Holding On To Hope

By Lisa Mercado-Fernandez

In a hospital waiting room Nicholas Garrett paces. Just a day ago his life was filled with joy and excitement as he and his wife, Hope, anticipated the birth of their twins. With hopes and dreams they restored their newly purchased dream house and plan for their future. Due to complications during delivery, Nick is suddenly separated from Hope who begins to seizure while his twins are taken to a neonatal until. Unable to understand what happened or why his wife is suddenly in a coma , Nick struggles to meet his children without the love of his life by his side.
With only a few weeks before Christmas, Nick questions his beliefs and searches for answers to his past in order to prepare himself for the possibility of having to raise his twins alone. In those few days Nick attempts to find the meaning of Faith in order to cope with the unthinkable and all he can do is hold on to hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543970968

Book preview

HOLDING ONTO HOPE

©2019 Lisa Mercado-Fernandez

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN (Hardcover Edition): 978-1-54397-095-1

ISBN (eBook Edition): 978-1-54397-096-8

This book is dedicated to my dearest friend Br. John Maginzini, OFM. You are a mentor, a best friend, a brother and a true example of a Franciscan in every way. I am blessed to know you and I am a better person because I have had you in my life. You are family. Also to St. Anthony’s Shrine in Boston and all the Franciscan friars, like Br. John and Br. Greg Day, who work so hard to do the work of St. Francis and of God. To all the Franciscans who have touched my life and my family's life over the years. St Anthony’s Shrine’s ministries give to the poor with love what the rich can get for money. Stanthonyshrine.org

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1: Day One Frost

Chapter 2: Hopeless

Chapter 3: Date

Chapter 4: Answers

Chapter 5: Beach Party

Chapter 6: Harvest Day

Chapter 7: Hope’s Father

Chapter 8: Fireflies

Chapter 9: Christmas Party

Chapter 10: Day Two

Chapter 11: Day Three

Chapter 12: Day Four

Chapter 13: Day Five

Chapter 14: The Proposal

Chapter 15: The Pact

Chapter 16: The Stoop

Chapter 17: The Stroke

Chapter 18: Trust

Chapter 19: Wedding Day

Chapter 20: Day Six

Chapter 21: Day Seven

Chapter 22: Days Eight & Nine

Chapter 23: Dinner Alfresco

Chapter 24: The House

Chapter 25: Bob

Chapter 26: Parenting

Chapter 27: Radon

Chapter 28: Sparrow

Chapter 29: Anniversary

Chapter 30: Day Ten

Chapter 31: Day Eleven

Chapter 32: Day Twelve

Chapter 33: Barbecue

Chapter 34: The Barn

Chapter 35: The Garden

Chapter 36: Monsignor

Chapter 37: 2nd Big Fight

Chapter 38: Myra

Chapter 39: Funeral

Chapter 40: Day Thirteen

Chapter 41: Day Fourteen

Chapter 42: Days Fifteen & Sixteen

Chapter 43: Announcement

Chapter 44: Premonition

Chapter 45: Toss and Catch

Chapter 46: Photo

Chapter 47: News

Chapter 48: Three A.M.

Chapter 49: Day Seventeen

Chapter 50: Day Eighteen

Chapter 51: Day Nineteen

Chapter 52: Rookie Card

Chapter 53: Contractions

Chapter 54: Beads

Chapter 55: Prayer

Chapter 56: Changing Room

Chapter 57: Sunflowers

Chapter 58: The Truth

Chapter 59: The Last Day

Acknowledgements

Nick and Hope came to me years ago as a small flicker of an idea. As I was inspired, I slowly began forming the story. At first it was mainly about this traumatic event occurring to them but the more I worked on it, the more I delved in deeper. I created another layer, one of soul searching and finding faith. That second layer of the story was not intentional yet it surfaced. In the end I have completed a deep and moving story with characters that will inspire and teach us profound lessons we all can all learn. I wish to thank all those who supported me and put up with me during this year of writing and creating my third novel.

I wish to thank God for helping me write and finish my third novel. I am still unclear how I finished the first one. A novel is to an author what a child is to a parent. You love them all and could never possibly pick one over the other but each one is individual, unique and special.

I am blessed to be involved in a parish that is open and honest about the healing that is much needed in our church and world today. The clergy that have become part of my daily life are men and women who I am proud and humbled to know. They show me each and every day their commitment to be more like Christ and to teach by example. I grew up in an amazing parish in the Bronx where I worked and met so many incredible Franciscan brothers, priests and many wonderful nuns who made an impact in my life. I have had many friends who are now priests and great servants of God. I am so grateful for the three parishes I have belonged to during the course of my life: Holy Cross, St. Joseph The Worker and St. Andrews.

Thank you to my wonderful editor Victoria Mixon for your help, patience and always your incredible way of organizing and helping me complete my goals. Here’s to Number 3! Love you.

To Sally Spinosa: Thank you for sharing your experience with me. You are a beautiful person and I love you.

To my children and grandchildren: Tim, Matt, Liddy, Lenora and Alex. You always inspire me. I love you forever. Matthew thanks for lending your hand.

To my family and friends: Thank you for your love and support always. I am blessed to have you in my life.

To my husband, my partner and my best friend, Robby. Thank you for believing in me, for supporting me and for loving me. This is all because of you and I will never ever be able to repay you for all you do for me every single day. I do not deserve you. I love you till death and beyond. You honestly are my Superman.

Part 1

Chapter 1

Day One

Frost

The man in the pea coat leaned into the glass nursery window, mesmerized by the sight. Slowly, he pulled his black wool hat off his disheveled hair and held it in his hands.

They need to see you, Mr. Garrett. A nurse with short red hair paused behind him. They need to bond with their father.

He didn’t move.

You need to hold them in your arms. The nurse touched his sleeve. It’s important.

I can’t. The words were barely audible.

The nurse reached out again, but he shoved his hands into his pockets and strode away quickly down the long, empty corridor.

Mr. Garrett!

He broke into a run without looking back.

Nick crouched in the cold seat of the Jeep Wrangler, slipping wool gloves onto his frozen hands. The smell of stale coffee lingered as the heat came on through the vents, and snowflakes hit the windshield and left their tiny imprints on the frosty glass.

He glanced around. He couldn’t sit outside the hospital all night. Not again. He needed to call the neighbor about the dog. He needed to go home and sort the mail—check the pipes, the new sump pumps in the basement, the sealer around the new windows. There was the roof to check, the water heater, and the new gutters he’d added last August.

It had been days since he and Hope had run out the front door, believing they’d be returning in a matter of days with their newborn twins. Now she lay unconscious in the ICU, where she lay lifeless as he held her hand and whispered how much he loved her in her ear.

He drained his paper cup of coffee and stared at it in his hand. He glanced at the time: 6:48 pm. He sighed, set the cup in the cup holder, and put the Jeep in reverse.

As he backed out of the parking space, he looked up at St. Mary’s Hospital. The mail could wait. Grendel would be fine with Myra. The house would survive another night on its own. Please, just one more night. With nothing but his phone and the clothes he was wearing, he put the car in drive, clicked on navigation to check traffic, and programmed number 2. It would take almost two hours to get to where he wanted to go.

The freeway was dark and slushy, and Nick shivered as he drove, pulling up the collar of his pea coat. He couldn’t stop thinking about the old woman at the hospital.

He’d been passing the waiting room on the way out when he’d seen a grey-haired woman in the corner pulling a book from her bag. Something small and white had slipped out and been caught on an air current, drifted up, across the hall, and landed on Nick’s boot—a small white feather. As he’d bent to examine it, the old woman had smiled and reached out.

Thank you, my dear. I’d hate to lose that. She’d slipped it back into her book. A bookmark. She’d laughed. It reminds me that the angels are always near.

A feather.

Two hours later, Nick sat at the bar of the Ugly Mug eatery in Cape May. Although the Ugly Mug was normally jammed at this time of evening, just three weeks before Christmas only a few customers had braved the frigid night.

Nick held up his glass and eyed the Heineken clock over the bar. Countless white personalized mugs hung overhead, and the smell of onion rings drifted from the kitchen. He adjusted his scarf as the heavy wooden door swung open behind him and slammed again, letting in the winter air. The sudden chill in his bones made him shiver.

He tossed back the last of the whisky, set down the glass, and rubbed his fingers along the dents and grooves of the aged mahogany bar. He signaled to the bartender, a young woman with smudged blue eye shadow and ironed blonde hair.

Another one? She smacked her gum as she lifted his empty glass.

Sure.

Last one. Almost ten o’clock. We’re closing soon. She wiped the counter and poured the last of the Jameson’s into his glass.

When she dropped the empty bottle into the bin behind the bar, the noise made him jump.

You okay? She paused. Need anything else? Would you like some food maybe? I’d let you have for free a burger no one picked up.

He gazed at her for a moment and then lowered his eyes.

I’m fine, he said abruptly.

She shrugged and pulled a glass from the sink. Her long bleached hair lay over her shoulders as she began drying with a towel.

Hey, Nick said quietly without letting go of his glass.

She turned and glared at him.

I’m sorry.

She nodded as she turned away. When she turned back again, Nick was somewhere else—not at the bar, not pacing outside the hospital ICU, not at home in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, but at his favorite place, on the best day of his life.

Chapter 2

Hopeless

It had been the summer of 2013, and Nicolas had been just about to turn 34. Record-breaking temperatures had stood near 100 degrees for a solid week, and the beach was overflowing with anxious vacationers squeezing their over-packed bags and beach gear onto the sand. Children crowded the water’s edge on boogie boards, and an endless supply of buckets and shovels lay scattered along the sandy paths.

No climbing or walking on the rocks! shouted Nick, blowing his warning whistle from the lifeguard’s chair.

Why can’t they read the sign? Allen called up in frustration. He blew his whistle as he climbed back onto the lifeguard chair next to Nick, waving his arms.

We made that sign three times bigger this year. You’d think they’d get it. Nick laughed and scanned the ocean for swimmers on the right side of the flags, close enough to be safe from undercurrents.

So this was nice today, right? Allen settled into his chair. Sharing the watch with your big brother?

How are plans coming? Nick leaned back against the white wood. Everything ready? He took a drink from his water bottle and pulled out a turkey and cheese sub in aluminum foil.

Kelly just got her mother’s dress. And we have the last tux fitting Saturday. Don’t forget.

Sub? Nick nudged the lunch bag between their seats.

Oh, yeah. Allen pulled out another sandwich.

Have I told you I love Kelly? Nick focused his binoculars on the rough waves.

I know. She loves you too. I still can’t believe I’m marrying her.

You guys are going to be so happy. Nick glanced over.

She talks about her parents’ marriage as the greatest. Allen handed Nick the rest of his sandwich and bent to clean his sunglasses on the corner of his towel. He tilted the umbrella a bit towards the front of the chair. I see it in her eyes—she wants that so badly. I want it as well. Especially since—

I know. Nick nodded. You know I want it too.

You’ll have it someday.

I dream about it sometimes. Nick crumpled his aluminum foil and crammed it back into the lunch bag. I see myself in a Ford truck with kids and a wife. I want to feel like I’m part of a family. We never got that.

I see how you teach the kids to swim, Nick. You have such an easy-going way with them. They trust you. Allen stood to blow his whistle and signal toward a man with a boogie board. He sat down and crossed an ankle over his knee. Kelly and I want kids.

How many?

As many as she likes.

Nick laughed.

Allen was blowing his whistle when a voice called from below, so that Nick almost didn’t notice the young woman with elbow-length chestnut hair blowing in the strong breeze as she squinted up at him against the sun.

The bartender touched Nicholas’s arm and repeated herself. Want anything else? I’m getting ready to close.

I’m good. Thank you. Nick, startled by her touch, stood up from his stool and reached somberly into his pocket. He laid a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and didn’t hear the bartender when she asked if he wanted the change.

He could still see Hope’s face so vividly in the sun when she’d squinted up at him on that hot day.

I was swimming back in, and when I stood on the sand I felt a terrible pain shooting up my ankle. The young woman with chestnut hair stood before him in flip-flops, wearing a blue and white bikini top and blue-flowered board shorts, a straw hat shading her face and one hand out to steady herself on the lifeguard chair.

Probably stepped on a metal toy. Nick carefully moved her ankle around and inspected it. You’ll want a tetanus shot.

Is it broken? Her voice rose.

You’d know if it were broken. A small dimple appeared on his cheek. Can you walk?

She pulled herself up on the lifeguard chair, and Nick reached out a hand. She smiled a wide, sweet smile and turned to walk but fell immediately to her knees.

It hurts. It really hurts. Her face contorted with pain and the attempt to hide it.

You can’t walk all the way to the medic’s office. Nick glanced across the shimmering sand to the lifeguard station in the distance. He set down his first aid bag and signaled up to Allen, who stood above them watching the swimmers. Hey, Allen! He knelt and held her foot gently on his knee, where he could bandage the cut bleeding below her arch.

Please. I’m so embarrassed. I can make it.

What’s up? Allen called down from the lifeguard chair.

Foot injury, Nick called up to him. Could use a stretcher.

Allen took his radio from his pocket.

I’m fine. Really. Thank you so much. The young woman pulled her foot from Nick’s hands. She turned and began to hop on one foot across the sand, leaving small drops of blood.

No stretcher then. Nick smiled and stepped in front of her. I’ve got this. Before she could respond, he lifted her in his arms and began striding across the soft sand. She clutched her hands around his neck as he picked up speed. After a few hurried paces, he broke into a run.

What are you doing? she yelled, her voice bouncing with his body rhythm, her straw hat falling back, and her chestnut hair blowing across his face and eyes.

Sand’s hot! He blurted.

Her laughter was light and contagious and tugged unexpectedly at his heart.

A few hours later, Nick was unloading his bags from the back of his truck onto the steps of a little bungalow on the edge of the beach. The temperature was still, at almost 5:30, in the 90s. He swung his bag out of the trunk and walked around, his keys swaying on a rope by his side. He leaped up the weatherworn wooden steps and reached for the bungalow door.

Nick, right? That’s what the medics told me. The young woman stood in front of him in a white T-shirt over her bikini top, her chestnut hair blowing around her. You’re the marine biologist.

Nick could see her face clearly now without the blazing sun in her eyes. Her fair porcelain skin glowed, and her lips curled up at the ends. When she smiled, her brown, almond-shaped eyes squinted slightly, exposing tiny lines in the corners. Her slender neck, thin shoulders, and long arms and legs made her look delicate. He smiled as she extended a hand.

You must be suffering third-degree burns on your feet. She looked down at them. Are you all right? Her voice was soft and familiar.

I’m fine. How’s your foot?

Nothing broken, thankfully. She raised it in its bandages, dangling her flip-flop. Just the cut and some bruising. I’ll live.

I never doubted it.

That it was bruised?

That you would live.

She laughed, and again he heard that light, gentle sound tugging at his heart.

Is this place yours? She gestured.

The small bungalow was covered with greying shingles and a worn roof in dire need of repair. There was no grass or vegetable garden, just gravel and a small driveway.

My brother got a good deal on it. He blushed. He and his friends used to store their surfboards and summer clothes in it. When he didn’t want it anymore, I took over.

I think it’s charming. It has a lot of— She grinned. —potential. She stepped back with her tongue in her cheek. I wish I could thank you properly for helping me. Maybe a slice of pizza or a coffee, sometime?

Nick scratched his chin.

Is there a problem? Her face became dismayed.

I’m afraid so.

Your girlfriend? The young woman lowered her head under her straw hat. Your wife?

I don’t have either.

Something else?

It’s that I don’t know your name. Nick smiled and leaned in.

It’s Hope. She laughed with relief. My name is Hope.

Outside the Ugly Mug, the rapidly falling snow whipped Nick’s cheeks. He pulled up the collar of his pea coat and tightened his scarf around his neck, climbing into the Jeep and turning the ignition key. White Christmas lights twinkled in the trees along the Washington Street Mall. The lights around the Queen of the Sea Church were lit, and he caught a glimpse of the pastor by the nativity scene.

He rested his forehead on the steering wheel and looked at the light beyond the stained-glass windows. What did religion have to do with everyday life? What did it have to do with surfing and volleyball and girlfriends? With house hunting and gardening and work? Was there really a God, as she believed? Did faith even matter? He stared at the church, while the lights inside faded and snow covered his windshield. The windshield wipers swished across his gaze with a familiar, soothing, repetitive sound.

This couldn’t be happening. Not to them.

Chapter 3

Date

A few days after that day on the beach, Nick had stood under the blast of the shower, rinsing shampoo out of his hair. Nervously, he lathered and rinsed again. He turned off the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped out to frown critically in the mirror.

Sandy, wind-swept hair and deep blue eyes, the muscular build of a lifeguard, and dimples that appeared only when he smiled.

Nick fingered his jaw. He shook his shaving cream canister, lathered his face, and washed his hands. He pulled out his razor and began to clear off the cream, revealing smooth skin. He grunted as he caught a bit of his chin. He hesitated over a bottle of cologne and patted his face instead with a light aftershave. Then he pulled on an ironed white T-shirt and dark tan khakis and slid his arms into a tan linen blazer. His hair was almost dry, and he ran a brush across the sides as he did a last minute-check in the mirror.

Settle. He said to himself, his heartbeat fluttering in his chest.

The Black Duck was only three blocks from his bungalow, and he loved walking in Cape May. The streets were filled with couples riding bicycles and retirees walking dogs, children playing ball in the street and skateboarding along the curbs. Women wore straw hats and flowered dresses, and men carried bottles of wine. A family rode by on a group bicycle, two peddling in front and two in back under a striped fabric ruffled sun cover, as he paused on a corner to wave at a passing car. He quickened his steps, the sun warm on his back. It was a clear summer evening, and the air smelled of salt and sea and summer.

Nick passed the tangle of pink and white mandevilla vines around the old Victorian and bounded up the stairs to the Black Duck entrance. Inside, the straw ceiling fans rotated slowly, and waiters scurried about.

Is Michael working tonight?

He certainly is. Would you like to be seated in his section?

Definitely. Nick’s favorite spot was a small table for two beyond a glass-framed opening near the kitchen. He was relieved to see that it wasn’t occupied. He caught sight of Michael and gave him a quick wave.

Hey, Nick, you clean up good! Michael made his way through the restaurant. Hot date?

I hope so. Nick laughed.

Tell me what she looks like, and I’ll send her straight over. Michael set water glasses on Nick’s table.

I can see the door from here. Nick blushed. She’ll be asking for me.

Waiters and bus boys filled water glasses over diners’ shoulders and moved between the tables with trays of plates over their arms. The hostess spoke to someone, and as the crowd moved clear of the doorway, Nick saw her.

Hope’s chestnut hair lay loose over her shoulders above a pink sundress tied with spaghetti straps in thin bows. She wore small, strappy sandals, and when she turned, the pink dress swirled around her knees. The hostess pointed toward Nick. Hope caught his eye, and her smile curled up at the corners.

Nick stood up as she stepped through the glass-framed opening.

Hi, she said shyly.

I wasn’t prepared for this. He took her hand and pulled out her chair.

For what?

I’m so nervous. He looked into her eyes and smiled, his cheeks turning red.

That makes two of us. She laughed softly.

Michael appeared at her elbow and handed them menus, describing the entrées. The bus boy brought warm bread in a metal bucket, while Nick opened a bottle of pinot grigio. Michael brought a silver frosted bucket for the wine and filled their glasses, and they gave him their orders for salad and entrées.

After he left, they sat looking at one another awkwardly.

So how’s your ankle? Nick finally took a bite of bread.

All good. Hope picked out a roll and buttered it. I guess you could say I was in the right place at the right time. She looked around at the busy waiters and tables full of diners.

What’s wrong? Do you not like it here?

Oh, no. I mean, yes, I do, very much. I’ve just never been here before. I’ve eaten at the Ugly Mug.

Nick laughed.

What’s so funny?

I eat there a lot too. It’s a hang out for lifeguards.

And what a strange name!

They burst out laughing together just as Michael set their salads before them and whisked away the empty bread bucket.

So tell me about being a marine biologist.

Well, if the proposal I submitted this week is accepted, we’ll be able to purchase equipment we need for our work with the Atlantic white shark.

Impressive!

What about you? Do you live here in Cape May?

Oh, no. I live in Bucks County.

I live in Bucks County too!

What an odd coincidence. She smiled, her eyes twinkling. I take care of my father and just wanted a weekend to myself. I’m staying in a bed and breakfast near Congress Hall. When she raised her fork, a tiny silver cross dangling from her wrist caught the light.

Let me guess, Nick said quickly. Catholic, Lutheran, Presbyterian, Episcopalian?

I’ll save you naming every denomination under the sun. I’m Catholic. She took a bite of salad and touched her napkin to her lips. And you?

My mother was Catholic. His ears grew warm. My father wasn’t.

What was he?

Jewish, I’m told. Nick took a sip of wine.

You don’t know?

I didn’t know him.

Really? Hope replied waiting for a response. Nick cracked his right thumb and then a few other fingers. She watched as he stared at his plate.

If you don’t mind, can we change the subject? Nick replied.

Oh. She paused. I’m sorry.

They ate their salads in uncomfortable silence, and when their entrées arrived, Nick cut quickly into his steak. Hope adjusted her chicken and then set down her knife and fork.

Have I done something wrong?

Not at all. He set down his bite of steak.

Why do I feel as though I have?

I’m just not comfortable talking about religion or my father. He leaned back in his chair.

But you brought it up. Don’t you believe in God?

Not specifically, no.

You don’t? She stared at him in surprise.

Nick sighed and began to push his steak around on his plate. This is not how I wanted this to go.

I’m sorry. But I really would like to know the answer to my question.

Okay. I don’t know.

How can you not know? It’s either yes or no: do you believe, or don’t you? Her voice rose slightly.

I think ‘I don’t know’ is good enough for a first date.

Hope leaned back in her chair.

Or last date. She removed her napkin from her lap, pushing her tongue hard into her cheek.

Excuse me?

My faith is very important to me. I’ve actually been doing a lot of work on myself recently.

So you’ve already decided that you and I don’t have similar faiths?

I asked you if you believe in God, and you responded, ‘I don’t know.’ So what am I supposed to think?

Nick leaned into his elbow resting on the table.

Look, I’ve obviously upset you, and it was not my intention. But in a way, I’m glad.

You’re glad this isn’t going well?

You agree! If I hadn’t asked, we wouldn’t have known.

Or if I hadn’t asked first. Ugh! Nick ran his hands through his hair. That’s not what I meant.

They sat in silence, both reluctant to say a word.

Hope reached into her purse and brought out her wallet.

What are you doing? He put out a hand over the table.

"I’m paying for my half