Page 131 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Forty-Six

I consider myself a patient person. Today, I’m far from it. After not hearing from either of the Marshall brothers by ten a.m., I start making calls.

I leave three messages on Ben’s mobile, and send two texts to Sam. I google hospitals within a thirty-kilometre radius of Sam’s place, and start dialling. Much to my annoyance, no one will give out patient details unless I’m a family member.

Just after eleven, my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognise but I answer it anyway. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s Ben.”

Thank God.“I’ve been sweating on your call,” I say on an exhale.

“I’m sorry. It’s been hectic here, and my phone died.”

Bloody technology. “How is he?”

“I’ll be honest—He has some fluid in his lungs, maybe from spending too much time on his back while he’s been sick. It’s possible he could have pneumonia.”

What?“Pneumonia?” I squeak. “I thought only old people got that.”

“Yeah, well his immune system is struggling to fight it, but we’re looking at other forms of treatment because of the GBS.”

I clench my teeth as my heart aches for Sam. He’s faced so many battles since he was diagnosed with GBS, and a simple cold has flattened him. “Do you want me to come up there? I can leave work early?”

“I’d hate for you to drop everything and by the time you get here have him be on the mend. They expect that within twenty-four hours he’ll be feeling better. If there are any changes, I’ll let you know.” Ben sighs. “I’m heading home shortly to get some clothes and stuff, and I’ll grab my charger so you can reach me.”

“Which hospital are you at?”

“Nepean. It’s not far from our place.”

“Okay.”What do I do here? Do I leave work and drive up there?

“You still there, Jane?” Ben asks.

“Um, yeah, sorry. Just working out what to do.”

“Sit tight, okay? I’ll give you a call in the morning. I’m sure he’ll be on his way to being his usually pain-in-the-arse-self by then.”’

I chuckle softly, but it’s short-lived. “Okay. Tell him I love him, ’kay?”

“No probs.”

“Actually, no. Scratch that. Tell him he’s my everything.”

Ben clears his throat. “Will do.”

***

The rest of my workday is spent organising stock for another scrapbooking session, and searching for recipes for another cooking class. When I’m ready to go home, I update Kathleen on Sam’s status. She’s understanding as always, and says if I need to take leave, she can cover our planned activities and will take on Butch as a temporary houseguest. It goes without saying that I adore my boss.

I spend the evening at my laptop, writing. My fingers plug away at the keyboard as I describe the reunion between Sam and Ed, and our visit to the falls. Occasionally happy tears blur my vision when I think about how far Sam has come, how each day he opened up to me, revealing his life before GBS and giving me more pieces of the Sam Marshall puzzle.

At eleven o’clock that night, I call Ben. As it rings, I wonder when he’s getting sleep. Is he camping at the hospital or going home for a few hours of shut-eye when he can? Maybe I should go up there and we can take shifts. That way someone is always with Sam.

“Hey, Jane,” he croaks. There’s a little background noise, but not as much as earlier today.

“Hi, Ben. Are you at the hospital?”

“Yeah, still here.”

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