A Summer Storm

Chapter 4: After The Storm

It's easy to say you would do anything for love.

For some, love doesn't ask for much.

For others, it asks them to be their bravest while being their most vulnerable.

It asked Eli to choose between the life he dreamed of and the girl who made him dream. It asked me to choose between an uncertain life and a very certain death.

And I can't say that we regret the choices we've made.

"Are you ready?" Eli asked as he knelt down next to my wheelchair, taking my hand in his.

"No, but I won't ever be ready," I said with a choked laugh. "So it might as well be now, right?"

Eli gave my hand a squeeze and although he didn't say it, I knew he was just as terrified as I was.

But I had to do it—for us, for the life we decided to have together.

When Eli finally tracked me down in Boston, he had no plans to turn back around and return to his old life. While trying to locate me (I'd specifically given him very little of my contact information outside of Martha's Vineyard) he'd sold his family's house for a small fortune and applied at an aviation school in Boston. He'd leased a condo and continued to search for me for another month until he found me.

We married that Christmas, in my parents' home, surrounded by close family and friends.

As we rang in the new year, my heart seized up and I was rushed to the hospital. There was stark terror in Eli's eyes as we listened to the doctor and that was when I found the courage to ask for a transplant. I wanted to live—for him, for the kind of life I know we could have if I could just have a little bit more time.

I had to undergo cardiac rehabilitation and treatment for about six months to be healthy enough—ironic as that was—to receive a transplant. A year and a half later, we got a call that a donor heart that matched me was available in our area. I sent up a prayer for the life lost and Eli packed us up for the hospital.

"Hold on to this for me, will you?" I told him, slipping off my wedding band and placing it on his hand. "I'll be back for it."

Eli's fingers clenched tightly around the ring before he raised his brow at me with mock sternness. "You better be, Mrs. Davis. I'll be waiting."

Tears stung my eyes and I threw my arms around his neck, pressing my face against his shoulder. "I love you, Eli."

"I love you, too, Cora," he murmured against my hair, his hand moving in soothing circles around my back. "I know how brave you can be. You'll be alright. We'll be alright."

And we were alright.

After the transplant and months of continued monitoring and rehabilitation, things were definitely alright—and not just for the meantime, either. Things were going to be alright for a while.