DESTINED AFFECTION

SIX

***Flashback****

Lauren leaned over the bed, her stethoscope against the chest of a ten-year-old asthmatic, listening to the air flow in and out with each cycle of respiration. A few scattered wheezes still remained, but she was satisfied that the inhalation therapy she had prescribed to ease the constriction in the little boy's bronchial passages had begun to work. She looked up as Ally poked her head around the edge of the curtain. The expression on Ally's face brought Lauren hurrying toward her.

"What is it?" From the alarm on her friend's face, she expected to hear that there'd been a multivehicular crash on the Schuylkill Expressway and that they were expecting six major traumas.

"Rodney just called from the job site. There's been an accident."

"Accident? What kind of accident? "

"I don't know. Something about Terry being in an accident. Then the ambulance arrived and he had to go."

"Ambulance? For Terry?" Lauren's heart began to race. "Terry's been in an accident? What happened? "

"That's all he said, honey. That's all know."

Lauren looked around the emergency room as if seeing it for the first time. Everything was so white, so sterile, so incredibly impersonal. Terry. They're bringing Terry here. Lauren was a second-year resident, and until two minutes ago, she had thought she could handle anything. Terry. She took a breath, reminded herself that this was her domain, her kingdom. She could handle what was coming. That's what she did. She 'd take care of Terry.

"Did they say how bad?" Her voice came out hoarse, but steady.

"Nothing." Ally's eyes were round, the pupils dilated. "Rodney...wasn't making a lot of sense. I'm sorry."

Lauren's chest was tight, every breath an effort, and when she started toward trauma one, she found that her feet would barely move. Surely it's nothing serious. Contractors are always getting banged up. Twisted knees, jammed shoulders, bumps on the head. God, I hope she wasn't fooling around with the carpenters again. She knows how much I hate her doing anything with those damn power tools. She's supposed to be the job foreman—keeping the crews organized—-not spending her time actually rebuilding the damn houses!

"Can you get the ambulance on the radio?" Lauren finally managed to start moving. "Get an update on her condition? "

"Sure." Ally nodded vigorously. "Right away."

Before Ally had a chance to make that call, the ambulance bay doors burst open and three EMTs pushing a stretcher came crashing through. One look at the still form strapped to a backboard with sandbags on either side of the pale face turned Lauren's legs to jelly, and her stomach heaved. Not just a minor accident. Oh my God.

When she tried to speak, no words came out. When she tried to raise her hand, her arm felt leaden. As if in a dream, she watched, nearly paralyzed, as Ally directed the EMTs into the procedure room. Two ER attendings, another resident,' and as many nurses rushed after them. Finally, Lauren followed.

At the threshold, Lauren halted, staring at the flurry of activity surrounding her lover. She recognized the routine, but it seemed so out of place with Terry lying there so still. After only a moment, the activity abruptly halted, and Ally materialized from the crowd, a strange look in her eyes. She walked to Lauren and took her arm.

"Come over here, honey."

Lauren protested when Ally started to draw her away from the room. "No. I have to help. I have to take care of her."

"Laur...Lauren, sweetheart, her neck is broken. It must have been instantaneous." Ally's face was white. "There's nothing they can do. She's dead, sweetheart."

"Of course she isn't. That's ridiculous." Lauren turned and started back toward trauma one. This time, it was as if she were swimming against a tidal wave. As hard as she tried, she couldn 't seem to make any progress. It was difficult to see, there was so much water in her eyes. She kept wiping them, but the moisture covered her cheeks, blurring her vision. Beneath the roar of the rushing water, she could hear Ally's voice, soothing and gentle.  

  "Laur. She s gone."

By the time Lauren forced her way through the crowd, she could see through her tears. That's when she knew they were wrong. Terry was just asleep. There wasn 't a mark on her face or her body. Her eyes were closed, her expression peaceful, and she was warm when Lauren rested her fingers against her cheek. Her lover looked just exactly as she had that morning, still bundled under the covers of their bed, when Lauren had kissed her goodbye. Of course she wasn't gone.

"Terry, honey? " Lauren leaned down, her lips close to her lover's ear. She could smell the distinct scent of her shampoo. "It's Lauren, love. Can you please just wake up for a few minutes? I only want to hear your voice, and then you can go right back to sleep. I promise."

Ally's, tears streaming down her cheeks, wrapped her arm around Honor's waist. "Sweetheart, she can't hear you. She's gone, baby."

Lauren straightened, furious. "Will you stop saying that! Can't you see she 's just asleep? "

Over Ally's shoulder, Lauren could see the expressions on the faces of her friends and colleagues. Pity, sadness, compassion. She reached out and picked up Terry's left hand, running her thumb over the gold band on her ring finger that matched her own. With her other hand, she brushed the hair from her lover's forehead, then leaned down again and softly kissed her lips. "I love you. You know that, right? Forever and always."



* * * * *

With a start, Lauren jerked awake, gasping. The room was dark, and when she turned her head, she saw that there were still fifteen minutes until her alarm was due to go off. Heart pounding, she lay in the damp sheets, waiting for the faint nausea to pass.

God, I haven't dreamt of that in so long.

For the first year after Terry's death, she had revisited the scene countless times, in her dreams and in her waking moments. Sometimes it had been with the absolute clarity of perfect recall, as this dream had been, other times merely a jumble of distorted images as she searched frantically through dark mists and frightening shadows, knowing that Terry was waiting for her just at the edge of awakening. But each time she awakened, she had been alone.

As the years had passed, the dreams had become less frequent and eventually had stopped.

Six years, and I still miss you so much.

With a sigh, Lauren rolled over and turned off the alarm. She slipped from bed and reached for the robe thrown over the nearby ancient upholstered reading chair. Pulling it on as she walked, she padded quietly down the hall to Kyle's room. She peeked inside and saw with relief that her daughter was sleeping soundly. There had been a time when Lauren's nightmares had been accompanied by screams. Thankfully, that had stopped.

Kyle had been just over a year old when Terry had died and had no memory of her. Lauren had never been sure whether that was a good or bad thing. She was happy that their daughter had not consciously suffered the loss of a mother, but she would be eternally saddened that Kyle would never know Terry, who had dreamed along with Lauren of conceiving her and raising her together as a family.

Sighing, pushing the memories aside, Lauren headed downstairs to start the coffee. Phyllis would arrive soon to get Kyle off to day camp after Lauren left for work. She had just finished pouring her first cup when Phyllis came in through the back door.

"Rough night?" Phyllis asked as she helped herself to coffee.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Phyllis brushed the tousled bangs off Lauren's forehead.

"Always know."

Phyllis shrugged. "You have incredibly expressive eyes. And this morning, they're sad."

"Just bad dreams." Lauren smiled wanly, knowing she didn't have to explain. Phyllis had moved in with Lauren and Kyle after Terry's death and had stayed for six months before "moving" back to the other half of the twin. She'd been there for the nightmares and the screams and the agony of loss, bearing up under her own pain to help her daughter's lover cope.

"Something happen to get you stirred up?"

"No, why?" Lauren knew she sounded defensive and had no idea why. Thankfully, Phyllis didn't seem offended.