Surviving Emily

By Laurie Bellesheim

Abigail Hooper and Stephen Sparks had never heard of Sudden Unexplained Death in Epilepsy until one fatal morning in November when it crushed their hopes and dreams. Twelve years after the devastating loss of their dearest friend Emily, they find themselves still affected by the trauma.
Abigail, married and newly pregnant, helps others through her work for the Department of Children and Families. When a new client with epilepsy unexpectedly forces her to re-examine the past, Abigail realizes she’s the one who needs saving. Stephen has struggled emotionally, physically and spiritually after losing the love of his life, and the long-term effects of his grief have kept him from truly living and finding love again.
As the two search for redemption and the power to heal, their paths cross once again. Emily’s presence so long ago still has meaning in their own lives, teaching them the meaning of true friendship and what’s really important. Drawing on her own experience with a close friend with epilepsy who died, author Laurie Bellesheim raises awareness about the disease in this compelling tale told partially through flashbacks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laurie Bellesheim
• Release date: Jan 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465719461

Laurie Bellesheim

Laurie Bellesheim, a published poet, belongs to several writers’ organizations including Writer’s Digest, Authors Den and Goodreads.com. Laurie began writing at a young age, starting with poetry and short stories. In 2008, shortly after becoming a stay-at-home mother to three children, she decided to fulfill a dream of hers, and she began to write her first novel. Laurie was inspired to write Surviving Emily because she lost a close friend to Sudden Unexplained Death in Epilepsy (SUDEP) when she was a teenager. Not only does the story hold great meaning to her, but Laurie also hopes her novel will help raise awareness about epilepsy and the deadly condition of SUDEP. Before writing Surviving Emily, Laurie was a social worker for six years, including working with the Department of Children and Families. She graduated from Southern Connecticut State University with a bachelor’s degree in social work. She lives in Connecticut with her loving husband and three children.

Book preview

Prologue

It was the year 1990, the morning of November 11th. Abigail woke up to the sound of her alarm clock; she and Emily were scheduled to work early. But little did she know as she tossed back her covers and stepped outside her bedroom that morning what was waiting for her in the room across the hall. In the few steps she took, the dreams of her youth were destroyed, a friendship was shattered, and the life she knew took a whole new course.

With her heart pounding viciously in her chest, Abigail rushed down the stairs. She ran as fast as she could to the farthest end of the house to her mother’s bedroom. Her mother was already opening her door. At the sight of her, Abigail fell to her knees. A sudden ache for a breath and a tightening in her chest left her too weak to speak.

Her mother dug her fingers into Abigail’s arms as if attempting to lift her up. Abigail felt her mother’s fingers bruising her skin.

What is it? her mother shouted, nearly breaking into tears. Abby, what’s wrong? Worried Abigail had been gravely hurt; she pulled her daughter’s clenched hands apart.

It’s not me, Abigail cried out. It’s Emily! She looked at her mother helplessly, unable to find the words to explain.

It was enough to propel her mother down the hall and into the kitchen, where she grabbed the phone from the wall. A second later she was back in the hallway, pushing the portable phone into Abigail’s hand.

A distant voice asked, What is your emergency, please? but Abigail couldn’t answer right away. She was too busy listening to her mother run up the stairs, hearing her bare feet pound on each wooden step, waiting for her inevitable scream.

It’s my friend. My friend Emily is dead.

The house became filled with the sounds of the front door opening and closing and footsteps pounding up and down the hardwood stairs. From her perch in the bay window, Abigail saw a coroner pull into the driveway and watched a policeman on the front stoop pull on rubber gloves. A man carrying a camera brushed past her on his way through the living room. And as the static noise from the policemen’s radios pulsed inside her head, she began to wonder if any of what she was seeing was real. Other than the occasional policeman stopping to question her, she felt as if she was trespassing on the stage of a theatrical production that wasn’t meant for her to see. She felt like she was outside herself, watching the tragedy unfold.

More frighteningly, she knew that at any moment Emily’s father would come. He would waver through her door, the very same one the paramedics had torn through, and he’d want to see his daughter. Abigail heard the whispers of the policemen from where she sat by the window. Not only had they found Emily’s father, but they’d also heard about Stephen, Emily’s long-time boyfriend, who’d also been at her house the night before. Soon he’d come as well. She thought about how she’d face them, the two men who loved Emily most. How she would sit and watch their hearts shatter to pieces all over her living room floor as they were told. She couldn’t fathom such a moment and was terrified every time the front door opened.

A while later, still trying to process all that had happened, Abigail slipped away from the chaos and tiptoed back up the stairs. She’d been instructed not to go upstairs, but the desire to see Emily was too strong. She saw no harm; after all, it was her house. But as she approached the top step, she was confronted with another shock. Two men wearing rubber gloves rummaged through her bathroom. One sifted through her personal items while the other one examined her trash. She couldn’t imagine what they looked for but was too appalled to ask. It was an image she would not soon forget.

With her mouth gaping in disbelief, she turned towards Emily’s bedroom. Across the room another man knelt by the window. The blinds were torn down, and the morning sun was trickling in all around him, leaving small squares of light across the hardwood floor. Outside the window, red and orange leaves swirled in a cool November breeze as their long twisted branches cast distorted shadows across the eaves. Beneath the shadows, Emily’s lifeless, sheet-covered body lay on the bed, barely missing the path of the sun’s warm glow. The man was busy dusting the blinds for fingerprints; she recognized this from the legal drama series she sometimes watched on television. He didn’t seem to notice her standing there, nor did he seem to hear her. Abigail gasped as she felt like a thousand bee stings hit her, all at once. Emily had died, and not even the police understood why.

Final Report of Autopsy

Patient: Murray, Emily

Admitted: 11/11/90

Hospital: Trinity Memorial Hospital

Died: 11/11/90

Female: Caucasian: age 17

Autopsy: 11/12/90, 1530 hours

Case Summary: The deceased was a seventeen-year-old Caucasian female, only child born to Mr. and the late Mrs. Murray. Although described as a healthy teenager, father reported that his daughter had a history of a seizure disorder diagnosed in 1979 at the age of six. Her personal physician was prescribing her medications consisting of Zarontin and Depakote. No other health concerns were reported. Patient was pronounced dead on the morning of November 11, 1990, at 0730 hours. Paramedics report she was found unresponsive that morning by a friend whom she was temporarily residing with. Patient had been sleeping in a face down position; rigor mortis was evident at time of discovery.

Autopsy was performed on 11/12/90 at 1530 hours (approximately 32 hours postmortem). Significant findings include a normal-sized heart, no evidence of a pulmonary embolus, and no evidence of an intra-cranial hemorrhage, no microscopic evidence of cardiomyopathy, and a negative blood test for illegal drugs. Blood levels for Zarontin and Depakote were tested, and results came back negative. No traces of therapeutic medications for a seizure disorder were found. These autopsy findings do not point to a definitive cause of death, therefore this county coroner concludes the patient most likely died of a "sudden unexplained ventricular arrhythmia or possible Sudden Unexplained Death in Epilepsy (SUDEP).

Sudden Unexplained Death in Epilepsy: the sudden unexpected death of someone with epilepsy, but who was otherwise healthy, and for whom no other cause of death can be found.

Chapter One

April

Twelve Years Later

Abigail Hooper rubbed the steam from the bathroom mirror with her open hand. Long streaks smeared her reflection. The bathroom was still warm from her shower. As she looked in the mirror, the dark circles under her eyes were the first to become clear. She leaned closer to examine her face and frowned, seeing the fine lines developing around her eyes.

Three weeks earlier had been her thirtieth birthday. Her six-month wedding anniversary was the week after, and it had been less than 12 hours since she’d learned she was pregnant. When she’d awakened this morning, she’d felt her life was in crisis. But it hadn’t been so much the birthday thing or even the sudden unexpected pregnancy; it had been a dream that bothered her more. It had felt so tangible she’d had to sit and stare at her husband as he slept in bed for several minutes before she’d realized it wasn’t real. After a long, breathless moment, she’d understood it was a dream, another reenactment of her past. But even with this recognition and the comfort of morning light, she’d still felt shaken. After 12 long years, Emily was still invading her sleep.

Many had told her that time would be the cure, but all it had done was add an extra crease and another grey hair. It had done nothing to dull her mind or take away the impressions. Her recollections were still quite vivid and clear.

Abigail remembered very easily the year she’d been 17 and, more painfully, that November. It had been when her nightmares began.

As if it had been yesterday, she saw herself standing at the doorway to Emily’s bedroom, saw her mother sitting on the bed while she cradled Emily in her arms and whispered to her, asking her to please wake up. Abigail recalled Emily’s purple face, a stark contrast against her mother’s pale skin, as it had hung backwards from her limp body.

What happened? her mother had cried. Damn it, talk to me! What did you two do last night? Is it drugs? Her mother’s voice had been laced with anger and fear, and even now the thought of it made Abigail cringe.

She had been unable to answer. Her voice had become lost as she stood and stared at where the blood had pooled in Emily’s purple face, making it look as if she’d been beaten to death. No, time had not erased that at all.

Abigail turned her back to the mirror. She didn’t want to relive this nightmare any more. And she knew from experience that if she dwelled too long on these thoughts, the dreams would ultimately send her on a downward spiral.

Nick was waiting for her when she opened the bathroom door. He was wearing his brown leather jacket and holding his briefcase in his hand. His eyes twinkled with excitement, and Abigail knew he was still mulling over the news of their baby.

I can’t leave without my kiss, he said with a quirky grin. But before she had the chance to react, before the muscles in her face formed a smile, he saw the look. The same one that often worried him and made him wonder what she was thinking.

Abigail reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, knowing full well her towel would drop to the floor. After all, she still had to keep him enthralled. He was so tall she had to stand on her tippy toes to kiss him.

His free hand slid down the moist curve of her spine. Although he still found her extremely sexy, this morning he saw her only as the mother of his child. How’s my pregnant wife this morning?

Abigail let out a deep exaggerated exhale. Will you still love me when I’m throwing up and my ankles are swollen and my stomach is as big as a beach ball?

Nick laughed. Yes, Abby. I’ll still love you when you’re as big as a beach ball. He cupped his hand around her face and bent forward for another kiss. But I’m not so sure about the swollen ankles.

After a brief kiss, he pulled himself away. His smile created gentle creases in his cheeks. She admired how his face seemed to soften with age. Be careful out there today, he said. It’s not just you I have to worry about now.

Abigail wrapped herself in the towel and stood at the kitchen window as she watched him pull the car from the garage and gradually roll down the driveway. She touched her belly as she watched him. After a year of dating and a few months of marriage, she still felt insanely head over heels for him. Their courtship had been a whirlwind, and their leap into parenthood seemed to be happening just as fast.

He was not as taken aback by the news of their pregnancy as she was. From the moment they met, he was ready for a family — perhaps even before that. But she didn’t feel quite as prepared, at least not yet. She hadn’t expected this to happen so soon. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to bring a life into the world, a world that had been so unsparing and unjust in ripping life apart. What Nick said was right; it wouldn’t be just her to worry about any more. Having a baby meant she would once again be responsible for someone other than herself. She’d failed once before with Emily, so why would this time be any different? Did she really want that kind of complication right now? But something else nagged at her, too. And it wasn’t until after last night’s dream that it dawned on her what it was.

Abigail waved until he was out of sight. For Nick’s sake, she wanted to be more elated. She wanted to be the perfect wife and mother he had always hoped to find. After all, he deserved that much. But in all honesty, she wasn’t convinced she’d be able to successfully carry his baby. She questioned whether her body could even sustain it. How could it give life when a part of her had crawled up on the bed next to Emily and died right along with her back on that sweet November morning?

Chapter Two

Twenty miles away, Stephen Sparks flipped through a copy of the Connecticut Post. He stopped when he came across an advertisement from the Department of Children and Families, or DCF, that announced the date of their annual Heart Gallery. The Heart Gallery was a photo art display featuring the children and youth in state care who needed an adoptive family. Professional photographers volunteered to photograph each child, aiming to capture their pleading faces and winning smiles. The hope was that a family would come to the gallery and fall in love with one of the photos and inquire about adopting a child.

The ad made him think of Abigail. Stephen had heard through the grapevine that she’d moved back to Connecticut a few years ago and took a job for the DCF as a social worker. He’d also heard she had gotten married and was now living in Fairfield County in one of the region’s more affluent suburbs. Stephen wondered if she’d be at the gallery. He hadn’t seen her in almost a decade. He wondered if she still looked the same, if she would still be the girl he had known. A couple of times he had considered contacting her, then thought better of it.

Stephen, we need to leave soon. If our place is ever going to open up to the public, we better get working on it. Carolina stood facing him with her hands on her hips.

Stephen looked at his girlfriend over the top of the paper. She was just as beautiful as she’d been when he’d first met her at Paier College of Art four years ago. But lately he found her a bit annoying. She had gotten much more demanding, and her fuse seemed shorter. Stephen knew it had something to do with her expectation of a marriage proposal. Carolina had been giving him ultimatums for about a year. But when those moments came, he’d always managed to smooth things over and ultimately gain more time. His last approach at soothing her had been a promise to open their own art gallery. It was a big commitment that they both could enjoy.

Could I just have another ten minutes to finish reading my paper? He scowled behind the pages.

She shook her head in disgust. I have to work at the hospital tonight, and I still have to finish the sculpture I’m making for the gallery. If you don’t stop daydreaming, we’ll never get anything done.

Stephen folded his paper and set it aside. His thoughts of Abigail were quickly brushed away. Yes, dear. He dutifully stood and gave Carolina a kiss on the cheek. I’ll be ready in a minute.

Stephen unlocked the double red doors leading to the gallery. The building was an old renovated barn situated in the heart of the valley. He had gotten a good deal on it, since a friend of his knew the previous owner. Oak wood rafters crossed under the high roof, and beams of light came in through the tall windows. It was perfect and worth every penny of his inheritance. His parents, bless their souls, had him very late in life. And although they seemed more like German Nazis while he was growing up and were too old to do much with him in his teenage years, they did leave him all their money when they passed away. Yet he still couldn’t believe the barn was now his. A gallery was no longer a far-flung dream, it was reality.

Carolina did all of the marketing and reached out to other area artists who might be interested in displaying and selling their art. Stephen took on the project of building an office in the back of the barn. And together, he and Carolina had worked on a mural for the far back wall.

At first he’d thought something traditional would be best on the wall. Something subtle, possibly an ethereal light spreading over a New England landscape. But instead, a vision that had come to him one night ended up being what he chose to paint. He had dreamed of an enormous field, a distant place unharmed by man. It was overrun with tall sea-green grass and millions of wildflowers in an array of colors reaching up toward an endless sky. And as lovely as the field’s own natural beauty, the dream had included a young woman whose long wavy hair wafted in a gentle breeze. Her face had held the expression of tranquility, a look that had captivated him in his dream. A ring on her finger held a sparkle of light, but her golden eyes were what he remembered most, eyes that mirrored the sun. When he awoke from the dream, he’d known immediately that he had to paint it; the image would have stuck to him until he did. It wouldn’t be until months later, when the mural was finished, that he’d realize he had unconsciously painted Emily.

This is going to be great. Carolina stood on a ladder and held her paintbrush to the wall. She was in the process of painting cumulus clouds and a big bright sky. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this, she said. Soon we’ll be selling our own stuff! It’s like a dream come true. She was happy to see Stephen so motivated.

Stephen paused mid-stroke. I remember when I sold my first canvas. I sold it for 20 bucks and then bought groceries for the week. I never thought I’d end up painting professionally for a living.

Carolina shot him a look. How can you buy a week’s worth of groceries with $20?

It wasn’t easy. Stephen laughed at the memory and then took his brush and flicked it in her direction. A splash of paint landed in her hair. Those Doritos can really add up.

Hey! Without thinking twice she dipped her brush in the sky-blue paint and swung it at him. It splattered on his shirt.

Moments later their clothes dripped with paint, and she fell into his arms, laughing. With his hair completely sticky and his skin now multiple colors, he gave in and cried for mercy. Carolina tossed her brush to the floor and held her hands up, surrendering.

Something about the way she laughed and the way her auburn hair tickled his face ignited his passion for her. As the moment lulled, he locked his eyes on hers. He held them there, and she knew instantly what he wanted. Slowly he pulled her to the blanketed floor, and under the half-painted sky, he made love to her. When it was over, he pulled her close to his heart as it beat hard through his chest. She rested in the nook of his arm and listened to their breathing begin to slow, resuming back to normal.

In that moment of contentment, he looked up and admired the mural. Stephen studied the outlines of his sketches and the near completion of their painting. At last, he felt himself loosen.

You know, she said, breaking the silence, this place would be big enough to have a wedding in.

Jesus, Carolina! Not again! Letting her head drop, he quickly jolted to his feet. He reached for his jeans and yanked them on. She never gives up, he thought, not for one second.

His brusqueness shocked her. What? I’m not allowed to talk about it anymore? she shouted. We can live together, run a business together, have sex, but never get married? Is that it?

Stephen stared crossly at her, not knowing in that minute how to answer.

She grabbed her clothes and stood. I don’t get it. Why do you always do this?

Me? Stephen pulled back, baffled by her statement. Why do I always do this? He felt his ears start to turn hot. "Why do you always do this? You bring this up every time I think things are going good."

Then when would be the right time, Stephen? Carolina had to close her eyes. She was pushing back the tears. Opening them again, she saw Stephen looking away from her. It’s her, isn’t it? she said more calmly. She’s always with us. She’s right smack dab in the middle of this relationship and always has been. When will you ever let her go?

What the hell are you talking about? He couldn’t believe what she was saying. He looked at her with rage in his eyes.

A lump formed in her throat. She felt four years of devotion slipping through her fingers. Your girlfriend who died, she

Reviews for Surviving Emily

[david_m_b · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Young lives that are cut short is never an easy subject to write about. You can speculate forever about what might have been for those that have been lost. In Laurie Bellesheim’s Surviving Emily we have two narratives running concurrently of two people struggling to pick up the pieces following the death of someone who was a best friend and a lover respectively.The novel begins with the death of Emily from SUDEP (Sudden Unexplained Death in Epilepsy). Emily is staying with her best friend Abigail Hooper at the time. Twelve years on and Abigail is married and expecting a baby but unable to move on from what happened to Emily. Elsewhere, Stephen Sparks, Emily’s boyfriend, is in a new relationship but has not forgotten the love of his life who he had hoped to marry. As the story unfolds both Abigail and Stephen try to move on with their lives and minimise the impact their struggle has on those around them.As you will have guessed this is a very emotional story. Emily’s tragic death rips the hearts out of Abigail and Stephen. The three were once inseparable – Abigail and Emily almost identical – while Stephen had planned to marry Emily and always be with her. Abigail’s work with the Department for Children and Families leads her to taking on the case of Nancy and her child Marie. Nancy suffers with epilepsy and this becomes a pivotal moment for Abigail to face the past and try to move on from her grief. Abigail’s pregnancy is also a key part of the novel. Her baby is due in December but she dreads it being born early in November, the same month that Emily died.Stephen is in a long-term relationship with Carolina who works in the maternity ward at the local hospital. Though Stephen loves Carolina he cannot fully commit to her much to both his girlfriend’s and her parents’ horror. Stephen is an artist that has survived the aftermath of Emily’s passing when he turned to alcohol for solace and managed to push away the one person who truly understood his pain – Abigail. The question is can both Stephen and Abigail get their lives back on track? Will they be reunited?Of the two narratives I found myself more engaged by Stephen’s tale. Abigail’s story was moving and although the thread with Nancy and Marie was good and has a surprising turn, I felt the pregnancy hindered the story somewhat. Complications inevitably arise when Abigail reaches November and tragedy is just round the corner but then the story seems to be resolved with the click of a finger. It’s a good ending but I just felt it was a bit too easy. Stephen’s story has a resolution of sorts too but that still showed some fragility which I felt made that narrative better than Abigail’s. These are minor quibbles from what is still a good story.Surviving Emily is a tragic and emotional journey, the sad story of a girl who dies too young and of the two most important people in her life nearly destroyed by her death. Though aspects of Abigail’s narrative seemed a bit too simple and a little melodramatic for me, I still thought the book as a whole worked well and addresses a very serious issue in the dangers of epilepsy especially if it goes untreated.