Callum & Harper (Sleepless 1)

“Wake up, Harper,” I began softly. “Wake up, Harper!” I said a bit louder. “Wake up!” I screamed at her finally, fighting the men holding me back. “Wake up!” Tears streamed down my face. My hands dug into the shoulders of the men pinning me against the windows. “Please,” I tenderly requested. I closed my eyes. “God, I’m begging you,” I prayed softly. “Please, God, don’t take her from me yet. I’ve had enough tragedy in my life. I need something to keep me from taking the tumble over the edge. I don’t think I can live without her.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, a nurse came from the line and placed her hand on my shoulder, silently praying along with me. The men looked from one to the other and relaxed their hold on me, praying with me as well. Soon, the entire room was filled with prayer, including the physicians working to revive her. I even noticed, family members visiting their own loved ones drifted to the large glass windows that was Harper’s room and folded their hands.

They worked for what seemed like forever but a calm entered the room and they worked methodically, no more panic in their motions. They worked with an efficiency I’d never seen before but nothing was happening. Her body laid limp on her bed, her chest still without breath. I continually prayed but was losing hope, my stomach clenched in nausea. I was preparing myself for the worst and contemplated how I could possibly bury another family member. I wondered how in the world I could place the love of my life in cold, hard dirt. That’s when I knew. I knew I couldn’t do it, I would only throw myself in the hole with her. I clenched my teeth and fisted my hands, pressing my eyes closed. She had to stay with me. Had to.

Suddenly, Harper gasped and my tears turned to wracking sobs. “Thank you,” I told God. “Thank you,” I told the doctors and nurses quietly. The nurse who placed her hand on my shoulder, squeezed it and left the room, letting the doctor stabilize my wife.

Unnecessary staff left the room, but there was an eerily quiet blanket that descended on every person inside the ICU, realizing the miracle that was their prayers. A breathing tube was placed, and eventually she was stabilized enough that the ICU staff could leave me alone with her. I pulled a rolling stool over to her side and held her hand. She wasn’t conscious but it didn’t matter to me. She was alive.

I breathed deeply, my body exhausted from the fear. “God, Harper, He gave you back to me.” I gripped that hand with both of mine then. I rubbed the back of her swollen hand with my thumbs, making lazy circles over her pale skin. “He gave you back.”

I was astonished, to be honest. I reached my hand up, sliding it over her gown, and placing my trembling hand over her chest to feel her heart beat. ‘Thump, thump, thump’, it told me, steady and strong. I buried my chin into my chest and reveled in the miracle that was Harper’s beating heart. I released a pent up breath and sat up straight, leaning over her face and tracing her hair line with my fingers.

“I love you,” I told her, “so much.”

Over the week, Harper healed at an astonishing rate, according to her physicians. She was still in a medically induced coma because of some swelling in her brain but was expected be woken soon and moved to a regular room once she was breathing on her own since her back was healing so remarkably well and the swelling was completely eradicated.

The nurses were incredibly helpful to me, not making a big deal about leaving Harper’s side. Essentially, I refused to leave her but Ames convinced me that I should probably shower because, and I quote, I would ‘scare the shit out of Harper’ if she woke and found me days without a shower and a full beard. I still refused to leave the hospital but thanks to Ames and the kind nurses. I was able to shower in one of the hospital rooms and had a change of clean clothes. Ames even brought me my meals on break from work and visited me for hours each night.

Five days after Christmas, the physicians decided it was time to wean Harper off the barbiturates keeping her comatose. When I knew she would be waking, I made a long list and sent Ames to a local department store to get all the things I thought she would want and a few things I just wanted her to have.

“Okay,” Doctor Sullivan said, to me outside Harper’s room. “I’ve taken her off the drugs.”

“And how long before she wakes?” I asked, my tired arms wrapped around my chest.

“It’s up to her,” he told me with a smile, “but if she was a smart girl,” he teased, “she’d wake so you’ll get off my back.”

I laughed. Doctor Sullivan and I had an understanding. He made jokes and I laughed so I didn’t lose my mind.

“Seriously, within a few hours is usual. We’ll be transferring her to the third floor within the hour. Chelsea will let you know what room. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Thanks Dr. Sullivan.”

“Of course.”

As Doctor Sullivan walked away, my cell rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, Callum.”

Cherry.

“Hey, Cherry.”

“What’s the progress?” She asked for the sixth time that day. I loved her all the more because she was so concerned. Cherry and Charlie were still in England but kept tabs on Harper throughout the day. It was three a.m. there but Cherry said she didn’t mind setting her alarm to catch wind of any progress.

“She’s been taken off the drugs that’s keeping her comatose. It’s up to her now when she’ll wake.”

“Oh, thank God,” Cherry sighed into the phone. “And you’ll...”

“Yes, Cherry, I will call you the second she wakes.” I laughed.

“Good.” She yawned. “Alright, buttercup. Catch you on the flip.”

“Bye, Cherry.”

Chelsea, an ICU nurse who helped make my life easier, came bounding up to me as I slid my phone in my back pocket. “Three oh-seven,” she said, smiling.

“Excellent! Thanks, Chelsea!”