My eyes open, and I watch him as he continues his prayer. “I know we can’t ask of you something that isn’t part of your will, but we're begging you to heal Johanna. Bring her back to us, Lord. Please be near us during this difficult time. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Papaw sniffs beside me and tightens his grip around my hand. “Please Lord, hear us.”
This breaks something inside of me. I thought I cried all of the tears that I could on my drive back to Covewood and then again in that tiny waiting room. Despite myself, more tears find their way down my cheeks. We sit in the chairs and hold onto each other's hands tightly as we stay silent in prayer.
As a few moments pass by, a rush of peace falls over my heart. The icy shock of panic is replaced with a flood of warmth. The shaking in my hands and legs stops. The tightness in my chest loosens and helps my tears to stop flowing.
At this moment, something deep inside of my heart is telling me that my Mamaw is going to be okay. I open my eyes and look at Papaw, who turns toward me.
“Did you feel that?” he asks and then turns to Ryland.
Ryland opens his eyes, and I notice a single tear fall down his cheek. I've only seen him cry twice since I’ve known him. It’shard to see him hurting. I want to move closer to him and show him the comfort that he showed me moments ago. Instead, his eyes seem to light up as he looks at me and nods his head. “Yeah.”
“Peace,” Papaw whispers next to me and squeezes our hands again. “Thank you for praying, Ryland.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
Papaw pushes himself up off the chair, his shoulders already looking lighter, and he shuffles toward the door. “I’m going to head back out there.”
As the door shuts behind him, I turn to study Ryland more closely. I’m not sure if it’s from seeing him for the first time in years or witnessing him like this, but something within him has changed. More than his appearance. It’s something much deeper.
“Are you okay?” I ask, feeling the twisting in my gut again with the reminder that he, too, is hurting.
His hazel eyes, looking more brown than usual, pierce into mine as he shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I’m barely keeping it together.”
In the past, I used to rely on Ryland for his constant honesty. It draws me to him still as I move to the seat where Papaw sat and place a hand into his for the first time since we broke each other's hearts. The skin there is more callused from years of hard work. I try not to enjoy his touch as much as I am, but it feels so comforting.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m sorry that I didn’t think to ask how you were doing.”
“It’s okay. You have your own pain to deal with.”
“That's not a good enough excuse. I know being here doesn’t bring you good memories, and Mamaw is just as much yours as she is mine.”
Something within him deflates with my words. His eyes gloss over, and I can tell that he is trying to fight back his emotions. It takes everything in me not to cry at thesight of him hurting. “I, uh…” he starts, swallows hard, and takes a deep breath. “I was there…when it happened.”
It takes me a moment to realize what he is referring to. I squeeze his hand, encouraging him to continue. It feels like we’re in this weird bubble of time where both the past and present are held back behind a closed door, and we’ve locked it for now, focusing on this moment and nothing else.
“I tried to bring her back. I tried to get her heart to start.” He bites his lip and closes his eyes tightly.
My other hand flies up and touches my lips, allowing his words to sink in. He was there when she had the heart attack. He gave her CPR. My heart sinks deeper, the peace I felt moments ago washing away.
“Ry,” I whisper, the nickname slipping out of me like a procedural memory.
His eyes open, and another tear travels down his cheek and into his scruffy beard. I remove the hand from my mouth and wipe the tear away, keeping my fingers against the rough texture of his beard.
“I, uh…” He looks down at our hands. “I don’t want you to be disappointed in me—that I couldn’t save her.”
I shake my head. “No, you did everything you could. I’m thankful you were there. And she’s here now. We haven’t lost her.”
I look at our hands together and wonder how we got to this point already. So much hurt and years between us, and yet, somehow, we still have an understanding, thisneedto be there for one another. That part of us never went away, and I find comfort in it.
I open my mouth to say something but I’m interrupted by the door to the chapel opening. We both look and see Bill Hampton, a close neighbor to my grandparents, standing and staring back at us. He waves. “The nurse came back with the MRI results.”
Ryland and I shoot up, keeping our hands together, andchase after him down the hallway. A nurse stands in front of the group of people waiting to hear about Mamaw. When her eyes land on mine, I already know what she is going to say. I stop in my tracks. Ryland looks back at me with a puzzled expression. I don’t have the strength to move any closer.
He studies me then looks back at the nurse, then back to me. I can’t look anywhere but at the clipboard the nurse holds in her hands. There is a buzzing in my ears as I watch her lips move. I can’t make out clearly all of what she is saying, only parts of it.
“Understand that she died for ten minutes.”
