Hugged By An Angel Page 2

  The airport. Our flight to New York. Suddenly it all came back. Declan and I were supposed to take a flight to JFK. I was going to start a new life in New York with Declan who’d moved there almost three years ago.

  Declan.

  He was in the car with me.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered, as realization hit me. “Is he here? Is he okay?”

  The young doctor looked down at the floor, refusing to meet my stare, and my blood ran cold.

  “Is he here?” I asked again, and he cleared his throat.

  “He’s here, only…not in this ward,” he said, fumbling with a loose thread on the sheet.

  “Can I see him? Or can he come see me? You said my parents were with him, right? I need to talk to him. We’re gonna have to get new tickets; maybe if we explain we’ve been involved in an accident we’ll get a refund and…”

  “Kathleen, listen,” he cut in, resting his hand on my arm and making me wince. “It should probably be up to Dr. O’Donnell to tell you this, but I don’t know when he’ll be here and I guess it’ll be tough for your parents to say…”

  “Say what?” I asked, totally upset by the tone he was using. It was soft, too soft for a doctor, and I didn’t like the look on his face. I was sure I wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell me, and suddenly I wasn’t so determined to find out what, exactly, it was.

  “You’re lucky you’re here,” he said in the same soft tone, ignoring my reaction. “When the paramedics arrived on the spot they thought you were dead.”

  Lucky? I couldn’t feel my legs, I had an IV in my arm, a machine monitoring my vitals and I was lucky? This guy had a sick sense of humor, no doubt.

  “Where’s my brother?” I asked, impatience growing inside me like a poisonous weed that tangled my heart.

  “There was nothing the paramedics could do, Kathleen. The other car crashed right into the driver’s side. He died on impact; he was dead when they got there.”

  “I don’t care if the driver died, I want to see my brother!”

  Dr. Byrne looked up and when his eyes met mine his words sunk in and my mouth fell open, as if my jawbone had come out of its socket and I had no control over it anymore.

  “He’s not…is he…um…what did you just…” I stammered, unable to form a single, logical sentence. I swallowed hard, feeling as if a rock had settled inside my throat and was stopping all air from passing through. “I’m sorry, I just…I don’t understand…I…”

  His hand was still on my arm and he brushed it gently as if he thought it could comfort me, but it only annoyed me and I moved away abruptly.

  “He didn’t have time to realize, Kathleen; at least he didn’t feel the pain.”

  The machine next to my bed sounded as if it was going to explode. My heart beat so fast in my chest it slammed against my ribcage and I could feel my throat constrict, as if a hand was around my neck and squeezing hard. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch the doctor in the face just because he’d said my brother hadn’t felt pain.

  But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. Oh, God, I couldn’t breathe. I was going to die. I wanted to die. Yes, I wanted to be with Declan, whatever it would mean.

  “I…can’t…breathe…” I whispered, gasping for air, as I felt blood drain from my face.

  Dr. Byrne sprang up, removed the oxygen tube from my nose and replaced it quickly with a mask, pulled the foot of my bed up so I was lying almost upside-down and, while everything around me started to become fuzzy, I heard him scream a woman’s name, asking her to bring sedatives. He sounded upset, and I kept gasping while my throat seemed to constrict more and more with every passing second until Dr. Byrne bent down toward me, his face only a few inches away. He was talking to me, but I wasn’t listening and when his blue eyes finally locked with mine, tears overcame me and through blurred vision I saw Declan, and he was talking to me; so I listened to him, like I always did. I concentrated on my breath, just like he was telling me: I inhaled. I exhaled. In. Out. Just like he was ordering. I was starting to feel better, the rock in my throat moving down. Declan was saving me.

  “It’s all right, you’re doing great. Keep breathing, Kathleen; keep breathing.”

  Kathleen.

  Declan never called me Kathleen, not once in my whole life. I stared at the man standing above me and realized it wasn’t Declan, although he looked so much like him. My heart started beating fast again. After the nurse came in I felt something prick my arm and a moment later my eyelids became heavy and everything went black.

  Chapter Two

  Colin

  January 5, 2012

  I couldn’t understand why I was in such a state. My hands were shaking and, for the first time in almost fourteen years, I felt the need for a cigarette. I hadn’t smoked ever since my grandmother found me smoking in her back garden at sixteen shortly after I’d moved in with her; she’d smacked the back of my head so hard it had been sore for a whole day afterwards. My grandpa died of lung cancer and she’d always been pretty nasty with smokers; as soon as she’d caught me and dealt with it I’d known better than to ever try going down that road again—and I’d been thankful to her ever since.

  She’d always been a tough one, Gran. She still was, at eighty-two—she made us grandchildren feel dread when she shot you one of those glares. But right now, as I was drinking a cup of coffee in the staff room, I longed for a cigarette to calm my nerves.

  I’d been working in Dublin’s Beaumont Hospital for almost five years and I’d seen lots of sad cases, but I’d never felt so bad as I had when that young woman, Kathleen, had gone into shock and gasped for air.

  What a terrible, horrible fate. Her parents told me she was going to move to New York with her older brother, the guy who’d died in the accident. They were so shocked when they reached the hospital I wondered how they’d even managed to drive to Dublin from Galway. It was over 124 miles, and they’d made it all that way knowing their oldest son was dead and their daughter was unconscious.

  Honestly, I wouldn’t have been able to do that; I probably would’ve crashed my car at the first set of lights. When they’d told me my parents died in that plane crash my first reaction had been to get in the car I’d only just learned to drive and crash it against a cement wall.

  It’s hard when you see a family member slowly die of disease, but at least you have the opportunity of sorting everything out, of saying all the things you wanted to say; when you lose someone in a tragedy there are too many unspoken words, broken promises and unsolved matters. That, together with the pain, crushes you in a way that leaves you totally empty.

  Hollow.

  I knew what Kathleen was going through. I could remember the day my parents died, and how I’d felt as if the whole world was crumbling under my feet. I was sixteen and an only child, and my parents were everything to me. I had no other family in the States and my father’s mother lived in Rosses Point, a small coastal village in County Sligo, Ireland, where my father was born and had lived until the day he’d met my mother and followed her back to America. When my parents died, I had no other options but to move to Ireland where I still had family. Moving in with my grandmother saved my life; I probably would’ve ended up wasted if she hadn’t been by my side.

  The sense of guilt at the time was so strong it blinded my right from my wrong. I never did drugs, but for a few months after the accident I used alcohol to numb the pain. I wanted to punish myself, I wanted to feel awful so I started drinking and smoking, hating myself, and my life, with each passing day.

  Seeing Kathleen in such despair stirred something inside of me, something I’d repressed in my heart for fourteen years. Today, I’d seen the same pain I’d felt back then in Kathleen’s eyes, the same sense of emptiness, of incredulity, of bewilderment. I’d seen her heart break, anguish crush her soul, those big, blue eyes veiled with sorrow, and I’d felt the pain all over again. Those feelings I had carefully hidden somewhere deep down in my s
oul had crept back to the surface, just as overwhelming as they’d been back then and just as suffocating, like a giant wave in a shipwreck.

  Yes, the pain was still alive, somewhere inside of me; I knew it. The ashes were still smoldering, but I’d somehow been able to repress the memories in an attempt to save my life. Now I had a chance to help someone else, someone who was feeling just as devastated as I’d been back then. I knew how to help her stay away from the road I’d gone down and how to get back on her feet. I only hoped she would let me.

  Could I help her, though? I knew it would be a hard task; she’d been sucked into a whirlpool of events and emotions and I knew all too well how easy it would be for her to fall apart if nobody understood. When you thought your life didn’t mean a thing anymore it was very easy to turn your back to reason and choose the easy way out, the one that numbed the pain and made you feel less miserable. I couldn’t understand why, in all of the years I’d been working and with all of the patients I’d helped, this young woman was so important to me, but I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d helped her get over it. Maybe it was because I needed something to feed my ego, or maybe it was because I felt for her and I could see a shared pain. Whatever the reason, I knew I had to help.

  Getting that young woman back on her feet would not only be my job, but my challenge. She would be my mission. I would make sure those big, blue eyes never looked so sad again.

  I drained the remains of what had become a cold coffee and left the room, headed to Dr. O’Donnell’s office. I wanted to get an idea of Kathleen’s prognosis, to start preparing a therapy program for her, and I knew Dr. O’Donnell would have figured out what the problem was by now.

  As I walked into his office he looked up from the sheets of paper he was checking and smiled.

  “Colin. Come in, I was just about to call you.”

  I walked to his desk and took a seat in front of it, suddenly feeling as if I were sitting at the principal’s desk, waiting to know the results of my exams.

  “It’s about the young woman brought in earlier today. Kathleen…” he checked the family name on the sheet of paper he was holding then looked up at me again. “O’Hagan. Have you met her?” I nodded. “Well, from what I can see from the magnetic resonance and brain scan there are no lesions that could lead to a permanent paralysis, so it might well be something temporary.”

  “Might?” I asked, surprised. Gerard was always very sure of his diagnoses; he always knew what the problem was and how to solve it. Using a conditional clause wasn’t something he did often, if ever.

  Gerard shrugged, shaking his head while reading the results of the scan.

  “The vertebrae are all intact, no lesions, no damages, and I can’t see any problems with her spine. I don’t think it’s an orthopedic problem.”

  “So what will you do now?” I asked, even more worried. If he couldn’t see any problem how could we help her? Because I, for one, wanted to; but I needed to know what to do first.

  He shrugged again. “We’ll book her in for a CAT scan, see if we can find more information. Then I might have her take a few psychological consultations with Jodie. If she’s in shock, maybe in a few days she’ll be all right. I’ve had similar cases before; after the shock wore off, the feeling came back and they got back on their feet.”

  “And what should I do?” I sounded annoyed, and I knew it; but the way Gerard was talking about Kathleen, as if she was just another name on his list, as if she wasn’t his problem anymore now he’d understood there was nothing he could do really pissed me off.

  Okay, so she was another name on a list, but she was a person, too—a young woman who’d lost her brother and seen all of her dreams fly out the window in the blink of an eye. I couldn’t stand the way he was so detached, as if he hadn’t even noticed the pain in her eyes. Maybe he hadn’t, and that was why he could be so cool about it all.

  “You could work with her for a while, help her with a few exercises, see if you can get her back on her feet. Like I said,” he said, putting away the file, her file, showing he was done with it, “if it’s only temporary she’ll be all right soon enough and won’t need your help anymore.”

  My blood boiled in my veins and I knew it was an overreaction, but something about her case just struck a chord in me. I was a doctor, at the end of the day, and I wanted to help people get back to a normal life; that was what doctors swore to do. I’d always had a very high opinion of Gerard but right now he looked as if all he cared about was success in the operating room, which would bring him higher up in the hospital Top Ten chart of Best Surgeons. Since Kathleen wasn’t going to be his next success, he might as well forget about her.

  “Oh, by the way,” he said, before pushing the chair back and standing up, showing me that the conversation was over. “Maybe you could have a chat with her during your therapy so we can save her the consultation with Jodie. You’re good at understanding people, Colin, and patients always listen to you. I’ve always said you should’ve studied psychology instead of physiotherapy.”

  He smiled but it felt like he was teasing. Now he wanted me to act as a physiotherapist and a psychologist? Why couldn’t Jodie talk to her? Wouldn’t she know best, since she’d been a psychologist for ten years?

  Right now, all I wanted was to go home and forget about the awful feelings that were gnawing at my brain and tugging at my heart so I simply nodded and stood up, trying not to slam the door on my way out.

  Chapter Three

  Kathleen

  January 5, 2013

  When I woke up I felt as if I’d slept for a century; my eyelids were heavy and I had to blink and squint before I noticed someone resembling my mother sitting by my bed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

  “Mom?” I asked through the oxygen mask and slowly removed it from my face.

  She sprang to her feet and bent down, holding my hand and stroking my forehead. Gee, she looked awful! Her eyes were red and puffy, and her mouth…that was what made me realize my mom was really feeling bad. Her lips were set in a thin line and their corners were bent downwards; my mom’s mouth had been smiling for as long as I could remember, even when she was cross; but now it was pointing definitively downwards, and reminded me why I was there and what had happened to Declan, causing my heart to thud loudly in my chest.

  “Kathy…” she whispered, unable to say more.

  I wondered if the young doctor had told her I knew about Declan. A strangling sensation took hold of me again and I had to close my eyes for a moment to fight back the tears. I could not cry. Looking at her, so fragile and completely devastated, I realized the last thing she needed was to see me like that. I had to be strong.

  “Ronan!” she called, turning back toward the door. A moment later my dad stepped in, pale as a ghost and looking ten years older than he had two days ago when he’d said goodbye to me and Declan with glistening eyes and a huge, proud smile.

  He stepped close to my bed and put on a weak smile, as fake as the one I gave back to him. He didn’t say a word, just stared at me, and I stared back. There was nothing left to say.

  “Have you spoken to Dr. O’Donnell?” I asked my mother, seeing neither of them was making a move to start the conversation. She shook her head, squeezing my hand a little tighter.

  “We haven’t seen him, but we’ve seen Dr. Byrne. He said he told you about…um...” she swallowed hard before saying his name in a whisper, “about Declan.” she finally said, squeezing my hand while she was saying it.

  Her eyes filled with tears again and Dad took a step closer, as if to remind her he was there and would support her. I tried to swallow that awful rock in my throat but it just didn’t move an inch, so I nodded and looked away for a moment.

  “And he informed us about your condition,” she continued, when she understood I wasn’t going to say a word about what had happened. “Although he said Dr. O’Donnell will explain the whole situation to us as soon as he’s free.”

  “But maybe I’m
just sore from the accident and I’ll be fine in a few days,” I said, trying to convince myself more than my mother. “He didn’t seem 100 percent sure I won’t be able to walk ever again.”

  My mom nodded, trying to put on a reassuring smile. All I saw was the expression she’d put on when I was nine and our cat had disappeared; I’d told her maybe he’d just gone to meet up with his kitten friends and would come back soon, and she’d given me that same, condescending smile, saying maybe it was so. He never came back, of course—he’d been run over by a car just a few yards down the road, and Declan and David buried him in our backyard when I was asleep. My heart ached when I realized she probably knew more than I did, that maybe the young doctor had told her more than he’d told me.

  I suddenly felt the urge to hug her, to hold on tight the way I did when I was a child and I’d had a bad dream. I needed to feel her arms around me, her soothing voice calming my nerves, but I knew I couldn’t ask for that now; she’d lost a son, and her daughter was probably never going to walk again. She was in just as much pain as I was, although she was trying to look strong.

  “Maybe you should go home now, Mom,” I whispered. I hoped my mask of reassurance fit. “It’s a long drive, you both must be wrecked and I’m sure there are lots of things you’ll have to take care of…” I let the word linger, not wanting to specify that what I was referring to was the funeral of their son, my brother. The rock moved further up my throat, stopping more air from passing and I suddenly needed them to leave—I would not be able to cry and get rid of the rock until they’d gone and left me alone.

  “We can stay at Aunt Josie’s tonight so we’ll be here with you tomorrow…” she offered, but I knew it would be best for everyone if they went back home.

  “I’m fine, I’ll be sleeping all the time, don’t worry about me. I’m sure David and Maggie need you there.”