The Gettysburg Zone Part 13

Paul looked like hell as he sat outside the examining room. His features were haggard and his chest seemed all caved in like someone had knocked the wind out of him. His clothes were wrinkled and dishevelled. Marjorie came back from the vending machine with two coffees, handing one to him. Richard had wisely opted to stay at home and pray. Paul took the coffee and sat up staighter to drink it. It was well past three in the morning.. The doctors were setting the broken leg and she'd be transfered to I.C.U. She had a couple of broken ribs and a lascerated kidney. As he suspected, she'd suffered multiple skull fractures and she hadn't woken up. She's been put on a respirator immediately, but no one could rule out the possiblility that she might never wake up. And, if she did there might be brain damage. So far the babies were fine, but that, too, was subject to change. Babies! She hadn't even had the chance to tell him she was carrying twins! They were startled out of their individual deep thoughts by a white coated doctor holding a silver clip board.
Paul got a case of the cold sweats. "She's..."
"Alive? Yes. The respirator is breathing for her for now. When her condition stabilizes a bit more, we'll take her off it and see if she can breathe on her own." The doctor didn't look real hopeful. "I think you need to come to grips with the facts. She might never breathe on her own."
"No!" Marjorie yelled and Paul put his hand on her shoulder. "You've got to do something!"
"We've done all we can do for now, Mrs. Hampton. All we can do is wait."
"Does she feel pain?" Paul asked.
"There's still a lot we don't know about the workings of the brain, Mr. Jefferson. But all research tells us that the senses still function on a subconscious level. Karen probably feels pain but can't respond to it. We do know that she can hear. So never say anything negative. If she thinks she's dying, it's quite possible that she will." He gave them a tired smile. "If you want to help her, talk to her about happy things. Stimulate special memories but...most of all, give her a reason to come back. A good place to start is the babies. They need their mother to come back."
Richard Hampton froze at the door to Karen's room. She was dwarfed by the machines, tubes and wires all around her. The steady hiss of the respiratior was intimidating. Marjorie shoved him in a little farther, reminding him that he'd done that to the only only touch of perfection in their lives and he had to help make it right. A nurse looked up from the chart in her hands and smiled at him. Not many people smiled at him anymore. She gently lifted his daughter's limp hand and took her pulse. She replaced it just as gently and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. He sat in it and stroked Karen's arm. There was another machine in the crowded room monitoring the vital signs of the twins she carried. No one even knew about that until...until she was brought to the hospital. He felt tears spill down his cheek and he was angry with himself. What right did he have to cry for her? He was the reason she was there! Did she hate him enough to run away from him back in June? The doctor's said that her senses were probably functioning on a subconscious level. Did she hate him now? Was hate even a sense? No. Hate was an emotion. And she didn't have emotions anymore. He carefully took her hand between his. A simple gold band shimmered in the muted hospital light. What in the world could he ever say to make her want to come back to this world...especially is he was a part of it?
"Karen, I'm so...so sorry. You can do this! There's nothing you can't accomplish!" He put her delicate hand to his lips. He saw her brow furrow and he carefully replaced her hand on the bed beside her. His own daughter didn't want him and she was in a coma! He ran from that room in tears!
Marjorie watched her husband run from the room like his britches were on fire. She'd been watching through the plate glass and she knew that Karen hadn't woken up and cussed her father out. Secretly she wished that it had happened just that way. But when she sat down in the chair that Richard had vacated, her heart fell. There's been no change in three days. The thought of a tube stuck into her daughter's air passages...even though it was keeping her alive...was heartwrenching. What was the point in keeping her alive? Then she remembered the babies and she absently rubbed her hand over Karen's stomach. But what about after they were delivered? How would they ever let her go? She thought about her mother's nursing books and remembered visits to nursing homes where young and old alike had existed in vegetative states. It wasn't living. When the plug was pulled they slipped quietly into the arms of God, right? Suddenly Marjorie Hampton felt anger. God couldn't have her yet! She wanted her daughter to live and raise her children! Raise them a damned sight better than Richard had allowed her to raise Karen!
Paul brought the biggest bouquet he could find and put it on the stand by her bed. Maybe she could smell them, even if she couldn't see them. They told him that there was swelling of the brain and no one seemed hopeful. They were keeping her alive so that the babies had a better chance of survival. He felt the lump threatening to close off his own windpipe. He had put those babies inside of her! Now he had to make the choice no husband ever wanted to do. He had to choose between his wife, lover and soulmate and his children! He'd thought about that for a long time. There would be other children. But would she ever forgive him for choosing her over their children? He couldn't let her go! He had too much to say to her. He hadn't even told her he loved her yet! Her head was bandaged to keep the bits of skull immobile. Her beautiful long blond hair had been carefully shaved off. Did you think this came from a bottle, she asked him as she stood in front of him offering him the two things she had to give that were irreplaceable: her virginity and her heart.
Two weeks had gone by since Karen's fall. Paul had called the group to meet in her hospital room. All seven were reunited again, but one didn't even know they were there. They had come to say their goodbyes to the one member of their group who had paid enough attention in American History to get them all through something that none could even tell their grandchildren about! No, Karen wouldn't be even allowed to pass away quietly. If she couldn't survive without the respirator she would be whisked away to surgery and the babies delivered. Paul and her parents just wanted to know what they had to look forward to. It wasn't that they wanted to rush the process. They just needed to know if she had a chance of coming back. Mike held Robin tightly. She had already told him that she didn't want to actually watch them pull the plug. She just wanted to bury her head in his shoulder and stay until it was over because she owed her friend that much. George had made a copy of the "ownership" papers Angus has forged for her and pressed the copy into her hand. Traci had brought an ankh symbol and laid it on the pillow next to Karen's head. If there was such a thing as an afterlife and reincarnation, she knew Karen would make certain that they met again...even if it was only to preach at her! Chris was the last to step up to the bed. He didn't have anything for her except his words that she was too big of a pain in the ass to let go now. Marjorie squeezed Paul's hand as they removed the respirator. Some prayed. Some meditated. All cried. But none expected Karen to survive. She did.
February was the shortest month in the year. Why did it seem to drag out so long? Without Marjorie Hampton to lean on Paul was certain that he would've lost it the night of the accident. He couldn't prove that he was married to Karen so he had no rights! He wanted to go down to the courthouse and pull the 1863 records and slam them down on the doctor's desk. But he seriously doubted that anyone would validate that and he couldn't help her if he was in a straight jacket. Karen's mother was a nice woman. If he didn't tell someone who didn't already know, he'd surely lose his mind. Maybe she could help him. The nurses showed him how to move Karen's arms and legs to keep her muscles from hardening or tiurning to mush or whatever muscles did. Sometimes Mrs. Hampton helped him. He had to get her helpwith some far more important!
"Mrs. Hampton?" Paul was rubbing Karen's feet just for something to do. "If I told you where we were and that we were married...but I couldn't prove it...what would you do?"
She kissed her daughter's forehead and sat down in the chair by the bed. "Try me."
"We were married on June thirtieth...1863."
"Karen said y'all weren't on drugs. You said 1863, Paul."
He took a deep breath and looked into Marjorie's eyes. "Karen nursed the casualties. I helped bury the dead. We saw Abraham Lincoln give his Gettysburg Address. Ask any one of us and you'll get the same story." he assured her. But he saw the look in her eyes. She thought he was nuts. Then he remembered the ownership papers! It was only a copy but it was a start! He opened the nightstand but it wasn't there. Tears overflowed his eyes. "Mrs. Hampton, I can't prove any of this. I might never be able to. But the God she believes in knows it's true!"
"What can I do, Paul?"
"Sign a notarized statement declaring me her husband. I want my kids legitimate!"



February 26th dawned cold and blustery. Paul sat straight up in his bed in the small apartment he rented on Buford Avenue. He was shivering from the cold sweat that trickled over his bare skin. He forced himself out of bed and was brushing his teeth when the phone rang. He picked it up and hesitantly put it to his ear. He heard Marjorie hampton's shakey voice and his heart sank. "What's wrong?" He sat down on the bed.
"She's leaving us, Paul."
"What?!?" Already he was tugging on his pants. "She was fine..."
"They want to do an emergency C-section. It's your call." She heard the phone line go dead and she knew that he was on his way to meet her at the hospital.
They entered the room at the same time. The respirator was back. Karen's blood pressure had started dropping in the middle of the night. She wasn't responding to any of the medicine deemed safe for the unborn babies. They were two months shy of full term but they seemed strong. No one would know forsure until they were delivered, but Karen was dying. If they okayed the C-section, Karen could still die but her chances did improve a little. Marjorie prayed. Paul carefully crawled into the tiny bed with her and cradled her damaged head against his chest. He told her that he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do without her. He would love the twins because they were a part of both of them, the consummation of a love he wasn't ready for and was just as unready to let go of. He watched Marjorie extract a homemade cassette from her purse. She swiped tears with the back of her hand as she placed it in the recorder on the nightstand. Paul hadn't even noticed it. She must've stayed up all night going over songs that she thought fit Karen and some that might help her come back. She moved the chair to the opposite side of the bed and gripped her daughter's hand. The first song was "Wild One" by Faith Hill. Paul looked down at he serene features of his wife and lover. She definitely had an angels' face. "The Way That You Love Me" by Paula Abdul. That fit, too, because she wasn't a material type of person. Then came "Father Figure" by George Michael followed by "I Want Your Sex".
"Mrs. Hampton I didn't want this to happen!" he exclaimed as that song started.
"It did. And call me Margie." Her voice held no judgement.
"I didn't want to pop...uh...I didn't want to be her first!"
His revelation made her smile. Chip Jackson lost a hell of a lot in that coatroom. Her daughter wasn't a cheerleader. She had more intellectual aspirations. Karen knew how to think and she didn't need to think with anything but her brain. Too bad Chip hadn't learned that. Paula Abdul began "Opposites Attract" and it fit Paul and Karen so well. No, he didn't smoke, but he probably stole the covers. "So...she was a virgin."
Paul blushed through his tears. "Yeah. She wanted me and I..."
She giggled. "You took it."
"She stepped out of her jeans and...and it's still a blur."
She laughed harder. "She stepped out of her jeans? You didn't take them off?" Well, maybe it wasn't her brain she was thinking with that night.
Paul was uncomfortable. "Mrs. Hampton....Margie...I was so mad when I found out that she was ch-...uh...a virgin."
"But you didn't stop?"
"I'd already gone too far and I couldn't give it back." He saw her tears from laughter and he laughed, too. "You're like her. You're enjoying this too much."
"She hears us. She's enjoying it, too." The next three songs were Paula Abdul's: "State Of Attraction", "I Need You" and "Forever Your Girl"."She didn't tell you that she'd never...made love?"
"No! I would've never!"
"Never?"
"Well, since we seem to be playing truth or dare...one sided as it may be...I gave up on having sex with Karen. She pulled away so many times. But part of me didn't want to stop seeing her. She was...she is a lady. She can cuss like a sailor when she's mad but..."
Marjorie interjected. "My Karen can cuss?"
"Only when she's mad...or when she thinks it'll get my attention. Never the Lord's name in vain. Her faith is way too strong."
"But the flesh is weak."
He kissed Karen's cheek. "You raised her fine. She got me into God. But she had needs and...damn! She was in love with me and I was too blind to see it because her love was the purest I've ever seen. Not like my folks. If we had been able to come home that night..." he stopped.
She put her head down for a few seconds. When she looked up, tears glistened even more on her cheeks. "Have I Got A Deal For You" finished and "Just A Little Love" by Reba McEntire started. "Richard would've had a fit. I would've been upset. But she loves you, Paul. You do love her, don't you?"
His tears speeded up as he kissed Karen's cheek. "More than life itself...but I never told her that. Reba's right. She does bring a touch of perfection, doesn't she?"
"Always has, Paul." They listened to the music in silence for awhile. The last two songs were more Paula Abdul. "Next To You" and "Straight Up". She listened as Paul sang the latter to Karen. She heard the stomp of heavy footsteps. Richard Hamptom came through the doors only to stop cold at the sight of Paul Jefferson in his daughter's hospital bed with her. Marjorie ushered him outside before he could say anything.
"What is he doing?!?"
"Karen's dying, Richard. They have to take the babies or they die, too." She wanted to tell him more but doctors and nurses came barreling down the hall straight for Karen's room.
Paul came out, shaking and crying. He accepted Marjorie's arms of support but he glared at her husband. "She flatlined. I've gotta go get scrub up to watch our kids be delivered. Stay...please?"
There was never any doubt that Marjorie would stay, but the fact that Paul wanted her there was a great compliment. She sat in the waiting area with Richard in silence. She didn't have much to say to him these days. Suddenly the thought occured to her that Karen wouldn't want her death to tear her parents apart. Richard looked terrible. She knew that he slept very little. The dark circles relayed that to anyone out of the loop. He hadn't shaved in two or three days. His eyes were red rimmed. She reached over and took his hand. "She doesn't blame you, Richard."
He sniffled. "How do you know? She never regained consciousness."
"I know Karen. She loves you, Richard. She always has. That's why she's always tried so hard to be the best she could be for you. She's in love and she's about to be a mother, but...but deep inside she's still her daddy's little girl."
He swallowed hard but he couldn't keep the tears at bay. "Even when she's about to die? This is such a failure!"
Marjorie let go of his hand, feeling anger at what she thought was going to be another one of his Biblical tirades against Karen. "Don't start, Richard. Not now! Karen didn't fail."
"No...she didn't. I did."
It was cold in the operating room. Something about keeping down germs. The antiseptic smell assaulted his nostrils even through the surgical mask. He couldn't watch them cut into her. Wasn't very good with blood. Saw enough of it at the Battle of Gettysburg. It didn't seem like any time at all until the room was filled with the lusty cries of a newborn. It was a girl. The nurse took her away and did whatever they did to newborns. The room was tense. He looked over the drape. The doctor was working on the second baby, a boy. There was no cry for a long time. He didn't like the look in the doctors eyes. When the cry finally came it was very weak. He felt sick and numb as the doctor explained that his son's lungs weren't developed enough. Of course everything possible was being done, but it didn't look good. Then they hurried him out of the room. They were going to suture her up and then drill into her skull to relieve the pressure and stop the bleeding. That didn't look good either. His whole world was crashing down around his ears and there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it!
Paul slammed out of the operating room and strode down the hall toward the waiting room where the Hamptons waited for him. Damn! They were sitting there so innocent and he was gonna knock the props right out from under them! Suddenly he was beating the wall over and over again, oblivious to the pain or the blood running down his wrists. Marjorie grabbed his shoulders and he slid to the floor, coming to rest on his knees. Helooked up at Richard. Part of him hated the man for what happened but Paul hated himself for what he was about to say to him. "Go to the nursery. Go now! Baptize my son before he dies. There's not much time."



Richard Hampton had never felt so alone and hurt in his life as when he baptized his grandson and watched him slip away. Karen had been born at seven and a half months but she was a real fighter. His granddaughter didn't have her mother's coloring but she seemed to have her spirit. If Karen died now it would be his fault just like he thought it was his fault that his grandson didn't live. But if she survived, she would go through life with the pain of knowing what he'd done to her and the son she never even got to hold. She couldn't forgive him. He knew that. He couldn't even forgive herself. Marjorie looked at him differently from those days when they were first married. When she went into premature labor with Karen there was no obvious reason for it. But they had prayed and held each other and Karen had been born with nothing worse than a case of jaundice and the anemia that would follow her all of her life. God had listened. Why hadn't he listened to God? Why was it so important to control the only child he would have and, worse, why had he used God to do it? Was that why things were going so badly? No! He was doing it again! This wasn't about him! It was about his little girl and her child and the loss of her child. He needed to go to God on her behalf for once. He didn't wait for the chapel. As soon as he stepped outside of the nursery he hit his knees in prayer. He always knew that no one could bargain with God. Or at least they shouldn't. He knew what most people did. God, give me what I ask for and I'll go to church every Sunday, I'll be a better person, etc., etc.. Somehow the prayer gets answered and they might keep their end of the bargain for awhile, but it usually fizzled. But this was his daughter! He couldn't not bargain with God...with the only thing he had to offer: letting go.
"Dear God, I've been so wrong. I admit it. I ask your forgiveness and hers. I promise that I will try my best to let go and let her grow. I'll give her the right to choose her paths in life. I messed up and I know that my grandson is in your arms, but it's going to hurt my baby girl so much. Help me to win her forgiveness and her trust again. And make me a better father and grandfather. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen" He got up and looked into the nursery at his granddaughter. Could he ever make things right? With his daughter or his wife? He didn't ask God's intervention on the latter because he felt that his wife would eventually come around if their daughter survived. When she survived. He had to believe that his daughter would live.



Paul left the hospital in a daze. He was walking but he had no idea of where he was going. He'd left his jacket in Karen's hospital room. She was in recovery but all of the optimism was frozen in time. It was fifty fifty. Hell! He might as well flip a freakin' coin! If he walked out of the hospital she could be gone when he got back. If he didn't, he would have a breakdown. His son was in the morgue. His wife was in critical condition. His daughter was the only bright spot because she she was fighting like hell and the odds were that she would survive. For that he was grateful. He truly was. But the rest of it was making him question everything Karen had tried so hard to burn into his brain. And it was starting to take root before the accident. Now he didn't know what he believed or if he believed. He needed time away from the sound of respirators and dropping trays and crash carts! He needed some time to gather his thoughts and try to get back wahat she gave him before he lost it all. He needed a sign of some kind and he couldn't focus in the hospital. He wasn't sure that he could pray to a God who could do all of this, but he knew it would offend her in every way possible if he didn't try. No, she showed no sign of knowing anything. She wasn't brain dead...yet..and she might not ever be that severe. But in his heart he knew that she would know if he lost his way over her. And if she did slip away, she would probably haunt him forever. Damn! He'd seen the past. He knew anything was possible. Her haunting him wouldn't be that unpleasant but he wanted her to get to those pearly gates or whatever there was at the end of life. Heaven?
Did he believe in that? Then he remembered yet again that it wasn't what he believed. What mattered was what she believed.
He couldn't make the arrangements for his son's funeral. Marjorie had hugged him tightly and assured him that she would take care of everything. He'd named him Scott for Angus but he didn't have a middle name. Marjorie Hampton was such a treasure. Paul knew that her heart was breaking, too. If Karen didn't make it, he was afraid it would kill his mother-in-law. He looked around to see where he was when something in the window of what he'd always referred to a junk shop caught his eye. It was an old cradle. You could tell that the person who made it had been a craftsman. It was hand carved with beautiful dove tail joints. He remembered that from wood shop back in high school. But it wasn't the scrollwork or the dovetails that made him go into the Antique shop on Chambersburg Street. It was the name lovingly carved into the headboard: JEFFERSON. The lady told him that she didn't know the name of the artisan, but she did know that it had been found in the attic of a house out on the Taneytown Road. part of the house had burned In the mid seventies, the park service bought it and contracted somebody to tear it down. There was a letter that was found with it. The wax seal was still intact. The scrawl on the envelope made shivers run up and down his spine like ants at a picnic. It was a first and last name and Paul remembered the hand-writing far too well. The name was oh so familiar, too. Karen Jefferson! He didn't even question the price of three hundred dollars but the lady that owned the shop knocked fifty bucks off the price when she saw the name Jefferson on the check her gave her. He walked back his car and drove to the shop to pick up the cradle. After placing it and the letter in the living room of his Buford Avenue apartment, he drove back to the hospital tosit with his wife.
Karen had been back in her room for about an hour by the time he got back. The respirator sat quiet in the corner of the room, ready to be put into service at a moment's notice. The fact she wasn't hooked up to it at that minute had to be a good thing, right? It seemed odd to see her not pregnant. They should've gone to chikdbirth classes. He'd heard that women cussed out their husbands in delivery. Fate took that away from her just like it took their son. The bright white bandage around her head made her look deathly pale. She wouldn't be happy about being bald but he knew they'd shaved her head. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and rested his head on the bed. He told her about the cradle and the letter. He told her how beautiful their daughter was. He'd named her Heather Anne, after the Scottish heather of Angus's homeland. No, she didn't have blond hair, but she did have a lot of dark fuzz. Tears started to flow and they wouldn't stop! He didn't mention the loss of their son. The doctors were always stressing how important it was to stay positive when talking to her! There was so much they had to say to each other. So much they had to do! She couldn't leave him! How would he raise their daughter? How would he know what to say when she got her first period? Or worse...what would he say if she was sixteen and missed one? Who was going to stop him from stomping the shit out of the first guy that kept her out five seconds after curfew? He was babbling and he didin't care!
"Why didn't I tell you how much I love you? That you are the one bright spot in my life?" He didn't even realize that he was raising his voice because he was too angry with himself.
A gentle hand stroked the back of his neck. The voice was soft and a little weak. "Maybe because I already knew. Maybe you showed me with everything you did and every effort you made. And because I don't think I could love anyone who didn't love me in return. And I love you."
His head shot up and his eyes locked onto the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen and didn't think he'd ever see again. "Honey! You're back!"
"Never left. You're no Paula Abdul...straight up. But I am forever your girl. You know that, right?"
"I think I knew it from day one, baby! You heard that?"
"Yeah. Oh, yeah! You won't soon forget that, darling."
He wiped tears from his eyes and pressed her hand to his cheek. "You can make fun of me 24/7 as long as you don't leave me again!"
She motioned for some ice, fearing that water might not stay down. The ice wet her parched throat sufficiently. "Our daughter better not miss a period until she's married...or I'll kill him!"
Paul saw the sparkle of blue fire in her eyes and believed that she meant every word. "Easy, babe! You need to stay calm," he joked. "The world is waiting."
She crunched a little more ice. "For what?"
"The white light. You know...you flatlined. Didn't you see anyone telling you to go back?"
She didn't want to think about any of that. There was one thing in the back of her mind but she made herself believe that it wasn't real. "No. Nothing. My grandparents on both sides are living. No relatives to turn me away. No white lights." She shivered because she wasn't a very good liar. "I guess I wasn't as close as everybody thought."
"You sure scared the hell...uh...the heck out of us."
"Did my mom look at you weird when you told her about 1863?" she asked softly.
Paul laughed. "Like they were coming to get me any minute! You heard that, too?"
She nodded. "All of it. Did you have to tell her that I took off my jeans first? That's my mother!"
"I wanted her to know the truth."
"Did she really need to know that I seduced you?" she asked as she raised the head of her bead just a little.
"She needed to know that you were a virgin and that I'm gonna be your last." He could tell by her eyes that she wasn't quite convinced. "What you did wasn't wrong, baby. I was too blind..,"
She put her finger to his lips. "If I wanted you to know, I would've told you straight out. I came out of one bad relationship and I wasn't ready for what I felt for you. I thought we could just be physical and I would go off to college and sort everything out. I didn't get the chance."
"And now?" he asked, truly afraid of her answer.
"You're not gettin' rid of me, Mr. Jefferson. We were married in the eyes of God. But you'd better kiss me right now before I change my mind!"
He felt reborn in that kiss. He would never again go a day without letting her know in some way that he loved her. "Lady, I love you so much!" He saw her brows furrow and he could tell she was in pain. "Karen, what's wrong?"
She put her left hand to her forehead. "That had to have been a hangover!"
"Huh? You lost me."
"At Angus's. My head is killing me now. It didn't hurt near that much at Angus's. What happened to my head this time? I remember...very damned little."
"You have a skull fracture. Actually several. But let's talk about that later. It'll only upset you." He saw a glimmer begin in her eyes. He'd seen fear, anger, laughter and raw sexiness in her eyes. But he'd never seen them grow cold and hard before. It was frightening. She was remembering on her own and it was really pissing her off! "Karen, baby, it was an accident! I was angry at first but I replayed it in my head."
"If he just hadn't put his hands on me..."
"I-I should call a doctor or something!"
She shook her head and grimaced at the pain it caused. "Not yet. Heather is...okay?"
He knew what was coming. "Yeah, but the boy didn't make it. I named him Scott. His lungs didn't work. It could've been because of the fever and the pnuemonia. The funeral's tomorrow."
She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Her head hurt and now her heart did, too. "I think you'd better get that doctor now."