Redemption

Chapter Eight

Twenty-nine minutes.

It had taken twenty-nine minutes to process the phone call. By that time I had already dressed and grabbed my purse, shoving my items inside, unaware of how long it would be before I came back. My heart stammering. How could this be happening? Tears welled and I had to stifle the hiccup that threatened to wake the sleeping form across from me. Grabbing my phone I blink repeatedly, my vision a blur.

Layla:
Are you up?

Elijah:
Yes, are you ok? What's wrong?

Layla:
Meet me in five minutes please. Hurry

Elijah:
Leaving now.

Quietly shutting the door I locked it then ran down the hallway. I had to get there. My mind yelling at my body to move faster. Please go. I have to get there before it was too late. Throwing the doors open I run to the curb, Elijah's sports car squeaking to a stop.

"Layla are you ok? What happened? What's going on?" His eyes scanned the scene, expecting to see someone chasing me. Nothing.

"Please Elijah, just drive." My hands trembling. I told him where to go. I still couldn't fathom this was it.

Elijah gunned it and turned the car down the road and eventually the freeway. I chanted prayer after prayer. My knuckles white, Elijah reached over and stilled them. And it was like everything boiled up for a moment and I reached over, unyielding a torrent of tears.

Please Lord, please let him live. Please. Tears trickled down my face, knowing the reality of the situation. Everyone had a set time, life as we know it doesn't just end when we get old and wrinkly, sometimes it ends when we're young, in our prime or when we least expect it. Praying didn't always mean we'd hear a yes. Sometimes it meant there were bigger plans on the horizon.

Whatever your will is, Lord, let it be done but please help my heart and mind through it all no matter the outcome. I trust you, I trust that whatever happens, you'll see us through. Amen.

The night sky lit with each lightning strike, thunder roaring in the dark, gloomy clouds. Heavy pings started hitting the car as if the heavens themself weeped. He pulled into the parking garage and hurriedly found a space before throwing the car in park. Grabbing my belongings we jogged to the elevator. It felt like an eternity before I heard the DING and the door opened. Rushing inside, our heavy breathing the only sound echoing off the square box.

Making my way through hallways, I stopped at a set of double doors, Elijah following close behind. The words SICU spread across the metal plate. I peered inside, a team of doctors stood taking outside of the room, a curtain drawn. Terror fired through me. I needed to get inside. I quickly buzzed the nurse.

"Yes?" The intercom shot through the stillness like a bullet.

"Yes, for Gilbert Hill."

"Come in."

Hearing the doors release I quickly pulled them open. Trying to steady my footing as I jogged to the group. Elijah shoving his hands in his pockets. I felt the heat from his body behind me.

An older gentleman turned from the group, his coat signifying his leadership over the others. I scanned the rest of the group. Respiratory. Cardio Thoracic Surgeon.

"Hello, are you related to Mr. Hill?" His hands pulled together, as if in prayer. His accent thick. He nonchantly pushed the thick glasses back to the bridge of his nose.

"Yes... I'm his daughter..." the words felt like a punch to my core and I had to swallow the emotions welling inside of me.

"So he had a quadruple bypass three days ago, it actually went really well" he leans closer, "we weren't expecting him to make it that far, but we've had complications since then. Unfortunately it seems he has some sort of infection."

When did he have heart surgery?! "What? Do you know what kind of infection?" I glanced at the thin sheet acting like a barrier to the man laying in the bed on the other side. I lowered my voice. "What are you guys planning on doing? Can't you give him antibiotics?"

"We can give him antibiotics but you have to remember he just had a major operation. We pulled blood but we suspect he has sepsis, we won't know the severity until we get the results. The type of antibiotic we will give him is generalized and covers an array of infections. But his heart is extremely weak. His numbers aren't looking too good and his heart rate has increased. We've had to put him on oxygen yesterday but his lungs are not doing too well. Last thing we want is his body and heart working harder than they should. His body needs to relax, we'll figure out the rest. We're currently waiting for a scan to see what's going on inside. There's a lot going on with him at the moment."

"So what do you guys plan on doing other than antibiotics. What if they don't work??" Shifting my weight, the sweat starting to bead my forehead in dread.

The doctor looked sad and took a deep breath. "Miss, We have to intubate him unfortunately. His heart and lungs can't take the extra load because of the blood infection." He paused briefly before continuing. "If you have anything you want to say, now is the time to do it. The respiratory team will be in shortly to sedate and tube him." He gave a terse nod before turning, telling the nurse to update him if his condition changes and walked out the doors, the team following close behind.

Left in silence I turned to the blue curtain and carefully walked to it, my heart quickening with each step. What do I say? Please help me, God. Taking an unsteady breath I pulled the fabric to the side and peered at the man lying on the bed. His complexion was a grey and yellow mixture, abnormal for someone healthy. His eyes deep set and wide in fear, he blinked several times before opening his mouth. "Layla." The distress laced his croaking voice.

"Hi Dad." I set my purse in the chair before walking to the bedside.

His once fiery eyes now dimmed reminding me of a deer caught in the headlights. He planted hard, he stomach in as he did. He tried reaching out but a pair of restraints wrapped around each wrist that tied him to the bed. I followed up his slim and weak body until I saw the bandages covering him from his chest up to the base of his throat. The IV's and bandages covered the inside of his elbow and covered both hands. I knew he heard the teams plan for him.

"... Layla... I'm sorry." Sputtering the words he broke into a coughing fit, the machines blaring as he held his chest. His color dropping a notch.

Once he was settled, I grabbed his hand in mine and stared at him. He felt so warm. He squeezed me hard. Emotions boiling to the surface, making it hard to push them down. "This was possibly it. Would it be the last time I see or hear his voice? The doctors words ringing in my ears, if you have anything to tell him now is the time.

"I forgive you.."

The respiratory team hurried in, carrying their equipment. "Hi, Ms. Hill is it?... we need you to go ahead and wait down the hall in the waiting room. The nurse can call you when we get him situated." Suddenly the room was full, bodies rushing. I could feel his fingers not wanting to let me go. I felt hopeless. How could I let him go? He needed me.

Nodding, I moved away as they stepped closer and pulled harder at the restraints. His body began thrashing, he was trying so hard to pull at them I was afraid the stitches covering his chest would pop open. "Dad! It's ok, it's going to be ok!"

He was frantic as the team tried to hold him down, a foul smell filling the room.

"You need to go now!" The head nurse shouted before swinging the curtain shut.

I grabbed my bag and left the room, my cheeks flooded with everything my body, mind and soul felt expanding over the years. What was going to happen? Was I going to see him again? His words flashed, "I'm sorry.." There were so many things we needed to say and do. So many memories lost and many more to be made. We needed time. I needed my dad.

Elijah lurched forward grabbing my crumbling body, holding me up as we walked down the sterile hallway. I sobbed until I didn't think I could produce anymore tears.

Please God, Please let him live. Please let this be your will.

I need my dad.