* * *
It was almost noon when Juniper arrived at the hospital. Worry prowled in her gut as she steeled herself for what she would face inside. Reb had told her in unnecessarily great detail what Jonathan looked like, what machines he was hooked up to, and how the ICU was laid out. ECMO, or extracorporeal membrane oxygenation, was a form of cardiac and pulmonary life support that cycled Jonathan’s blood through his body because his heart and lungs weren’t capable of performing the necessary functions on their own. It was a lifesaving measure that would afford him time to rest and recover, but it felt like a last-ditch effort. A Hail Mary. The thought was terrifying.
Juniper hurried through the cold parking garage, coat clutched tight against her throat, and waited in silence as the elevator carried her up to the third floor. When the doors slid open, she followed the signs down the hallway and lifted the red receiver outside the locked ICU. She carefully stated her name and the patient she had come to see, and after a log was checked and double-checked, the metal lock clicked open and she finally stepped inside.
The ICU smelled of antiseptic and recycled air. Just like any other hospital. But unlike other hospital visits, a nurse was waiting on the other side of the locked door to escort her to a small family waiting room where Mandy was slumped in a chair, head tipped back against the wall and eyes closed.
“Hi, Mandy,” Juniper said softly.
Her sister-in-law opened her eyes and managed to pull her mouth into a semblance of a smile. She didn’t move to get up, so Juniper went to her and bent down to wrap Mandy in a hug. “It’s good to see you,” she said. But the truth was, it was hard to see her. Mandy was a shell of the woman she had been only days ago. Her eyes were dark and sunken, her skin gray. It was obvious that she hadn’t washed her hair in a while, because it hung lank and dull against her ashen cheeks.
“Here.” Juniper took Mandy by the shoulders and turned her so that she could reach the back of her head. She deftly finger-combed her sister-in-law’s loose waves, then pulled them into a French braid. Juniper was wearing a hair elastic like a bracelet and slipped it off her wrist to wrap it around the end of the improvised hairdo. When she was done, she gave Mandy’s upper arms a squeeze.
“Thank you.” Mandy’s eyes welled with tears.
“Don’t. It’s just a braid.”
“June…” A tear spilled down Mandy’s cheek and she whispered: “I’m scared.”
Juniper hugged her. “I know,” she said. But she didn’t want Mandy to fall down that dark hole, and quickly steered the conversation in a different direction. “Where are Law and Reb?”
“They went downstairs to grab some coffee.” Mandy pulled back with a heavy sigh. “They’re here all the time, June. All. The. Time. It’s…”
“Exhausting?” Juniper offered. “Difficult, frustrating, annoying?”
That elicited a laugh from Mandy. It was short-lived as a hiccup. “Yes. All of those things. I love them, I do, but—”
“No need to explain. Why do you think I live in Colorado?”
“Smart girl.” Mandy sounded wistful. “I wish I could fly away from all of this.” Immediately, her gaze snapped to Juniper’s and her eyes brimmed with remorse. “I don’t mean that. I love Jonathan. I—”
Juniper shushed her. “This is hell, Mandy. I want to fly away too. You don’t have to apologize for how you feel. Go get a cup of coffee. A bottle of wine. Do they sell wine in the cafeteria?”
“No.” Mandy’s lips held a fragile smile. “They should. But there’s a Starbucks around the corner. Maybe…？”
“Go. I gotta talk to Jonathan about a few things anyway. I’ll keep him company while you drink a large latte or two and do the crossword.”
“I’m more of a Better Homes and Gardens kind of girl.”
“Perfect. Grab yourself a magazine to go with your frothy coffee. Take your time.”
“Thanks, Junebug.”
Mandy hoisted herself to her feet and shambled down the hallway like an old woman. It hurt Juniper to watch her go, but she swallowed a shaky breath and steeled her resolve. After taking a moment to collect herself, Juniper approached the triage desk in the hallway. The ICU rooms fanned behind the low work counter, glass windows ensuring the patients were visible at all times. They were indistinguishable from here, bodies in beds attached to a network of machines that put Juniper in mind of the worst sort of science fiction. She felt like she should know which one was Jonathan, as if they were truly twins and shared a connection that went molecule-deep. But she didn’t, and it wasn’t until she had scrubbed in and donned shoe coverings, gloves, a gown, and a mask that she was finally taken to where he lay.