“Sara.”
“You’re evil,” she muttered, lying down on the bed, her hands on either side of her body. Her arms and legs were stiff, immobile, like she was frozen by some kind of tragic spell.
“Close your eyes.” Lincoln’s voice was low, hypnotic.
“No.”
“Do it.”
Sara obliged, her teeth clenched, her body hot with annoyance. “What is the point of this?”
“You’re reacquainting yourself with your bed. It’s such a small thing; sleeping in your bed, and yet it holds such power over you,” he mused. “You have to realize you’re stronger than the pain and the sorrow, Sara.”
“I’m not,” she choked out, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
“You are,” Lincoln said with conviction.
“You know I’m just going to go back to the couch at bedtime, right?”
“That’s fine. At least I got you here now.” Lincoln paused. “Every memory I have of my childhood includes Cole. He was such a big part of my life, big brother and all. It’s hard going each day without him being a part of it. You know what helps me get through it?”
She shook her head, eyes still closed.
“At first I thought by not thinking about him, I’d be okay. But I wasn’t. Instead I made myself think of him and it hurt, a lot, but the more I thought of him, the easier it got. The more I did things I didn’t want to do, the more able I was to function without bawling my eyes out on a daily basis. The more I remembered him, the more I could think of him with happiness instead of sorrow.”
Her limbs loosened a little under the influence of his soothing tone.
“I mean, yeah, it still hurts. It always will. Cole’s my brother. I love him. I also hate him, just a little. But I love him more. You don’t have to accept what’s happened to him, Sara, but you have to find a way to live with it. Know what I mean?”
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. A hand, warm and calloused and strong, clasped its fingers around hers and squeezed. Sara held Lincoln’s hand, both of them silent, and felt oddly whole for the moment.
12
It was time. How could he have put such a burden on her? How could he have thought it was right to ask such a thing of her? She couldn’t decide such a thing. Sara would never be able to do it. It was like she was killing him all over again, for a second time. And still she’d had to do it. Sara had done it. Dr. Henderson had sadly smiled as she’d signed her husband’s life away, offering no words of sympathy. Maybe he realized none would be sufficient enough. The antiseptic smell of the room made her stomach roil and though she wanted to run from the room, her feet remained rooted in place.
“No one else can do it.”
Her head shot up and she looked around the room, her eyes taking in the white walls, the beeping monitor, the hospital equipment, and finally, slowly, slowly going to his still form. His skin was waxen and gray-tinged. He looked unreal, like one of those celebrity replicas found in a wax museum. Tubes ran in and out of his body, giving him an inhuman, robotic quality. She hated the thought; she hated the truth of it. His chest rose and lowered with air that wasn’t his, stolen breaths of life that kept him alive, but not living.
His light brown hair was thick and waved around his head. She lifted a hand to touch it and let it fall back to her side. His body was shrunken in size, the muscle and tan gone from his form. Sara closed her eyes, not wanting this to be him, unable to accept him this way, seeing him this way. He should have been laughing, smiling, spending his days working and loving and living. How could she have signed his death warrant?
“No one else could do it, Sara. It had to be you.”
She slapped a hand to her mouth, eyes stinging with tears. Sara stared down at him, her pulse jumping in incomprehension. It had sounded like his voice. He was silent and unmoving on the hospital bed before her. It wasn’t him talking, but for the first time, Sara realized it had always been his voice talking to her. She just hadn’t heard it as his before; she hadn’t been able to accept it was his voice in her mind. Chills went up and down her arms, encasing her in icy revelation. How could that be?
“You have to say goodbye now. It’s the only way you’ll be able to move on. It’s time for you to move on.”
“I just…I just want to see your blue eyes, just one last time. Please,” she whispered brokenly, hot tears of sorrow making jagged tracks down her cheeks. “Cole.”
Whatever had been keeping her together, sheer will maybe, finally abandoned her when his name fell from her lips. It was the first time she’d spoken it since the accident. It was real. Saying his name made it real. It hurt so much. A sob left her, broken and weak; like Sara. She hung her head as the tears made a river out of her face, her throat painfully tight. Sara wrapped her arms around herself, pretending they were his.
She couldn’t do this. How could she do this? He was her husband, her love. He was her life. Sara couldn’t say goodbye; she refused to say goodbye. Her shoulders shook and she held her head between her hands, trying to hide from the terrible act she’d set into motion with a signature.
The air shifted behind her and two arms overlapped hers, warm and strong and alive, and for a second, she let herself pretend they were his. Sara turned into the embrace with her eyes closed, not wanting reality to creep back in yet, inhaling his citrus scent, and just like that, the spell was broken. She opened her eyes, moving away from Lincoln and closer to him.
An unknown emotion flickered in Lincoln’s eyes. “Dr. Henderson and the nurses are ready, Sara. They’re waiting outside.”
Resignation and defeat warred with a hopeless faith that maybe he’d come back to her. He’d open his eyes and be miraculously healed in all ways. He’d be hers again. Sara took his cold hand in hers and brought it to her lips, softly kissing the stiff fingers, her tears falling to his hand. I need magic tears to bring you back to life, Cole. You’ve been sleeping so long and all I wanted was for you to wake up. Why wouldn’t you wake up for me? Why wasn’t I enough to bring you back?
Lincoln was on the other side of him, blank-faced as he stared down at the shell that was now his brother. “It’s not him, Sara,” he said in a raspy voice, eyes downcast. “He left a long time ago. This isn’t him. This is a way for us to say goodbye.”
“But you said—“
“Forget what I said. I was pissed. I mean, I meant it, don’t get me wrong, but…I’m choosing to believe this.” He inhaled deeply and lifted red-rimmed eyes to hers. “From this day on I’m choosing to believe he held on for this, for us to come to terms with everything, for us to be able to let him go. And I don’t care what you think or say, what anyone else thinks or says. This is what I know to be true. This is my truth.”
She felt her face crumple and her vision blurred with tears. Lincoln’s expression turned pained and he rapidly blinked his eyes, swiping an arm across his face. She’d done this. She’d taken Lincoln’s brother from him. Now she was taking him away again, for the last time.
“Don’t you look at me like that,” he warned in a menacing tone.
Sara looked down, unable to speak.
“I’m sick of you blaming yourself for something out of your control. This is what we’re gonna do now. We’re going to respectfully say our goodbyes to my brother and your husband. There’s no room for guilt in this room, not today. You got that, Sara? You take all that guilt and you shove it away. I mean it.” As if he thought he could will the culpability away, Lincoln glared at her, tight-lipped and stony.
To be so sure of something, to have such faith when you had no reason to; Sara envied that about Lincoln. She inhaled deeply, briefly closing her eyes. Be strong. If you can’t be strong for you, be strong for Lincoln. Lie to him without saying a word. Sara opened her eyes and gave a stiff nod just as a knock came at the door.