Page 85 of Threat of Danger
She didn’t respond. She took the steps two at a time instead.
She reached Chuck’s door just as the doctor by his bed put down the paddles of the defibrillator and said, “Time of death, ten forty-three a.m.”
The words hit Jess like driving into a brick wall at top speed.
For a second, everyone stopped, one endless moment of silence to acknowledge that Death had appeared among them.
Then Jess caught movement from the corner of her eye: Zelda collapsing as if her soul and Chuck’s had been holding hands and he’d drawn her behind him. Only Jess’s stuntwoman reflexes saved Zelda from hitting the floor.
“Put her in a bed,” the doctor ordered, his voice thick with sympathy. He couldn’t have been older than midthirties, couldn’t have lost too many patients. He was in control of the room, but at the same time, obviously shaken.
An orderly hurried off, presumably for a wheelchair.
“Are you family?” the doctor asked Jess.
Too numb to speak, she nodded, holding up Zelda’s weight. The woman had bird bones. She weighed nothing. A male nurse hurried to help anyway, and they helped her to the nearest chair. She was quietly crying, unaware of what went on around her. Her gaze was lost in the mid-distance, no longer seeing Chuck, not seeing any of them.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” the doctor told both of them, but only Jess nodded.
“What happened? He was recovering.” She wanted to argue her case, to protest, to convince some higher power to rethink this terrible decision.
“Massive stroke. A blood clot. I can’t really tell you more until the autopsy. I’m sorry. I’m Dr.Munabi.” He offered his hand, and Jess took it. “If you have any questions, or need to talk.” He wrapped his other hand around hers too, offering comfort. “If there is anything at all that I can do, please ask one of the nurses to find me.”
He walked out, but the room was still full of people. Two nurses were wheeling out the crash cart, also murmuring, “Sorry for your loss,” as they left. Two orderlies entered with a rolling bed and lifted Zelda on top of the green sheet.
Another nurse, a woman with gray-streaked hair who looked to be around retirement age, came over next. “My name is Carol. I’m sorry for your loss.”
She patted Zelda’s hand. “Let me just quickly take your blood pressure.” As soon as she was done, the orderlies wheeled Zelda out. The nurse went with them. “I’m going to start an IV.”
They didn’t move Zelda far, just to the nearest empty room, two doors down.
The nurse hooked up the IV bag. “She’ll feel better in a blink.”
In the momentary silence, Jess heard herself gasp, as if she’d been underwater for the past couple of minutes and she only now broke the surface. Her mind felt numb, and at the same time her brain screamed with pain.How? Why?
She needed to do something, occupy herself so she wouldn’t just wail about the utter unfairness of Chuck’s death. She pulled her phone and texted her mother.Chuck is gone. I’ll be up when I can.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket, and didn’t pull it again when it pinged over and over. She understood that her mother had questions, but Jess didn’t have answers. She needed a minute.
Zelda looked around, confusion wrinkling her forehead. “What happened?”
“You’re all right.” The nurse patted her hand. “Your blood pressure dropped for a minute there. I think you’ve been a little out of it, but you’re fine now. Can I get you anything?”
Zelda’s gaze cut to Jess. Her eyes immediately filled with tears all over again, her hand clutched to her chest. “Chuck. Oh my God.” A heartbreaking sob tore from deep inside her chest.
“I’ll take care of her.” When Jess moved closer, the nurse stepped away. And then Jess bent to hug Zelda as they cried together.
How many times had she cried in Zelda’s arms as a kid? To have Zelda crying in her arms, their roles reversed, felt out of order. Everything about this terrible day was wrong.
“But he was fine,” Zelda kept saying. “We were talking every time he was awake. He was so young. How could this happen?” She pushed herself to sit, struggling until Jess helped her. “I want to see him.”
Jess wasn’t going to tell her no. She grabbed an empty wheelchair from the hallway, helped Zelda into it, and pushed her with one hand, dragging the IV stand with the other.
There were two people still in the room with Chuck, the older nurse and one of the male orderlies. They didn’t tell Jess and Zelda to go away. Instead, they gave the family privacy.
Zelda took Chuck’s hand and lay her face in his palm.
His eyes were closed. He looked peaceful. He looked like he did when he stayed after dinner to watch some show with Zelda and nodded off for a second on the couch next to her.
