Leah's Curls

"Did they save her?" a weak feminine voice quivered.
"She is fine. No harm done." a gentle male voice whispered in return. After that, the room went hushed, that is, except for the constant annoying beeping of the emergency room heart monitor attached by cords to her breast. An IV, cold and sterile, was taped to her pale, trembling hand. Such gentle hands freshly washed and cleaned from the dirty, bloody state they had previously been in earlier that night.

"I'm tired of hearing about this!" screamed the female voice as a slam followed, indicating her entry into the garage from the house. A largwe, red oak door, dark and glossy, opened revelaing a tall man with dark black hair, cut short except from the jagged bangs hanging before his emerald eyes.
"I'm not done talking to you about this, Leah! We are not through!" he yelled. A car door of an SUV slammed, the window rolling down with an automatic buzz.
"I beg to differ, Derrick," Leah said with a scalding tone opening the garage door automatically, and backing out with a flurry from the neatly organized garage and onto the quiet suburban street of San Francisco.

His mind cleared from the events that had happened hours before. Those emerald eyes were now gazed upon the woman he had been calling his wife for the last seven years. Her face, always so beautiful to him, was covered with cuts and stitches that pained her every time she spoke. But words had to be spoken. "I'm so sorry, Derrick. I shouldn't have left. Not then, not that way." Her voice filled with the tears not yet fallen.
"Shh, baby. Everything is fine; everything will be fine." He was hopeful, even optimistic as he smoothed his calloused hand through her naturally curly brunette hair. That was what he fell in love with first nine years ago. That semi-long, curly, brunette hair. He smiled, his eyes glazed over with tears, but not from what she had said. These were from what he knew. The doctor had not yet come in to speak to her. But he had spoken to Derrick.

"The semi hit her in a T-bone going about sixty. The car had flipped multiple times, witnesses said. If it weren't for her seat belt, she wouldn't be alive now. Neither would your daughter." Doctor Franklin explained.
"So is she doing okay?" Derrick asked.
"Yes," he replied. "The seatbelt saved her as well." Doctor Franklin continued.
"Not her. Leah. I mean, I'm glad she is okay; of course don't get me wrong, but what about Leah?" Derrick's tone was frantic.
The doctor grew silent, looking down at the thick manila folder in his hands. After what seemed like hours, Doctor Franklin answered. "The seatbelt did keep her alive, but I'm afraid it may have done some irreparable damage to her internal organs. I won't know until the MRI returns, but if it is as bad as I believe..." he trailed off. Derrick knew. His eyes turned toward the large picture window that bordered his wife's room in the ICU and rested on her sleeping form.
"Has anyone told her yet?" Derrick's quivering voice shaky from a mix of fear, anger and sadness.
"No. She hasn't woken up from the anesthetic yet."

Her heart rate had slowed down a lot sense she had first been brought in. The nurses thought it was the adrenaline pumping through her body after the accident that kept her heart from stopping from shock. Derrick looked into those beautiful hazel eyes, the most perfect mix of green and brown that he had ever seen.
"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Leah spoke with a dry tounge. Her voice, right then, lost all fear.
Derrick's voice, however, gained a sudden darkness.
"No! Listen, Leah, you're hurt. Some drunken idiot plowed into you but you're fine!" His body shook with anger, but suddenly calmed as Leah's other hand lay against hist and her head nodded towards the same picture window as earlier. Derrick followed her gaze and saw the doctor and the nurse who had been caring for his wife. The looks on their faces as they looked down, turned, and walked off said it all. Derrick froze, and for a split second, he could swear his own heart stopped.
"It's okay, you know," Leah's voice said reassuringly, as if she could feel him tense. "I think you're ready to raise them on your own." She knew; she also knew she had to stay strong. Derrick would have to save his strength for what was to come.
Over the next few hours, Derrick and Leah discussed everything. Their first meeting in high school when Derrick tricked Leah into asking him out, to the things ahead that Derrick would have to face alone; like teenage boyfriends, girlfriends, marriages, driving, etcetera.
"This can't be happening," Derrick chocked. Tears and laughs had been exchanged, but it always came down to the same comment. "I can't do this without you." His lips trembled. Derrick was more scared then Leah was. They both knew it. "What am I going to tell the kids?" he questioned.
"Tell them," she began but stopped to catch the breath that had grown weaker with each passing heartbeat. "Tell them, that life gives us obstacles that we sometimes have to face alone. Tell them, that their mother loves them so much, that she was given the beautiful mission to protect them from heaven," and those words were spoken without an ounce of regret on her face. Derrick burst into tears. The strong man he once was, always was, had been beaten down and stripped of both his strength and pride. The love of his life was slowly dying in front of him, and there was nothing he could do.

Derrick stood up, placing his wife's hand on the bed, her body already to weak to lift a muscle. He reassured her he would be back, stepped outside the room, and headed to the nurses' station. The hallway, cold and sterile, never seemed to end. His footsteps quickened on the checkered floor with each passing second. The nurses whispered as he passed.
"That's him, the husband of the wife who came in."
The words, although informational, bled of pity and sorrow for the man whos wife was dying. The doctor had seen Derrick coming. He looked down at another manila chart, this one not nearly as thick as his wife's, his slightly grayng bangs shading his eyes that were already covered by a pair of spectacles.
Derrick's footsteps stopped abruptly. His calloused hand from those long days working jutted out and gripped tightly to the physician's arm, turning him with a quick thrust.
"Isn't there anything you can do?" Derrick shouted, shaking with frustration. "I can't sit here and watch her die. Do you know we have other children? Three. Two boys and a girl." His hand still held Doctor Franklin's arm, his other arm wrapped behind him, pushing into his back jean pocket, emerging a moment later with a brown leather wallet. The nurses at the station had either a look of horror for what the man was going through, or a look of immense sadness. As Derrick let the doctor's arm go, he flipped through his wallet to the family photo. Leah was holding their little girl while Derrick stood with a young man at each hip, they were twins. "Olivia is four. Tyler and Johnny are going to turn seven soon. How are they going to grow up withoout their mother? Can you answer me that?" The doctor couldn't. One of the nurses had already broken down into tears and left the hallway.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Fitchpatrick. There is nothing I can do. See, the MRI came back. It seems one of her ribs busted in the accident causing several internal wounds. Seperate, they are not severe. Together, though, they are releasing to much blood back into her body and any kind og surgery to save her at this point will only run further risk of what is already happening." The hallway was silent after that. Derrick's face, although a bit red, matching his watery eyes, went calm, almost like stone. It was really happening. His wife, his beautiful Leah, was dying.
"I'm sorry. There is nothing more we can do." Doctor Franklin spoke, his voice barely audible in Derrick's ears. Derrick knew what had to be done. He had to be strong.
As he turned to go back down the hall, time seemed to slow down. The people in the hall, his body, it all seemed to sluggish. The doctors and nurses behind him soon blurred and melted into the scene like a camera going out of focus.

When he returned to the room, the heart monitor was barely beeping. Time had temporairly froze. Leah's heart, however, was only that.. temporary. He walked back over to the wicker chair that had been at his wife's bedside the whole night and sat down, taking her hand in his own.
"Derrick," her voice uttered gently, her eyes half lidded and dim in color. Derrick leaned in, moving his body to sit by her side on the bed. His heart cringed, breaking slowly, but not a single tear fell.
"I'm here, baby," he replied, lifting her fragile hand to place the palm on his chest, holding it to him.
"I can't let go," she started, only stopping to catch her breath, "until I know that you're ready... to be on your own." That was a hard choice. Of course he wasn't ready to be on his own, raise the kids alone, go through the rest of his life feeling alone. But would he tell her that to keep her there? She was stron enough to stay, no matter how painful it would be. She was strong enough to do just about anything. But was he strong enough to let her go?
He turned his head away, cringing at her words and fighting back those tears. Within a few seconds, he turned back. He lifted his body, shifting to actually lay his side on the hard, uncomfortable hospital bed, his arms wrapping around her, his head lying atop hers gently.
"I'm ready, baby." His voice crackled. "Let go baby, let go." His heart gave out, feeling as though he would pass out right there.
"I love you," she whispered, her head lying gently on his chest his heart beat filling her ears.
"We love you, too. More then you'll ever know." And with that, her body grew still, her eyes drifted closed and the annoying heart monitor finally stopped beeping and elongated into an everlasting cry. Derrick's eyes were soon drenched in the time it took for a hummingbird to flap its wings.

This was the one and only time since he was a child that Derrick cried as hard as he did. For the next twenty minutes, nurses and doctors rushed in and out, trying to calm him down and help his wife. He was angry and had every right to be, no one doubted that. He decided to take a long walk throughout the halls of the hospital. Sick people... children... families. It was all so depressing right now.

Aimlessly, Derrick wandered into the nursery area. All those newborn lives, safe from harm. Visiting hours were still going on, so he entered the nursery with the nurses guidance and looked around. He came to a small cradle supplied by the nursery. The baby was beautiful. Long eylashes, pale creme skin; she was like an angel.

Derrick looked over at the nurse for the permission he needed. With a gentle smile, she nodded and continued sitting at her desk. Slowly, gently, he picked up the baby wrapped in a soft pink blanket, a small pink cap on her head to protect her skin from the cold chills of the hospital air. The baby didn't cry. She opened her subtle emerald eyes, looking up towards the man who cradled her so sweetly. Minutes passed like hours. Slowly, Derrick's hand moved to the cap at her head. Inch by inch the cap was removed revealing, not a shiny bald head, but a lovely patch of brunette curls.
"What's her name?" the nurse asked from across the room, curiously. On the cradle was a very important name; Fitchpatrick. "Sir?" the nurse asked after a few silent moments went by.

With a start, Derrick snapped out of his dream world, glancing over at the nurse before looking down at the little girl in his arms again.
"Leah. Her name is Leah." He spoke with a sense of utter peace in his voice.
"Lovely name for the most beautiful baby in the room. How did you come up with it? the nurse questioned, not knowing Derrick's situation.
"It was easy," he stated, holding her small, delicate hand in his own. "She has her mother's curls." A gentle smile lingered on his face as the baby fell asleep in his arms.

Looking down at his newly born, rush-delivered daughter, he suddenly knew. Everything was going to eventually be okay. His precious wife, the love of his life he would love forever, was not gone. She was an angel now, watching over her family and loved ones. And her spirit would live on. It would live on in the angel in his arms.