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Karla, Women of Valley View, book 6

By Sharon Srock

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Chapter 1
A police officer pounding on your door in the middle of the night was never a good thing, even if that officer was your son. Nicolas Black stepped into the light pouring from the door, and Karla saw the glint of tears in his eyes and the tight set of his mouth. The sight threatened to buckle her knees. Her heart lodged in her throat as she grasped the door frame to steady herself. She drew in a deep breath of the cool fall air and longed to hide from whatever news her son was there to deliver.
"What...?" She lost the capacity for speech when Nicolas stepped through the door and pulled her close.
"Dad's been in an accident. You need to get dressed, so I can take you to the hospital."
She stiffened as every pore in her body soaked her nightgown in a sticky sweat. "An accident? He went fishing with Benton."
"Benton, too. I sent Tyler over to get Callie. They'll meet us at the hospital."
"But...I don't..."
Nicolas took a step away and waited for Karla's gaze to meet his. "Mom, you need to hurry. It's not good."
Karla's first ride in a police car ended before the tires ground to a halt outside the hospital's emergency room. She shoved the door open and hit the ground running with the noise of the siren still echoing in the night air. The sliding glass doors parted at her approach, admitting her to a world of bright lights and scurrying medical personnel. The scent of alcohol and antiseptics stung her nose as she paused to get her bearings. She spotted Callie sitting in a bank of chairs against the back wall, Callie's daughter Sophie on one side, and Sophie's husband Paul on the other. Nicolas's partner, Tyler, stood to the side in conversation with Terri and Steve Evans, Pam and Harrison Lake, and Karla's daughter-in-law, Kate.
How did they get here first? Their presence did nothing for the agitated state of Karla's nerves. But she ignored them and the question of their presence in favor of the admissions desk and the person sitting behind it. Dread threatened to bind the soles of her shoes to the floor, but she forced her feet to move across the gray speckled tile.
The woman looked up at Karla's approach. "How can I help you?"
"I'm Karla Black, my husband is here—"
"Yes of course, Mrs. Black. He's in good hands." She stopped to answer the ringing phone. "ER, please hold." The woman put the phone back in the cradle and held a clipboard across the desk. "I have some paperwork that needs to be filled out."
Karla looked from the proffered papers to the clerk. "I need to see my husband."
"Of course, but—"
"I'll take care of the forms."
Karla jumped at the unexpected voice behind her. Her son's firm hands came to rest on her shoulders.
"Sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to startle you." Nicolas stepped around her and extended his hand. "Let me have the paperwork."
The clerk handed the clipboard to Nicolas but continued to look at Karla. "Mrs. Black, does your husband have a living will on file?"
The question drove panic a little deeper into the pit her stomach. "Yes, of course, we both do, but—"
"Good, we should be able to find a copy in our files."
"Why would you...?"
"It's a standard question, Mom. Don't assign more meaning to it than it deserves."
"Your son's right. If you'll have a seat, I'll see if I can get someone to come give you an update." She stood and shuffled away, her rubber-soled shoes silent on the polished floor.
Karla felt a hand on her back. She turned and found herself embraced in familiar arms.
"We came as soon as we heard." Terri's voice was muffled against Karla's neck.
"Is there anything we can do?" Pam asked.
"How did you—?"
"Kate called us," Terri answered.
Karla hugged Terri tight and reached out a hand, grateful when Pam took it. "I'm glad she did. Just pray. I don't understand any of this. What if...?"
"Shhh," Terri whispered. "Don't borrow trouble. Let's go sit with Callie and wait for the doctors. I know you're impatient, but they need time to get the answers you both need."
Karla allowed the younger woman to lead her deeper into the waiting area. Callie scrambled to her feet and met her halfway. Years of friendship and shared experiences bound the two women closer than most sisters. They fell into each other's arms.
"Have they told you anything?" Karla whispered.
"Not yet," Callie answered. "Come sit with me."
Their hands remained joined as they sat to wait.
Pam stepped close and motioned everyone into a circle. "You guys come close, let's say a prayer."
Karla offered her dark headed friend a nod of gratitude, watching through a film of anxious tears as Pam gathered everyone together. Pam's husband Harrison, one of Garfield, Oklahoma's, dozen practicing lawyers, hurried to her side. Day care owner Terri Evans, her shaggy brown hair more disheveled than normal, clung to the arm of her husband, Steve, as they joined the circle. Karla's daughter-in-law, Kate, held Nicolas's hand in hers as they took their places. Callie's family scooted into the circle. Karla and Callie stood, arms around each other's waists in physical and emotional support. Everyone joined hands while Pam led them in prayer. "Father, we need Your presence in this place. We bring Mitch and Benton to Your throne for healing, we don't know anything about their condition, Father, but You know, and You love them even more than we do. We surrender them into Your loving hands. Lift Karla and Callie into Your presence. Bring the comfort and the peace that only comes through Your spirit. We ask these things in Jesus name."
Amens sprinkled through the group as they dispersed to find seats. Karla sat back down, Callie's cold hand in hers once more, her head resting against the wall behind her chair. She closed her eyes. Jesus, please, You're all we have right now. Nothing is too big for You. Her foot bounced on the floor, evidence of nerves and impatience. She rested her free hand on her restless leg and willed it to be still. Touch Mitch and Benton. She squeezed Callie's hand. Speak peace to Callie's heart and mine. We—
"Excuse me."
Karla's eyes snapped open. It was the nurse working the admissions desk, but her attention was directed at Callie.
"Mrs. Stillman, your husband's doctor has given permission for you to go back. He's in treatment room two."
Callie scrambled to her feet and hurried down the hall.
Karla leaned forward. "When can I see Mitch?"
"It shouldn't be too much longer." She hurried away to answer the phone on her desk.
Karla settled into the hard plastic chair and tried to find a comfortable position. Footsteps on the tile floor caught her attention. She watched as a trio of people came down the hall from the treatment rooms. Two forty-something women flanked an older man with striking silver hair and sad, downcast eyes. She looked on as they took seats in a row of chairs facing the ones occupied by Karla and her friends. The women, tears streaming down their faces, leaned their heads on the man's shoulders. He held both their hands while he wept his own tears. Eavesdropping wasn't Karla's intent, but it was impossible not to hear their conversation in the hushed atmosphere of the small space.
"You girls know that your mother is in a better place. Saying goodbye was hard, but she isn't in pain anymore." His quiet words echoed with emotion. "That means a lot."
Tears and nods were the only response he received from the women clinging to his sides.
"It's times like this when death is almost a blessing," he continued. "I loved your mother with all my heart. We did our best to make every minute count after her diagnosis. But I have to tell you, it broke my heart to watch her suffer these last few months. She's whole now, and in the arms of her Heavenly Father." He leaned, first left, then right, brushing a kiss on each of his daughters' heads. "We have to find peace in that. She wouldn't come back if she could."
Oh, bless their hearts. Father, bring comfort—
Karla's attention jerked away from the prayer as another nurse, this one dressed in green scrubs with a stethoscope around her neck, approached. "Mrs. Black, you and your son can go back now."
She scrambled to her feet, grateful when Nicolas wrapped his arm around her waist. "Is my husband going to be OK?"
The nurse's gaze shifted to the floor. "The doctor will meet you in treatment room seven. He'll answer all of your questions."
The nurse's lowered eyes raised the hair on the back of Karla's neck. Why can't she look at me? An invisible weight settled on Karla's chest and made it difficult to breathe. She reached out for heavenly strength. Father...
I'm with you.
The quiet words bolstered her courage. She gripped Nicolas's arm and allowed him to lead her away from her friends. "He has to be all right."
Her son's response came in a steady hand laid over her trembling one.
They rounded the corner, and Karla stopped when she saw Callie standing outside a closed door, her back to the hall. Karla touched her on the shoulder and saw relief in her friend's eyes when she turned.
"Did you see Benton?"
Callie nodded. "Just for a second before they chased me out so they could take an X-ray."
"How is he?"
"He has a row of stitches across the bridge of his nose, and they think his ankle is broken, but he's awake and more worried about Mitch than he is about himself. I think he's going to be OK. Mitch?"
"On my way now."
"Let us know once you've seen him."
Karla nodded and continued down the hall. It sounded like Benton would recover. Mitch would too. They were both tough old birds. She pressed a shaky hand to her chest. I'm such a worrier. She reached door number seven, and Nicolas stepped around her to pull it open. I know better than to plunge off the deep end.
Beeping machinery greeted their entry to the treatment room. She pulled away from Nicolas and hurried to Mitch's side. Her new-born hope died a cruel death. Bruises mottled his ashen face, a bandage wrapped his hairline above his closed eyes, and a foam collar encased his neck. A tube rested between his gray lips, secured to his cheek with a strip of white tape. Karla followed it with her eyes and found it connected to a machine that whooshed to the rise and fall of her husband's chest.
"Mitch?"
There was no response from the man in the bed, but the beeping and whooshing continued strong and steady.
Beeping is good, right? All the doctor shows on TV had beeping monitors. Steady beeping meant a steady heartbeat.
Didn't it?
Karla took one of his hands in hers, flinching at the cold that met her fingers. She rubbed Mitch's hand, trying to infuse some warmth into the chilled flesh. "He's freezing. Can we get some more blankets?"
A strange voice responded to her request. "Nurse, can we get a heated blanket for our patient?"
Karla looked toward the voice and saw two men standing just inside the door. The older one looked at her with compassion-filled eyes.
"Mrs. Black, I'm Dr. Reynolds." He paused and motioned to the man standing at his side. "This is Mr. Kennedy. I'm the attending physician in charge of the ER tonight. Mr. Kennedy is with the hospital's administrative staff."
She nodded but had little time for pleasantries. "Is my husband going to be OK?"
Instead of answering, the doctor motioned to the chair next to Mitch's bed. "Mrs. Black, I need you to sit down and listen to me."
Karla nudged the chair closer to the bed so she could sit without releasing Mitch's hand. She searched the doctor's face as she sank into the seat. The somberness in his expression sent her heart pounding as if she'd run a marathon.
The doctor pulled a rolling stool from under the counter, situated it in front of Karla, and sat with his clasped hands between his knees. When he finally met her gaze, the weariness in his eyes stole her breath. "Your husband's accident broke his fourth and fifth cervical vertebra."
Karla glanced back at the bed, her gasp filled the room. "Nicolas?"
Nicolas laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm right here, Mom. Let him finish."
Dr. Reynolds continued. "As a result of this injury, his brain was deprived of oxygen for a significant period of time. The emergency crew did what they could at the scene. They opened an airway and got some forced respirations going." He paused, and his sigh filled the room before he continued. "But I'm afraid it was too late."
Karla closed her eyes against the words she was hearing and the pain that came with them. She clung to the only hope she could find. "The monitors are beeping. That means his heart's still beating." Nicolas squeezed her shoulders from behind as her voice trailed off, dragging hope behind it.
"Yes, we've maintained a heartbeat and regular respirations through mechanical intervention. But..."
She squeezed her husband's limp hand. The coolness of his skin took on a new and ominous meaning in the face of what she was hearing.
"...he can't remain this way."
Karla sucked in a ragged breath and asked a question she already knew the answer to. "What are you saying?"
"Mrs. Black, I'm sorry. Were you aware that Mitchell had a living will on file?"
She nodded, afraid to speak.
"You know what it directs you and me to do in a case like this?"
She looked from the doctor to her husband. So still, so pale...so cold. She shook her head. "I can't."
"What exactly does it say?" Nicolas's voice was harsh.
"It states that if your father is incapacitated and unable to communicate his wishes, that he refuses life sustaining treatments under certain circumstances." The doctor's voice held regret. "Basically his request is that we withhold or withdraw life sustaining medical care that is serving only to prolong the process of his dying when there is no reasonable expectation of recovery or treatment."
Karla's groan of pain filled the room. God, please don't do this to me. Don't take him from me. Please don't let it end like this. Karla took a deep breath, struggling to find her voice. "Is Mr. Kennedy here to enforce that request?"
The other man spoke for the first time. "Of course not, Mrs. Black. No one can force you to follow the dictates of a piece of paper at a time like this. We're just making sure that you have the facts you need to make some informed decisions during a stressful time. I'm from the hospital's organ donor office. Your husband also had a signed donor card on file. I'm here to facilitate that process for you, should you choose to honor his wishes."
Karla bowed her head. Invisible bands tightened around her chest and threatened to choke her. "I...I don't know...I need a few moments alone with my son."
"Of course. We'll wait outside."
As soon as the men were gone, Nicolas walked around to stand in front of her. "Mom—"
"I can't do it, Nicolas. I know it's what we both agreed to, but I don't think I'm strong enough to let him go. What if...what if they've missed something?" She faced her son, hoping to find reassurance, looking for an ally. "I can't just let him die."
Nicolas claimed the stool that the doctor had vacated. He stared at the floor for several seconds. When he raised his head, his features were taut with grief. "Mom, you're not letting Dad die. You're putting him in to the hands of the God he served and trusted his whole life. If they unplug all of this stuff and he lives, no one will be more grateful than me. But if he's already..."
Karla closed her eyes when her son's voice broke. When he continued, his words were raspy with restrained emotion.
"If he's gone, then what's to be served by all of this? You have to let him go."
Karla leaned forward in the chair, arms wrapped around herself, while sobs tore through her body. Nicolas rubbed her back in silent comfort. Minutes...hours later she sat up and looked at her son, heartbroken anew by the tears in his eyes. She took his hand. "Would you go out and phone your brothers and sister? Tell them..." Her voice cracked under the burden settling on her shoulders. She swallowed. "Just...tell them what's happened. Tell them they need to come home. I need a few minutes to say goodbye."
Nicolas nodded, rolled the stool closer, and pulled her into a tight hug. "I love you, Mom." She felt him kiss the top of her head before he released her and stepped out of the room.
Karla sat next to the bed for several minutes, staring into the face of the man she'd loved for almost half a century. She stood and reached out to touch his cheek. Her hand hovered over the bruises and bandages, afraid of hurting him. She finally threaded her fingers through his hair. Was it this gray earlier?
"Saying goodbye to you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do." Her smile was sad as tears tracked her cheeks. "I've always been a little selfish and hoped I'd go first. You're so much stronger than I am."
Karla closed her eyes. Visions of the life she'd shared with Mitch crowded her memory, vying for space. A groom standing at the altar watching his bride approach, equal portions of fear and promise in his eyes. The large, but sure hands that cradled each of their babies. Nights spent lying in bed, whispering their hopes and dreams in the dark while his strong arms held her tight. Those same arms and hands lifted in praise and surrender to the God he loved.
Karla continued to stroke his hair while her tears fell in a torrent, obscuring her view. "Oh, Mitchell, I love you. I was always proud to be your wife. It's all I ever wanted. I don't...I don't know how to be anything else." She bent and pressed her lips to his a final time, undone by the lack of warmth or response. Her goodbye turned into a prayer. "Jesus, I don't know what to do."
Let Me have him.
The words echoed through her heart, bringing fresh tears and strength. Her breath hitched in her lungs as she nodded. "Goodbye, sweetheart."
She let go of Mitch's hand long enough to step back to the door. Nicolas waited for her just outside the room. "Could you call the doctor back in for me?"
Karla sat with her head bowed and her eye's closed as the medical staff moved slowly around her. A soft snick of sound drew her attention as the respirator was turned off. Was that what life came down to at the end? The flick of a switch? She squeezed Mitch's hand. Jesus, if there's life here, let his heart beat.
Karla held her husband's hand as the beeping of the machinery slowed and finally sounded the single long tone that robbed her of her future.

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