He Asked for My Heart

Chapter 3

The cabin door of the medical charter flight opened.

The cabin had been heavily modified.

An extracorporeal life support machine was secured in the center, its screen flashing with data.

Beside the equipment was the only shock-absorbing monitoring seat.

For the past three years, that seat had belonged to me.

Today, Theresa Vance lay there. Tubes and lines were connected to her chest, running one by one beneath her collarbone.

I was assigned to a standard seat in the rear cabin.

The plane took off.

The sudden sensation of weightlessness rushed up my throat.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, rushed into the restroom, and leaned against the metal counter to dry-heave.

There was nothing but stomach acid.

Julian walked into the rear cabin.

He didn't say a word.

He pressed his fingers against the pulse on my wrist.

His thumb lingered over my wrist bone for an extra beat.

He pulled a silver mechanical pocket watch from his pocket.

His hand paused for a fraction of a second before he pressed it into my right hand.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

"Listen to it and take deep breaths."

An electronic alarm sounded from the front cabin. He let go of my wrist and stood up.

"I'll be back as soon as I handle this."

The door to the rear cabin closed behind him.

I sat on the floor.

My palm cradled the pocket watch. The metal was very cold, but my body heat slowly transferred to it, gradually warming the back cover.

The ticking sound vibrated through my skin. My breathing actually began to slow down.

For the past three years, during every sleepless night, I had fallen asleep clutching this watch.

He had never asked for it back. I had thought it was a gift for me.

I flipped the pocket watch over.

The silver back cover was heavily worn. In the center, a line of small words was engraved.

It was a date.

The day Theresa Vance was diagnosed.

My fingers closed the back cover. Opened it. Closed it again.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Half an hour later, the alarm in the front cabin stopped.

Julian pushed open the cabin door and walked back.

I leaned back against my seat. He glanced at me but said nothing.

The plane landed.

An ambulance was waiting on the tarmac. Medical staff wheeled Theresa onto the vehicle.

Julian followed them inside, connecting the onboard monitor.

A nurse ran to the back of the ambulance with a registration form.

"Mr. Foster, we need your signature for the emergency contact."

He took the pen and signed his name on Theresa's chart. The nurse flipped to the second page.

"What about Ms. Jennings' emergency contact?"

The tip of Julian's pen hovered over the paper. The ink bled into a small dot.

He didn't look up.

"Have Mark sign it."

Mark wrote his name at the bottom of the form. In the emergency contact relationship column, he wrote: Foster Group Medical Assistant.

I watched him write it out, stroke by stroke. The ink dried, and the page was flipped over.

I opened the back door of the ambulance and stepped down.

Mark reached out to stop me. "Ms. Jennings, where are you going?"

"Back to the hotel."

"Mr. Foster gave strict instructions that you must be admitted for monitoring immediately."

"I said, I'm going back to the hotel."

Julian Foster got out of the car. He stood on the steps at the back of the vehicle, making no move to come over.

"Claire."

Just those two words, spoken in a very low voice.

My feet felt nailed to the ground.

The wind completely died down.

The roar of the engines on the tarmac faded into the distance. My shoulders slumped.

My fingers uncurled, only to clench into a tight fist again.

There were no footsteps behind me.

The monitor inside the vehicle kept beeping, one steady tone after another. He couldn't leave her side.

I lifted my foot and walked forward.

The pocket watch was still clutched in my hand.

I walked over to the concrete barrier by the runway and placed it on top.

The metal made a soft clink against the concrete.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

I kept walking. Ten steps. Twenty steps. The ticking grew fainter.

But I could still hear it.

I kept going until I turned the corner of the wall.

Finally, it was gone.

I left.