I tried to feel something in response to this news. The man to whom I was still legally married had been arrested, whether for murder or attempted murder was yet to be seen. I knew that I should feel something, but instead, I just felt numb.
I nibbled at my fingernails, casting furtive glances at the people milling around the waiting room. Here and there, couples spoke to each other in low voices, but for the most part, the room was silent as a tomb.
Phrasing, Isabel, I chastised myself. There was no point in getting morbid. Jacques would be fine; he had to be. There simply was no other option.
“Jacques Martin?” I started as a doctor called the name I had been waiting for. I shot to my feet, hurrying toward him.
“I’m Isabel Perez, I’m here for Jacques Martin.”
“Miss Perez, I’m Dr. Walters. Let’s speak somewhere privately.”
I felt my heart sink into my stomach. If there was one thing that hours of watching medical dramas had taught me, it was that a doctor wanting to speak privately always meant bad news. Good news could be given in the waiting room; bad news was taken to the Bad News Room.
My instinct proved to be correct. “We were able to stabilize Mr. Martin, but he’s still unconscious. I’m afraid it’s not looking optimistic,” Dr. Walters said, his face grim. “Mr. Martin was shot through the shoulder, and luckily the bullet passed through without causing much damage, but he’s lost a great deal of blood. His leg and several ribs were broken in his fall, but again, he’s lucky it wasn’t his spine. At the moment, it’s the smoke inhalation that I’m worried about. We’ll know more if he wakes up.”
If. I felt sick. “Can I see him?” I asked, my voice trembling. Dr. Walters nodded.
“Of course. I’ll take you to him.”
As we entered Jacques’ room, I stopped short. I realized this was the second hospital room I’d visited in one day, and I felt a curious sense of deja vu.
While my father had looked so small in his bed, Jacques’ broad shoulders seemed to dwarf the hospital bed beneath him. His eyes were closed, his skin deathly pale. Machines hummed and beeped around him.
Dr. Walters laid a hand on my shoulder. “You can talk to him,” he said. “He might be able to hear you. I’ll give you some privacy.” With that, he was gone.
Slowly, I made my way to Jacques’ bedside, heart in my throat. I sank into the hard chair next to the bed and took Jacques’ hand in mine. His skin felt paper thin. I hadn’t thought it possible for a man so large and strong to look so fragile. Gently, I massaged his hand, willing him to wake up.
Remembering what Dr. Walters had said, that he might be able to hear me, I spoke softly, my voice shaking. “You’ve given us all quite the scare,” I said. “I can’t imagine how angry you’re going to be when you wake up. I know you never wanted to leave the castle again.” My chin trembled. “Please wake up, Jacques, even just to yell at me. I’m so sorry I pushed you. This is all my fault; I led Luis right to you.” I dissolved into tears, my shoulders shaking as I wept uncontrollably.
“What’s all this?” a familiar voice spoke behind me. I gaped as my father, leaving heavily on a hospital-grade walker, entered the room.
“Papa!” I said, racing toward him. “What are you doing here?”
My father looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, and for one heart-stopping moment I was afraid he didn’t recognize me. “What kind of question is that?” he asked. “My youngest daughter is kidnapped at gunpoint right in front of me, and you expect me to just lounge in bed? I came straight here as soon as they told me you were safe.”
The tears came again, mingled relief and fear. “I’m so sorry, Papa, I should never have left you.”
My father patted my arm. “Don’t be absurd,” he said. “You’re a young woman; you shouldn’t have to spend all your time taking care of an old man.”
“I don’t mind, Papa,” I assured him.
“I know you don’t. You’re a good girl.” He regarded me fondly, then grimaced. “Can’t say I can say the same for my other children. What a useless bunch they turned out to be.”
I giggled, slightly hysterical. “It’s so good to see you looking so well,” I said, turning serious.
“I know I haven’t been myself for the past few years,” my father said. “I’m sorry for that. You’ve taken on so much more than you ever should have had to.” He turned his gaze to Jacques. “Now tell me, who is this? He must be very special to have you so upset over him.”