His Frozen Heart (39 page)

I wanted to laugh, knowing full well
that the gnarly bruise on my neck was less than attractive, but the
sincerity in his voice touched me tenderly. Blushing, I answered,
“You’re pretty sexy yourself.”

“
Is the chair okay on your
back? We could switch to a booth if that would be
better.”

I hadn’t even thought about the bruise
back there; it didn’t bother me much at all. “No, this is okay. So,
tell me about Mark. What’s he do? Where’s he live?”

“
He’s still in Missouri. He
moved to Kansas City when he was fifteen. He was a little vague
about what he does.”

“
Fifteen? That’s pretty
late to be moved to a foster family, isn’t it?”

“
He wasn’t with a foster
family. He just left.”

“
At fifteen? How did he
survive? He wasn’t even old enough to get a job.”

“
He didn’t say, but I’m
guessing he wasn’t bagging groceries.” Dave’s hands began playing
with the salt shaker on the table. As terrible as the woman had
been that the state placed Dave with in high school, he hadn’t
lived on the streets.

“
What happened to your mom?
Does he know?”

Dave pressed his lips together as I
saw the sadness turn to anger before my eyes. “She’s alive, at
least she was seven years ago.”

“
Has Mark talked to
her?”

He shook his head. He had still been
holding the salt shaker when I asked the question, but he squeezed
it and it skidded across the table. Dave groped for the little
shaker, glanced at me and answered in a clinical tone, “He said
that’s why he left for Kansas City. Mark said he was standing on a
street corner and saw her driving a minivan stopped at a red light.
He had been excited to see her. She saw him standing there, then
drove away.”

My stomach knotted. Who could do that
to their child? “Oh. Poor Mark. Maybe she didn’t recognize
him.”

Absently he answered, “Maybe. But Mark
told me that’s why he took off. He believed I was dead. There had
been no sign of Dad since a few years after I was born. Our mother
had given us up. When she saw him on that street corner and drove
away, Mark said he couldn’t take it. He said he wanted a new
life.”

I brushed my knee against his, trying
to offer whatever comfort I could. “One day, maybe the two of you
will get a chance to talk to her – to make peace.”

Dave shook his head. “I don’t need to
make peace. There is hate and love. To feel either of those things
about someone you have to have feelings for them – I don’t feel
either. I don’t feel anything for her and I don’t ever need to see
her.” He must have been surprised by my expression because he
clarified, “Mark may need to make peace. I don’t.”

“
You said you don’t
remember her?”

“
No. Not really. I think I
remember what she looked like, but I was four when she gave us to
the state.” His eyes focused on the wall behind me, “I’ll never do
that. If I have a kid, he’ll know I want him.”

I reached under the little table and
put my hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His hand
gripped mine, as his eyes left the wall and focused on me. Barely
more than a whisper, Dave asked, “How could she do
that?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
She threw us both away.
She didn’t even give us a chance.”

“
It was her loss. Look at
what you have become.”

“
Yeah, look at me. I’m such
a catch.”

Squeezing his hand under the table, I
agreed, “Yes. You are.” A look of disbelief stared back at me. I
wished he could see himself through my eyes. “You’re honest. You’re
kind. You’re successful. You have done it all on your own: you’ve
beaten the odds.”

Dave’s eyes stared at the table. “I
hate being alone.”

I squeezed his knee again. “You’re not
alone. You’ve got me.”

“
Until I start to drive you
crazy. I’m obsessive compulsive, not just about my things, but
about everything. I’m that way about my schedule, my garage, even
my laundry.”

I stood up from the table, walked
around to his chair, sat on his lap and draped my arms over his
neck. He looked embarrassed by my PDA, but his arms encircled me. A
few curious stares from the other customers shot my way, but I
didn’t care. “I think you’re perfect. I’m not going anywhere.” His
arms cinched tight around me as he buried his face on the still
sore bruise on my neck. It hurt, but I didn’t pull away.

I noticed our waitress standing a few
feet back holding our plates. I kissed his forehead and stood up
returning to my seat. I had ordered an omelet. It was easily big
enough for three people, but I didn’t care. I didn’t stop until my
plate was completely empty. Dave must have been as hungry as I was,
because the waitress collected two empty plates when she brought
our check.

He asked, “Ready to go see
Libby?”

I was. I thought of her still body
that I had visited Friday night, remembering the worry I had shared
with her while she was unconscious. I wanted my friend back. I
would take whatever I could get, even if it was just a piece of the
Libby I loved. A sliver of the person she had been was better than
nothing at all.

Chapter 28

We arrived at the hospital and for the
first time all week, Larry wasn’t in the waiting room. Compared to
other visits, there were remarkably few people in the ICU’s waiting
room. An initial feeling of dread washed over me. The doctor was
supposed to wake her up yesterday; what if he tried, and she didn’t
wake up? Why else would Larry not be here?

The large windows along the west wall
allowed a great deal of natural light through. I looked around the
room desperately trying to locate Larry; there wasn’t a dark corner
anywhere for him to be tucked away in. The room’s decor was just as
inviting as it had been the other times I was here, but I stood
frozen in place. Tears welled up in my eyes as my feet planted
themselves. Dave took two steps past me before he realized I was
stuck. He turned and must have seen the panic on my face because he
pivoted and was directly in front of me. “What’s wrong? Are you
okay?”

I shook my head indicating that I
wasn’t okay. Just two nights ago, I had been in her room, begging
her to wake up – there had been no response. What if, when she woke
up, there was so much damage she wouldn’t know me anymore? Dave’s
hand took mine, his voice strained, “Not knowing is worse than even
the worst case scenario. C’mon, let’s ask the nurse how she
is.”

My feet reluctantly followed as Dave
led the way to the nurse’s station. A young friendly nurse looked
up from her desk, “Can I help you?”

My voice wouldn’t work. Dave saw me
struggling, so he asked for me, “We’d like to see Libby
Merrick.”

The nurse’s fingers hammered hard on
the keyboard in front of her. When her screen produced the info he
had asked for, she looked up at the two of us as a wide smile
spread on her face. “Sorry, you’re on the wrong floor.”

Wrong floor? Libby
had
been moved. Had she
been moved to a regular patient room? Was she okay? The knot in my
stomach refused to unfurl, as images of Libby in a long-term care
facility or even a hospice wing flashed through my thoughts. Dave
must have sensed I was still unable to form questions, because he
asked her, “Oh, okay. Where can we find her?”

“
Room 230.”

Dave tugged my arm in the direction of
the elevator, but I needed to know. I let go of his hand and lay
both of my palms on her desk. I swallowed the lump in my throat
then whispered, “Is she okay?”

The nurse answered warmly, “She’s
awake.”

The pressure on my stomach eased at
her answer. I could feel an enormous smile form on my face.
“Thanks!” I spun around and was pulling Dave toward the elevator.
My steps were as light as Libby’s the night she told the school
superintendent that she was the gingerbread girl while she skipped
over his front lawn at two in the morning. Libby was okay! Wait,
the nurse hadn’t said she was okay. She said she was awake and had
been moved out of intensive care.

When the elevator doors opened on the
second floor, Larry was sitting in a waiting room watching a NASCAR
race. He looked thrilled to see me, “You made it! I was beginning
to worry about you! She’s been asking for you.”

His words brought me up short. “Libby?
She’s been asking for me? So, she’s okay?”

He shook his head as if in disbelief,
“She’s been getting better the last two days. Where have you
been?”

“
Two days? I thought the
doctor was going to wake her up yesterday afternoon?”

Larry chuckled. “That was the plan,
but you know Libby. She does everything on her terms. It was the
strangest thing – she woke up right after you left Friday
night.”

“
What?!”

“
Yeah. You should have seen
the hospital staff scrambling. Her doctor told me they had enough
meds in her to keep a Clydesdale sedated. She woke up within a half
hour of you leaving on Friday.”

“
Why didn’t you call
me?”

“
When she woke up the
doctors were running tests for hours. By the time I saw her it was
after midnight. She asked for you right away – I told her you had
left but were going to be back after your shift at the restaurant
on Saturday. She told me not to call you because she wanted to
surprise you. When you didn’t come last night before visiting hours
were over, I called your cell and left a bunch of voice mails.
Didn’t you get them?”

My phone was still in my coat pocket
hanging on a hook at the restaurant. We hadn’t gone back to
retrieve my coat or my car after my run-in with Grey. “No, I got. .
. sidetracked yesterday. I left my jacket at the restaurant with my
cell in the pocket. The restaurant is closed today.”

Larry motioned toward her door, “Well,
she’s anxious to see you.” I was going to introduce Dave to Larry,
but when I turned to make the introduction, Larry was staring at
him. It was strange, Larry’s look was uneasy.

“
Larry, this is Dave. He
went to high school with Libby and me.”

Larry held out his hand awkwardly.
“Dave. . .Brewer?”

Strange. I didn’t remember ever
talking about Dave when Larry and Libby were dating. Dave took
Larry’s hand, “Yeah, nice to meet you. Have we met?”

“
Um, no, thanks for finding
Henry. He’s in with Libby now. How did you find him anyway?” The
strange look on Larry’s face didn’t change. His words were shaky
and his height seemed to shrink in front of us.

Dave shrugged his shoulders. “There
aren’t that many Henry Merrick’s in the area. I just asked around.
A guy I had rebuilt an F100 for last spring knew him. He gave me
some places to look for Henry.”

Staring at Dave in disbelief, I asked,
“You found Libby’s dad?”

He smiled. “After I went back to the
restaurant and they said you left because of the rat, I drove back
to my place. I was hoping you would call or stop by. I got to
thinking about you telling me that you didn’t know how to get a
hold of Libby’s dad to tell him what had happened. I called a
couple customers who seemed to know everyone in Lincoln – one of
them knew him. He gave me a couple bars to try. I called around
while I was waiting for you.”

Why hadn’t I thought to do that? I
leaned in and kissed him just to the side of his lips. “That was
really sweet of you.”

Before he could tell me it was no big
deal, Larry pointed me toward Libby’s room. The room was bright
from sunshine pouring in through the window. Her head was propped
up on pillows. Her skin was pale, there was a large bandage on the
side of her head just behind her temple, where the huge tube had
been the last time I saw her. No machines were hooked up to her,
and her smile beamed back at me. “Candy! You’re here!” The turtle I
had smuggled into her ICU room from her bedroom was setting beside
her on her hospital bed.

Aside from the color of her skin and
the area where her head had been shaved, she looked good. She
looked like Libby. She sounded groggy but like the Libby I had
known forever. I hadn’t even noticed her dad sitting in a chair
against the wall in her room until he offered, “There you are. I’ve
been keeping her company waiting for you to get here.”

I glanced in his direction. “Hi, Mr.
Merrick. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“
I intend to fix that. You
two girls will be seeing a lot more of me.”

Libby was all smiles. All those times
we had carefully avoided him around town, something must have
changed, because she seemed pleased with the prospect of seeing him
more frequently. “Sounds good to me. You know where we live. Come
by anytime.”

Libby’s dad held out his hand to Dave,
“You’re Dave?” I nodded enthusiastically as Henry added gratefully,
“Thanks for letting me know about my little girl.”

“
You’re
welcome.”

Larry joined us and, between Libby,
her dad, Larry, Dave and me, our happy voices carried up and down
the hall. No one, not even a grumpy nurse popped in to tell us to
keep it down. Whispers weren’t an option when someone had so
narrowly beaten death. I used Dave’s phone to post on Facebook to
let everyone know Libby had been in an “accident” but was able to
have visitors. A steady stream of friends and her co-workers began
arriving within a half hour and didn’t diminish until visiting
hours were over. Dave and I stayed the entire day and well into the
night.