"Busy night," the nurse muttered, smiling a knowing smile as she walked past him and out of the break room.
Joey nodded, returning her smile as he slumped on the small, uncomfortable couch. It had been a busy night. In fact, it been a busy month-a busy past few months. This winter had been brutal for New York. Brutal winters meant more accidents. More accidents meant more business for the local hospitals, and unfortunately, more business for him.
He wasn't sure if it was the divorce with Aubrey, losing Kelly, or combination of both, but somehow he'd lost himself. Llanview just didn't feel like home anymore. Even with all his family around him, there was a hole, a hole he couldn't fill. One night as he lay in bed thinking, he remembered how much he enjoyed helping people.
Even now, even as hard as this was-this helped people. Whether he was administering last rites, holding someone's hand as they prayed, or sitting with a family as they waited for news about their loved one-he felt needed-wanted-necessary. That was something he hadn't felt in a very long time.
"Sorry," the nurse whispered, peeking her head in through the door. "They just brought in another one. They've got her stable for now, but it doesn't look good. She's got a lot of internal damage and she's too weak for surgery. I think you should get in there."
Joey nodded, standing up and grabbing the Bible in his hand. Someone else that needed him. He was helping. He mattered and tonight-that was enough.
It was hard to explain that moment. He didn't think anyone could really understand it unless you'd been there-unless you'd experienced it. Even though he'd done this time and time again, he never really got used to walking into that room for the first time. Sometimes he'd see the family first. He'd greet them as they stood outside the door, their faces streaked with tears, their eyes full of worry and fear.
He prayed with them, hugged them, promised them that things would be ok. All the while, he knew that very often things might not be ok for a very, very long time. Still he made these promises.
As he pressed the large, silver button on the double doors that led into the ICU he took a breath. This was the hardest part-it always had been for him. The initial shock. It had come as a surprise the first time. You don't expect to react so strongly to complete strangers, but something about seeing someone-anyone-so helpless, so completely and totally weak and lifeless was so disturbing that he'd almost turned around and walked away.
Each time he entered a room, he reminded himself again why he did this. He wanted to help people. He wanted to remind them that the was hope, that they could get through anything, that someone cared about them. He pushed the door open and stepped into the room.
"How is she?" he asked the nurse who stood at the side of the bed, straightening her lines and charting her vitals on the chart.
She shook her head and shrugged a bit. "It's hard to say. Her condition has been so volatile since they brought her in. She's doing ok right now, but that could change at any minute." She sighed as she jotted down a few more numbers.
"Where's her family?" Joey asked. It was true that sometimes the people he visited were here alone, but generally they were older. Wives whose husbands had gone on before them, parents whose children were otherwise occupied, some who had simply outlived the rest. Whatever the reason it always made him sad. How horrible it must be to literally have no one.
The nurse nodded. "We've contacted them. They all live in Pennsylvania," she replied softly, stepping back closer to him and lowering her voice as if she was afraid the woman might overhear.
"They were booking the next flight out, but with this weather who knows when that will be." She glanced back at the bed and then back at Joey again.
"I just don't know if she's got that kind of time."
"We just have to pray they get here," Joey said, reassuring himself as much as anything as he took another deep breath before moving to step closer to the bed.
"That's your specialty," the nurse smiled, as she stepped aside and headed for the door. "Her name's Kelly," she said, pulling the door closed behind her.
"Kelly," Joey breathed, the mere mention of the name flooding his brain with memories of his Kelly, of Llanview, of their life, the life they could have had, should have had together.
"Stop it," he whispered aloud, rubbing his hand over his face. "Focus."
He sat down beside the bed, reaching up to softly brush the hair away from her face. Her face was badly bruised from what he could tell. As he gently reached out to turn her face towards him, he felt his breath catch in his throat.
"No." His hand jerked back, as if he had touched something painful. "It can't..." The words wouldn't come. Everything the nurse had said. Her name. Her family. Pennsylvania. It all made sense. Kelly. His Kelly. She was the one that needed him tonight-only she had no idea just how much he still needed her.
"Kelly," he breathed, still unable to touch her again. The four years they'd been apart disappeared in an instant. He remembered every second of their last moments together as if they'd happened yesterday. He remembered the way the tears had streamed down her face as she said goodbye, he remembered how soft her face had been as he reached up and wiped them away, he remembered how his own tears had felt as they'd fallen from his eyes as he watched her drive away.
Even after Aubrey was gone, the damage she'd done still remained. He hadn't trusted her-hadn't believed her-hadn't taken her word as good enough. That kind of trust was almost impossible to rebuild. They had tried, but in the end, it had seemed too much.
Now, as he looked at her, he wondered how it would have been different. If he had called out to her, ran after her, written, called...done something-anything. Could he have stopped this? Was this his fault? He let her walk away, but this-he couldn't let her go-not for good...not forever...not like this.
Taking her hand, he swallowed hard. She was beautiful, even now-even with the tubes and lines and monitors-she was still so beautiful. For a moment his mind flashed back to his first memory of her. Leopard print beret, pink patent leather jacket, black mini skirt-a walking firecracker, with a personality to match. God he missed her.
"This isn't the end, Kel." He pulled the chair closer to the bed, settling in closer to her as he pressed her hand to his face. She was so cold. Instinctively, he began brought his hands over hers, rubbing them together in an attempt to warm her-as if that would bring her back-As if that would make it okay.
Another memory flashed into his mind. He sat beside her on a log in the woods holding her hands just like this. They were cold-as cold as they are now, he thought. She thought she'd killed someone and they were there to look for his body. The thought brought a smile to his face. Life was never dull with her. There was always something, some new drama, some new problem, some new surprise.
"Our story isn't over," he whispered, looking down at her. Joey brushed her hair away from her face as he felt the first tear begin to stream down his face. Kelly thought she was too much for him, too volatile, too impulsive, but the truth was-she was exactly what he needed. She made him feel alive.
"You listen to me," he began, stopping as he heard the door open behind him.
"I'm sorry," the nurse whispered. "We need to change her IV."
He nodded, squeezing her hand. "I'll be back. You stay here. Promise me?" Joey stood, staring at her for a moment. Somehow he expected her to answer him, but she lay completely still, completely silent.
Closing his eyes, she stepped towards the door. Seeing her like this made him sick. He sighed as he stepped through the door the nurse held open. "I know her," he said sadly.
"Who?" she asked, "the woman..the patient?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. "From a long time ago...From when I lived in Llanview."
"Wow...I'm sorry," she said softly.
Joey shook his head. "I need to talk to the doctor. I want to know what's going on. Where is he? Shouldn't he be in there?" He ran his hands over his face.
In most cases, this is where he'd step in. This is where he'd extend his hand, introduce himself, and ask if there was anything he could do-anyone he could contact-ask if he could pray with them. He'd try to calm them, to tell them their anger was justified, but misdirected. He'd promise them that the doctors here were the best and that they were doing all they could.
Logically, he knew all this, but in his heart all he knew was that Kelly needed help and he needed to make sure she got it.
"Look Joey," the nurse softly responded, supportively patting his arm, "The doctor will be in as soon as he can. Right now he's dealing with the other victims."
"Other victims?" He hadn't even thought about that. Kelly could have a family here. She could have a husband, children, a life-a life that didn't involve him.
"Where is he?," he asked, though not certain he wanted to know.
"She," she said, glancing back down at the folder for confirmation. "They're trying to get her stabilized so they can get her up to pediatrics."
A daughter. Kelly had a daughter. If he knew anything about Kelly, it was how important family was to her. "Where is she?" Joey asked. "I'd like to see her."
Joey stood outside the room, staring in through the small glass window. The doctors surrounded the bed blocking his view, while the worked furiously on the child. He stepped quickly as a nurse hurried from the room.
Reaching out to her, he gently grabbed her arm, "How is she?" he asked.
"Don't know yet," the nurse responded, walking into the small room to retrieve more supplies. "She's young…they're resilient." She glanced up at Joey. "Pray for her."
Joey nodded. He already had been. He'd been praying for Kelly, for her daughter, for himself, for everyone that in his life that cared about her. Kelly might have moved away, but she was an important part of the lives of so many people. She had a place in their family and in their hearts and without her—he wasn't sure how any of them would survive.
"When can I get in there?" He knew better than to add to the chaos in the room. One more person in a room like that often just added to the drama. Besides, he sadly thought to himself, she clearly needed those doctors right now. Just like Kelly did.
"I don't know. They're trying to get her stable enough to move her up to the PICU," she said, still keeping her back to him as she worked on stocking the medical tray.
He lowered his head as he watched her. So many medicines, so many bandages for such a small child.
"Will you let me know when I can see her?" He hadn't felt this helpless in a long time. That was part of the reason he'd come here…part of the reason he did this job. He could help people in a time that they felt hopeless, but tonight, he couldn't help the one person he cared about most in the world. He couldn't even help himself.
"Joey," another voice called to him from farther down the hall. He glanced up, his heart catching in his throat as he saw the Kelly's nurse rushing towards him.
"What's wrong?" The words fell from his lips as he felt his mouth go dry. He had only been gone a few minutes. She couldn't. "Please tell me…"
"She's waking up," she said quickly, catching his relieved expression immediately. "I thought you'd want to know."
"I do…I do…Thank you, Karen." He glanced back at the other nurse. "Let me know," he reminded her as he hurried to catch up with Karen.
"This woman?" Karen began, looking up at him. "She means something to you, doesn't she?" As she looked into his eyes she saw concern and worry, but it was more than that. Joey was a wonderful chaplain. He had been from the first day he came here. Every patient, every family member, every situation, received his total and complete attention. He cared, he listened, he was sincere, but tonight it was personal. It was different. This woman was different.
"Yeah," he managed, his voice barely audible. "She does. We're…We were…We used to be." He stopped for a moment. How did you explain what they were to each other? They were had been college sweethearts, they'd been married, they'd hurt each other, they'd loved each other—They'd gone to hell and back and then they'd let it all go. He shook his head. In the end, it was simple.
"She's the one," he said quietly, stepping into the room.
Her eyes fluttered slowly as she registered his presence.
"Kelly," he whispered, taking her hand carefully. "My God, Kelly…It's me. It's Joey. I'm here. I'm right here with you."
She nodded slowly, her lips moving slightly. She swallowed, struggling to sit up.
"Easy." He stood, gently pushing her back onto the pillows. "Just relax. Everything's ok. Everything is going to be ok. You just rest."
"Little girl," she managed, her chest heaving in exhaustion.
"I know," Joey said, stroking her hair. "I know. I'm going to check on her. I've been down there. The doctors are with her now. They're helping her. She's going to be ok. Just like you are. You just relax."
"No," she whispered, struggling again to form words—words that seemed illusive.
He hated this…hated seeing her so frightened, so upset. There was nothing he could do—nothing he could say to ease her worry. "What is it baby? What are you trying to say?"
"Our little girl," she whispered, finally collapsing against the pillows again as her eyes fluttered closed.