FicWad

Joe

I reached the hospital in record time. Racing through the front doors, I hurried towards the elevators and punched impatiently at the button for 'up'.

"Please let me be in time," I repeated over and over in my head, offering up the prayer to whatever God was listening. "Please let her be okay."

As soon as I came off the elevator, I spotted my mother in the hallway, her head buried in my brother's shoulder sobbing quietly. A cold dread washed over me.

"Mom?" I questioned as I approached them.

"Thank God, Joe. She's waiting for you. She keeps asking for you," my Mother's pained expression said it all. It wasn't good news.

She grabbed my hand and led me into the darkened room. My Grandmother lay, small and frail, against the stark white sheets.

"Sarah," she whispered as we approached the bed, taking one of her hands. "Sarah, Joe is here," she continued a little louder, causing my Grandmother's eyes to flicker open.

I stifled a sob as I took in her appearance. She was so pale, so lifeless. I could barely stand to see her like this.

"Joseph," she whispered, her eyes searching for me in the gloom, her other hand reaching blindly for me.

"I'm here Bubbe," I replied quietly, clutching her cold hand in mine.

She focused on me, squeezing my hand tight. "Sit," she commanded, suddenly more like the Bubbe I remembered.

She struggled to sit more upright in her bed, my mother rushing to help her. When she was satisfied she once again turned her attention back to me.

"Where is Megan?" her voice was stronger now, more controlled.

"I told you Bubbe, we had a fight..." she didn't let me finish the sentence.

"Narrishkeit, Joseph. I have had enough of this nonsense. It is my time, Joseph..."

"Bubbe, don't talk like that..."

"No, Joseph. You listen. I talk." she reprimanded me harshly.

"You are behaving like a child. A putz," she continued. My mother drew in her breath at my Grandmother's choice of words. "You have found the girl for you, and you let her go over some stupid argument," her voice was raised, and she fell back on her pillows struggling for breath.

"Sarah, please, you have to rest," my mother pleaded.

"Helen, this has to be said. This family needs to be put in order before I go," her voice was calm, but her words were firm.

She leaned forward again, forcing me to look her in the eye.

"You fix this, Joseph. Or I will haunt you for all my days," there was a glint in her eye, but her words were deadly serious. "You promise me. You promise me you will fix it."

I felt tears spring to my eyes as I looked back at her. I barely trusted my voice.

I nodded, squeezing her hand. "I promise," I managed to choke out. I raised her hand to my lips and gently kissed it. "I promise," I repeated, stronger this time.

She sighed heavily and fell back on her pillows, drained.

"I will sleep, now," she stated and we sighed with relief. "Don't sit there watching me. Go, go," she dismissed us with a wave of her hand.

My mother and I filed out into the corridor, tears still threatening to spill out onto my cheeks.

"The doctors are amazed she's still here," my father laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. "They were shaking their heads and checking their monitors for the last hour, wondering how she could still be conscious and talking. Impossible, they said," there was sadness, mixed with a hint of pride in his voice.

"They obviously don't know your mother very well," my mother managed a small tight smile, and a hug for my father.

"She wouldn't go, Joe. She just kept asking for you, over and over. She obviously had something important she needed to tell you," his eyes were serious, searching mine. "There's something important you have to do, Joe. Isn't there?"

I nodded slowly. Yes, there was something I had to do. And I wasn't going to take no for an answer.



"Hi this is Megan. I'm not here right now, but if you leave a message...."

I slammed my cell closed, sick of hearing her answer phone message again and again. I had left four messages, but still she didn't call me back.

She wasn't at Angie's. Pete was there and he swore to me she hadn't been back. Angie was staying tight-lipped about what she knew, telling Pete only that she was safe and back in Chicago.

I had been to every place that had ever meant anything to her, to us, but there was no sign of her. I was fast running out of ideas.

My cell phone ringing started a flurry of hope tumbling around my stomach.

"Hello? Megan?" I answered.

"Mr Trohman?" The male voice on the other end shattered my illusions.

"Yes," I answered with a heavy sigh.

"Mr Trohman, this is Detective Andrews from Chicago PD. I am calling to inform you that the charges against you have been dropped. A Mr Taylor came to the station an hour ago and withdrew his complaint. There will be no further action taken against you," the matter of fact tone of his voice threw me completely.

"What?" I yelled in surprise, confusion causing me to swerve slightly in the road.

"The charges have been dropped," he repeated, impatience in his tone. "Consider yourself very lucky, Mr Trohman."

"Yes, uh, yes. Thank you. Um, did he say why?" I asked, completely unable to take it in.

"No, sir. Not to us." And with that, he was gone.

I was free. I wasn't going to jail. Had Brett Taylor suddenly developed a conscience? Not likely.

There was only one explanation. Megan.

The ringing of my cell interrupted me again. I grabbed it quickly, hoping against hope...

"Joe," my brother's tear-laden voice came back at me.

"Joe, she's gone. Bubbe is gone."

I crashed straight back down to earth again. How much more could I take today?

"I'm coming, Mikey. I'm coming," and I turned my car and headed back to the hospital. Again. My promise to my Grandmother would have to wait just a little longer.



Megan

I had steadfastly refused to answer Joe's calls all day. I didn't want him to take me back because I was pregnant, because I hadn't given him any choice in becoming a father.

I would rather do this alone than trap him like that.

Angie had called three times, pleading with me to call him, go talk to him, anything to sort this mess out. Hell, even Pete had tried to convince me to speak to him.

But there was one call I just couldn't ignore.



Joe

When I came out of the elevator for the second time that day, I could have sworn my eyes were playing tricks on me.

A smaller dark-haired woman was embracing my mother as she wept.

As I walked slowly towards them, I knew I wasn't mistaken.

"Megan," I whispered, hurrying my pace towards them.

She turned from my mothers arms, towards me. And as I reached her, she opened her arms again and engulfed me in a hug.

"How? How did you know?" my voice cracked with emotion. Sorrow tinged with joy. Joy at having her here in my arms.

"Your mother called me," she replied, wiping the few escaping tears from my cheeks with her thumbs.

"But, how..." I began, but she silenced me with a gentle kiss to my lips.

"Not now, Joe. Later. We have all the time in the world for that," her reply was so simple, but answered so many of my questions.

"And the baby?" I lowered my voice, so as not to let my mother hear. Just in case there was no baby anymore.

She took my hand and placed it to her belly. "Right here," she searched my eyes.

"Where it belongs," I finished for her.