I take a moment to give him a good look. He does look familiar. “Uh, I’m not sure.”
“I’ll show you up to the ICU where Sara is now,” he says as we wait for the elevator. “But I’m afraid I don’t have much information. Obviously, she has a head injury. She never regained consciousness and I’m sure she’s heavily sedated now, so she won’t wake up until she’s weaned off the meds. With an injury like hers, it’s a wait-and-see game. And things will get worse before they get better.”
“I figured. Her head injury looked pretty bad from what I could tell at the scene. What about her other injuries?”
“She didn’t appear to have any,” he says.
I stare at him. “What? That’s not possible. She was sardined in the passenger seat. The car buckled in around her.”
He shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s the silver lining then.”
I shake my head in amazement, thinking back to the way she was trapped between the door and the console. “That’s unbelievable.”
“Here we are,” he says, motioning to a room encased with glass so she’s visible from the nurses’ station.
I look into the room and my heart sinks into my stomach. There are a half-dozen machines around the head of the bed. There are tubes coming out of her mouth, wires attached to her chest, and an IV in her arm. She appears to be naked with only a sheet covering her from her pelvic area to her collarbones, and the side of her head and face are still stained with blood. But what gets me the most is that there is nobody else in the room with her. No doctors. No nurses. No family.
It guts me to see her like this. It would gut me to see anyone like this. Alone and possibly dying.
“Where is everyone? Why hasn’t she been cleaned up yet?”
“Well, there isn’t much we can do until the swelling in her brain goes down,” Dr. Stone says. “And cleaning her up has the potential to cause further trauma, so it will be done carefully and meticulously by a neurosurgeon who just hasn’t been able to do it yet. He may be able to give you more information when the family gets here.”
I step back in surprise. “They’re not here yet? It’s been hours.”
“Maybe they have to come in from out of town,” he says.
“Nobody’s been here to see her?” I ask.
“No. I’ve been down in the ER all night. You’re the first person to ask about her.”
“So she’s all alone,” I say in irritation. “Without even a nurse in there.”
“We have lots of patients to attend to, Mr. Andrews. I assure you she’s getting the best care possible.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I just keep thinking about …” my parents, I almost say. I haven’t stopped thinking about them since I was at the scene of Sara’s accident. But I bite my tongue. “I keep thinking that Sara is someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister. I can’t imagine my sister lying in a hospital. Alone. If anything like this ever happened to Aspen …”
Dr. Stone nods in realization. “That’s how I know you. You’re Aspen’s brother. I was at her wedding. My wife is Caden Kessler’s sister. From the Nighthawks?”
“Oh, of course,” I say, vaguely remembering him from the reception. “Your daughters were the flower girls, right?”
“One of them tried to steal the show,” he says, laughing.
“I remember.”
“How are Aspen and Sawyer liking Kansas City?”
“A little too much,” I say. “I was hoping they’d end up back here, but I doubt that will happen.” I look back into Sara’s room. “So, do you think it would be okay if I sit with her? You know, just until her family arrives.”
“I think that would be fine. Don’t be afraid to talk to her. Just because she’s under sedation doesn’t mean she can’t hear you. There is no guarantee she can, but it’s possible.”
“What do I say?”
“Just tell her everything will be okay.”
“Even though it might not be?”
He nods. “Yeah, even though it might not be.”
His pager goes off. “I’ve got to get back downstairs. It’s nice to see you again. If I get a minute, I’ll check back on her later.”
I look at Sara’s room, still empty of people. “I’d appreciate that.”
He nods to a hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall. “Use that if you’re going to touch her. Stay clear of her head, but if you want to hold her hand, that would be okay.”
“I don’t even know her,” I say.
“Human touch can do miraculous things,” he says, walking away.
I pump the antiseptic into my hands before I approach the bed, remembering that I’ve already held her hand. I’ve held her hand through the scariest time in her life. And one of the scariest in mine.
I pick up the chair in the corner and put it next to her bed. I appraise her before sitting down. My eyes glance over her from head to toe. She has stitches on the right side of her head. A lot of them. And her hair is bloody and matted. She has a wire coming out of the other side of her skull that looks to be held in by surgical tape. There is a machine that’s breathing for her, and I watch her chest rise and fall with every sound of the machine. I glance over the thin sheet that’s barely covering her, wanting to put a blanket on her and tuck her in, but there’s not one in sight.
A machine beeps and a nurse walks into the room, smiles at me, and pushes a button on it. “Someone will be in to clean her up shortly.”
“Good,” I say, finally taking a seat next to Sara. “Can I get a blanket for her?”
“Sorry,” the nurse says, nodding to one of the machines. “She’s running a high temperature. We need to keep her cool.”
Once the nurse leaves the room, I take Sara’s hand. It’s limp and not at all like it felt the last time I held it. And it’s warm. Much warmer than I thought it would feel since she’s unconscious and close to death. I guess that’s because she’s got a fever.
I look at her face, and for a moment, I see my mother’s. If only I could have been there for her. Held her hand. Sat by her side. It’s not that I don’t think about my dad. But Dad was big and strong, like me. Mom was petite like Aspen. Like Sara.
I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t even be with her when she died. I look around the empty room. But I can be here. I can be with Sara. Especially since nobody else is.
I remember what Kyle said about talking to her, so I clear my throat. “Um … so you were in an accident, Sara. You’re in the hospital now. They gave you some drugs to help you sleep so you can heal. I’m Denver. Remember me? I’m the one who got sick all over the back seat. I’m sorry about that.”
I decide not to talk about her friend. If she can hear me, she’d be devastated to know that her friend died.
“The doctor said your family has been contacted. I’m sure they’ll be here soon. I’ll stay with you until they get here. Remember how you didn’t want to be alone in the car? I get that. Being alone sucks. I was alone for a long time when I lived in Kansas City. But I guess that’s a story for another day. My point is, it sucks, so I’ll stay here with you. They said someone will be in to clean you up soon. Uh, you look fine. I mean you look pretty even just lying here. I’m sure you’re cold. The nurse said you have a fever. I wanted to give you a blanket, but she said I couldn’t. You know, I’m not really sure what to talk about. I just wanted you to know that someone was here. I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I’m sure you’re scared. But there are people who need you to fight to get better. People who are depending on you.”
I find it hard not to choke up thinking about my parents.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t know if you have a husband or kids, but if you do, they would want me to tell you that you need to fight to come back to them. Trust me. I know. You need to do everything you can to get better.”
I hear a noise behind me and see a nurse lurking in the doorway. I stand up. “Uh, sorry.”
“No, you’re fine. But the docto
r is on his way to clean her up if you don’t mind waiting outside for a bit.”
“Okay, sure.” I turn to Sara. “I’ll be back in a little while, Sara.”
I’m not sure why I said that to her. It’s not like she knows who I am or cares that I’m leaving. I sit on a bench outside her door and watch a doctor walk in and pull a curtain around her.
After a few minutes of fiddling around with my phone, a nurse walks up with a woman. “Your cousin is right in there. The doctor is in with her. He’ll be out in a few minutes if you can wait here.”
“Alright. Thank you.” The woman looks at me and then the door behind me. “You must be Oliver.”
I stand up. “No. I’m Denver. I was one of the firefighters on the scene of the accident.”
“Oh, sorry. I just assumed.”
“Who’s Oliver?”
“Her boyfriend.”
“But you’ve never met him?”
“No.” She shifts her weight around from foot to foot. “Sorry, I’m Sara’s cousin, Joelle. I’m really her only family with the exception of my mom, but she’s in a memory care facility.” She nods to the door. “Sara and I aren’t exactly close. I know about Oliver but I’ve never met him.”
“Nice to meet you, Joelle. Has Oliver been contacted?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have his number. What do you know about her condition? They wouldn’t tell me much over the phone except that it was critical.”
“Why don’t we take a seat?” I motion to the bench. “I don’t know much either. She has a head injury and they gave her medicine to keep her asleep while she heals.”
She gasps. “As in, she’s in a coma?”
I shrug. “You’ll have to ask the doctor. He’s in with her now. Maybe he’ll have more information when he comes out.”
“So you were at the accident?” she asks.
“I was with Sara. I held her hand for about thirty minutes while they extracted the driver. Did you know the girl who was driving?”
She shakes her head. “Like I said, Sara and I aren’t very close. I don’t really know her friends. I used to babysit Sara when she was ten or eleven and I was in my early twenties. And we spent a few weeks together about four years ago, but that’s about it.”
“I’m sorry you weren’t close,” I say, feeling bad that Sara doesn’t have any family who truly cares about her wellbeing.
She shrugs. “Well, aside from our age difference, Sara’s not exactly the kind of girl who makes friends easily.”
“What do you mean? What kind of girl is she?”
“You know, the arrogant artist type.”
I raise an eyebrow. “She’s an artist?”
“A painter. And when her parents died four years ago, she shut everyone out and poured herself into her paintings. Then, a year later, when people started to notice her work, things got even more distant between us.”
I register what she said and my heart sinks. “Her parents died?”
“Yeah, they were much older than most parents of a twenty-year-old. They were more like grandparents. They adopted Sara when they were in their fifties.”
“Do you mind if I ask how they died?”
“My uncle, her dad, died of a heart attack, and then her mom suffered a stroke a few months later.”
“Wow. That must have been hard on her.”
“It was. You have no idea.”
“Actually, I do. I lost both parents as well.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Thanks. So, will you be able to stay with Sara in the hospital?”
“Me?” She looks at me like I’m crazy. “No. I don’t mean to sound selfish, but I just don’t have the time. I told you my mother is in a facility, and between her and my eighteen-month-old twins, I don’t have a spare minute.” She looks at her watch. “In fact, I have to be home in an hour. I got my neighbor to watch the twins because my husband is out of town on business. I mean, I’ll try to pop in when I can, but they won’t let kids up here, so …”
“So she’ll be alone.”
“There’s always Oliver. I don’t know his last name, but maybe the police can track him down.”
The doctor opens the curtain surrounding Sara’s bed and walks out of the room. “You’re Sara’s family?” he asks Joelle.
“I’m her cousin,” she says. “Her parents are dead and she doesn’t have any siblings. Can I see her? Can you tell me what happened?”
“Sure, come on in.” The doctor looks at me but talks to Joelle. “Do you want to discuss her case alone?”
Joelle looks at me. “It’s okay. He’s the firefighter who saved her. He can be here.”
“Okay, then. I’m Dr. Miller. Your cousin has been in a serious car accident. She hurt her head pretty badly. She’s got what we call a diffuse brain trauma due to cerebral edema with a coup contrecoup injury pattern.”
Joelle looks at him with eyes glazed over. “You might as well be speaking Chinese,” she says.
“Essentially, the brain is nothing more than a marshmallow floating in a cup that’s just a bit bigger in diameter than the brain itself. When you’re in a vehicle that suddenly crashes, the brain will rush forward, hitting the front of the skull, and then bounce back to hit the rear of the skull. This causes damage to both the frontal cortex and the posterior of the brain.”
Joelle’s hand covers her mouth. “Oh my God. What does that mean?”
The doctor sighs. “Well, that we don’t know. And we won’t for some time. Maybe days or weeks. Sara has a lot of blood and swelling in the brain.” He points to a wire coming out of her skull. “See this? This measures ICP. Intercranial pressure. We need to try and keep the ICP down or we may have to drill another hole and remove part of her skull to relieve the pressure.”
Joelle sits down in the chair next to the bed and looks at her cousin. “This sounds bad. Is she … is she going to die?”
“At this point, we don’t know. Anything is possible. With brain injuries, we could be looking at death or complete recovery or anything in between. We’ll know more in a few days when we can do another MRI after the swelling goes down. But right now, the swelling is only getting worse, and it will continue to do so for about the next twenty-four hours.”
“And the tubes down her throat?” Joelle asks.
“One is the ventilator. It’s breathing for her. The other is a feeding tube for nutrition.”
“She can’t breathe on her own?”
“Not right now she can’t. Her brain needs to heal before that can happen. Assuming the brain damage didn’t go all the way down her brain stem, she may eventually be able to breathe on her own.”
Joelle looks at the doctor in horror. “She may never be able to breathe on her own?”
As they continue to discuss Sara’s condition, I look over at the hospital bed. She looks a little better now. At least the blood is gone. Her face is easier to look at, and I can tell that she’s a beautiful woman. But there are still tubes and wires everywhere. I can’t imagine what her boyfriend will think when he sees her.
The doctor puts a hand on Joelle’s arm. “You need to prepare yourself for the worst. With this kind of brain injury, almost every body system can be impacted. It’s possible she may never walk or talk. It’s also possible she could make a full recovery.”
“What are the chances of both of those scenarios? What are the odds she’ll die?”
He shakes his head. “I really can’t say. It’s different for everyone. But Sara has youth on her side, so for now, we sit back and monitor her and hope for the best.”
“I can’t be here much,” she tells him. “I have twin toddlers at home.”
“I can stay,” I tell them. “Until her boyfriend gets here.”
The doctor nods. “Do I have your permission to discuss Sara’s case with, uh …”
“Denver Andrews,” I tell him.
“Do I have your permission to discuss it with Mr. Andrews in your absence?”
Joelle nods. �
��Yes, and with Oliver—that’s her boyfriend. We’re trying to get ahold of him.”
“I’ll keep you updated as much as I can. And feel free to call the nurses’ station at any time.”
“Thank you, Dr. Miller,” she says.
Joelle and I sit with Sara for a while, but we don’t talk much. She calls her husband and explains everything to him. Then she stands up. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. John—that’s my husband—said he’ll try to find Oliver, but we just don’t know much about him. Except that he does a lot of traveling.” She nods to Sara. “They both do.”
Joelle and I exchange numbers before she leaves.
“You’re really a very kind person to sit with her,” she says on her way out.
“It’s the least I can do.”
She flashes me a sad smile and then walks out.
Sometime later, I’m startled awake by a loud beeping noise. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the chair next to Sara’s bed. The night nurse comes in and looks Sara over. “Her fever is getting worse. I’m going to put some cooling packs under her armpits.”
“Does she have an infection?” I ask.
“It’s possible due to the head wound,” she says. “But more than likely, her brain is having trouble regulating her body temperature. It’s common in head injuries. I’m also going to turn the temperature down in the room. I can bring you a blanket if you’d like.”
I look at the clock and see it’s after midnight. “That’s okay. I’m going to head home to get some sleep. Can you … keep her company sometimes? I feel bad that nobody has really been here for her.”
“You’ve been here for her.”
“But I’m not family. She doesn’t know me from Adam.”
She nods sympathetically. “The day nurse told me you’re the one who rescued her. I’ll do what I can. We all will. I promise.”
“Thank you. I don’t have another shift for a few days, so I’ll come back in the morning.”
“You’re coming back?” she says, surprised. “I thought you were just sitting with her until her family got here.”
“Her family did get here,” I say. “All she has is a cousin. One cousin. And a boyfriend, apparently, but he’s MIA. So, yeah, I’m coming back. Nobody should have to go through this alone.”
The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 31
