by Helen Lacey
It was another half hour before the doctor came into the waiting room.
Tess vaguely knew Kieran O’Sullivan. She knew he was a well-respected doctor and had recently married his high school girlfriend. She didn’t know him well enough to read the expression on his face, but Hank, it seemed, did. Because he moved forward immediately and demanded answers.
“He’s going into surgery now,” the doctor explained. “There’s an orthopedic surgeon driving from the hospital in Rapid City, and he’ll take over and set the leg once the internal injuries are dealt with.”
Tess’s blood ran cold. “What kind of injuries?” she heard Hank ask.
He ran through a list and they all stood in silence, staring at the doctor, not believing what they were hearing. A badly broken leg. Internal bruising. Lacerations. Damaged spleen. A worrying head injury. Cracked ribs. It was too awful to contemplate. The doctor left them with the assurance that Mitch was in the best possible hands and he would return to update them soon.
“This is my fault,” Hank said, once the doctor was gone. “I shouldn’t have called him to—”
“He’s the best tracker in the district,” Grant said. “Who else would you call? No one knows that mountain like Mitch. I remember one time we were hiking past the plateau and he...”
Tess zoned out, the voices around her suddenly sounding like they were all stirring around together, making a kind of hazy white noise that was impossible to decipher. And she didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to listen to stories about Mitch as though they feared he wouldn’t make it. He had to make it. They had a child coming. Their son needed his father. She wouldn’t believe the worst, wouldn’t imagine for one moment that he might not pull through.
And she didn’t let the fear seep into her. Until someone said words that chilled her to the bone. Words that spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation. Words that no one in the room wanted to hear...because everyone knew what they meant.
And it was Joss who spoke them.
“Someone needs to call Jake.”
There was a long, stony silence until Hank replied. “I’ll do it.”
Tess watched as Hank left the room and silence fell back upon them.
In the following hours, Tess had plenty of time to think, to go over every moment of her life in the last few weeks. Every argument. Every harsh word. Every hurt she and Mitch had inflicted on one another. And other things—every touch, every kiss, every moment she’d spent in his arms. And then, of course, the last time they’d spoken. Guilt settled between her shoulder blades. And regret. And an immediate wish for a do-over.
It was morning before they were told he’d come through the surgery. Hank had arranged for a recliner to be brought into the waiting room so Tess could rest comfortably. But resting was out of the question. She planned on being awake when they took him into the ICU. What followed was a fraught few hours. He wasn’t out of the woods, apparently. He’d come through the surgery, with his leg set and in a cast, plus repair done to some damaged soft tissue, and he’d lost his spleen. They were concerned about his head injury and were monitoring for any signs of swelling around the brain. He’d come out of the anesthetic but was heavily sedated. She heard words like recuperate and shock and recovery, and then something about the next twenty-four hours being important. They would administer medication to put him into an induced coma if they considered the head injury to be life-threatening.
When she was finally allowed to see him, she discovered he looked like he’d been hit by a freight train. He had a bandage on his head, a black eye, several cuts and nicks on his face and bruises everywhere. And he wouldn’t be happy to know he’d chipped a couple of teeth.
His broken leg was propped up in a cast, and tubes connected his battered body to various IVs and monitors.
Joss and Hank had been in first, preparing her for what she was to see, but not even their grave expressions could make her ready. She swallowed back the acrid burning in her throat as she approached the bed. A nurse stood on the other side, fiddling with an IV line and writing something in his chart. The woman made eye contact and smiled gently, as though she knew Tess was barely hanging on. The room was darkened even though it was daylight outside, and the blinds were drawn.
Tess shuddered and touched his hand. His skin was cool, almost clammy, and she wondered if he was warm enough. He was asleep. Or unconscious. She wasn’t sure.
Well, you said you wanted him to be weak and vulnerable...
He looked about as vulnerable as a person could get.
“If your husband wakes up,” the nurse said quietly, “there are some ice chips in the cup on the side table.”
Your husband...
Tess didn’t register much else. Other than the “if” comment. What did that mean? That he might not wake up? That he was still critical? Surely he wouldn’t be allowed visitors if he was in danger?
“Should he be awake now?” she asked, terrified of the answer.
The nurse shook her head. “No. I meant for later.”
The nurse left and Tess sat down, finding a unmarked spot of skin on his arm and holding her hand there. She wondered, for a moment, if he could register her touch. And if he would want it. They’d parted badly the other day, with blame and recrimination, hurting each other.
Admit it...you did the hurting. He’d simply come over to ask you out on a date, and you shot him down like a duck in hunting season.
Her guilt amplified, but she didn’t withdraw her fingertips, thinking, hoping, that the physical connection would help. Of course, the doctor had said to talk to him, too, but no words would come. She looked at his battered face, his bruises, and an acute sense of helplessness washed over her.
Over the years, she’d experienced fear. When she was a little girl and her father passed away, when she’d first gone off to college, when she moved to Cedar River for her first teaching position and didn’t know anyone in the town... Even her wedding day had been fraught with nerves, as much as she’d wanted to marry Mitch. And, of course, those awful years when she’d been trying to keep one of their babies in her womb. But nothing in her life compared to the sickening and gut-wrenching fear she experienced as she sat beside Mitch’s hospital bed. It seeped through to her bones, closed her aching throat, made her hurt in the deepest part of her soul.
“Any change?”
It was Grant standing behind her who spoke. She turned and shook her head. “Not yet. They’re keeping him sedated for a while, to make sure his head injury doesn’t cause complications. Remember he’s not long out of surgery,” she said, trying to give the younger man comfort.
Grant ran a weary hand through his hair. “What if he...”
Tess knew Grant couldn’t say the words. And knew why. Out of all his siblings, Grant was the one who looked to Mitch as more of a father than brother. “He will,” she assured him, and, feeling about fifty years old and comforting a grown-up child. Her child. And, really, even though she was only thirty-one, Tess mostly felt like an entire generation removed from Mitch’s siblings. Necessary, she suspected, from when she and Mitch were living together at the Triple C.
“The family needs him,” Grant said softly. “He’s the glue that keeps up all together.”
She knew that. Without Mitch, the Culhanes would have been fostered in social services when Billie-Jack left.
“He’ll come through this,” she assured him. “Your brother is the strongest man I know. He’s not going to let this beat him.”
Grant nodded and told her that Joss had gone home for an hour to collect his daughters from his in-law’s, and Hank was at the police station and would return soon. Ellie was asleep in the waiting area with David.
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest?” he suggested. “I’ll stay.”
Tess shook her head. “No, I need to be here, you know,” she said, and touched her b
elly, “for when he wakes up.”
“I understand,” he said softly. “I know he’d want you here.”
Tess wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t say it. She didn’t want anyone to tell her she was right, that she had no place at Mitch’s bedside, that he wouldn’t want her support or prayers. That he’d tell her to go, to stop pretending she cared, that she was only at the hospital out of guilt.
But I do care...
She cared so much. And the notion he would never know it, that the last words they had said to one another were fraught with anger and bitterness, made her hurt so much she could barely breathe.
Grant left shortly after, saying he needed coffee and was going to the cafeteria to stretch his legs. Tess rested in the chair by Mitch’s bed, her hand still on his arm, finding comfort in touching his skin and hearing the rhythmic sound of his breathing. She closed her eyes, and her other hand rested on her belly.
As her lids grew heavy, she relaxed a little, finding solace in the sounds and the dim lighting. From outside, she could hear other sounds, people talking in low voices, echoing footsteps that became a soothing melody, and she sighed, her heart rate slowing down. She thought she heard the door open. A nurse, she mused, keeping her eyes closed. Someone was in the room. She heard a deep voice. Not Mitch’s, someone else. She knew it, but didn’t have the energy to make it out. Then the voice was gone and all she heard was Mitch’s steady breathing. When he woke up, things would be different. They would talk, sort things out, make it work. They had to for their son. Nothing else mattered except Mitch recovering and being a father to their child.
“Please wake up,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed. “I can’t do this without you. Our baby needs you. I need you. Please come back to me.”
He stirred and she was certain she heard a faint moan. And she hoped, gripping his arm, that her pleas would be enough. Because she couldn’t imagine a world without Mitch in it. Her world. The last fourteen hours had been some of the worst of her life. Her baby needed him. She needed him. Tess just hoped, with all her heart, that she’d get the chance to tell him so.
* * *
Mitch couldn’t believe how much it hurt to simply breathe. Flashes of memory banged around in his head. The mine shaft. Emmett. Shanook. Dust. Rock. Blackness.
Tess...
He moved his fingers. Thank God they worked. And his toes. Some movement, but his left leg felt like a deadweight. He swallowed and felt razor blades in his throat. And his right cheek and eye socket felt like he’d gone ten rounds in the boxing ring.
“Mitch?”
Tess’s soft voice cut through his thoughts and he took a breath, opening his left eye, very aware that the other was clamped shut and bandaged. “Hey.”
“Thank God,” she whispered, and let out a shuddering breath. Then the scent of her perfume assailed his senses and he felt her fingers against his arm, digging in gently. “Would you like some water?”
He tried to nod and failed, and within seconds a few soothing ice chips were placed against his mouth. He took them, letting the ice melt, and then swallowed. “What’s the damage?” he rasped out.
She came closer, bending over him, and he could see her in the dim light. She looked pale and so tired. “Broken leg,” she began, and then rattled off his list of injuries. “And they took your spleen.”
“Is the boy okay?” he asked, wincing as pain shot through his limbs.
“He’s fine,” she assured him. “You saved his life. His parents have been asking about you. They’re very grateful.”
“Shanook?”
“He’s home safe. He hurt his paw, but nothing serious.”
Mitch relaxed, glad the child was safe. “I guess my dancing days are over for a while.”
“A little while,” she said, and touched his forehead. He wanted to flinch. He wanted to ignore the comfort in her touch. “I should go and tell your brothers you’re awake. And David and Ellie...they’ll want to see you.”
“And Jake,” he said, and closed his good eye. “Jake was here.”
She shook her head. “I think he’s still on his way. Hank called him and—”
“He was here,” Mitch insisted. “I know he was here.”
She put more ice chips against his lips. “Get some rest and I’ll be back.”
He closed his eye and tried to nod, too weary to disagree. Moments later a doctor and nurse came into the room. He listened as they talked around him, hearing Hank’s voice, and Ellie’s and David’s. The people he cared about. His family. For a moment, he wondered if he’d dreamed Tess being in his room when he woke up, or her soft touch and her quiet voice.
But no, not a dream, because her perfume lingered in the air, stronger to his senses than the antiseptic and usual hospital scents. The steady beep of monitors was oddly soothing among the talking and discussion. The doctor asked him a few questions and he answered the best he could, mostly with nods and unsteady grunts. The nurse checked his pulse, the doctor scribbled something on his chart, and he heard his family murmuring words to one another.
An hour later, after family came and went, after the nurse returned to do his vitals again, and the surgeon dropped by to relay the great news about his leg needing to be in a cast for at least six weeks, Mitch felt as though his head was going to explode. He’d been conscious for less than ninety minutes and had already had enough of hospitals and medical staff and well-meaning relatives sighing and smiling and making noises about how relieved they were he was going to make it. Like there had been doubt.
Our baby needs you. I need you. Please come back to me.
Tess’s words came rushing at him. Words he’d heard from some faraway place. Words that had made him stronger, determined, ready to return to breathing and living. Ready to leave the pitch-black void he’d been in the moment the mine collapsed.
And then he knew, of course, that she didn’t mean them. How could she? She’d said they were done. They had the baby to keep them connected and that was it. She couldn’t forgive him. He’d stolen her hope. Broken her dreams. He needed to get a lawyer. Yeah...she didn’t mean any of it.
As the nurse left, the door opened and Mitch opened his eye and saw his brother Jake walk into the room. Still sporting his military crew cut, he looked as familiar as always, and Mitch was very happy to see him. Jake would understand.
“You look like hell,” Jake said, and stood by the end of the bed. “Rough day, hey?”
“You could say that,” he replied hoarsely, and smiled and then winced because he hurt all over.
“Someone told me you saved a kid’s life,” Jake quipped as he sat down.
“Shanook did most of the work,” he said.
“That old dog still hanging around you,” he laughed. “Thought he’d have more sense than that. And you,” his brother said, and frowned. “I heard that Hank told you not to go into the mine shaft?”
Mitch tried to shrug, failed and sighed. “Since when do I ever do what anyone tells me?”
“Never,” Jake said. “You could have been killed.”
“That’s rich coming from someone who did two tours in a war zone.”
“That was different, I was kind of fighting for my country.”
“And I was trying to save a child. Anyway, you came all this way for nothing. I’m fine and the doctor said I’ll make a full recovery.”
“A long recovery,” Jake corrected. “You’ll be here for a week, at least.”
“Don’t remind me,” he groaned. “The ranch won’t run itself. There are two more Alvarez foals due in the next week or so and I—”
“Wes will keep things under control. And I’ll be hanging around until you are out of here and back home. And Ellie will be on top of any issues that come up. Time for you to stop thinking about anything other than getting back on your feet.”
Mitch made an impatien
t sound. “I’m gonna hate this.”
Jake nodded. “Yep. And you’re going to be a pain in the ass about it.”
He didn’t deny it. “It’s good to see you. Almost worth getting crushed by that mine.”
Jake smiled humorlessly. “I thought it was time I came back.”
“Back? But not home?”
His brother shrugged. “It’s just temporary.”
Mitch sighed, fatigue settling over his bones. “It’s still good to see you, temporary or not. I should probably rest for a while.”
Jake got to his feet. “I guess you want Tess to come back in.”
He closed his eye. “Whatever.”
“She’s outside.”
He didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to see the sympathy in her eyes and the fake concern. “Later. I need to sleep.”
“By all accounts she didn’t leave your side when you came out of surgery.”
He wanted to shrug like he didn’t care. “It’s not real.”
“Looks real enough,” Jake remarked.
“We’re over,” he muttered.
“You sure?”
He couldn’t nod. “Positive.”
“You’ve got a baby coming.”
“Not enough,” he said, the words hurting. “She made that clear.”
His brother left the room, and since he was without an audience, Mitch was able to grunt in pain for the first time since he’d woken up. Everything hurt. His bones, his skin, even his hair. And he was damned thirsty. He couldn’t move his busted leg and his head felt like a deadweight on his neck.
He had about ten minutes alone before Tess entered the room. She didn’t say anything, didn’t make a sound. But her perfume was unmistakable. She sat in the chair and Mitch pretended to be dozing. He didn’t know what to feel, what to think. He knew he didn’t want to talk about the accident, his injuries or anything else. Particularly about how she’d said she needed him, how she’d begged him to come back to her with such a yearning in her voice that he had experienced a pull toward her so intense, so incredibly strong, that instinct made him try harder, push more, to return from the dark place that threatened to consume him when the rocks and debris had knocked him out.
