All For Anna Read online

  All for Anna

  By Nicole Deese

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 Nicole Deese

  DEDICATION

  All for Anna is dedicated to those who have known the heartache of loss, the heaviness of guilt or the hopelessness of shame.

  May the healing that comes through recovery find you as it has found me.

  PROLOGUE

  The church was packed; standing room only.

  Who would have imagined a child could affect so many lives in only six years? I stood toward the back, shoulder to shoulder with my sister and Jack. They practically pinned me in with their close proximity. It was almost as if they knew my plans of escape. My heart pounded loudly; the beat seeming to come from within my ears, drowning out the music that played over her slide show.

  Anna.

  I knew she had been beautiful; though the body I remembered looked very little like the healthy girl who was pictured here on ponies and scooters or wearing pjs and tutus. Her smile had been mesmerizing and her eyes so full of life and future dreams. Her blond hair, long like Cinderella, was shiny and spotless, bouncing with each move she made in the home video.

  The video was a stark contrast to the mud splattered, bloody hair that I had pushed off her face before administering CPR. The innocence that same face and body exuded on the screen was unbearable to watch, at least for me. I felt my knees start to give out, but willed myself once again to stand strong. It was the least I could do to honor her memory.

  As the screen faded to black, the pastor introduced several family members to take the stage. My breath caught when I saw her: Johanna, Anna’s mother. She made her way to the top of the platform. The movements of her crutches were slow and precise. Guiding her carefully up each step was the man I presumed to be Anna’s father.

  I shrunk down a few inches to conceal my identity in the crowd. The whispers and finger-pointing during the last couple of days had been hard to swallow, but as the only guilty party in this horrible tragedy, they had not been misguided. Even so, I would not allow for that distraction today.

  Johanna took the stage.

  Though I had been invited by her, I felt like an impostor the second she addressed the crowd, reading from her letter on the podium.

  “Dear loved ones; family and friends of Anna…”

  I was neither of those things

  She read on, making note of the kind gestures that the community and church members had provided for them in the last week; the week her world had been turned upside down. Her sweet smile was behind every word she spoke, even though tears flowed down her rounded cheeks. Briefly, I envisioned a rainbow captured by the slightest hint of sunlight and unhindered by the dark rainstorm still present overhead. That’s what Johanna was: a rainbow amidst a storm. Something raw and contagious tugged at my heart as I watched her. More than mourning or grief, she seemed to have a rare discernment, one that made me deeply uncomfortable and claustrophobic.

  I was the wolf in sheep's clothing.

  I looked up for just a moment from the stain on the carpet I’d been staring at, when Johanna found me and held my gaze. I was frozen.

  “Though our sweet Anna is gone...we know where she now resides. May her life be a reflection of love, forgiveness and grace. Even in the darkness there can be light, and even in the hardest circumstances we face, there can be hope.”

  In an instant, I was breaking free from the hold of Jack and Stacie and running for the exit door. The usher opened it for me quickly, but even in the fresh April night air I choked with panic. My body shuddered and convulsed with insurmountable force. Breath could not fill my lungs quickly enough. My heart slammed against my chest over and over to the point I wished it would just explode, taking me with it.

  A minute later, hands were on me, pulling me to the curb.

  “Tori, what’s going on? What’s happening?” Jack asked, helping me sit as he pulled me closer to him. Stacie smashed herself onto my other side.

  I couldn’t answer; my body was not my own.

  She shouldn’t have died.

  Why was I spared? Why wasn’t it me?

  “You’re fine now Tori, you’re safe. It will be okay, you will get through this,” Stacie lulled in my ear.

  No…Anna is gone—dead!

  I couldn’t save her.

  I let her die.

  Another wave of hysteria ripped through my body, this time bringing fresh, hot tears with it. My body shook with sobs that did not seem human; sobs that I could not control. Sobs that would never change the outcome of the innocent life lost. I knew in those few intense moments of clarity that life as I had known it had forever changed. My tears would only serve to obstruct the pain and hold back my will to survive.

  Guilt had a way of replacing one’s natural survival instinct with a purpose of its own; a purpose that would never right the past, but if allowed, would dictate the future.

  There was but one purpose to the future I now called my own: to give it all for Anna.

  ONE

  - 17 months later -

  I sat picking the invisible lint off my perfectly pressed indigo scrubs. The waiting room was like any of the others in the hospital, except smaller and more isolated. To my left were a private staff lounge and a large conference room that held discussions of lengthy experimental procedures and drug trials, or the occasional lecture given by some uppity doctor with more letters after his name than I cared to count. To my right was a hallway. I leaned my head against the wall and recited the mantra that I had practiced for every interview Human Resources had scheduled me for.

  This was my last hurdle to get over. Though I had already been guaranteed the job, thanks to my good references and resume, interviews made me anxious. I wondered, briefly, if a psych interview was standard for every Trauma RN who was hired at Dallas Northwest. But even if it was not, I would do as I always did, regardless of what she asked: minimal answers, facts only. I breathed in deeply, already feeling the perspiration on my palms.

  Only facts, I can do this.

  A loud clicking sound echoed in the hall to my right, stopping in front of me. I lifted my head.

  “Victoria Sales?”

  “Yes?” My throat was suddenly dry and scratchy.

  “I’m Dr. Crane, please follow me. Next time, feel free to come right in through this door at your appointment time. I have a private waiting room attached to my office. There’s a couch inside that I think you’ll find much more comfortable than the chairs out here.”

  “Thank you.” I followed her obediently.

  Two things I learned from Dr. Crane in that short introduction: that she was already planning a second appointment, and that she seemed to pretend my level of comfort was her utmost priority.

  Passing through the “couch room”, I entered a dimly lit office full of modern furniture that I was positive came from IKEA. The white-noise machine was set to a low hum in the corner and was almost hidden by the overgrown plant that reminded me of something I’d seen in the movie Jumanji. In the other corner stood a long, chrome light that was bent in a very unnatural way, defying gravity as it swooned over a hard leather sofa.

  Her chair was a perfect fit to what I had observed of her thus far. A mirror image, if there could be one between human and chair: tightly fit, perfectly proportioned, no frills, no cushion and no flexibility. She sat and cleared her throat, forcing a tight, awkward smile.

  “Well, Ms. Sales, it’s nice to finally meet you. Dr. Bradley had many wonderful things to say about you when she called me a couple weeks ago r
egarding your transfer. I was sad to see her relocate to Arizona Medical after all her years here at Dallas Northwest, but she seems to be quite content there in Phoenix,” she paused momentarily nodding in my direction. “I hope your transition to Texas is as beneficial.”

  Her eyes were kind, but her voice indicated that there was much more than my list of positive attributes she would be discussing with me.

  “Thank you,” I said, trying to calm my rapidly increasing heart rate.

  “Dr. Bradley and I met way back in med school and strangely enough, we both ended up here in Dallas to do our residencies. It’s actually quite an interesting story...”

  She stopped short as my expression apparently did not change enough for her to recount it to me. I was relieved. I had no interest in hearing about her glory days with Dr. Bradley—although on second thought, maybe it would be better to keep her talking so that I wouldn’t have to. I opened my mouth to ask her more about her reminiscing, but it was too late. Her hand had already reached for my file and it now lay open on her lap.

  “The important thing, Ms. Sales, is that Dr. Bradley has recommended that you see me before starting your new position at this hospital. Although she spoke highly of your abilities as a trauma nurse—which is really saying something for a woman of your age—she also had some concerning observations,” she said.

  “Concerning observations?”

  Yes. Not only is it a priority of mine that the staff at this hospital be in a place of mental and emotional well-being, it is a necessity in a position like yours. After reviewing your file and speaking with Dr. Bradley, it is my recommendation that you complete a minimum of six sessions with me.”

  Her words felt weighted; hitting me like a surprise punch to the gut. I worked hard to process them. My mind was in overdrive.

  “I’m just a little confused, Dr. Crane. I was told I have the job. I was already given a start date. Is this a new condition to my hiring?” I asked, feeling my face flush with heat.

  She leaned in, studying me carefully before she spoke. “This may not be standard protocol in the hiring process Ms. Sales, but it’s my job and my responsibility to make sure that all medical staff at this hospital are in a healthy place in regard to their mental and emotional stability. To hear anything contrary to that, especially from a colleague I greatly respect, is to put this hospital, its staff and its patients at risk.”

  The heat that had warmed my cheeks now burned hot in my chest. The logical explanation she gave was not the reason for my fury, but the person behind it was: Dr. Bradley. I could say nothing, but inside my mind a battle raged.

  Why did she do this to me?

  She was the one who pushed me to move back here—to the only place on earth I had hoped to avoid. She was the one who had told me to put Stacie first…and then she sabotages me once I’m here?

  “You may start your first shift on Monday as planned, but you will not be fully released with privileges at this hospital until I sign off at the end of our sessions. That means, specifically, that you will not be allowed to work any extra shifts or hours in the meantime. It sounds like that will be quite an adjustment for you,” she said, a faint smile on her lips, “I have the time right now if you’d like to begin your first session today?”

  I took a deep breath. Looking around her office I avoided her gaze like the plague. Whatever game she was playing, I would play it better.

  “Fine, what would you like to know?”

  A cold, eerie feeling washed over me as I spoke. I knew what I had to do.

  Stick to the facts, Tori, just stick to the facts.

  **********

  “Well, first, I’d like to get to know you a bit before we dive into the obvious. Can you tell me a little about yourself and your family?” She smiled as she rolled her pen between her thumb and index finger.

  I swallowed hard and exhaled once again.

  “Well, as I’m sure you know, I recently turned twenty-three. I’m an RN and have worked in the trauma unit for the last fourteen months at Arizona Medical. I graduated from UT Southwestern in the spring of 2010. I have a sister who’s five years older than me and expecting her first baby at the end of the year, and my folks are both real estate brokers in the area. I think that pretty much sums it up,” I said, working hard to keep the cynical tone out of my voice.

  “And your sister…Stacie, is it?” she asked while looking down at my file.

  I nodded.

  “She’s the reason you came back to Texas? Can you tell me a little about that? Why did you leave Phoenix to move back here?”

  “Yes, her husband received a promotion in his company and had to fulfill a six month contract in Australia. She asked me to transfer to Dallas and live with her during her pregnancy. They have an extra room and offered to cover my expenses so I could pay off my school loans. Stacie didn’t want to be alone and Jack isn’t scheduled to fly back until she’s in her eighth month of pregnancy,” I answered without inflection.

  I felt pleased with myself for throwing in those extra details where I usually wouldn’t. But I knew that the more I added to this part, the less time there would be for questions later—at least that’s what I hoped.

  She looked at me for what felt like an eternity and then said, “That sounds like a great offer. Were you quick to say yes? Or, was this decision something you had to process through when you decided to move back to Dallas?”

  I never wanted to come back here.

  “It was fairly quick; my sister needed me. I wanted to help her.”

  At least wanting to help Stacie was the truth.

  “How do you feel about being near your parents again? You moved so soon after your graduation.”

  Her tone was far more accusatory than inquisitive.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “It will definitely improve my commute to family dinners—so I suppose that’s a plus.”

  I wiped my wet palms on my knees slowly shifting my gaze to the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow me whole.

  “Mm-hmm, I see,” she said, adding more quick scratches on her note pad. “Victoria—may I call you Victoria? Was your plan always to move to Phoenix after graduating from nursing school?”

  I froze for a moment, not quite prepared for that question.

  “I had several options I was considering, but Arizona Medical Hospital was the best choice for me,” I said, pushing down the truth that was burning in my throat.

  “When I reviewed your file…it looked like you had already taken a job at our sister hospital in east Dallas prior to your graduation—in Labor and Delivery,” she said, “Only you quit just weeks later to be re-hired in Phoenix, in the Trauma unit, is that correct?”

  More information from the traitor I assume.

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Would that have to do with what occurred the evening of April 9th, 2010, just eight weeks before your graduation?” she asked, leaning in to help close the gap between us. Only it wasn’t a gap, it was a chasm that stretched the three feet between my couch and her chair.

  I leaned back and pressed my body against the cold, hard leather knowing full well the line of questioning that was going to be asked next. I prepared for the mantra to come out just as I had recited it in my head.

  “On April 9th, 2010, there was a bad storm and I was involved in a car accident that resulted in one fatality.”

  A light chiming sound went off near the Jumanji plant in the corner indicating our time was up. She didn’t move and neither did I as she said, “Next session I‘d like to talk more about what your life looked like before the accident, Victoria. It will give me a baseline to judge how you’re doing now.”

  I stood then, turning my head toward her.

  “There is no before—only after.”

  And that might have been the only real truth spoken in that room today.

  TWO

  Commuting into the heart of suburbia was going to take some adjustment on my part. I had grown very fo
nd of my little apartment in downtown Phoenix. It may have been cramped, but it was just my style. Space was a luxury I did not require.

  Pulling into my sister’s driveway, I took a deep breath and prepared for the whirlwind of questions she was sure to ask about my day. That was precisely why I had already decided to get my running shoes on as fast as humanly possible. I needed to think—or maybe not to think, I wasn’t quite sure which. Whatever the case, one thing was certain: the pressure building inside me would soon explode if I didn’t combat it first.

  “Tori, is that you? I’m so happy you’re home! I just got back from Home Depot and grabbed some swatches for painting your room. I thought we could decide on a color together,” Stacie said from somewhere in the monstrous upstairs, her sing-song voice filling the house.

  “Oh? And who will be doing this painting project, Stace?” I asked, mocking her. I knew the response even before she answered.

  Stacie may have décor vision, but her inner D.I.Y. superstar got the pink slip a long time ago. The girl couldn’t craft, color, paint, glue or finish any project without creating a disaster zone. A few years back there was a sit-down intervention after she glued her fingers to a messy Mod-Podge frame. We made her promise to let someone else execute her design ideas from then on. I’m still unclear as to why superglue had been a part of that equation.

  “Very funny, I’ll hire it out, I promise. Even if I wanted to paint, it’s against the pregnancy rules. Hey, how did your last interview go?”

  I climbed the stairs to my bedroom where she stood waiting for me. Her short blond curls bounced as she spoke. I looked beyond her into my room where several boxes and Hefty Bags sat in the corner, needing to be unpacked.

  “It was fine,” I quipped.

  One benefit of my small apartment in Phoenix was there wasn’t much to move back. My room at Stacie’s was large enough to fit nearly all of the contents that were once contained within the walls of my old living quarters. From the doorway I could see my couch, coffee table, TV, bed, desk, and dresser. I also had an attached bath, fully equipped with a soaking tub, shower, and two sinks. Overkill? I think so.