In a Heartbeat

By Karen Gibson

An unforgettable story of motherhood, friendship, and loss...

 

Julia has the perfect life—a happy marriage, a precocious son, and twin daughters on the way. She is forced to rethink her idea of perfection, however, when her world crumbles.

 

Gail doesn't pretend to have the perfect life but has managed to create one that suits her just fine. Or so she thinks.

 

Julia and Gail share little in common, but when their sons develop a unique friendship, the two women find their lives intertwined in ways they never thought possible. Together, they discover that facing their daunting challenges—divorce, illness, devastating loss—is made easier with a friend to help shoulder the burdens.

 

Spanning 20 years of trials, tribulations and triumphs, In a Heartbeat forces us to confront love, loss, and the bonds of friendship that carry us through our darkest moments. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Gibson
• Release date: Aug 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201875572

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

JULIA, 2019

She reached for his hand, fearful he would run too far into the waves and get pulled away from her forever. His hand was cold in hers, the water far cooler than what they were accustomed to at home, along the shores of the little lake just a short car ride from their house. It was dangerous playing in this water, the waves crashing harder and harder around her. She could feel his small hand clasp her own, part fear and part excitement, and she held his even tighter. Her son. His smile could light up the universe and she wanted the moment to last forever. She saw two little blonde heads bobbing in the water several feet away from them, and she froze in place, knowing something was terribly wrong. Where was Joe? He was supposed to be watching them. She looked around, but he was nowhere in sight. She had to decide what to do…swim out to the girls or keep Michael safe. And then somehow his hand was gone and looking down, she couldn’t see him. They were all gone. A scream started someplace in the back of her throat, but it caught there, unable to find its way out.

She woke with a start, panting, frantically searching for something that was missing. It took a moment to realize where she was. She waited for her heart to stop racing and her hands to stop trembling.

Passengers seated around her probably noticed the lipstick, dark and not quite creating the outline it was supposed to, a smear of red slipping ever so slightly below her lower lip. They likely noticed the sunken eyes, red-rimmed and unfocused, or her hands, noticeably shaking. Someone might have surreptitiously taken a picture, posting it later on social media with a caption reading, Crazy lady flying or Don’t drink and fly. It rapidly passed from device to device, traversing the world as fast as fingertips could hit send, laughter connecting friends and strangers at the expense of the completely unaware woman on the plane.

Not sure if she made a sound when startled out of her dream, she cleared her throat, reaching for the beverage on her tray table. Diet soda. She wondered if she should order something stronger. Ice rattled, her hand still shaking as she returned the cup to the tray.

Afraid to close her eyes again, fearing sleep would mean drifting back into the nightmare of everyone slipping away from her, she focused on the seat in front of her, the blue and white design of the cloth cover blurring together into an undefined blob until she forced herself to pull it back into focus, back into separate colors.

She knew they were staring, eyes cutting to the side to get a quick look, but she didn’t care. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know what she was about to do. They could judge what they saw all they wanted, but they would never know this person they were looking at.

A flight attendant walked purposefully through the aisle, a plastic bag in her gloved hands, robotically turning her head from left to right as she collected trash from the passengers. It was a job, waiting on these nameless people jetting about, and she gave little thought to their destinations or motivations. They were simply passengers—some traveling home, some starting a vacation and at least one on a journey she never thought she would be taking.

Are you done with your beverage, ma’am? Not actually waiting for an answer she reached for the cup, glancing briefly at the woman and the item she was holding in her lap, then quickly moving on, anxious to share a funny story with the rest of the crew. Did you see the woman in 14a?

The aircraft jerked, a bit of turbulence causing the plane to jump and her heart to flutter. A nervous flyer, she gripped the armrest with one hand, willing herself to breathe slowly and relax. The turbulence stopped as suddenly as it started and she relaxed her grip again, adjusting the item in her lap which had shifted with the bouncing of the jet. Glancing up, she saw the eyes of the man across the aisle taking her in, a look of obvious confusion and concern etched on his face. She met his eyes, willing him to look away. Staring wouldn’t help any of them see who she really was. They would only see the lipstick-smeared, red-eyed woman carefully holding a golden-haired doll in her lap.

CHAPTER 2

OCTOBER 2000

O livia and Lillian. She said it with a finality that made Joe fist-pump the air.

He reached for the notepad she kept on her nightstand. Let’s write that down. No more changing our minds.

Julia did exactly that, taking the pad and carefully writing the names in her most perfect cursive to make it official. Reading them inked before her gave them permanence, and she imagined the two little girls who would be the keepers of those names for the rest of their lives. Another thought occurred. But we still have to figure out middle names.

Joe patted his wife’s protruding belly. He was ready to go to the office, the day’s work agenda able to take precedence once he walked out the door, but his wife was the center of his attention right now. Well, that will have to wait for another time because I’ve got to get going. He straightened his tie, smiling at his wife. You heard what the doctor said. Stay in bed all day if you want to, honey. Rest. I’ll call you around noon, or sooner if I can get away for a minute. He kissed her softly on the forehead, brushing aside a stray hair that didn’t know exactly which side of Julia’s head it belonged on, and started to leave. At the doorway, he turned and smiled. I’ll send the Michael Monster up to say goodbye as soon as he finishes his cereal. I love you. I love all three of my girls.

His grin made Julia’s heart flutter; her happiness was sometimes more than she could stand.

Julia blew him a kiss and then snuggled deeper under the covers. I love my girls, too, she whispered softly to her bloated belly, rubbing her hand over the swollen mass of two little bodies growing inside of her. She closed her eyes, dreaming of the moment she would finally meet them. Olivia and Lillian. It may have taken them forever to decide on names, but it took just moments for them to fall in love with the idea of twins. Two little girls. Without a doubt, she was the luckiest woman on the face of the earth. That was validated yet again at the sound of Michael’s feet running up the stairs, causing her to smile as she waited for him to appear.

It was supposedly time to say goodbye to his mom, but it was her belly getting his full attention. He put his cheek to her tummy, both arms wrapped around the ever-growing mass of two human beings resting quietly in their warm cave. G-bye sister one. I love you. G-bye sister two. I love you. He gently placed two kisses on his mom’s tummy, confident each little girl would know which kiss belonged to her. Julia reached down to touch the top of the little boy’s head, tousling the soft silkiness of his hair. A grin lit up his face. Love you, too, mom.

He turned to leave, realized he forgot something he was supposed to do, and returned to throw his arms around her neck. He squeezed hard and she held on as long as she could, until he squirmed out of her grasp. With that, he raced out of the room and down the stairs, his footsteps fading as he made his way through the house. She continued listening, following the progress of her two guys as they opened the service door separating the mudroom from the garage and closed it behind them. The faint sound of the garage door lowering and the car backing away were the final remnants of her family’s noises. And then the house went silent once again.

Doctor Sydney wanted her to stay home from work for the remainder of her pregnancy. She had no problem leaving her part-time receptionist position to someone else; however, he also wanted her to maintain as much bedrest as possible. An active first grader in the house would mean minimal bedrest once he was home from school. And, unless the doctor also planned to put a catheter in her, bedrest in general would be nearly impossible. Two babies were pressing on her bladder, and she needed to do something about that right now. She grimaced as she pushed the blankets off her swollen ankles, wondering if they would ever look normal again. All those hours she spent in the gym after Michael was born were clearly for naught. She would be starting all over again to get this unrecognizable body back into something resembling a figure. In the meantime, though, she focused on growing healthy little girls. A diet and exercise program would come soon enough.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she waited for the slight bump and roll as the babies shifted position, imagining the two little bodies rolling in unison, helping one another settle into a comfortable place inside of her. Far less pronounced than the movements were previously, she knew the babies were getting too big to have a lot of wiggle room. Still, she felt the tell-tale flutter as she continued the slow process of forcing herself up from the bed, waddling as quickly as possible to the bathroom. The need to pee was more urgent than she’d realized.

On her way back to the bedroom, she simply couldn’t resist, pushing open the door of the nursery and settling into the glider rocking chair next to the window. From her perch there, with her feet comfortably placed on the footrest, she took in the beautifully decorated room, its soft pinks and yellows making for a pastel palace. The gliding motion of the chair lulled her into an almost dream-like state, both hands rubbing her swollen roundness in a gentle rhythm. The sound of her own humming was the only noise in the room. This, she believed, was pure and utter contentment, minus the hemorrhoids, swollen ankles, and uncooperative blood glucose levels. But those were minor inconveniences, she decided. The babies were well worth all of that—and for good measure she’d throw in the stretchmarks she knew were going to leave ugly discolored lesions on her belly. Very minor inconveniences indeed. After a few moments she opened her eyes again, admiring the fruits of their labor spread out over the last several weeks.

A fresh coat of paint made everything feel brand new in the guestroom-turned-nursery. For now, they had two pretty bassinettes in the room, one draped in pink and the other in yellow. In the garage, still in boxes leaning against the wall, were two matching white cribs, waiting patiently to be assembled (with just a predictable bit of profane language from her husband) to use when the twins graduated from the bassinettes. She hoped they could use the pretty little baskets for a long time. Joe was worried he wouldn’t have time to assemble the cribs, but she reminded him that Michael had slept in a bassinet for several weeks. They would have plenty of time after the girls’ arrival to worry about the cribs.

Olivia and Lillian. One would be their pink baby and the other their yellow baby, at least for a while—just so they could tell them apart. This color-coding idea came to Julia after she had a terrible dream that she didn’t know which baby was which and a judge decided she wasn’t worthy to keep either one, ordering them to be handed over to the court immediately. Hormones. She remembered having crazy dreams while carrying Michael so she should have been used to it, but knowing it was all just a silly dream didn’t stop her from trying to prevent a possible baby mix-up—just in case. Even if anyone else thought she was ridiculous for color-coding her babies, she was all about playing it safe.

Only the two dolls, wrapped in lavender blankets and resting side-by-side on the shelf above the changing tables were identical. They were exquisite, with tiny faces carefully crafted to look like real babies. They had blonde curls, and eyes that could open and close in a far more realistic way than any doll Julia ever had as a child. The click-clicking of her dolls’ eyes was always a little unsettling to her as a little girl. She remembered putting her babies down to sleep in their little play crib for days and days on end, so she didn’t have to listen to that sound. These dolls were nothing like that. She stood slowly, making her way to the shelf to lift one down. It even felt real, with just enough heft and softness combined to give an authenticity to the bundle in the blanket. Julia held the doll for a moment, reminding herself of that feeling—the weight of a newborn baby nestled in her arms. She smiled then, taking the other doll, and arranging one in each arm. This is going to be tricky girls. I hope you’ll be patient with your mommy. A soft thump in her belly reminded her that the real babies were going to be far different than the two toy versions.

She returned the dolls to the shelf and waddled back to her room. She snuggled under the covers, drifting off to sleep with the vision of future family Christmas cards planted in her mind’s eye. She could see them so clearly, year after wonderful year, the girls dressed alike and Michael looking like a miniature version of his dad. With a soft click of the camera, each pose was made permanent, and she imagined family and friends opening the envelope to see the beautiful photo card inside. They would soon be a family of five. On the one hand, she wanted to savor this feeling forever. On the other hand, she hoped the next two months would go by quickly, a twinge in her side making it necessary to find a more comfortable position as the two little bodies moved slowly, changing position in their temporary home.

Gail took a deep breath, forcing herself to let it out slowly. The usual mess on the living room floor served as a reminder of what needed to be done before she could climb into bed. Kevin was asleep, the monitors, placed strategically throughout their small ranch home, turned on and ready to alert her when he got out of bed. It was never a matter of if he got out of bed but always a matter of when he did. As an added precaution, she double-checked both entrances to ensure the deadbolts were set. She had taken great care to have the locks installed out of a child’s reach. The thought of Kevin wandering out of the house made her extra cautious about securing their home.

She placed the television remote in a basket on the coffee table, folded the blanket and put it over the back of the recliner before stacking the three bowls to take to the kitchen. His post-dinner routine included carefully spreading the blanket out on the floor before sitting on it, scrolling through every channel one click at a time with the precision of a metronome, setting the remote next to him and then taking a raisin from the yellow bowl, a peanut from the green bowl and a pretzel stick from the red bowl. Always in that order. Every night. Forevermore. Click, click, click. A raisin, a peanut, a pretzel.

As she sometimes did, Gail started an imaginary conversation with her son. What did you do in school today, Kev? she would ask in that way parents have, when they don’t want to sound too nosy but hope to stimulate a meaningful conversation. In her imaginary dialogue with him, he would look at her with those big, beautiful eyes of his and say, I had the most amazing day, mom.

One red bowl, one green bowl and one yellow bowl. If she tried to give him two yellow bowls, which she made the mistake of doing one evening, he would bang his fists against his head and howl. Now she did everything possible to minimize these episodes, buying multiple sets of the exact same multi-colored bowls, just as she bought three identical blankets, and kept boxes of extra batteries on hand so as not to risk a nonfunctioning remote. Minor changes were nothing short of the end of the world for Kevin. When the power went out one night and the routine was impossible, Kevin was inconsolable, banging his fists against his head so hard she feared he would truly hurt himself.

This was her normal, even if it would be terribly unsettling for others around her.

Gail didn’t often expose others to their private little world. It was mostly kept between the two of them. She had been on exactly two dates in the last seven years. She didn’t need a man, she reminded herself occasionally. She was engaged once, but that ended long before any wedding could be planned. After that, she was afraid to let another man into her life. It was hard enough picking up the pieces after Jeremy. But time heals wounds and new doors open when others close. She laughed aloud, wondering if that was a cliché or an aphorism. She could never remember the difference.

Once the dishes were in the dishwasher, and the breakfast items arranged for easy grabbing in the morning, she finally allowed herself a moment, making a steaming mug of hot chocolate and sitting at the kitchen table with the phone.

Her sister answered on the second ring. The time zones between them meant careful planning for any extended chats. This one would be short because Vicky would be making dinner for her family soon. Hey Vick. Is this a good time to talk? She put the mug to her lips, blowing gently to cool the contents just a little. There was a perfect balance needed for hot chocolate. She liked it hot but hated burning her lips or tongue. She took a tiny test taste, reassured that she could enjoy the drink without pain.

I can, if you give me just half a sec. Lucy always picks the most opportune time to want something, of course. Gail could hear a refrigerator door opening and closing and then a distant Don’t spill it, before her sister’s voice was again in her ear. There. Now I can talk.

The sisters shared a special bond. Vicky was ten and Gail five when they watched their parents struggle through divorce. Vicky took over the role of mothering her little sister when their mom chose to spend her days in her room and their dad moved on to start a new family. Apparently, his new family was far better than the one he left behind because he never contacted any of them again. The sisters joked frequently that they learned their parenting skills by doing the exact opposite of anything done by their own mom and dad.

Make sure you give Lucy-Lou a big hug for me. She is so darn cute. I love the pictures you sent. She looks like a perfect angel, so I better not hear anything to the contrary. Vicky’s husband, a naval officer, was fortunate enough to be stationed in Hawaii. Gail knew she was welcome to visit any time, but it wouldn’t happen. There would be no traveling with Kevin—and there would be no way of leaving him with a sitter for a trip of that magnitude. That would take far more energy, planning and perfect timing than she would ever be able to muster. They were just fine living their Northeast Wisconsin existence. She would enjoy the pictures of palm trees and sunsets over the ocean even if she couldn’t enjoy them in person.

You can pretend she’s an angel if you want, but I guarantee you she has her moments. Yesterday she told Ben he was stupid. Gail tried to imagine the look on Ben’s face hearing his four-year-old daughter assess him in that way.

Well? How did that go over?

Oh my gosh, Gail, we are the worst parents ever. We laughed. She is going to get away with murder forevermore and it will be entirely our fault. It was just so hilarious we couldn’t help ourselves. I’m glad the boys weren’t around to hear any of that. The boys, Jeffrey and Jonathan, would have laughed along—because that’s what 10-year-old boys do. Well, boys without autism anyway. She pushed the thought aside, knowing it wasn’t the twins’ fault they were born perfect little boys who knew how to express emotions. It had been a rough couple of days, so it was natural for her to dwell on the negatives. Now it was time to snap out of it. Some days were better than others.

Gail loved her sister’s stories. Vicky’s life wasn’t perfect, of course, but it was the closest thing to normal Gail could imagine. I probably would have done the same.

How’s Kevin? Trying anything new? Vicky regularly sent articles or recommended websites she found on raising a child with autism, not because she thought for one minute her sister needed help raising her son, but because she wanted Gail to know she thought about her every day.

We had a good night. No triggers, thankfully. The rest of the week was not as good, but… She didn’t finish the sentence, choosing instead to change the subject. Thanks for sending that website. I don’t think I’d try any of that massage therapy stuff that DiSalvio guy wrote about, but I kind of like the animal therapy idea. Do you think I could get away with a quiet little goldfish? I’m not sure I could handle anything with more energy than that. She read everything her sister sent—as well as everything the special education teachers gave her—but some treatments and therapies would require a significant change in routine, which was a kiss of death for Kevin. The problem is the range of the spectrum…and where a child falls on it. I can’t just grab at any idea an ‘expert’ puts out there if it’s something on the opposite end of the spectrum from where Kevin is.

He’s functioning at a high level given his diagnosis. Most importantly, Kevin is lucky to have you as a mom, Gail.

It always lifted her spirits to hear words like this from her sister. She wished their mother would offer the same kind of reassurance, but that would never happen. Thankfully, Mara was in Venice right now, via Seville, then Paris, living out her dream of being a self-proclaimed international food critic, and significant other to anyone who might support her wanderlust. She had no desire to understand Kevin’s autism, a huge mistake she learned the hard way when she once tried treating him like she would her other grandsons. Of course, that didn’t work for Kevin. Her last visit was so upsetting to him that Gail suggested she not visit them when she was in the states. Mara didn’t argue. Imperfections were difficult for her to handle.

Gail took the final sip of her chocolate, taking the empty mug to the sink for a thorough rinsing, the phone snuggly pressed between her ear and shoulder. Did mom call you this week?

They always compared notes on their mother’s phone calls, frequently making bets about how long a new relationship would last, or the length of time she would stay in one city (or one country), or keep the same hair color (which lately seemed to be hanging out more and more in the blonde tones). It was a point of pride to them that they could find humor in their mom’s behaviors, knowing she was far from a typical mom or grandma.

She said Jean Claude told her she was like a delicate butterfly trapped in a mason jar. Vicky started laughing so hard it took a moment for her to continue. I wanted to ask if she might suffocate in there or if he was kind enough to punch holes in the lid for her.

Jean Claude? Is he the pastry chef?

Nope. That was Jean St. Clair. This guy is a plumber. Again, her laughter filled Gail’s ear. "She fell for a plumber. That’s so out of character for her. Ben said I should write a book about her. Most people would think it’s too far-fetched—even for fiction!"

Well, she started her last call to me by saying she was waiting for an important package to be delivered at any moment so she wouldn’t be able to talk very long. She’s not even trying to be creative with her excuses anymore. I should let her off the hook and tell her she doesn’t have to call me at all. She could just send me a brief note now and then—or maybe an annual newsletter would suffice.

"You know she loves us. She just wants to live her life now. Her