Hannah Alexander - Sacred Trust

“My mother died of metastatic breast cancer three years ago,” he said after a few moments. “I remember the feelings of helplessness and anger. I wanted to do so much more for her, and there was nothing more to do except keep her comfortable. Had we revived your grandmother…”

“I know.”

There was another pause, then Dr. Bower asked, “Would you like me to go with you to tell your mother?”

Mercy took a final look at Grandma and turned away. “No, thank you. It’ll be best coming from me.”

He hesitated. “Did you not have a chance to discuss the DNR form with your mother?”

“I tried. Mom wouldn’t talk about it.”

“It’s a difficult subject to discuss. I gathered that your mother was the main caregiver.”

“Yes. I tried to help more, just to keep her from exhausting herself.” Mercy shook her head. “Mom can be stubborn and self-sufficient. She’s lost so much sleep lately…she hasn’t been her usual, rational self—not that she’s ever been a perfect example of rationality.” Why was she talking to this stranger like this? And a man, to boot.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “My father was the same way after Mom’s death. Be patient with your mother. This kind of grief and exhaustion can do strange things to the mind. And it can last a lot longer than anyone expects.”

“Let me talk to Mom.” She forced a smile and looked again into those blue eyes. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

A few moments later, after taking a drink of water from the fountain and a few deep breaths to compose herself, Mercy opened the door to the private waiting room. The first thing she saw was Mom standing there in the middle of the floor, glaring in her direction.

“Where is that blasted doctor? I told them not to call you yet.” Ivy Richmond turned to pace across the room toward the thickly cushioned sofa on the far side, then back again. “It’s been over an hour, and no one has seen fit to tell me anything. Do you know that man came in here and asked for permission to just let Mother die?”

“Grandma had an advance directive, Mom.”

“How can he just take it upon himself to decide who is and who isn’t worthy to live? Mother couldn’t have known what she was doing when she signed that form.” Tears filled Ivy’s eyes. “Oh, Mother.”

Mercy’s eyes grew moist, too. She’d thought they would have been drained of emotion months ago, but the stages of grief had continued to batter them. Right now confusion ran high, and Mercy knew Mom was exhausted and weak from too many nights of sleeplessness.

Ivy jerked another tissue from the box on an end table and blew her reddened nose. “I wish they hadn’t called you against my wishes.”

“It’s a good thing they did.”

Ivy stiffened at those words.

“She’s gone, Mom.”

Ivy’s face twisted into a mask of pain. “Mother wasn’t ready to die.”

Mercy closed the door behind her and took a seat on the nearby recliner, perching on the edge with her hands in her pockets. “We’re the ones who weren’t ready.”

Ivy turned away. “I can’t believe my own daughter, the learned doctor, cannot grasp the reality of an afterlife.”

Mercy suppressed a sigh. Now was not the time to bring up that old argument again, but if Mom had found peace in her so-called God these past few years, where was that peace now?

Ivy reached up toward her chest with both hands and bent forward, as if on a sob.

“Mom…?”

Ivy shook her head.

Mercy stepped up and laid a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Mom? Are you okay?”

Slowly Ivy straightened and turned around. Her face was as gray as the clouds gathering outside, but she nodded and patted Mercy’s hand.

“I’ll be fine. This just brings back so many memories.”

“I know.” Mercy’s father had also died a lingering, painful death five years ago. That was when Mom had suddenly started babbling about “finding Jesus.” At the time, Mercy was sure she would get over it, but she hadn’t. Where was her Jesus now?

Ivy took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “That doctor is dangerous. He doesn’t hold human life sacred. He tried to manipulate me into allowing Mother to die. He was going to go over my head to keep from doing anything for her. Did he even try to save her?”

“He called a code. I saw it.”

“How hard did he try?”

“He did everything to resuscitate her. He had already begun when I arrived.”

“And he didn’t revive her at all?”

“No.”

“Is that normal for someone whose heart has just stopped?”

“It would be hard for me to say, Mom. Everyone is different. Most of the codes I get have been out for at least fifteen minutes.”

“I think he could have bought us more time. Do you know that he as much as told me he had other patients who needed him more than she did and that doing more for her would be inhumane?” Ivy put a hand to her chest again, then quickly dropped it.

Mercy held her mother’s dark gaze and said nothing.

“Jarvis didn’t want this new doctor here in the first place, did he?” Ivy asked. They both knew that Dr. Jarvis George, E.R. director, had been bitterly opposed to bring in a full-time physician for the E.R.

“No, and neither did I. But to be fair, I disagreed with the code, too. I even tried to stop him. He did what he felt he had to, and I can’t blame him for that. Granted, he could have been a little more tactful with you, but…”

“I’ll have a talk with Jarvis. Maybe he can put my mind at ease about this guy, but if he can’t, I may have to have a talk with administration.”

Lukas Bower could find his way around an unfamiliar hospital or a forest trail almost by instinct. Let him loose in a strange town, however, and he would be lost the moment he stepped out the door. By the time he entered the front door of the cantina—little more than a house with a small unlit sign in the front yard—where he was supposed to meet the others Wednesday night, the tiny place was nearly empty and a Hispanic waiter was clearing the tables. It still smelled wonderful, full of smoky spices and warmth.

Lauren waved at him from the far back left corner, where two smaller tables had been pushed together for a larger group. Much larger. Only Lauren was left.

“You’re late,” she called out, still waving for him to join her.

Lukas stood, staring at her in dismay. He had no desire to be rude, but he also had no desire to have dinner alone with a nurse who worked with him. Was he that late? Where were the others? Still, how could he turn around and walk out now?

He stepped hesitantly toward the back. “Sorry. I had to finish my charts; then I had to find this place. That turned out to be more of a challenge than I’d expected.” He glanced at his watch. It was eight-thirty and the shift had ended at seven. Okay, so he was pretty late. “How long have you been waiting?”

“It’s only been about twenty minutes since the last person left. Carol and Rita had to get home to their hubbies as soon as they ate. Connie and Ron, the ambulance team on duty tonight, got a call. Beverly and Buck had a lion to feed, and I know for a fact that Beverly took that Mustang by the car wash to clean it out.” Lauren indicated the cluttered stack of plates that had not yet been cleared. “Sorry, you’re stuck with just me.” She signaled the waiter and kicked out a chair across the table from her. She had released her long, blond hair from its rubber band, and wispy tendrils framed a face devoid of makeup. “I ordered for you, and they’ve been keeping it warm in back.”

Lukas wished she hadn’t done that. “Could they make it to go? I’ll just take it with me. There’s no reason for you to have to sit—”