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“Mary. Mary Sandusky. Yvette knows me.”
A moment passes.
Then, “Mary? What’s wrong?” Yvette’s voice is high-pitched and full of worry.
I soften. All this time I haven’t been able to cry, but now, at the moment when I need to communicate this news to Yvette, I cry.
“He was shot. A coffeehouse got held up. He… He’s in surgery… Can you come? Can you call his parents? I don’t even know how old he is, Yvette. I don’t know his birthdate.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing. Go to the front desk, and you give the phone to whoever’s in charge of records. I’m going to give them all the information they need. And then I’m getting on a plane.”
I gulp. Thank God for this woman.
“All right.”
I hand the phone to the desk clerk. “I’ve got Ronan O’Connor’s grandmother on the phone. She can give you the information you need.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
I listen as she taps on the computer.
“Thank you very much, ma’am.” The nurse hands the phone back to me.
“Yvette?”
“Yes, chérie. I need to call my daughter and her husband. Then I will be there. Ronan is a strong man. He has so much to live for. But he needs your strength now, Mary. Yours and mine. And we’re not going to let him down.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Ronan
I am lying on an operating table, but I am not in my body. I am hovering above, watching as the surgeons prepare to operate. The bright lights overhead are blinding, but I am not bothered by them. I see everything clearly.
The surgeons are dressed in their green scrubs, masks covering their faces. They move with a sense of purpose, their hands steady and precise as they prepare to make the first incision. I watch in awe as they work, amazed at how effortless they make it look.
One of the nurses notices me floating above and gasps, but the surgeons don’t seem to notice. They are focused on their task, their attention unwavering.
As they begin to cut into my flesh, I feel a strange sensation. It is not painful, but I can feel something pulling at me, like I am being tugged away from my body. It is a bizarre awareness, but I am not afraid. I feel calm, almost serene, as I watch the surgeons work.
Peace. I feel utter peace, and I know without a doubt that whatever happens, everything will be fine.
The surgery continues, and I watch as they repair my damaged organs with skill and precision. I am amazed at how they seem to know exactly what to do, as though they have done this a thousand times before.
As the surgery comes to an end, I feel a strange stir again. This time, it is different. I can feel myself being drawn back into my body, like a magnet pulling me toward it.
Mémé.
I see Mémé, her brown eyes pleading with me, and I feel her love—I feel her comfort as I did when I was a little boy and she held me in her arms.
She’s there, in the OR, telling me to come back. It’s not my time yet. It’s not my…
Not yet, chéri. You have so much to live for. Someone special who’s waiting for you…
The sensation is overwhelming, and suddenly, I am back inside myself with a crash.
Pain. I remember the pain…
A knife is lodged inside my gut, throbbing, stinging, pinching.
