I knocked again. “Cooper?”
The house was dark and silent, but in the back of my mind, I felt like someone or something was urging me to try the door. Against my better judgment, I did. It was unlocked. Carefully, I opened the door.
“Cooper? It’s Kate. Are you home?”
The house was dark. I could hear a grandfather clock ticking inside, but otherwise there was no noise. I looked back. There was a Range Rover SUV parked in the driveway. His vehicle was there, so where was he?
I set the backpack on the floor just inside then turned to go. But still, something nagged at me.
I cast a glance around, pulled off my muddy shoes, and then entered the house, closing the door behind me.
“Cooper?” I called.
There was a small lamp sitting on a table just inside the door. I clicked it on. It illuminated the kitchen wherein I saw row after row of medicine bottles sitting on the window ledge. Had Alberta been so sick? I peered around the corner into the living room.
“It’s Kate. Cooper, are you here?”
Nothing. But what I saw next surprised me. In the living room, the walls were completely covered with paintings. Sunsets on Lake Erie were always so vivid, and he’d caught their fire. All around the room were paintings, big and small, of the lakeshore at sunrise and sunset. As I looked over the images, I noticed something. There, again and again, he had painted…me. I appeared in no less than ten of the paintings. All the while I’d been watching him, he’d been watching me, working me into the sunsets. Sometimes he’d painted me as a silhouette. Sometimes he painted me bending to pick up beach glass. He caught me in the red dress I’d worn to a Chamber of Commerce charity fundraiser. I’d walked home from the event along the beach that night, my heels dangling in my fingers. As I studied the paintings, I realized that each was numbered. He’d painted more than forty, others still sitting on the floor to be hung.
My eyes scanned the walls. He’d catalogued every day. Why?
My anger subsided and turned to anxiety. Where was he?
I headed back into the kitchen, stopping to take a notepaper from the refrigerator which was covered in magnets. From animals, to fruit, to commemorative spoons, to framed pictures, there was barely a bare inch on the appliance. I pulled the little pen from the refrigerator notepad and started writing, telling him I’d found his pack, when a photo on the refrigerator caught my attention. It was a faded image of a woman in her twenties. At first I thought it was Alberta, but this woman’s hair was much redder. The image was in a little frame held by two angels. The banner underneath said “In Loving Memory” with the word “Daughter” hand-painted in gold above the image. Alberta’s daughter? Would that make her Cooper’s mother?
I stared at the woman looking out from the picture. The photo had been taken on Christmas. There was a Christmas tree in the background. Digging under that tree was a smiling child holding a wrapped gift. His mother then. Human lives were so fragile. I pitied Cooper. Losing someone before you were ready was never easy. To lose a mother…well, I’d had that experience myself. Your life is never the same thereafter. It’s like the compass of your life is forever lost.
Leaving my number at the bottom, I finished the note, stuck the little pen back where I’d found it, and headed back outside.
My muddy sneakers were wet and cold. I closed the door tight behind me, uncertain if I should lock up the house or not. I didn’t want to lock him out of his own home. Feeling confused and worried, all my anger swept away, I headed home. Wherever Cooper was, I hoped he was okay.
Chapter 9: Cooper
The ambulance wailed as it pulled away from Juniper Lane. People I didn’t know leaned into my face and asked my name. I managed to whisper out “Cooper McGuire” and “cancer” before I faded once more.
The beep, beep, beep sound on a machine woke me sometime later. I didn’t even have to open my eyes to realize I was in the hospital. The smell gave it away. There was nothing worse than the smell of the hospital with its lingering odor of disinfectant, bodies, and fluids. I opened my eyes slowly. It was dark outside. There was a window beside my bed. The stars were twinkling in the night’s sky. Had I only been out for a few hours?
My skin felt itchy. They’d put in an IV. My face was damp where the oxygen mask pressed against my cheeks. I pulled it off causing a monitor to bong. I coughed heavily then sat up. In the very least, I had the room to myself. And like every hospital, this one was cold. My feet felt like they were sitting in a bucket of ice water.
“Mister McGuire,” a nurse said then. “Nice to see you awake. Let’s check your blood pressure, shall we?” The nurse pressed a button on the wall, silencing the alarm, then unhooked the oxygen mask and stowed it.
“Which hospital is this?”
“Titus Medical,” she replied. “You’re in the ICU. You gave us quite the scare.”
“Doctor Archer?”
“He was by to see you this morning. I expect he’ll be back later this evening,” she said as she wrapped my arm with the band and began checking my blood pressure.
“This morning? How long have I been here?” I asked. I’d missed my date with Kate. She probably thought I stood her up.
The nurse silenced me, putting one finger to her mouth, as she counted. After a moment, she let the air out of the band and made a note on my chart. “You came in last night,” she said then carefully put her stethoscope down the front of my hospital gown, pressing the cold metal against my chest.
I stayed still and waited. There wasn’t anything new she could to tell me. I knew what had brought me there. Now I just wanted to go home. There wasn’t anything they could do for me. Why did this have to happen now? I just wanted one night, one last night with a beautiful woman. I wanted just one night to pretend I wasn’t a dead man walking, to imagine what it would be like to fall in love with someone like Kate, to touch her skin, maybe even kiss her. I wanted just one night to imagine what it would be like to have a life and children and a wife. I couldn’t even have that.
“All right, Mister McGuire,” she said, then sat down on the side of my bed and made a note in my chart.
“What did Doctor Archer say?” I asked. “I want to go home.”
The nurse nodded then turned and smiled at me. Her expression was soft. I could see in her eyes she knew. “I can’t let you go until Doctor Archer gives us the say so. He wants to double check your medications, see what he can do to make you more comfortable. A hospice worker was by earlier. I think they’re still here if you’d like me—”
“No. I just want to go home. And my cell phone. Is my cell here?”
The nurse nodded then opened a drawer on the bed table beside me. Inside was my watch, keys, and cell. She handed it to me.
I punched the button, but the battery had gone dead.
“I have that same phone. You want me to bring my charger?” she asked me.
“No,” I said, closing my eyes. I didn’t even have Kate’s phone number and it was too late to call her at the store. Even if I did, what would I tell her? That I was at the hospital? Then I’d have to explain everything to her. Maybe it was better this way.
“Okay, then. I’ll let you sleep. Can we call anyone for you, hun? There wasn’t anyone listed in your records.”
“No. Thank you.”
Without another word, the nurse left. I lay there listening to the monitor beep. Maybe it would be better if it ended soon. The waiting, the false hope, was more than I could take. And now my illness, which caused my absence, had no doubt hurt Kate, just as I knew it would. My first instinct was right. I needed to leave her alone.