The doctor tells me that chatting with her while she’s unconscious can help her. Some patients said they could understand their loved ones speaking to them while being under, and it encouraged them to fight harder. So, most of the day, I am telling her a story about me, something from my childhood, or listening to music, and periodically I read a novel to her.
One thing I picked up on when I spent the night with her that first time was her assortment of Nicholas Sparks books, and so I went to the local bookstore and grabbed up a couple different ones to read to her.
“Call me if anything changes. I’m gonna go get out of my work clothes and shower,” Tessa says.
She comes by every day to check on her, and when it came time to ask her questions about Harper, she really couldn’t give Scott or the detective much, which is peculiar, because you would think a best friend would know more than someone who had only known her for two weeks.
I go back to sitting next to Harper and take her hand in mine. “Please wake up. It’s been rough, keeping my cool around everyone checking in on you, and not knowing what to really tell them. I can’t wait to see your beautiful eyes again, and hear that obnoxious laugh of yours. Just don’t leave me, okay?”
The worst part of this situation is getting no privacy. Scott refuses to let me close the door, which means he can hear everything I say or do. He knows I’m not the one that did this to her, and a bit of trust couldn’t hurt. I’m not a suspect and don’t like being treated like one.
My phone rings, and his name pops up on my screen. Just what I need right now.
“Hey, Chief.”
“Listen, we need you to come back to work. Being short-staffed this time of year is killing us.”
“I can’t until Harper has recovered. Thought I made that clear?”
How am I supposed to go on living my life when she’s fighting for hers? What if she wakes up and I’m not here? And she’s all alone? Hell no. This is where I belong until she is better, and if I lose my job, well, so be it.
“Listen, I can’t hold your job forever. Once your vacation time runs out, I’ll have no choice but to fill your position.”
“If you feel the need to replace me, do it. Bye, Chief.”
A knock sounds on the open door, and a nurse is standing there with another vase of flowers.
“Sorry to interrupt. Just putting these up,” she says.
I take notice of the shift in the room since everyone saw the report on Harper’s house. It moved from sterile and white to vibrant. The fresh flowers produce a fragrance in the air. Most of them appeared after her story went live, and I didn’t mess with them, because they're not mine. Once she wakes up, I’d read the cards to her, and let her enjoy their smell, but one in particular catches my eye. It’s a vase of tulips, her favorite, with a rosy red card inserted into a bow. I can see from my seat are the words Secret Admirer. How didn’t I catch that?
“Scott, come here,” I say, raising my voice to get his attention. “Look at this.”
“What is it?”
I point my index finger at the vase. “Who brought those in? Were they delivered?”
“No one, but the nurse can get past me,” he replies, taking the card out of the bow and coming to stand next to me so we can both read it.
I’m sorry that they saved you, but next time you won’t be that lucky.
“They’ve been here!” I holler.
“Now calm down. Maybe they were delivered. I’ll check with her nurse.”
Scott takes the card, thrusts the blossoms in the trash and exits the room, leaving the door open. They could be anywhere in this hospital, any staff member, visitor or even patient. Not knowing is killing me, and she’ll want answers when she wakes.
My arms are across my body, and I begin pacing in front of the door, waiting for him to come back.
After half an hour, Scott returns and doesn’t appear happy.
“Whoever this is, he’s good. He avoided looking at the cameras, but he gave them to Harper’s nurse. She says he’s 5’11, white male, around mid-forties.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“I called the detective, and without more, there’s nothing he can do.”
Is this how our police departments run? It’s been two weeks and nothing to show for it. I’m not blaming Scott because he has barely left since they brought her in. The guy is dedicated, but his partner is on vacation, and so he decided he could use extra money. His back must hurt from standing all day and sleeping in a freaking chair.
One machine goes haywire with loud annoying beeping. What the hell is happening?
“Doctor, something’s wrong!” I scream, and Scott yells, echoing me.
I rush to her side, and her face is redder than normal, flushed.
My hand falls to her cheek. “You’re going to be okay, and I’m not going anywhere.”
I want to keep her calm until the doctor arrives. Sure, she’s unconscious, but for a minute there I swear I see her eyelid twitch like she’s trying to open her eyes, but it’s me seeing things, right?