17
Floating.
His daughter grieving below him.
Hovering. His aged body succumbing beneath him.
Forty years later.
Or forty years earlier in a nightmare on his kitchen floor?
He didn’t know! He didn’t understand!
Rising. Drifting.
Floating through brilliance.
A radiant hallway. A splendrous door.
Pushing. The door swinging open.
Fireflies.
Power chords.
But where was Matthew? He had to save Matthew!
PART THREE. PANIC ATTACK
1
David struggled against his dizziness as he rushed from the Pediatrics Ward. The corridor, the rooms, the administration area, the blond nurse he’d spoken to-they unnerved him, as if he’d seen them only recently and yet remembered them from long ago.
My God, what’s wrong with me?
The tingling that had started in his hands and feet had now spread up his arms and legs, rushing toward his heart.
He felt so off-balance he almost leaned against a wall. The humming behind his ears so disoriented him he wanted to sink to the floor. But he had to keep moving.
Hurry!
Matthew! He couldn’t explain his fear that tomorrow afternoon his son would contract septic shock and eight days later die from its effects. Whatever had happened to him while he’d fainted, David knew what was going to occur. He could see it, as if each terrifying instant had been seared into his memory.
Lurching around a corner, he found an open door to an elevator and rushed inside. Vision blurry, he fumbled to press the button marked 7.
The doors hissed shut. The elevator surged upward. Again the pressure in David’s skull swelled, making him grab his temples. He stifled the urge to vomit.
Abruptly the elevator stopped. Its doors opened. He staggered into a corridor, not sure which direction to choose (but wasn’t I here just this morning?), then suddenly realized he had to turn right.
Down another corridor. A man and a woman stared at his unsteady movements. He fought not to waver.
Passing elevator F.
Passing elevator E.
Through a gradually clearing haze of memory, he regained his bearings.
Turn right!
He found a door, pushed through it, and hurried down still another corridor, this one lined with rooms in which elderly patients blinked listlessly at game shows on television.
“Now you’ve got to try to eat, Mr. Standish.” A nurse raised a spoon of what looked like pea soup to the lips of an aged bone-thin man.
David hurried farther, passed a nurses’ station, pushed through another door, and at last he was here, at the source of his nightmare, the Bone Marrow Ward.
2
Its safety procedures were meticulous. Because of the danger of infection, the air inside this ward was filtered, purified, and recirculated every two hours. The nurses took off their gowns each time they left a patient’s room and put on fresh gowns whenever they entered another patient’s room. If a patient wanted to watch a videotape, the VCR was scrubbed with disinfectant before it was taken inside the patient’s room. Every precaution (short of total isolation) was maintained.
And yet…
And yet…
David knew that tomorrow afternoon his son would…
He hurried toward the bin in which the fresh gowns were stored. Putting one on, tying its strings, he noticed a worried mother carrying a tray of barely eaten food from her daughter’s room. This woman (like the nurse in the Pediatrics Ward) he remembered vividly and yet as if from a great gap in time.
He tried to smile, though his dizziness made the ward seem to swirl, and managed to walk a straight line toward Matthew’s room.
But when he peered through the open door, the bed was empty.
In David’s nightmare, Matt had been helped down the hall and was having a bath right now. If that turned out to be true, would everything else in the nightmare also come true?
Panic rising, David turned…
And saw the most lovely vision he ever hoped to appreciate.
Not Matthew, though he would have been vision enough.
But Donna, who came around a corner, adjusting the ties on her hospital gown, and paused as David smiled at her.
David’s smile was broad enough to hurt his cheeks, deep enough to squeeze his heart.
Donna, who had died in his nightmare at the age of seventy-nine, and who even then had seemed as beautiful as the day he had married her.
On his wedding day, he’d been so afraid to give up what he thought of as his freedom, even though he’d made the commitment to combine his destiny with hers, that he’d almost fled from the church.
But he’d abided by his commitment, and when he’d turned from the altar to witness his soon-to-be wife proceeding with such pride and dignity down the aisle, her white gown so magnificent, her brown eyes, auburn hair, and dark oval face so lovely, his heart had rejoiced.
Just as it rejoiced now as he stared at her with wonder-her experience-wearied features midway between the glowing smoothness he’d witnessed on his wedding day and the ashen wrinkles he’d seen on the day she died.
Despite the swirling in his brain, David walked toward her, put his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
She studied him with welcoming eyes. He swore they glowed. And he swore something else. As eerie as it seemed, he felt that she felt, she knew, that they were gazing at each other, with wonder, as if a miracle had occurred, from a perspective forward of another half-lifetime, of almost forty years.
“In case I haven’t told you often enough,” David said, “I love you.”
Donna’s grin was as winsome as when she’d been twenty-one or seventy-nine. And her humor was as endearing as ever.
“Oh, hell,” she said and kept grinning. “Don’t bore me.”
“Deeply,” David said. “Always. You don’t know how much I mean ‘always.’”
“Don’t I? I do know. Yes!”
Inches away, they surveyed each other’s eyes, and David was suddenly sure that he saw behind her eyes the same desperate knowledge he had, as if they had both returned, both been given a second chance. A reprieve. A miraculous opportunity. To reverse the greatest loss of their earthly existence.
To save their son’s life.
“Yes, always,” David said. “Deeply and forever, I love you.”
Donna’s grin changed to solemnness and, more, the epitome of determination. “I understand. Believe me, yes. Deeply. Forever. We’ve got a job to do, the greatest job of our lives.”
David’s festering question burst from him. “Where’s Matt?”
“He went for a bath.”
Just as in my nightmare! David thought.
“Dad.”
Turning, David saw him.
3
The interval between extensive surgery and the bone-marrow transplant had permitted sufficient time for Matthew’s hair to begin to grow again. Matthew’s scalp was fuzzy with hair. He even had the shadow of a mustache.
But as Matt returned from his bath, holding his robe together with one hand while he gripped a portable radio in the other, he looked flushed. His eyes looked dull. And he was staggering.
“Jesus,” David murmured.
He and Donna rushed to him. Matt wobbled, about to fall as they caught him.
“Almost lost my balance in the… almost cracked my head getting out of…”
“The tub,” a nurse said behind him. “I kept a close watch. I held him tight, but…”
“Slipped. Dizzy,” Matthew said. “Could hardly get out of the… nearly hit my head on the sink.” He gasped. “Need oxygen. Can’t breathe.”
While the nurse took off her gown and put on a fresh one, David and Donna helped Matthew into his room. His knees kept buckling. They eased him onto his bed, then quickly used the sink in the room to wash their hands with disinfectant.
By then the nurse had joined them, washing her hands as well.