donor when she’d changed the name on her driver’s license, it wasn’t appropriate now. Gabe’s circumstances were different.
Her hand trembled as Jenny handed him the card. She stifled a nervous smile. Nothing would change. They had a respite.
“This must be a mistake.” He frowned, then handed the card back to her. “Even so, you can still donate for him. It’s your decision.”
Jenny’s relief evaporated and tears stung her eyes.
“You know it’s what he would have wanted. Just think about it.” Ken wrapped an arm around her shoulder, holding Jenny close as she sobbed until her chest hurt. She actually felt her heart tearing, painfully ripping apart, exposing jagged raw edges. Ken allowed her to ease away and handed her the tissue box.
“Gabe was a talented doctor—a really great person. If there was any hope, any chance at all, I promise you, I would do whatever it took to help him. But there just isn’t. I’m sorry.” His voice broke. “I’m going to miss him like hell.” He paused for a moment. “Is there someone you can call? Your mom?”
She shook her head.
“Have you notified his children? His parents?”
“His parents are…” she stumbled over the word dead , as if she said the word then Gabe would be dead too. “Gone. And the kids are—” My God, Alex and Ted. Jenny hadn’t given them a thought. How could she tell them their father was dead? “I’ll call their mother.”
“I’ll write up my consult and then talk again with Dr. Collins. If there’s anything else,” he handed her a business card, “my home phone’s on the back. Please call if there’s anything I can do.”
Jenny nodded and turned away, unable to look at him. He was healthy. He got to go home to his family. Her husband would not.
Numb, she moved closer to Gabe’s bed. A quick scan showed everything to be the same. She slid a hand up his warm arm. Gabe couldn’t be dead—dead people were blue and cold. Jenny’s pain in her pelvis intensified and then eased. Her eyes opened in horror, recognizing the familiar spasms. No. No. It couldn’t be cramps. She pushed back in the chair and rested her feet on the bed. She just needed to rest. She’d be fine. They’d be fine.
Chapter 4
After another twenty minutes of painful cramping, Jenny hurried out of the room to the nurses’ desk. “Can you help me? My husband is Gabe Harrison.” She pointed to his room. “I’m pregnant and I’m cramping and bleeding. Is there a doctor I can see?”
The nurse sent her down to the ER where a doctor examined her, ran an hCG test, then came back to tell her she’d lost the baby.
Her beloved baby was gone. Lying alone on a gurney in the ER, Jenny rolled onto her side and cried and cried. She cried for the little one she’d lost and cried for herself. She begged God to wake her from this nightmare. Then she bargained with God, the baby’s life for Gabe’s. Surely he wasn’t cruel enough to take them both?
Jenny dried her eyes, cleaned up, dressed, and rushed back upstairs, convinced Gabe would be better. She rushed into Gabe’s room, sure she’d find him awake—or at least curled on his side as he preferred to sleep.
Gabe lay on his back, bruised eyes closed, the ventilator tube still protruding from his mouth. His chest rose and fell to the rhythm of the machine. No improvement—for either of them. Jenny kept backsliding, losing more and more.
She dropped in the chair next to his bed. Not fair. This was not fair —none of it. First God stole her husband and now her baby? What was going on? Jenny stared at Gabe, longing to feel his strong arms wrap around her, reassuring her everything would be okay. But nothing would ever be okay again.
Gabe couldn’t hold her. And now she wouldn’t even have his baby to hold onto. And they wanted her to stop the machine. They wanted her to give away his organs. It was her decision. Jenny kissed Gabe’s knuckles, then rested her cheek on their
Learning to Kill: Stories