“How’s he doing?” Audrey asked, sitting beside me.
After reading the last message and breathing a sigh of relief, I told her, “Well, he’s still in the coma, but the swelling on his brain has gone down significantly.”
“That’s good!” Ann chimed in optimistically.
“Yeah,” I nodded, “Dad said that, even though Jake’s definitely not out of the woods, things are looking better than they did before.” I put the phone down and scrubbed a hand over my chin as I went on, “I mean, even if he pulls through and wakes up, there’s no guaranteeing what kind of damage has been done, but—”
“Stop,” Audrey cut in gently, moving closer and propping her chin on my shoulder. “Take the good news and let yourself feel happy about it before you shoot it down.”
“I’m just being realistic,” I replied, touching my head to hers.
“Yeah, honey, I know,” Ann said. “And I know you don’t want to get your hopes all the way up either, but it never hurt to be just a little hopeful.”
They were right, I knew they were, so I allowed myself a moment to read the text from my father again. The one in which he told me the swelling had decreased and things were looking better, complete with a praying hands emoji. Dad never used emojis and I took it as a good sign.
Signs. Souls. Fate. Gifts. God.
Jake’s ability to see auras had been a gift. Audrey said so, and I believed her now. A slew of breadcrumbs—signs—had brought Audrey and me together, and I believed that now, too. I believed that Audrey herself, was a gift to me, the perfect mate to my imperfect soul, and if I believed all of this, then I knew I must also believe in God.
And if I believed in that, then there was a chance that something, whatever it was, was listening. And maybe they—He, Her, It, whatever—would care about what I had to say.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“BLAKE,” Dr. Travetti greeted me, rushing toward me as I walked into her office forty minutes late. She surprised me with a hug. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, Doc. Doesn’t this violate some kind of doctor-patient code or something?”
She stepped back with a roll of her eyes. “I think we can make an exception this time,” she quipped, attempting a smile I knew she didn’t feel. “I guess it’s a stupid question to ask how you’ve been.”
“Uh, yeah,” I nodded, walking toward the chair I saw as mine. “I’d say that’d be a pretty stupid question.”
“How is Jake? Any improvements since your call last night?”
I shook my head solemnly. “No. He’s still on life support, but he’s alive.”
“Well, that’s a good thing,” she encouraged. “How are you handling everything?”
I pursed my lips and considered the question before replying, “I completely lost my shit initially.”
“Of course.”
“But, I don’t know. I guess I’ve had a little time to process. Or maybe I’m just numb.”
She nodded slowly with understanding. “That’s perfectly normal, Blake. Everything you’re going through is absolutely normal.”
Then, I asked, “Is it also normal to wanna pray?”
Cocking her head with curious intrigue, she slowly nodded. “Yes. I would say it is.”
“What about you?” I continued, questioning. “Have you ever prayed?”
“I have, but, Blake, this—”
“I don’t know how,” I admitted. The confession left me feeling embarrassed for some silly reason. “I thought about asking Audrey, but old habits die hard, I guess, so I’m asking you first.”
Dr. Travetti smiled ruefully. “Blake, we’ve known each other for a long time now, and I realize you don’t know much about me. It would be unprofessional for me to sit here every week and delve into stories about my day or my past, so I don’t. But, given your question and what you’re going through right now, I think I can make an exception.”
Leaning back in my chair, my curiosity piqued, I gestured for her to go on. “I’m listening.”
Setting aside her clipboard, she crossed her legs tightly and began, “I lost someone very special to me a few years ago. We didn’t have the bond that you and Jake have, this person wasn’t my brother or sister, but I believed they were my soulmate. They were also sick, and I knew what I was getting myself into when I met them. But it didn’t matter at the time, because we were so in love and I had myself convinced that love alone could keep them alive. But it couldn’t, and they died.”
Dropping my gaze to my clasped hands, I swallowed at my emotions and uttered, “Fuck, Doc. I’m so sorry.”
“You can’t plan for how much it’s going to hurt to lose them, even if you know ahead of time that it’s coming,” she went on, casting another shred of light over her hidden past. “And after they were gone, I felt very alone and distant from my patients. I, um, had a hard time talking to people when all I wanted was to talk to someone. So, because I didn’t have many people in my life at the time, I talked to God instead.
“I told Him about my pain and my problems. I asked Him to send messages to … this person I had lost. I begged Him to send me a sign, to make me feel like I had a purpose again, and …” She cleared her throat and rubbed at her nose, obviously stalling.
“What happened? Did He answer?”
Dr. Travetti nodded as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I actually, um … I actually believe He sent me you.”
Furrowing my brow, I asked, “Huh?”
She let loose a watery laugh, and dammit, I actually thought she might cry. “I was at the end of my rope. It had been almost a year since she … this person had passed away and I had received nothing. No signs, no … messages from beyond, absolutely nothing. So, one night, after having quite a bit to drink, I yelled at God and told Him that if he couldn’t bring Sabrina back, I needed him to give me something, anything, to make my life worth living again. And do you know what happened?”
“What?”
With pen in hand, she pointed at me. “You called me the next day, saying you needed someone to talk to. You didn’t have a reason, not at the time, but you just needed someone. And so did I. And I believe that you were my sign.”
Slowly nodding, I allowed what she was saying to sink in. “So, that’s why you got all testy when I told you I didn’t believe in that shit.”
Dr. Travetti’s cheeks pinked just a bit. “I’m not in the habit of pushing my personal beliefs on patients, but it did make me a little sad, yes.”
“I get it,” I replied, twisting my hands around each other and trying to think of what to say next. The woman had divulged a piece of herself, something that must’ve made her feel so vulnerable to me, and I hadn’t a clue of what to say back. And then, something hit me. Something so seemingly small, and maybe it was, but I asked anyway. “Wait, what was her name?”
Dr. Travetti shook her head and shooed the question away with a lift of her hand. “I shouldn’t have—”