Ripple Effect

by Jerald, Tracey

  “It’s Libby. She’s been taken to the hospital.”

  I don’t give a thought for Iris’s retching in the back. She could stink up the vehicle with the noxious fumes, and all it’s going to do is cause me to drive faster. All I hope is that they have their life insurance paid up as I take hairpin turns at a speed that should topple all of us off the side of the cliff yawning below us.

  I don’t care that when I pull up to the base, I pull up with an envoy of official cars trailing us—likely salivating to ticket me—instead of the ones who were determined to capture us. All I care about is managing to shave fifty-seven minutes off our drive so I can call my wife’s family.

  All of whom proceed to rightfully blister my ears but refuse to let me talk to the woman I love before I board the transport to take me home.

  Her father’s words ring through my brain over and over. “You should’ve returned my calls, Cal. Maybe then Libby wouldn’t feel like she’s going through this alone,” he snapped out, right before he slammed the phone down in my ear.

  Going through what?

  The thought haunts me on our flight back to Charleston where I don’t bother to debrief my team or Yarborough. Instead, I head straight to the hospital after changing into a rumpled business suit. I fiddle with my wedding ring, the weight of which I’m still not used to since I haven’t had it on in the last few weeks. I pray with all my might I’ll find my Libby safe and sound.

  35

  Elizabeth

  Year One – Ten Years Ago from Present Day

  I want to be left alone so I can drown in my pain, but in a hospital, that’s next to impossible.

  Cal’s still not here. I do know he finally called; then again, half the hospital might know that—Dad was shouting so hard.

  I’m ready to leave the smells of sanitization, the constant people wandering in and out of my room, and the lack of privacy. Josh has already been by Deja Vu with his spare set of keys and grabbed my laptop. At least my employees will be paid next week.

  It’s after one in the morning. The cheerful nursing staff turned off the lights in the majority of the room, but there’s one lit so they can come in to check my vitals. Every time they do, I want to lash out and ask them, “Why bother? What does it matter if you find out if I’m breathing when I don’t feel like I’m alive?”

  My heart’s somewhere on a business trip and too busy to come home.

  My wedding rings are on my rolling tray table, taunting me. Where is he? Not by my side, that’s for damn sure. It’s been forty-eight of the worst hours of my life since I opened my eyes in the ICU. I’ve awoken to a severe concussion, the knowledge of being hit head-on by a drunk driver, and the not-so-gentle reminder my husband considers his job more important than his marriage. My mother or father has been constantly by my side when they’re not running errands for me to move back to the estate because I’m not able to stay alone when I leave the hospital, because there’s no one at home to take care of me. Like a husband. I still don’t know where Cal is. Then again, I’ve also stopped asking.

  In sickness and in health…what part of this doesn’t qualify? The door behind me opens and closes quietly. Dully, I ask, “Blood work or blood pressure?”

  “Neither. I didn’t know if you were awake. I just got here and needed to get to you as fast as I could. I didn’t even change.” Cal’s voice wafts over me from the door.

  I hate there’s a part of my heart that leaps in joy because I’m about to shatter it. “Why bother now? You should have gone home to get some sleep; you must be exhausted.” I keep my back turned.

  “Libby.” My name is wrenched from him.

  I close my eyes as his footsteps approach the bed, but his presence still overwhelms me. He smells of airplanes and everything I’ve been craving since my eyes opened. I don’t trust myself not to cry in relief and anger, and right now that’s the last thing my head needs.

  I wish I still had the IV pain pump so I could just click it and Cal would disappear—just like all the other pain I’ve endured. But I’ve been awake for almost two days; I know my schedule by heart since I’ve spent more time awake praying each time the door opened, the man who’s hovering behind me would come through it. Now that he’s here, I feel like I’m trapped into talking to him.

  Why would tonight be the night I sent Mom home to get some rest? Oh, yeah, that’s right, because I love her. I debate pressing the nurse’s button; I know they’d come in. I just want someone to run interference when I tell my husband to go away—just for a little while.

  Pain is supposed to hurt like this, not love.

  “I didn’t get the messages; I swear it, Libby.”

  “Go home, Cal. Come back tomorrow when we’ve both got some rest.” Inwardly, I acknowledge the fact I won’t sleep at all, but at least the next round of pain meds will take off the edge of hell happening right now.

  “You have every right to be furious with me, but I need to see your eyes. Just let me know you’re okay.” Cal’s voice is pleading with me to turn around and face him, to forgive him. But this isn’t something as simple as coming home and screwing up a birthday surprise.

  I could have died.

  And the cruel realization I come in second to the man who’s supposed to place me first is worse than the accident.

  It might be I want to inflict some pain of my own, but bitterness gives me the fortitude to move my hand away from the call button and to the one to raise the head of my bed. “Stand back, please. I need to do this carefully. The last thing I need is more pain.”

  I slowly raise the bed the way Dr. Devin told me to, taking deep breaths along the way as the room spins. Finally, when I’m fully sitting up, I slowly rotate my head from the left to face my husband. The pillow that was cushioning the injured side of my face falls to my lap when I do. Great, I think bitterly, another thing to resent Cal for. “I see you, but do you see me?” I hiss.

  Cal’s face is paper white. “What happened to you?”

  “I’m not reliving this nightmare when I’m supposed to be resting. You got what you wanted, now give me what I want. Go. There’s the door.”

  “Libby, the bruises…”

  “I’m well aware.” The side of my face is swollen and bruised.

  “Why didn’t anyone say…”

  “Maybe you should have called back, say two days ago?”

  “I couldn’t be reached.” He doesn’t volunteer any more information, and it just leaves me exhausted.

  “Fine. I’m done, Cal. I need my rest. Can you just come back in the morning?” Since I’m curled on my right side with my head elevated, my left hand flicks in the direction of the partially closed door.

  Cal, of course, misses nothing. “Where are your rings?”

  “On the tray behind me.” I’m too heartsick to care about his reaction.

  “You took them off?” There’s torment in his voice. I recognize it because I’ve been living it since the minute my eyes opened and he wasn’t there.

  “They took them off when I was first admitted three days ago.” I emphasize the words. “They were given back to me just a few hours ago.”

  He moves to go get them but pauses when he hears my voice. “No. Not another inch. I’m so hurt, it’s physically causing me pain.”

  “Let me get your nurse.” Cal moves to my headboard to press the button to call my nurse when my words stop him.

  “I don’t want you to. I don’t want anything from you right now except for you to fucking leave!” I clutch my head as my yelling sends new shafts of pain through it. “Isn’t that what you’re good for? Leaving me alone? In the last two days, I’ve realized I’ve spent more time alone than together since we met. All I’m asking, just this once, is do it when I ask you to.” I can’t stop the sob that comes from my chest.

  “Libby, please let me hold you,” Cal begs.

  I can’t shake my head no, nor can I speak. Fortunately, someone walks in who can.

  “Cal, you need to g
o home. They’re trying to spring her from here tomorrow. They can’t do that if she can’t pass the tests she needs to.” Josh’s voice comes from the door.

  I want to ask how he knew to come, but I can’t. All I can do is draw my knees up to my chest and press my aching head against them. “Just go.” My voice is muffled through the blankets, but it’s clear.

  “I…” Cal starts to say something, but then he must change his mind. “What time do visiting hours start in the morning?”

  “Seven a.m. Not long at all,” Josh tells him.

  Unfortunately, Cal’s next words do nothing to reassure me. “I’ll be back at 7:01, Libby. That’s a promise.”

  I don’t reply because right now, I can’t rely on promises. In sickness and in health—it seemed like the ultimate promise. And I’ve been waiting for the person on the other side of that vow for days.

  It shouldn’t be that way. And before I slide those rings back on my finger, we’re going to have a conversation about it.

  I hear Cal’s retreat. Josh firmly closes the door behind him before he comes directly to me. “Okay, sister, how do I get you to rest?”

  “Call the nurses.” I can’t lift my head at this point, the throbbing is too intense. “I don’t know what time it is, but maybe it’s time for my medicine.”

  “Or maybe if they see your present condition, they’ll call Dr. Devin,” Josh mutters, not reassuring me that I’ll be leaving. I need to leave. I need to be able to go home. And I don’t mean to the house I share with Cal; I mean to Akin Hill. While the thought originally appalled me, as each hour passed with no word from him, the appeal increased. There, I wouldn’t be tempted to work, I would have love surrounding me, and maybe I’ll heal.

  And if Cal gives half a damn, he can come to me.

  “Hello, Elizabeth. What’s… Oh dear. What’s wrong?” Chantay, my night nurse, strides over to my bed. “Let’s get you lying back down, first. Then you can tell me what’s wrong.”

  Everything. Everything’s wrong when it should have been perfect. As Chantay begins to ease me back against the bed, I catch the glimmer of my rings out of the corner of my eye. I refuse to admit it’s the sight of them that causes the tears to fall harder as the bed’s being lowered.

  Under Chantay’s gentle care and Josh’s protective regard, I calm down enough to make it the additional fifteen minutes until my next pain dose. But this time, I accept the IV pain meds instead of the oral ones. I’m not ashamed to admit I want to feel the drugs running through my veins instead of the toxicity of my thoughts. It will be the last night I’ll be given such a haven as I know Cal will be back.

  It doesn’t take long between the medicine and Josh stroking my hand that I’m soon dozing with that last comforting and painful thought.

  36

  Calhoun

  Year One - Ten Years Ago from Present Day

  It’s the fifth day I’ve driven out to Akin Hill. And maybe it’s just me, but every time I make the drive, the days seem to be getting shorter.

  The light I’ve come to rely upon is fading.

  I can’t unsee Libby curled up in her hospital bed, bruised and battered. Now that I’ve been told the whole story, I’m sick to my stomach knowing if her car was hit just a few feet in a different direction, her accident could have been fatal.

  I could have lost her.

  After I went back to the hospital the next morning, I understood why I was being forced to endure the censure from my wife and her family after Marcus dragged me out of the room to explain.

  I wasn’t there when Libby needed me.

  It doesn’t matter the lives I may have saved halfway around the world. What matters is my world might have ended.

  My cell rings. I answer it with one hand. “Sullivan,” I bite off.

  “Cal, how’s your wife?” Yarborough asks, concern in his voice.

  “Resting. Healing. It’s going to take time.” Even to my own ears, I sound like I’m convincing myself.

  “That’s good to hear. Sam did a little research earlier,” he begins.

  “Sir, I want to remind you we’re not on a secure line,” I caution him. The last thing we need is for him to announce Sam hacked some poor schmuck’s database and is about to spend time in the big house because we didn’t have a warrant.

  “I’m well aware of that, Sullivan,” he snaps.

  “Sorry, sir. Continue.”

  “There’s going to be some additional people visiting your wife today. Maybe after their update, she’ll be able to rest easier,” he tells me cryptically.

  I take this to mean they arraigned the fucker who hurt Libby. “Would it be possible for me to pay their new distinguished guest a personal visit?” I’m really asking to visit the asshole who hit Libby for ten minutes. He’ll be dead, and I’ll feel much better.

  “Negative. That will not be happening, Cal.”

  “You’re no fun, sir.”

  “Your only job is to take care of your wife. You are officially on leave until she comes home. Do you understand?” my boss declares.

  You mean if she comes home, I think wearily. Every day I go to see her, the chasm between us just grows. A quick glance at the box in my passenger seat gives me a small measure of hope.

  Small, but not much.

  “Cal, do you understand? No calls, no coming to the office, no trips,” he enunciates.

  “I’ll have to train or I’ll lose what’s left of my mind, sir. Things…they’re not good.”

  “I thought her health was improving?”

  “I meant between us. I fucked up, Rick.” Now I’m not talking to my boss, but to my friend. “I should have been able to have received those calls in Germany. The fact they didn’t come in…”

  “Was a massive FUBAR. We know it. We’ll work it out before you get back. Work on your marriage. Consider it an extended honeymoon.” He hangs up in my ear.

  “This one sure as shit isn’t like the last,” I mutter. Turning down the private road that leads to Akin Hill, my heart begins to pound. I pull up to the call box at the end of the driveway. Dialing the number for Libby’s parents’ house, I wince when I hear Marcus’s hostile “Yes?”

  “It’s Cal.”

  He hangs up without a word. But the gates swing inward. “Okay, here we go.” Slowly, I accelerate my truck through the long drive so I can visit with my wife.

  Hopefully today I can find the words I need to get her to talk with me.

  Maybe she’ll feel more open after the police leave.

  Pulling up in her parents’ driveway, I walk around the front of the car and slide out the heavy package. I jostle it in my arms while I lock my truck. Not that dropping it can make it much worse. I just want Libby to see it in one piece.

  * * *

  “We appreciate you coming out all this way, Lieutenant Briggs.” My father-in-law shakes hands with the department representative they sent to convey the news that the person who hit Libby will remain a guest of the county for some time. “I’m sure that will help all of us sleep a bit more soundly tonight, won’t it, Nat?” Marcus’s arm tightens around his wife.

  “I know I will, but what’s most important is you, Libby. How do you feel, honey?” Natalie turns to my wife. Libby’s bruises are beginning to change color, but the biggest transformation is the lack of smile. My chest spasms in agony, realizing I may be the cause of it never appearing again.

  “I appreciate the visit, yes” is her response. Her face is pale and filled with shadows, but how much of that is due to what happened versus what I did to her?

  “Why don’t we walk you out, Lieutenant. Cal, can you stay with Libby for just a moment?” God, I want to hug my mother-in-law right now.

  Marcus obviously feels differently but holds his tongue. Instead he walks over to the bed and kisses Libby on the forehead. “We’ll be just a few moments, honey.”

  “That’s fine, Dad. I need a few moments of peace to process this,” she replies.

  The three make their
way out. I hear Natalie exclaim, “Libby, it looks like Cal brought you a gift!”

  My wife raises a brow in my direction. “Oh? More sunflowers.”

  I flush. There are vases of them around the room, none of them near the bed. “No, not those.”

  Libby turns her head to stare out the window, seemingly indifferent to my presence.

  “I…” The expression on her face isn’t giving me any hope. Then again—I shore myself up internally—she isn’t shoving me away. “I baked you a cake. Coconut pecan—your favorite.”

  Libby’s eyes bug out before she turns it back toward me. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that? Maybe there was hearing issues as a result of the injury,” she asks with a little of her old sass.

  “I had a little trouble, but I made it through the whole recipe.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. That cake takes me hours, Cal. I hand shuck the damn pecans.”

  “Shit, you’re supposed to shuck the pecans?”

  Her hand flies to her mouth to hold back the giggle. “Oh, sweet heaven, have mercy. Where is it?”

  “In my defense…” I leave the room and quickly come back with the box. “I followed the recipe.”

  “So, I know it’s going to be dry because that doesn’t include the extra butter, but go on.” She nods. Her eyes are beginning to dance. It sparks something inside of me I didn’t realize I’d lost.

  Hope.

  And I bask in the glow of that tiny light emanating from Libby. I decide to keep telling her about the disaster she’s about to open. “By the way, where do you keep the measuring cups?”

  “Did you borrow some?”

  “I improvised,” I tell her proudly.

  “Improvised? With what?” Libby practically screeches before a soft moan makes her remember her head.