silly.
“Kate,” was all he said. He slid his hand under mine, entwining our fingers. I leaned my head on his shoulder, he rested his against mine, and he helped me grieve just by being there.
I felt the tiger’s presence, and I turned with tears in my eyes. “I have to know if I’m going to die.”
“Your journey isn’t over yet, Kate,” was the answer. “Come.”
The next thing I knew, I was standing in a hospital room with a woman about to give birth. She was gripping a man’s hand as he stood by her side. I glanced at him as I took in the surroundings, and I did a double take as I recognized my son’s face. Christopher was the man holding this woman’s hand.
“Sweetheart, you’re doing just fine. Soon we’ll have a beautiful daughter. A little girl with green eyes and dimples,” he said, brushing a finger over the dimples in her cheeks.
I watched this woman, with an almighty scream, give birth to her daughter, my grandchild. Christopher, my little boy, had tears streaming down his face as he watched the doctor holding his baby. Mark stood nearby, his hand on his shoulder. I reached out a hand to touch his cheek, my own eyes wet with tears. My hand touched nothing, though, and my heart ached to be there with him, celebrating in the greatest joy there is in the world.
“Please,” I said, my voice cracking, “I want to be with my son and husband.”
I was in another hospital room now, and I was the one in the bed. My face was pale, my hair pushed back to make room for the gauze bandage wrapped around my head. I could hear a nurse talking in the hall, and when I heard a childish response, I knew Christopher was out there with her. Mark was standing by the foot of my bed, exhaustion and grief etched in lines over his face.
“Mr. Donahue, your wife has mild brain trauma,” the doctor said, his face a study of professionalism.
Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively. “What does that mean?”
“There’s been enough trauma to render her unconscious. The good news is that she’s young and healthy. And if her will to survive is strong, she can pull out of this just fine. We did everything we can; we just have to wait and see.”
Mark nodded and the doctor left him alone with me. I hovered nearby, as he went to my side and sat in the chair. “Kate,” he whispered. He stopped abruptly, swallowing hard. He dropped his face into his hands for a moment. I sat on the other side of my physical body and cried with him.
“I love you,” he choked out. “I know you haven’t been happy. I know we have been growing apart. I think you are having trouble finding what you really want, and I promise to try harder and I will damn near do everything I can to help you find what it is if you come back to me.
“You’re my heart and my soul, Kate. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Please don’t leave me and Chris. He needs you. I need you.”
He laced his fingers in mine the same way he did that night when our rabbit died. My hands ached with the need to touch him. I stood abruptly and faced the tiger. “There is no question,” I said simply. “I have to go back. I have to live.”
The tiger became more noticeable, and I could see its liquid golden eyes boring into mine until there was nothing there. The feeling of swimming up from the depths of a bottomless pool was exhausting, but the will to see my family grew stronger, so I kept going.
My eyes slowly opened, and I was in my body again. My head was aching, my arm hurt, my legs hurt, but I was alive. Mark’s head rested on my stomach and our entwined hands rested over my heart. “Mark,” I whispered.
His head jerked up. “Kate,” he murmured, relief easing the lines in his face. “Thank God.”
There were no big speeches I could give as to what I was thinking, but with one look at him, I knew he understood. We would have to talk soon, get everything out in the open, but for now I settled for what was important. “I love you,” I said, and I knew it was true.
Mark smiled with relief. “I love you, too.” My son came barreling into the room, all long arms and legs, his brown hair tousled.
“Mommy!” he cried.
I held my arms out to him, and he nestled against me. “Are you all better, Mommy?” he asked. He laid his finger against my cheek and caught one of my tears that had escaped. “I’ll hold your tear for you and then it won’t hurt as much.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat and held my son to me, reaching out for Mark with my other arm. I held them against me, breathing in their scent, knowing this was what I wanted now and forever. As long as I had them, I would find a way to make my dreams come true with my family by my side.
*~*~*~*
About the Author
I have been writing since I was a teenager (and I am definitely not that anymore) and have always had an overactive imagination. I love making people feel something with my writing - whether it be happiness, sadness or anger. That was always important to me and a big factor in enjoying a book, so I like to try my best to do that myself. As for what I enjoy other than writing -- I like to read, travel, do yoga, bike ride, and spend time with my family and friends.
Connect with me online:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MeghanZeb
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