After I took the picture, he had smirked, curling one side of his mouth higher than the other.
“Put the damn phone down, sweetheart, and get over here. The girls are asleep, and I want you on my lap.”
I had acted coy. “Whatever for?”
He reached over, pulling me from my chair. “Get over here and sit that sweet ass on my knee. We’ll talk about whatever pops up.”
I had laughed at him until he kissed me. Deep, passionate, and filled with need. So perfect.
So Richard.
Would he ever kiss me like that again?
“Mrs. VanRyan.”
I glanced up, startled.
“You can come in for a quick visit.”
I scrambled to my feet and followed the nurse. She introduced herself as Carol and explained she would be Richard’s night nurse. “He is right across from the desk. He won’t be alone at all.”
“He isn’t in a room?”
She shook her head. “We’re a special unit. Limited beds, with a high ratio of nurses to patients. Sort of like neonatal for adults.” She smiled kindly at me. “Dr. Fletcher is one of the best. If someone I loved needed surgery, I’d want him.” She stopped at the end of a bed. “Here he is.”
My heart faltered at the sight of my husband. Hooked up to even more machines, he was silent and still except for the constant expansion and collapse of his chest as they pumped oxygen into him. I stepped forward, my hands fluttering, unsure and anxious.
“Can I-can I touch him?”
“Carefully, yes. Don’t disturb the machines. But yes, touch him. Talk to him. Let him know you’re close. I strongly believe the patient can sense when a loved one is with them.”
I leaned over him, gently stroking his cheek. They had cleaned him up, the blood gone, the cuts covered or disinfected, the bruises standing out against his pallor. Richard was always so full of life, his skin healthy and vibrant. Seeing him this way was painful. I lifted one of his hands, the only thing free from monitors, needles, or patches and kissed his knuckles.
“Where is his wedding ring?” He never took it off.
“It had to be removed for surgery. There’s a bag of his personal things behind the desk. I’ll get it for you.”
She returned in a moment and slid a plastic bag under his bed. She slipped his ring into my hand. “They had to cut it off because his hand was swollen. You’ll need to have it repaired.”
I looked down at the damaged ring, my heart plummeting. It was symbolic. Richard always wore it and at times was sentimental about how the circle was like his love—no beginning and no ending. Now it was broken—just like him.
I leaned close again, cupping his cheek. “I’m here, my darling. You did so well. You made it through the tough part, and I know you’re tired. Sleep for a while and when you’re ready, I’ll be here when you wake up. We’ll face the future together.” A tear splashed onto my hand. “Do you hear me, Richard? Together, no matter what. Just promise me you’ll wake up.”
I lowered my head to the pillow and turned my face close to his. There were none of his low wheezes, or the quiet, raspy breathing I was used to. Instead, the sound of the machines pumped and clicked.
Because he wasn’t sleeping. He was fighting for his life.
“Please, my darling, wake up.”
I buried my face into the pillow and wept.8KatyThe next couple of days passed in a monotony of repeated moments. Richard was monitored closely, his vitals checked, tests done, Dr Fletcher coming and going. I got to know the team of hardworking, dedicated nurses. I came and went, staying longer than I was supposed to, but they turned a blind eye to the fact that I stood beside Richard’s bed, holding his hand and talking for hours on end. I stepped out of the way when needed, but otherwise, I was by his side.
Graham and Laura were allowed in briefly, both of them insisting on my taking a quick break. Graham had arranged a place for me to shower and change, and I called Gracie every time. Mrs. Thomas stayed with the girls when Graham and Laura were here, or Jenna stepped in if needed. It was a great comfort to know the girls were well looked after.
“When you home, Mommy?”
“Soon, baby.”
“Is you and Daddy having fun?”
I had to clear my throat.
“Daddy is working, Gracie. Mommy is helping him.”
“Daddy yikes that. But me miss you.”
A tear ran down my cheek. “We both miss you.”
“I talk to Daddy?”
“Not right now,” I replied, my voice getting thicker. “Soon. Put Mrs. Thomas on the phone, okay?”
“Okay. I lubs you!”
“I love you too, baby girl.”
Each call got a little harder. Gracie loved Richard, and he always spoke to her when he was away, so convincing her he was too busy to talk was difficult.