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“Surgery . . . as in bypass?” Helen asked.
Jacob covered her hand and squeezed.
“Perhaps. But I’m an ER doctor, Mrs. Murphy, not a cardiologist. I’ve sent our tests on, but in these situations, we always feel it’s best to transfer a patient like your husband.”
Jacob nodded. “How will you transfer him?”
“We prefer to fly such a case out, especially considering the distance. Nearly three hours is too far for an ambulance transfer.”
Helen took it in for a moment. Such good news—Kevin was stable! Moments before, that was everything. But now, hearing he might need surgery—and so close to such trauma—fear sprouted all over again, sending tendrils to clasp her heart and squeeze.
“May I see him first?”
Dr. Katz stood. “Yes, though he’s quite sedated. I can’t promise he’ll know you’re there right now.”
“Can she ride with him on the transfer?”
This time the doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s outside of protocol. With medical staff en route, there is simply not enough room.”
Helen stood, and her boys followed, Jacob still gripping her hand. “I can drive. Will they be expecting me once I get there?”
“Yes, I’ll see to that.” The doctor motioned toward the door that blocked the patient ER rooms. “But I can only have one of you back to see him for the moment.”
Tyler rubbed her back and Jacob kissed her knuckles.
“Tell him we’re here and we’re praying,” Ty said.
Helen nodded and followed the young doctor toward the restricted area. When he swiped his badge, the door unlocked and opened, and Dr. Katz allowed her to pass first. “Mrs. Murphy, I am so sorry you have to go through this.”
Stopping inside the door, Helen turned and reached for the man’s arm. “Thank you for what you do.”
“It’s my job.”
She shook her head. “I have a son about your age. He’s a resident in Nashville—at Saint Jude. What you do is more than a job, and if you’re anything like Brayden, I know what it does to your heart, to your emotions.”
He blinked, as if she’d brushed a nerve, and then nodded. “I’m glad your husband is still with us.” Then he turned, leading her to Kevin’s room. A curtain hung in the space, portioning off his bed from what could be enough space for two more patient beds. Dr. Katz stopped and drew back the curtain. “A nurse is in with him now, and she’ll be in and out. We’ll finalize the arrangements for the transfer and let you know a time frame as soon as we can.”
Helen nodded, and he moved away. With a quick prayer for strength and stability, she passed through the curtain.
“Kevin,” she breathed.
He looked so pale and still. So unlike the strong man who had woken up at five every morning, worked with tools all day long, and came home smelling like sawdust and sweat every evening. Stepping to his side that did not have tubes dripping meds into his arm, Helen slipped her hand into his. His fingers were chilly and unresponsive, but as she studied him, she saw the slight rise and fall of his chest.
“You’re still with us,” she said, more to herself than anything. Biting her bottom lip, she fought back a sob. “I’d prefer you keep it that way for a while longer, if you please.”
Those chilled fingers pressed hers. Not Kevin’s normal strong clasp, but enough.
Say you’ll stay with me.His plea from so many years ago whispered through her heart.
She’d promised him until death. Standing there at his side, his weak hand holding hers, Helen was so deeply grateful that for now, she had not reached the end of her vow.
It seemed this had happened before, at least in a similar way.
Kevin’s hold felt clumsy, his fingers numb and swollen, but he was sure there was a palm in his. He firmed a grip around the smaller hand in his to confirm. The sensation of a touch—her thumb—soothing over the inside of his wrist registered.
“Helen,” he mumbled.
His hand lifted as if it was dead weight and then her soft lips pressed against his palm. “I’m here.” Her voice was soft and salted with emotion, yet there was strength in her words. “I’m right here with you, love.”
