said.
She nodded, and he sat next to her. Daniela took her arm from around her shoulders and Dan wrapped both his around her, hugging her tight.
‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘I’m here now.’
She was glad. She was glad he was here and he was holding her, but glad meant nothing. She knew it made no difference. There was nothing he could do.
There was nothing either of them could do.
5
Dan could not stop moving. He paced from one window to another, to the door, to a noticeboard, to a fish tank. He spent a few seconds at each one, then moved to something new. He was clearly not taking anything in when he got there, but the constant movement must have soothed him.
I didn’t know you were like this, she thought. To her, Dan was imperturbable, quiet and thoughtful. He was hard to rouse to anger, hard to rouse to any strong emotion. She could fly into a rage, especially when she felt something was unjust, but Dan would invariably remain calm. When Cherry was a baby, she had been misdiagnosed by her pediatrician, who had mistaken a dangerous sinus infection for a simple cold. The infection had migrated behind her eyes, which had meant a course of nasty antibiotics. Stacy had been all for marching into the office and handing the pediatrician a lawsuit, but Dan had smiled, and folded his arms.
She’s OK, he said. And people make mistakes. I’m not happy either, but this serves no purpose.
But now he was a bundle of nerves. He folded his arms, put his hands in his pockets, looked around the room, stared at his feet. It was as though he was unable to find any position in which he was comfortable in his own body.
But whatever got you through. She’d paced at first, but now she was deflated, energy-less. The movement seemed to set her mind racing, so she’d slumped in a chair, trying to keep her mind as blank as possible.
He turned from a window and headed toward her. He took the seat to her left and looked up at the ceiling. She put a hand on his thigh.
‘You OK?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m a fucking mess. Why’s there no news? What’s going on?’
‘I’ll go and ask.’
She expected him to say, No, don’t bother them, they’ll tell you if there’s anything to tell but he nodded.
‘I’ll come with you.’
Daniela was behind the reception. She looked up as they approached and smiled.
‘We were wondering,’ Stacy said. ‘If there’s any news? About Cherry?’
It was obvious there wasn’t, but Daniela was too kind to say so. She tapped on her keyboard. ‘Let me check.’
Before she had a chance to say anything further, the door to the waiting area opened and Dr. Williams came out. His face was lined, his eyes red and exhausted.
‘Mrs. Evanston,’ he said. He looked at Dan. ‘And Mr. Evanston?’
‘Yes,’ Dan replied. ‘How is she?’
Dr. Williams smiled, and Stacy felt her legs weaken in relief. He had smiled. She grabbed Dan’s elbow.
‘She’s doing better. She’s still unconscious, but she’s stable now. We’re moving her out of the ICU and into a room. You’ll be able to see her in a few minutes.’
‘Will she be OK?’ Stacy said.
‘I’m quietly confident,’ Dr. Williams replied. ‘Although we still don’t know what caused this.’
‘Does that mean it could happen again?’ Dan said. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes. Not that it will, but until we know the cause we have to accept that it might. Do you have any other questions?’
‘You said we could see her?’ Stacy asked.
‘Yes. I’ll send someone out as soon as she’s ready. Anything else?’ He held his hands out, palms up. ‘Anything at all.’
Stacy shook her head and Dr. Williams headed for the door. As he reached it, Dan called out.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
Dr. Williams smiled. ‘My pleasure,’ he said.
Stacy hugged Dan. ‘Thank God,’ she said. ‘Thank God she’s going to be OK.’
‘She’s still unconscious,’ Dan said.
‘I know. But it’s an improvement. And we can see her.’
‘That’s good news,’ Daniela said.
‘She’s not out of the woods yet – but yes, it’s good news.’
‘I love it when it’s good news. You want that coffee now?’
‘Yes, please. If it’s not too much trouble.’
‘And one for your husband, too?’
Dan nodded. ‘Thank you.’
Stacy sat, her head on Dan’s shoulder, and took a long, deep breath. She blew out her cheeks.
