Capitol Reflections Read Free Page B

louder.
    That can’t be good , Marci thought. Not good at all .
    It wasn’t. Marci felt a sharp pain in her chest as her heart started beating more rapidly than it had ever beaten in her life. She thought the sensation might be similar to what a hummingbird felt as its wings fluttered faster than the human eye could possibly detect. The bird’s heartbeat, she recalled, was also incredibly fast, and she closed her eyes as her own heart hammered against her ribcage. She sensed more activity around her, doctors and nurses speaking in rapid-fire, staccato jargon.
    “Hi,” said a familiar voice.
    “Hi, Gwen,” said Marci, not opening her eyes. Her heart rate slowed a little when she heard the voice of her old friend.
    An argument followed, during which the medical team told Gwen she needed to leave the room, and Gwen informed them that she was a physician and a friend summoned to the hospital twenty minutes earlier.
    “Gwen?” said Marci, opening her eyes.
    “Yes, honey. I’m still here.” Gwen leaned directly over the gurney so Marci could see her face.
    “I love you.”
    The two women looked at each other, Gwen’s hand wrapped around Marci’s small, pale fingers.
    “I love you, too.”
    “Ond … dee,” said Marci.
    “What did you say, honey?”
    “Ondee,” Marci whispered again.
    “ Ondine ?” Gwen said, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “Your favorite ballet. We’ll see it again soon.”
    Marci tilted her head slightly, and for a brief moment her focus seemed sharper as she stared directly at Gwen. “Ondee,” she repeated.
    Gwen shook her head. “I understand.”
    Gwen’s eyes were filling with tears. Ondine was about a water sprite. Marci had always loved the tragic ballet. Perhaps it was her love of the ocean. Perhaps Marci identified with Ondine’s inability to find love. Either way, she had listened to its sad pas de deux over and over again.
    Suddenly Marci’s entire body went rigid. The beeping sound was replaced by a steady whine, terrifying to anyone who knew its significance.
    She was flatlining.
    At the beach, a hummingbird was carried far out to sea by a strong wind.
    A new adventure , the little bird thought. A brand new adventure .
    And then the bird was gone.

3
     
    An attendant led Gwen and Jack through a maze of corridors to a small, carpeted room with a sofa and three chairs. A stately picture of the Hudson Valley hung over the sofa, and a standard-issue ficus plant rose in the corner, giving the room a bit of color in contrast to the sterile surroundings of the hospital. Gwen was stunned she could even notice this, stunned that the world had any detail for her at all at the moment. Marci was gone. Inexplicably gone.
    “What the hell just happened?” Gwen asked, sitting on the sofa.
    Jack Maulder, tall and broad-chested, pulled his wife close. He didn’t say a word and Gwen didn’t expect him to. He gave her what she needed just then—a place to cry for the conceivable future.
    “I can’t believe it,” she said when she’d regained a modicum of composure. “This isn’t possible.”
    “She literally worked herself to death,” Jack commented sympathetically. “You warned her for years to slow down, but Marci couldn’t resist the adrenaline rush of a high-powered career.”
    “Yeah, but she was pretty healthy, Jack, all things considered.”
    “People die unexpectedly every day even if they don’t lead stressful lives.”
    Wiping away fresh tears, Gwen ran her fingers through her hair. “I know, I know, I know,” she said with exasperation in her voice. “But I knew Marci, and … well … this shouldn’t have happened.”
    “What are you suggesting?”
    “I don’t know what I’m suggesting, but people don’t die of seizures. Not the first time, when they’re in the prime of life.”
    “Sometimes they do, honey.”
    There were exceptions to everything. Gwen knew that. But the exceptions were extremely rare. It was virtually impossible to believe