The Sunflower: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

joules. Clear.”
    The body jumped. For a moment the heartbeat returned, but no one rejoiced this time. It almost immediately began to fall.
    “Hold,” Paul said. “Hold, hold.” The monitor started beeping. Paul looked around the room. “Anyone have any ideas?
    No one answered.
    “Come on, Kell, one more time two-tenths milligram epi IV.”
    She again injected the IV. “Done.”
    “Ken, charge to forty joules. Clear.”
    The body jumped. This time the monitor did not move but continued to bleep.
    “Again,” Paul said angrily. “Charge to sixty joules. Clear.”
    The little body bounced nearly a foot high but to no effect.
    “Nothing!” Paul shouted. The monitor beeped. “Again. Charge to sixty joules. Clear.”
    Again the body jumped. Again the monitor showed nothing. To continue shocking the boy seemed cruel. For a moment they all stood silently as the room’s hyperactivity dissolved into the lethargy of defeat. After a moment Kelly touched his shoulder. “Shall I call code, Doctor?”
    Paul didn’t move.
    “Doctor?”
    He covered his eyes with his hand and breathed in and out deeply. “How long has it been?”
    Kelly glanced at her watch. “Thirty-seven minutes.”
    Paul looked up at the boy’s perfect, peaceful face, then over at the small toy soldier lying on the tray. His voice cracked. “Call the code.”
    Kelly said softly, “Sixteen forty-two, patient expired.”
    Paul stood there, frozen.
    Marci stepped into the room behind Kelly. “Doctor, the man’s wife and children are waiting to hear from you.”
    Paul continued to stare at the boy as if he hadn’t heard her. Then he said, “I need a minute.”
    As everyone watched, Paul walked over to the corner of the room and sat down on the black vinyl-capped stool, laying his face in his hands. Then his body started to tremble. He began to cry.
    Kelly’s eyes began to water and she brushed tears back from her cheek. “You did everything possible,” she said. “It was in God’s hands.”
    A moment later, echoing down the hall came the cry of a woman looking for her child.

Chapter
Three
    Hope grabs on to whatever floats.
    PAUL COOK’S DIARY

    FOUR YEARS LATER, OCTOBER 22, 2003
    DAYTON, OHIO
    Christine Hollister placed the veil over her auburn hair and looked at herself in the hallway mirror. Beneath the ivory veil she wore gray sweatpants and an oversized University of Dayton sweatshirt, the combination as incongruous as a butterfly in winter. In just seven more days she would wear the veil for real. The thought simultaneously thrilled and stressed her. There was still so much to do before the wedding.
    She laid the veil on the kitchen counter and picked up her wedding planning notebook. The binder was neatly categorized, alphabetized and indexed, pockets bulging with articles and pictures cut from bridal magazines, and notes and business cards.
    She leafed through the book, stopping occasionally on pages not yet crossed out. The caterer was set—almost—still needed a deposit. And they needed to order more éclairs. Mom promised she’d take care of that. Better call and remind her.
    The videographer had left a message about music. Nothing with vocals, she thought. Piano would be nice. Rachmaninoff, what was it? From that Jane Seymour–Christopher Reeve movie. She wrote a note to herself in the page’s margin.
    Flowers. No roses. She hated roses. Her wedding bouquet was made of red sunflowers and daisies, as were the centerpieces at the guest tables. The cake, satin white with three tiers, was also decorated with fresh sunflowers. Even their wedding announcements had not escaped the flower’s presence: parchment with ivory vellum over sheets watermarked with sunflowers. No one could doubt she loved sunflowers.
    She stopped at a picture of the bridesmaids’ dresses cut from Modern Bride. Dark navy, satin, A-line silhouette, middle-of-the-calf hemlines. She drew a line through the page. Her maid-of-honor had finally picked up her dress,