Firefly Summer (23 page)

C
HAPTER
50

J
ohn and Remy were sitting on the inn's front porch, watching the fireflies blinking in the darkness. Remy smiled wistfully. “When I was a girl, my sisters and brother and I used to love catching fireflies and putting them in mason jars. We tried to use them as lanterns.”

“Did it work?

“Not very well,” she said, “because they were always blinking.”

John chuckled, trying to picture Remy as a girl.

“That's what we were doing the night Easton died—we were catching fireflies. It was the night before his birthday, and my mom was trying to get ready—making his cake and wrapping his presents—but then Sailor broke her jar and took Piper's. I remember it all so clearly, as if it happened yesterday.”

“That happens sometimes when something tragic or traumatic happens—we either block it out or we remember it vividly.”

She shook her head. “I think we all remember it with vivid clarity—at least I do—but we've never once talked about it.”

John nodded. “Maybe that's why Birdie has had so much trouble healing. Maybe you
should
talk about it.”

A firefly landed on Remy's pants and rested there, blinking. “You're probably right,” Remy said.

“What happened after that?”

“After Sailor—who must've been around eleven at the time—took Piper's jar, Piper—who had to be about six—took her complaints straight to the boss, who, as I mentioned, was busy in the kitchen.” She paused. “Anyway, Sailor—ever prepared to defend herself—followed Piper inside, and Easton, who must've already been
in
the kitchen, heard Piper's complaint and immediately found a jar in the refrigerator . . . but it was full of homemade pickles.”

“Oh no,” John said, shaking his head. “I can see where this is going.”

Remy nodded. “By this time, my mom had asked Sailor to call Birdie and me inside, too, so she could remind us that she had a lot to do. We were just getting ready to herd everyone back outside when our dad came home with the ice cream for Easton's birthday.”

“You
do
remember it vividly!”

“I do because we never had black raspberry ice cream again.”

“Oh no . . .”

She nodded. “Anyway, Easton, who was still holding the jar of pickles in his arms, asked if he could put them into something else, and as he took off the top and reached in to have one, he asked us if we wanted one . . . and of course, Sailor and Piper both tried to reach into the jar at the same time. That was when it slipped out of his arms. And spilled sticky pickle juice—and pickles—all over the floor.”

John shook his head. “This would be remembered as funny if it hadn't ended so tragically.”

“True,” Remy said, nodding. “It would be one of those memories that we'd laugh about now.”

“So, I imagine, this is where your mom asked your dad to get you guys out of the house.”

“It is, and he took us up to Nauset Light to go for a hike on the beach, but it was getting dark so my dad told Easton to hold Birdie's hand. Easton said he didn't need to, but Birdie told him she'd help him find the best heart stone. . . .”

“Heart stone?” John asked, looking puzzled.

“You know, a smooth stone in the shape of a heart.”

“I've never heard that term before.”

Remy nodded. “We loved to look for heart stones, and Easton was especially determined to find one because he wanted to give one to our mom after the mess he'd made.” She watched the fireflies dancing in the darkness and seemed lost in thought. “I've never talked about this with anyone,” she said softly, “except Jim, and even with him, that's as far as I got.”

John nodded and reached for her hand. “I'm glad you're talking to me,” he said softly, “and if you don't want to tell me the rest, it's okay.”

Remy's eyes glistened. “I
do
want to tell you the rest, it's just so . . . hard.”

John put his arm around her and gently kissed the top of her head. “It's okay,” he whispered, and as he pulled her close, the sound of an old-fashioned phone broke the silence. John pulled his arm away and reached into his pocket. “My phone,” he said apologetically. He glanced at the screen. “It's Birdie,” he said in surprise.

“She has your cell number?”

“She does—she's wanted to be able to reach me if something happened . . .” He frowned, wondering if something
had
happened. He slid the phone on. “Hello?”

Remy listened as he spoke. “Hi, Birdie, what's wrong? . . . Oh no! Is he okay?” Remy sat up, searching his face, and leaned closer so she could hear what her sister was saying. “It's David,” John whispered. “The Cialis? I don't know . . . it's not likely.... Oh, Birdie, I would meet you in a heartbeat if I was there, but I'm still in Vermont. I will call Josh, though, and have him go right to the hospital.... Josh—Dr. Hart—my new associate . . . Yes, he knows what he's doing. . . . Of course, she's right here . . . ?” He handed the phone to Remy.

“Is David okay? . . . Yes, please call us back.... We'll be there as soon as we can,” she said, nodding. “Yes, we're praying and we'll leave right away.... Love you.” Remy handed the phone back to him. “She's so upset. I told her we'd head right home.”

“Of course,” John said, looking at his watch. “But it's nine o'clock, and even if we were leaving right this second, we wouldn't get there until two or three in the morning.”

“I know, but what if David . . .” She couldn't even say the words.

“You're right,” he said, standing up. “I'll call Josh, and then just knock on my door when you're ready.”

Remy nodded. “I'm so sorry.”

“There's
nothing
to be sorry about. David's my oldest friend.”

C
HAPTER
51

W
hen Nat and Piper pulled into the driveway, Birdie was waiting on the porch. “Thank you for coming,” she said tearfully. “I'm sorry to be so needy lately.”

“Don't be silly, Birdie,” Piper said. “What in the world happened?!”

“We were having a pizza and he suddenly started to have chest pains and I asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital, but before we could even get outside, he had collapsed.”

“I didn't know David had heart problems,” Nat said.

“I didn't, either. His blood pressure is always spot-on—unlike mine—and he's never had high cholesterol.”

“Has he been feeling okay?”

“As far as I know. He was really upset when Bailey was missing, but we both were . . .”

“Does he take any medicine?”

“You sound like the EMTs,” Birdie said, shaking her head and looking out the window, her tears blurring her vision. She'd mentioned the Cialis to John, but he'd said he thought it was unlikely to have caused any harm . . . but, somehow, she still believed it had to be related. David was in perfect health, and it was the only thing that was different.

“I tried to call Sailor, but she didn't answer her phone,” Birdie said, changing the subject.

“I'll text her,” Piper said, reaching for her phone.

“I called John, too.”

“In Vermont?!”

“I forgot they were in Vermont.”

“What did he say?”

“They said they'd leave right away.”

Piper shook her head—it was a shame all this was happening the one time Remy had gotten up the courage to get away.

“I probably shouldn't have called him, but I did honestly forget,” Birdie said regretfully.

“No, no,” Piper assured her. “You absolutely did the right thing.”

“I hope so. I just thought John would want to know and be here—he's been David's doctor . . . and friend forever.”

C
HAPTER
52

P
iper offered Birdie her arm, and Birdie took it as they hurried through the emergency room doors. “David Snow?” Birdie said in a voice choked with emotion.

The receptionist looked up. “I'm sorry . . . what was the name?”

“David Snow,” Piper said more slowly and clearly.

The receptionist looked at her computer screen. “Hmm . . . Snow . . . here he is. He just came in—cardiac arrest, right?” She looked up for confirmation and Birdie nodded. “It looks like he's having some tests done. If you'd like to wait in the waiting room,” she said, pointing over their shoulders, “someone will come out and talk to you.”

“So, he's still . . . alive?” Birdie asked in thankful disbelief.

The receptionist nodded and smiled. “Yes, he's still alive.”

“Thank the Lord,” Birdie said, leaning heavily on Piper.

Piper guided Birdie to the waiting room, and moments later, Nat came in from parking the car and sat down next to them. “Any news?” he asked.

“They're running some tests,” Piper said.

Nat nodded and squeezed her hand. “I called Elias but his phone went right to voice mail, so he must have it turned off to save the battery.”

“Probably,” Piper murmured. She watched Birdie pull a tissue out of her purse and dab her eyes, and for the first time in her life, she saw her sister as a stranger might see her. Usually, Birdie was very pulled together
and
classy, but tonight she looked like an old woman—worn and weary, as if life had gotten the best of her . . . as if the burden of another ounce of heartache would crush her. Piper put her arm around her sister and kissed the top of her head. “He's going to be okay.”

Birdie nodded, mustering a feeble smile, and then looked out the window into the darkness. It was all her fault. She had, once again, brought tragedy upon them with her selfishness and lack of humility. To think she'd decided she'd had enough of being married . . . enough of David. Now she'd give anything just to have him back. A new hand had been dealt, she thought miserably, and all she could do was wait and pray.

 

It was almost eleven when Sailor peered around the doorway of the waiting room. “Oh my goodness. I've been trying to call you! How come you didn't answer?”

Piper pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at it. “Because there's no service in here,” she said, standing to give her sister a hug.

Sailor looked around. “Is David okay? Where's Birdie?”

“She just went to the ladies' room. He's alive—that's all we know—we haven't had an update. They were doing some tests but that was hours ago. We were hoping to hear something by now, but it's been so busy—I think an ambulance pulls in every ten minutes!”

“Did Nat come, too?”

“He did but we never had supper so he just went out to get something.”

“I wish I'd known. I could've brought you something.”

“That's okay. He's bringing food back.”

She looked around again. “Do they have coffee here?”

Piper eyed her sister and frowned. “Have you been drinking?”

“Why?” she whispered. “Can you smell it?”

“Well, ye-ah . . . you smell like a winery.”

“Damn,” Sailor murmured. “Do you have a mint?”

“No, I ran out of the house with just my phone. Why were you drinking alone? Is Birdie rubbing off on you?”

“I always drink alone, but tonight I had a little more than usual because I talked to Frank.”

“You talked to Frank?”

“Yes. What a mistake that was.”

“Why? What happened?”

“He has invited the kids to Maine for the weekend.”

“This weekend?”

“No, next.”

“The Fourth?!”

“Yes . . . and I can't believe they said yes. They
know
we always get together at your house.”

“Did you call Merry?”

“No, but I will. I just hate the idea of having to split up all the holidays now.”

Birdie emerged from the ladies' room and when Sailor turned to give her a hug, she frowned. “Have you been drinking?”

“Yes, which is why I need a cup of coffee.”

“There's a Keurig,” Birdie said, pointing to a small countertop with a coffeemaker and some cups.

“Perfect,” Sailor said and then turned back to search her sister's face. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm holding, but I wish we'd hear something.” As she said this, there was a commotion in the lobby and two EMTs rushed through with a little boy on a stretcher. “Seven-year-old. Male. Near-drowning,” one of the EMTs called.

“Oh no,” Birdie whispered, catching her breath.

Sailor squeezed her hand reassuringly. “He will be okay,” she said, but Birdie didn't seem to hear. “Birdie, look at me,” she said and Birdie turned from watching the stretcher that had just whisked by. “That boy will be okay,” Sailor repeated softly, nodding toward the now closed doors.

Birdie searched her sister's eyes. “How do you
know?
”

“Because they said
near
-drowning.”

Birdie nodded, and although she was still shaking, she sat down, her thoughts returning to David.

It was midnight before the young doctor walked into the waiting room and looked around, his eyes stopping on Birdie. “Mrs. Snow?” he asked.

“Yes?” Birdie said, her heart suddenly pounding.

“I'm Dr. Hart,” he said, walking over to extend his hand.

“That's a good name for a doctor,” Birdie said, standing up to shake his hand.

He smiled. “It's not spelled the same way, but it serves me well.”

Birdie eyed the handsome young doctor's smooth cheeks. “You don't look old enough to shave, never mind be a doctor.” She felt a sudden jab in her side and looked over at Piper. “What? Does he look old enough to you?”

“How's David?” Piper asked. “I'm Piper—his sister-in-law,” she said, extending her hand. “And this is Sailor—one of his other sisters-in-law.”

Dr. Hart shook both their hands and then turned back to Birdie. “Your husband has had a major coronary event caused by myocardial infarction . . . which, in layman's terms, means he suffered a heart attack because he has blockage in one of the arteries and it's preventing blood from flowing easily to his heart.”

“Will he be okay?” Birdie asked anxiously.

“He's being prepped for surgery right now and the surgeon will be out to explain the procedure which will clear the blockage and insert a stent in the artery. It's a very common procedure, and I expect your husband will come through it without any problems. Do you know if he has any allergies?”

Birdie shook her head. “I don't think so.”

He nodded, jotting it on his chart.

“Any medications?”

“No,” Birdie said, hesitating. “But he did take something earlier this evening that he's never taken before.”

The doctor looked up. “What was that?”

“Cialis,” Birdie said softly, hoping no one else would hear, but immediately, Piper raised her eyebrows and looked over Birdie's head at Sailor.

The doctor nodded and jotted it on his chart.

“Do you think it's related?” Birdie asked hesitantly.

“It's hard to say. Cialis does increase blood flow, so it may've gotten things moving a little more in there, but sometimes a blockage is so imperceptible it goes undiagnosed for years, so finding it now because of the increased blood flow—although frightening—is actually a blessing. Especially since
you
were there.” He looked up. “Are you the one who gave him CPR?”

She nodded. “I tried.”

“You did a great job,” he said with a smile. “You probably saved his life.”