The day seemed long as friends and family mingled in the cultural hall after the service, seeking out Hank and the members of the SRU to give condolences and exchange stories about Donna. In about a half an hour, they had heard about her childhood, the early years of her days in vice, neighbors who had watched her grow up—experiences that had never been shared personally. Sometimes it was too much to hear and Hank finally slipped out into a quiet area of the building. Greg followed suit a few minutes later and found him sitting on the couch by the front door.
"She loved her job too much to quit." Hank quietly remarked as he sat down next to him. "Now that we're at this point in time, I feel like I should have let her."
Greg sighed sadly, understanding where the regret was coming from. "As surprised as I was when she told me, I get why she wanted to leave and why she chose to stay. Even though we've been trained for the worst possible scenarios, what we see is often horrific and cannot be unseen. But we still come to work because we took an oath to protect and serve those around us."
Hank nodded, gazing out the half fogged window by the couch. "I could usually tell when it had been a good or bad day, just by the way she looked at me when she walked through the door." Voice breaking, he recalled the times he had to decipher whether his wife was okay, or whether she was going to fall apart from what she had seen that day. "Then one day she came home and said that no matter what happened at work, she was going to bite the bullet and keep going."
"She was stronger than she looked."
"She was." Hank mentioned with a small laugh as a content chatter settled in the air around them. "The part I keep wondering about is did they find my wife?"
"The last time I heard, there was no sign of either your wife or Jimmy." Greg stated as a look of surprise lit up on Hank's face, then fell into one of despair as he went on. "I went inside to look for them, but there was so much damage the search and rescue team wouldn't let us go farther than a few feet inside the building. However, the SRU should be getting preliminary results in a few days. I'll have Ed Lane contact you when those results come in."
"I appreciate that."
"If I could get everyone's attention, please." A female voice announced in the other room. "My name is Emily Sabine, Donna's younger sister."
"I take it you didn't know she was coming?" Greg gauged by the startled look on Hank's face.
"No. Donna said she's been living overseas for the past three years, and wouldn't be coming home again for awhile." Standing up, he walked in stride down the hall, until he was leaning against the frame of the door. Greg followed at a slower speed, standing next to Hank as they watched a younger looking Sabine standing at the edge of the stage.
"So, that's Emily Sabine." Greg pointed out, standing behind him.
Hank nodded, hands nervously jittering by his side. "Emily is six years younger than Donna. She looks nothing like her, besides her blonde hair." It was partially true. While Donna and Emily were around the same height, the younger sister had more of a rounded face, higher cheekbones and wore a more significant amount of makeup.
"Before I left to work overseas, I was worried about leaving Donna. Since our mother passed away a few years ago and our father's health has been declining after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, I felt like we only had each other. As much as I didn't want to mess up that bond, it only took a dinner at her home to convince me that I wouldn't mess up the bond and should take the offer." Giving a ghost of a smile, her grip tightened around the microphone. "My heart broke a little when she asked me next if I was worried about leaving her and Dad. Of course she knew me all too well and tried to tell me they would be fine. Now as I look around the room, at all the love and support she received during that time, makes me wonder why I was so worried in the first place."
"In fact, I went to visit my father for the first time in years. As soon as I had shown my ID at the front desk of the assisted living facility, staff members told me how saddened they had been with the passing of Donna, and not to worry because they had been taking shifts to make sure our father was taken care of."
She paused, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "They told me how much they loved my family and would be happy to take care of him until he was gone. That although he had been declining, there was a slight chance he wouldn't remember who I was—or understand when I told him that Donna was gone. They didn't have the heart to tell him that she was gone. That the person who had visited him three or four times a week, would no longer be coming around."
"So, I prepared for the worst possible scenario as I walked into his room. Our father looked older, a little more frail. With a little prompting, he got this moment of clarity—like he at least knew who I was. When I mentioned Donna's name, his eyes lit up as he asked if she was coming to visit soon. It took a few minutes to find my voice after that to deliver the news. He grew quiet as we sat side-by-side on his bed. Then he told me something I will never forget: he told me that he loved me and would soon be at peace knowing she was gone."
"I guess he held on knowing that he didn't want to leave us. But there was a kind of pain in his eyes as he looked up at me once again, confusion taking over as he tried desperately to place why this stranger was sitting next to him. All I could do was pat his hand and tell him that I would come visit in a couple days, and came straight here in time to give my thanks for everything you've done for my family. Thank you."
APRIL 9, 2011
"Good morning." Hank smiled as we both laid close to one another. We had landed in Hawaii late last night and had barely considered dinner as we changed into our pajamas, and promptly fell asleep next to one another.
"Morning." I rubbed at my eyes, then stretched my arms over my head. "We must have been exhausted. We slept for nearly ten hours."
"Ten hours?" Raising his head, he looked over at the hotel alarm clock. "I guess we did. Mind getting your crippled husband his pills?"
"Would you stop?" I giggled, pushing back the covers from my body. "Of course I'll grab them." Digging through his bag at the foot of the bed, I handed him his morning pills and retrieved a glass of water from the tap.
"Thank you." Sitting up slowly, his water sloshed back and forth as he sat back down against the pillow.
"So what's on the agenda this morning?" I asked, using his phrase as I sat on the edge of the bed.
"For starters, I was hoping for a good breakfast. We didn't eat anything except what they fed us on the plane."
"Breakfast is good." I agreed, feeling my own stomach rumbling. "We have the option of ordering room service or going down to the restaurant downstairs."
Guzzling the rest of his water, he placed the glass back on the wooden nightstand. "Perhaps we should order room service. I'm afraid I won't be able to move properly until my medication kicks in."
"Room service it is." Digging through the drawers, I found a what I was looking for and carefully got back into bed.
"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" Slumping against the pillow, he drew a lazy smirk as we looked over the menu.
I laughed, focusing on the choices on the menu. "I think I'm going for the strawberry crepes. I have a sudden craving for hashbrowns."
"Well, I think I'll go for pancakes. I really want some good orange juice."
"I'll make the call then." I handed him the menu before picking up the phone to place the call for our first breakfast in Hawaii.
