Gerri Hill - One Summer Night

Yes, things were over, if they had ever even started.

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Chapter Nineteen

Jo slept late on Saturday morning, then took time to start laundry before going to Harry's. It was a beautiful November day, just like he had predicted, and she was looking forward to spending the day at the lake. She vowed she would not think of Kelly today, although she had had a restless night thinking about her. Surely, she could get through the day without doing the same.

She listened to her favorite Elton John CD on the way to Harry's, driving with the sunroof open. Clear, blue skies overhead helped to brighten her mood and by the time she drove down Harry's driveway, she was singing.

Parking in her usual spot she was surprised Harry was not sitting on the porch waiting for her, like he usually did.

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She had picked up some things for their lunch, and she grabbed the sack from the seat beside her.

The front door was open and she went in.

"Harry?" she called.

There was no sound in the house, and she assumed he had gone to the boathouse. She went into the kitchen and frowned. His breakfast dishes were still out, pans still on the stove. It was very unlike him to leave a mess. Putting the food she had brought in the refrigerator, she looked around, hands on her hips and then walked into the living room, thinking he must be outside. She looked out on the deck and saw him.

"Harry!" she screamed as she ran to the door and threw it open.

He was lying on the deck, his coffee cup shattered on the boards beside him.

"Oh, God, no," she pleaded. She bent to him and heard his shallow breathing. Without hesitating, she ran back inside, dialed 911, requested an ambulance and then hurried back to his side.

His hands were cold when she held them. "Harry, please," she begged. "Don't you dare leave me."

It seemed like hours before she heard the sirens. She didn't know what to do for him so she sat beside him on the deck, in spite of the broken glass, holding his hand and stroking his face, talking softly to him.

When the ambulance finally pulled up, she ran to the front door and called to them.

"Back here!" she yelled.

They were on the deck in no time, gently moving her aside so they could get to Harry. "Just stand back, ma'am.

We'll take care of him."

She leaned against the railing, one hand covering her mouth as she watched them take his vital signs and give him 139

oxygen. They spoke in low tones, and she couldn't make out all they were saying.

"Ma'am, we're going to take him over to Breckenridge.

You can ride with us," the young man told her and she nodded numbly, following as they carried Harry away.

She sat in the emergency room for a full hour and a half before she heard anything. She thought she should call Betsy but she didn't want to leave, even for a minute.

"Ms. Marshall?" a woman asked from the doorway.

"Here," Johanna said, rising.

"I'm Dr. Stewart," she said, and offered Johanna a smile.

Jo took her outstretched hand but did not return her smile.

"How is he?" she asked. She had no patience for pleasantries.

"Let's sit down," the doctor suggested, motioning to the uncomfortable chair that Jo had been sitting in.

"He's had a stroke," she began.

"Oh, no," Jo gasped.

"I'm afraid he's in a coma, Ms. Marshall. His vital signs are very weak. I'm worried about his heart. This has put a tremendous stress on his system, especially at his age."

"What are you saying?" Jo whispered.

She smiled, but Jo could tell it was forced. "I just want you to be prepared. He had what is called a cerebral embolism, resulting in severe trauma to the brain. The next 48 hours will be critical. We've relieved as much pressure as possible, but now we just have to wait."

Jo rubbed her forehead wearily. "Can I see him?" she asked.

"You can sit with him for just a moment," Dr. Stewart said. "Come with me."

Johanna followed her to the Intensive Care Unit. All around were the sounds and smells of the sick and dying, 140

and she squeezed back her tears as she looked in on Harry.

He was very pale, his snow white hair blending with the sheets. He had tubes in his nose and mouth, helping him breathe, she supposed. She walked slowly to him and took his cool, limp hand.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered.

"I'll have a nurse bring you a chair, Ms. Marshall."

"Thank you," she murmured, without turning around.

Her eyes were fixed on Harry's face, which looked so smooth and peaceful. What was he thinking? About Beth?

A nurse brought a chair for her, and she sat down beside his bed, holding his hand, trying to warm it. She looked up at the monitor above his head, keeping track of the slow beat of his heart, and wept.

"Don't leave me, Harry," she cried softly. "I'm not sure I can make it without you.”

Tears rolled down her face and she wiped them away absently. Her mind flashed back to some of their times together. She thought about the first summer she had lived with him and Beth, after her mother had been killed. He had taught her to drive the boat that summer, and they had spent endless days fishing and swimming in the lake. The next summer, he had taught her to drive his old Ford pickup, a four-speed with a temperamental clutch. He had stood beside her throughout high school, when she had run wild and nearly drove her grandmother insane, and he had proudly watched as she graduated college a few years later.

All those years, he had taken care of her and protected her.

Now, what could she do to repay him?

"Nothing," she whispered. "I can't do anything for you.”

She hung her head and sobbed, holding his hand to her face.

"Oh, Harry."

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She stayed at the hospital until nine that night, sitting with him for a few minutes at a time. Just before nine, a nurse touched her gently on the shoulder and told her it was time for her to go.

"When can I come back?"

"In the morning," she said kindly.

Jo nodded and walked away, turning back once to look at him again. She stood in the parking lot and looked at the sky, trying to decide what to do. She should call Betsy, and his friends from the Senior Center. But even that was too much effort. Instead, she hailed one of the cabs lining the circle drive and sat mutely as she was driven back to the lake.

The silence at his house was nearly her undoing. He should be here, she thought. She occupied herself by cleaning his kitchen and sweeping up the broken glass on the deck, but it was so quiet in the house, she couldn't stand it. She locked up quickly and drove home, dazed.

Once home, she knew what she needed to do. Without thinking, she picked up the college directory, found Kelly's number and punched it out quickly. It was Saturday and late, and she wondered for one awful second what she would do if Kelly wasn't home. Or worse, if she wasn't alone.

Kelly picked up on the third ring and just the sound of her voice brought a fresh sob from Jo.

"Kelly?"

"Jo? What is it?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"I need you," she said softly, her own voice cracking.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Harry," she sobbed.

"What happened, Jo?"

"He had a stroke. He's in the hospital."

"I'm so sorry," Kelly said gently.

"I need you tonight," Jo whispered.

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"I'm on my way," she said and hung up.

A few minutes later, Kelly walked in and found Jo huddled in the corner of her sofa, her knees drawn up to her chest. Jo looked at up her, then let out her breath, sobs shaking her shoulders. Kelly sat beside her and drew her into her arms. Jo cried for a long time while Kelly softly stroked her hair, wiped her tears as they fell, and kissed her forehead gently.

"He's all I have in the whole world," Jo cried.