The Great Escape

"You are, my sweetheart. You had a heart attack, but the doctors and nurses took great care of you, and you're going to be fine." She smiled again. He had already closed his eyes and drifted off. She knew he would repeat that a few times until he came fully awake. "I love you, Tim Peterson. You are the love of my life, and I am so sorry I have hurt you so much," she whispered to him. She stood next to his bed, just looking at him, waiting for him to open his eyes again.

A man came into the room, in scrubs, brushed by Cora and started examining Tim. The jostling woke him up again and he stared at the man. "I'm Dr. Wells," he said, "the surgeon who operated on you. You look like you're doing fine, and we'll move you to a regular room now. You know, you're an incredibly lucky fellow. Whoever did CPR on you did a great job, kept you alive longer than most widow maker heart attacks. Once we figured you out, we just put in a stent, pretty easy really. You'll be sore for a while, but you stick with your post-op rules, and you should be fine." He turned to Cora.

"You're the wife?" Cora nodded. "And a nurse, I understand." She nodded again. "Are you the one who did the CPR?" She nodded again. The doc turned to Tim. "You should know your wife saved your life, and I mean that in a big-time way. Her CPR kept you from being on a slab in the basement. Now I don't know anything about your lifestyle, your diet, your family history, but you need to look at all of that, to figure out why you had this heart attack and what you can change to make it a whole lot less likely to reoccur. Got it?" Tim nodded, and the doctor turned to leave just as two orderlies came in to move Tim to another room, a regular room on a different floor.

Cora followed the bed movement and watched as Tim was settled into his new room. A new nurse checked his vitals, made sure he was still hooked up to his various attachments, told Tim and Cora to call if needed, and left.

Cora stood by Tim's bed, and slowly, tentatively reached out to hold his hand.

"You saved my life," Tim said, in barely more than a whisper. "And you cheated on me, on us." Cora started to smile and then grimaced at the end of Tim's words. And then her professional mode kicked in.

"Tim, my sweetheart, this is absolutely not the time for any serious conversation, or even serious thinking. You need to rest and recover, and then we can talk about us. I guess I will say, though, that I could argue I'm batting five hundred, which would make me a hero in baseball." Tim did smile at that, and closed his eyes. Cora stood by his bed for a while, still holding his hand, until she was sure he was asleep. Then she disengaged and went to the nurses' station. She wanted to study Tim's chart and start to figure out what his recuperation regime would be. Of course, she had to wade through the hospital bureaucracy again, but eventually she got her hands on the chart and sat down in Tim's room to study it.

Tim really was incredibly lucky. Having a trained nurse to immediately respond was just the first of his strokes of luck. CPR did keep his heart going, but being able to get to shore and then to a Level 1 trauma center as quickly as he did, with EMTS's tending to him, continued his string of luck. And his exercising, especially the running, had made his heart stronger and more able to withstand the assault of his LAD blockage.

The chart already contained Tim's discharge orders, which included a lot of no's: no driving, no lifting, no exercise except under professional supervision, no heavy foods, no, no, no. Cora agreed with most of the restrictions, and she would certainly stay on Tim to make sure he didn't overdo things when he was home.

Home? What did that mean now? And would Tim even let Cora stay with him and supervise his recovery. Cardiac rehab was a medical specialty, and Cora knew people who did it, but it certainly was not her specialty. She wondered if Key Largo even had one specialist in cardiac rehab.

That thought prompted her to dig out the business card she had gotten from Annie Ruxter. She called the marina, and Harris answered. She told him the good news about her husband, and he relayed it to Annie. He then told her The Great Escape was safely docked at their marina; he would take good care of it, and that she should tell her husband that he needs to pay better attention to his bilge: it was almost overflowing. She knew what a bilge was, from sailboat days, and thanked Harris for the information. Then she asked to speak with Annie.

"Hi, Cora, that is great news about your husband. You know, I told you things weren't as bad as you thought. And you don't need to pay attention to everything Harris says. A boat has never docked here that he hasn't found something on it that needed fixing."

Cora heard some muttering from Harris in the background, and she laughed a bit. It was odd, she thought, her face had forgotten how to smile. Maybe Annie was right: things were not as bad, or at least not quite as bad, as she had thought. She and Annie talked for a few minutes, and Cora ended the conversation with a promise to call the next day. After she hung up, she thought some more about how to get Tim the best possible recovery.

Trying to think almost put her to sleep. Tim was sleeping soundly, and she knew the nurses were monitoring his vitals, so she didn't need to monitor also. She lay down on a combination widow seat-day bed, and closed her eyes. As she nodded off, she realized the last two days, from the time she arrived in Fort Lauderdale until right then, were the most jampacked, stressful days of her entire life. Luckily for her and Tim, both of them slept soundly for several hours.

When Cora awoke the next morning, Tim was looking at her. He was sitting up, an empty breakfast tray in front of him. She was a bit disoriented, but quickly pulled herself together and disappeared into the hospital room's bathroom to try to make herself at least a little presentable. Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, she thought that was not going to be an easy job. She was still wearing the shorts and t-shirt from the day before, her hair looked crazed, and her face looked beat up. She set to work to improve things a little.

Tim watched his wife wake up, look around and stagger into the bathroom. To Tim, she still looked beautiful, still looked like the woman he wanted to hold and sleep with night after night. Except... except, she was also a goddam cheating bitch. His goddam guardian fucking angel, he thought. Okay, she did save his life, lots of points for that, but she was still a cheating bitch. A judge doesn't let a murderer off just because the murderer also rescued a puppy from a burning house. Not the same, a voice in his head told him, not the same at all: this is your wife you're talking to yourself about, and she's been a good wife and mother for almost thirty years. Yes, she fucked up big time, and she's sorry. Can you forgive her?

"Mr. Peterson?" Tim looked toward the door as a scruffy looking guy came in. Skinny, hair askew, unshaven for at least a few days, wrinkled, baggy clothes, he has to be a doctor, Tim thought.

"Yes, I'm Tim Peterson."

"Mr. Peterson, I'm Doctor Anser. I'm going to do a quick exam and then we can talk about your discharge. You up for that?

"Yes, thank you, definitely up for that." While the doc was doing his exam, Cora emerged from the bathroom, looking better and feeling much better. Doctor Anser interrupted his exam and he and Cora introduced each other. He told her and Tim that Tim was ready to be discharged the next morning, assuming no new problems emerged. He then started his discharge instructions, including instructions for cardiac rehab, exercise, medications, follow-up appointments, ongoing wound care, and resumption of normal activities. He had just given Tim a packet of info about exercise and diet when Tim interrupted him.

"Doctor Anser, like answer, is it?"

"Yes."

"When can I start running again? Truthfully, I'm a little sore today, but otherwise I really do feel fine, and running is a serious part of my life." Cora just looked on; a plan was coming together in her mind.

"Mr. Peterson, I understand running is considered a good exercise, especially for cardiovascular improvement, but I am not a big fan. Running imposes a continuing series of small traumas to the body. Every time your foot strikes, that is trauma, to your feet, and running up through your ankles, calves, knees, and so on. Your body has just suffered a serious, almost fatal trauma, and I believe running should not be in the cards for you right now. Any other questions?" Tim was stunned by that answer, and couldn't think of anything else to say. The doctor took his leave and Cora thought, well, now or never, Tim's in a bit of shock so it's less likely he will think of objections to my idea.

"Tim," she started, I have an idea that might work for you and get you back to exercising more quickly than otherwise. Since flying is out, getting back to Albany would be tough. That means home for you, at least for now, is the boat. And I've already checked: Key Largo has no cardiac rehab specialist. You could get someone to drive you back and forth between the boat and Miami, but that gets expensive, and takes a lot of time. So, my proposal is that I supervise your rehabilitation. And I promise, this is not reconciliation, this is medical care, that I would do for anybody, well, anybody I cared about. After your rehab is complete, which will be at least a month, or maybe two at the most, we move the boat to Key West, just like you originally planned, and I leave. Or, and this is my pitch, Tim: maybe we both leave, to go back to Albany, or we both stay, on the boat, or maybe... I don't know. But you get a month or two of, if I say so myself, really good medical care, and, I admit, I get that same time to seek your forgiveness. Which I totally do not deserve, I admit that too. But I love you and I am so sorry I fucked up so badly, and... and what do you think?"

"Wow, that's a lot to take in. I need some time to think about all that."

"Okay, I get that. While you're thinking, I'm going to go rent a car. Wherever we go from the hospital, we need transportation, and I think a rental car is better than trying to Uber."

"Yeah, okay. Before you leave, can I use your phone? I'd like to call the girls and let them know everything is fine. I'd hate for them to hear I had a heart attack, and then be all panicky."

"Good idea. Uh, can we call them together? Or do you want me to step out?"

"Cora, you're their mom and I'm their dad. We can call them together, but we need to tell them that one phone call from the two of us doesn't mean we have resolved anything."

"Okay." They did make the joint call, and it wasn't too uncomfortable. Tim told the girls about the heart attack, and praised Cora's lifesaving work on him. The girls were happy to hear from the two of them, then horrified about the heart attack, then impressed with their mom, and finally disappointed that the two of them were not back together.

After the call, Cora left to get a car, and Tim lay there, leafing through the voluminous discharge papers, but he really wasn't focusing on them. Instead, he was thinking about his future, both the short-term, recovery time and the longer time. With Cora? Without her? Short-term, yes, it made sense to let Cora stay on The Great Escape with him and guide him through his recovery. She was a terrific nurse and her guilt about what she had done would make her even more caring and careful with his recovery. But long term? Maybe, just maybe he could get over her cheating twenty or so years ago. It was only once, and she had gone on to be a great wife and mother. But an affair lasting five or six months? Thinking about it now, even recognizing that Cora had saved his life, and that got her a hell of a lot of points in anybody's book, he just couldn't see the two of them reconciling. How would he ever trust her again? She would be continuing to work at the hospital, the same place where she met and fell in lust with Doctor What-the-fuck's his name. No, he just couldn't see it. But maybe a month or so together during his recovery was the best of both worlds: it would get him through his recovery with a great nurse and give her a chance to mend the fences with him. And who knows? Maybe pigs can fly, and she can convince him to forgive her and reconcile.

Chapter Fourteen: Cora and Tim Return to Key Largo.

The next day Cora had a rental car, and she was driving her and Tim down to Key Largo. Tim was in a pretty good mood: he was out of the hospital, not feeling too bad after his brush with death and major surgery, and on his way to re-unite with The Great Escape. Cora, on the other hand, was ecstatic: Tim had agreed to her proposal, they would be living together on his boat while she shepherded him through his cardiac rehab, and she knew, she absolutely knew, she could convince him to forgive her for her cheating and that they would get their marriage back on a good track. She started her efforts.

"Tim, I have you captive for about an hour, until we get to Key Largo. I hope you will listen to three things I have to tell you. First, I'm sorry. I know you're tired of hearing it, and it may not help, but I just want to say, again, that I'm sorry I cheated on you. I was stupid and thoughtless, and I hurt you and our relationship, and now I'm trying to do my best to make it up to you. That leads to the second thing. I promise to be the best nurse you could ever find to help you through your rehabilitation. Cardiac rehab is not easy, and you, with me guiding you, have to be very careful to make sure you are doing enough, but not too much, as you recover. And finally, the third thing. I ask, I beg you to open your heart to me for the next month or so, to see me as a person trying desperately to save her marriage. My stupidity and selfishness may have destroyed our marriage, and I know it will take the strength of your love to maybe, just maybe, save that marriage." Not too bad, she thought, but would Tim ever be able to forgive her?

"Thank you, Cora, that was quite a speech. I could tell you have been working on it. Since you said three things, I will respond to each of them. First, it's time to stop saying you're sorry. I may ask you questions about your affair, and I expect truthful answers, but repeatedly saying you're sorry is not helping. Second, I do thank you for being my cardiac rehab nurse. I know you will do a great job and I will be running and exercising again as soon as possible. Third, as for saving our marriage, let's take it one day at a time. That's all I can promise about that."

The next month passed quickly, and ever so slowly. Quickly when Cora was putting Tim through his cardiac rehab paces. Exercising especially went quickly. For Tim, who was used to vigorous exercising almost every day, the rehab exercises were over too quickly, leaving him full of energy that he couldn't burn off. The rest of those days crept along, especially in the evenings when he and Cora were sitting in the lounge of The Great Escape, reading or watching tv. Cora would try to start a conversation, perhaps about the girls or Tim's job or the weather or any damn thing. No engagement from Tim, who was wondering if had made a mistake in letting Cora be his rehab supervisor.

The first month did pass. Tim got to know Harris and Annie Ruxter, the owners of the marina where The Great Escape was docked. He especially liked Harris, who had carefully inspected the boat and was happy to give Tim pointers on how to maintain it. After Tim's second medical exam in Miami, he was cleared to begin running again. "Short and slow" was the medical advice, which Tim followed religiously, for his first run. After that, he was back to longer, harder runs, and feeling closer to being his old self. And his old self was angry.

"Cora?"

"Yes, Tim?" They were sitting in The Great Escape's lounge and Tim had actually initiated a conversation, the first time in a month Cora thought.

"Why, Cora? Why would you have an affair? An affair lasting at least five months. You had to know that could kill us. Kill our marriage, I mean. Does our marriage mean so little to you?" Tim truly was serious in his question. Part of him just wanted to torture Cora, but part of him really did wonder why she would have an affair and endanger everything they had built together over more than 35 years.

"Tim, I wish I had a simple, believable answer to your question. I have asked myself a thousand times: why did I do it? I can blame the first time on chemistry, on some immediate chemical attraction that Mark and I had. That's no excuse, and it's not much of an explanation, and it's certainly no explanation for why I continued with him. I've told myself that I'm a horrible person, that I'm a psychopath with no moral anchors. But that's really an excuse. I mean, I did a horrible thing, but I also do lots of good things, like saving your life and working as a nurse."

"Cora, doing good things doesn't excuse your cheating on your husband."

"Oh, I know, I know. At some point, I'm going to find a counselor to help me figure out why I failed you, and failed myself. I do have an inkling of an idea, based on something I did as a kid. When I was about ten, and we lived in a subdivision that backed up to some woods, a friend and I loved to explore the woods. The summer she and I were both ten, we explored further and further into the woods, until we eventually got to the other side. And we were astounded -- I still remember how surprised both of us were -- there were houses on the other side, that backed up to their side of the woods, just like ours did on our side. The first day we just stared at the row of houses, like we were looking at, I don't know, a different civilization. The next day we got braver.

"I still remember that next day. We got back to the row of houses and watched again. We didn't see anyone, and we walked up to the back door of the nearest house. One of us knocked, I don't remember which of us. We were going to ask for a drink of water. Nobody answered and one of us, again I don't remember which, opened the screen door and called out. No answer and I reached out and turned the knob of the entry door. It wasn't locked and it sort of opened by itself." Cora was sweating as she told this story in the air-conditioned lounge. Tim had never heard any of this and wondered where she was going with the story.

"My friend and I stood there for a minute and then,... and then, we stepped inside the kitchen. I knew it was wrong to do that, but it was incredibly exciting. We walked over to the sink and got our drinks of water. I remember I left my glass right on the drainboard next to the sink. Then we walked back outside and ran, as fast as we could, back to the woods.

"Tim, I've never told anyone about that, but I've always remembered how exciting it was to do something wrong, and get away with it. And there's something of that with my affair. I mean, obviously there was nothing sexual about my trespassing, we were only ten years old. But that feeling of excitement from doing something bad, and getting away with it, that's always stayed with me. Does that make sense?"

"Jeez, Cora, I have absolutely no fucking idea. But I agree with you that you need to see a counselor to help you figure yourself out. I'm going to bed." He left the lounge, to go outside to check his mooring lines, something he did every night just before bed. When he walked back thru the lounge, Cora was still sitting there. She looked up at him, with maybe some hope in her eyes, but he walked past her, into the main cabin and shut the door.