“Thanks. I’ll be reaching out to him. Best if you don’t give him any advance notice. Understood?” Simmons said eyeing him intently.
Jones nodded and turned to leave. He shook hands with Cavanaugh and mouthed good luck punctuated with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.
He left the room containing the departed Pentlow. A light breeze swept across the second-floor landing of the Stagecoach Inn that temporarily muted the odor. Jones had been around death enough to know its stink was now interwoven deep into the fibers of his clothes where they’d linger for the remainder of the day.
Chapter 6
His head violently banged against the plastic surface of the airplane’s window, alerting Nick that he’d reached his final destination. A de-icing issue in Austin had delayed his departure, and with each passing minute he’d worried that his opportunity to be by Izzy’s side had slipped by. He took out his cell phone as did the other two men crammed into his row. The message to Declan was brief. Landed. See you in a few.
Nick shuffled out with the drove of wayward passengers whose bodies, like his, were adjusting to the release from the confines of the past few hours. At a little over six feet tall, Nick never thought of himself as a large man until seated in the cramped space of an airplane. It seemed as though in the last few years airlines had taken away all of the comforts, in particular, leg room. Meals had been replaced by snacks and any additional space had been filled with more seats, making the once luxurious method of travel one of mere convenience.
Exiting onto the sidewalk outside the baggage claim area, Nick scanned the row of cars in the pickup area. Stretching, he inhaled deeply, taking in the dampness of the Connecticut air as a long-term parking shuttle roared by, leaving him in a wake of diesel fumes. He coughed, choking on the acrid taste. Across the way he saw Declan standing outside a black SUV. No smile on his friend’s face tonight. He crossed the walkway, and the two men shared a quick embrace followed by a hearty slap on the back.
“It’s good to see you, brother,” Declan said. “But I hate that it’s under these circumstances.”
“What’s the status?” Nick asked, concern for Izzy permeating the air.
“She’s in ICU and they aren’t allowing visitors. Her surgery is scheduled for early tomorrow morning. Val’s at the hospital now and will call if something changes.”
“What’d the doctors say?”
“Not much so far. They err on the side of caution these days. An overly litigious society has left most doctors tight lipped about giving any early prognosis. Rest assured she’s in good hands. The docs at Yale New Haven are some of the best in the country,” Declan said.
Nick sat in silence taking in the gravity of the situation as the two made their way south on I-91 from Bradley International Airport. He pulled out his cell phone to let Anaya know he’d landed and to check on her trip to Michigan. He looked at his watch and realized she was still in the air and would be for a little while longer. Nick slipped it back into his pocket and stared out the window. A light, but continuous, icy drizzle fell and a thin layer glazed the windshield as the wipers struggled in vain with their task.
“Miss this beautiful weather?” Declan said.
Nick laughed. “Not for a minute.”
“You’re not going to believe how big the girls are getting. Sprouting like weeds, but crazy as ever,” Declan said.
“Last time we talked you mentioned that Laney started a half-day pre-K program. How’s she adjusting?”
“The staff is amazing. I was nervous they wouldn’t be able to accommodate her needs, but that’s been quelled. She’s starting to become more vocal and the meltdowns are less frequent,” Declan said smiling.
“That’s good stuff. I hope that when my time comes to be a father that I can do half as well as you.”
Declan laughed. “Is the commitment-phobic Nick Lawrence thinking about settling down? My God, what has Anaya done to you?”
Nick felt conflicted at hearing Anaya’s name while rushing to see Izzy. The unresolved feelings bubbled up inside him.
“We’ve got a good thing going. Let’s see where it takes us,” Nick said dismissively.
“I’d better be invited if there’s a wedding.” Declan stopped and gave Nick a wary glance.
Nick felt his cheeks warm and knew that he’d reddened. He was angry at his body’s betrayal.
“Wait a minute.” Declan cocked his eyebrow. “Has there already been a wedding? Did you guys elope?”
“What? No.”
“Well, something’s definitely different.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nick said.
“I can’t quite place it, but something’s off.”
“Can you keep a secret?” Nick asked, already knowing the answer.
Declan’s response came in the form a big shit-eating grin.
Nick turned and faced his friend, pausing for added effect. “I’m going to be a dad.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. How far along?”
“Eight weeks.” Nick exhaled loudly. “Anaya told me this morning.”
Declan shook his head. “Wow! You’ve been on an emotional roller coaster of a day.”
“She’s going to kill me. I promised I would wait until we made it through the first trimester.”
Declan’s laughter erupted. “You didn’t even make it to through the first few hours.”
Nick started laughing and for a brief moment forgot where they were headed.
“Val’s going to be so excited. She loves babies. You know that you’ve just made my life a living hell,” Declan said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because now she’s going to want another one. She’s going to catch baby fever.” Declan’s face softened into a smile. “But I guess it’s a win for me. The trying is the best part anyway.”
New Haven 30 Miles prominently displayed on the green highway sign ended the levity of their conversation. The two men slipped back into silence. The only sound was the rhythmic scraping of the wipers as they cut their path across the icy windshield.
Although relatively short in distance, the remaining miles of the journey seemed to pass slowly. The anticipation of seeing Izzy in her current situation added a burdensome mental load. Nick followed Declan into the main lobby of the building. The all-too-familiar medicinal smell filled his nose and sickened his stomach. He’d been around it too often in his life and never under good circumstances. Maybe the birth of his child would change that?
Val was standing at a small rectangular table set against the wall with her back to them as they entered the waiting room. She methodically churned a thin plastic stir stick into the steaming cup of coffee in her hand. The flat gray of the evening’s transition to darkness seeped into the room and blended with the soft glow cast from the ceiling lights. A wave of stress-induced exhaustion swept over Nick and an involuntary yawn caught him by surprise.
Val spun at the sound. The tension in her shoulders dropped at the sight of Declan. Nick hoped that he’d have that same effect on Anaya as their years together passed.
“Hey babe,” Declan said moving his hands to her slender hips.
Nick watched as the two shared a quick embrace.
“Oh Nick. Come here,” Val said, opening her arms and gesturing him in for a hug.
Nick accepted the invitation.
“It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry it took something like this for me to get back this way,” Nick said as they separated.
He eyed the coffee pot and slipped past Val, grabbing a cup for himself.
“Any word?” Declan asked.
“Nothing new,” Val said.
“Well, I’ll take no news as good news at this point,” Nick said, taking a sip.
“We should probably head back to our place in a little bit. It’s late and they’re not allowing visitors tonight,” Val said.
“I’m staying. I’d never forgive myself if I wasn’t here and—�
� Nick stopped short, fearing that if he spoke the words they’d become a dark reality.
“If you’re staying, then we’re staying too,” Declan said.
Val nodded her agreement. Nick admired how she gave her support without a moment’s hesitation.
“Are you guys sure? What about the girls?” Nick asked.
“Not to worry. My sister’s up from Georgia. She doesn’t get to see them often and loves any opportunity to be Super Aunt. She’s going to be excited to have more time to spoil them,” Val said.
“These couches don’t look too bad,” Nick said. He pressed on the worn vinyl coating of the chair for added effect.
Declan chuckled. “We’ve slept on worse, much worse.”
Chapter 7
Nick lay on the formed cushioning of the love seat with his legs bent and hanging over the wooden armrest. A young redheaded, freckle-faced orderly had brought them a few thin blankets during the course of the night. Nick’s jacket was folded into a makeshift pillow and provided minimal relief to his contorted position.
He was awake, and had been for over an hour, but fought against his desire to move. He wanted to let his friends sleep and feared if he got up, the noise from the cushion’s release would rouse them. Val was slumped against Declan, their heads merged into one, forming a lover’s version of the yin and yang. Nick’s eyes traced the lines of the watercolor painting that hung on the wall nearest him. He’d been staring at it since he woke. A sailboat in rough seas with an approaching storm cloud. Nick contemplated his friend’s circumstance and felt the picture had captured it perfectly.
The morning light had pushed its way across the reflective surface of the waiting room floor. Val stirred, lifting her head out of the tight notch of Declan’s neck, which in turn caused him to blink awake. Satisfied his friends were now up, he rose and shuffled to the refreshment table. Nick poured a cup of coffee from the pot that had been quietly refreshed a little over an hour ago by the same kid that had brought them the blankets. Val wandered toward the bathroom and gave Nick a tired wave as she passed.
“How’d you sleep?” Declan asked, pulling up alongside him at the table.
“Like I fell out of a helicopter and landed on a pile of rocks,” Nick said, rubbing his lower back for added effect.
Declan gave a hearty laugh. “It’s all that soft living you did in the Rangers.”
“Without Rangers, who would SEALs have to look up to?” Nick fired back with a smile and mock uppercut to his friend’s ribcage.
Val returned a few minutes later drying her face with a paper towel as she approached. “Did anyone come out yet to give us an update?”
Nick looked at his watch. “Not yet.”
As if on cue, the door to the surgical wing of the ICU popped open, and a man in a white lab coat entered, presumably a doctor. He approached the trio cautiously. Nick watched the man’s movements and noted the almost imperceptible hesitation in each step the doctor took. A panic alarm rang out inside of Nick’s head as loud as church bells on a Sunday morning.
“I’m Doctor Robshaw. Is anyone here family of Ms. Martinez?”
“We all are. Not by blood but closer than most,” Val said. “Her mother is making arrangements to fly in from Arizona and should be arriving later today.”
Nick watched as the doctor’s lips pursed and his brow furrowed.
“What is it?” Nick asked.
“Your friend put up a hell of a fight,” the doctor said.
Nick’s heart sank as he watched the doctor fumble with the words and avoiding eye contact with the trio.
“Cut to the chase doc,” Declan blurted.
“It was a complicated set of surgeries. I don’t know how much you all know about the nature of her injuries?”
“Is it her back? How bad are we talking?” Declan asked.
“The damage to her spine was severe, but our biggest concern became the brain bleed. It was a high-risk procedure, but wholly necessary.”
“Jesus,” Nick hissed.
“The impact of the crash ruptured blood vessels in her brain. The damage was extensive. We tried to relieve the pressure. I’m sorry.” The doctor paused and momentarily broke eye contact with the group. “We’ve got an amazing team in that operating room. Some of the best in the country, but the intracranial bleeding was devastating. She succumbed to her injuries.”
Nick felt the eyes of Val and Declan wash over him. The impact of the doctor’s words coupled with his friends’ stares caused his head to spin. The room began to whirl and the features of the people around him blurred. His face flushed, and Nick couldn’t decide if he were going to vomit or scream. He chose neither, standing there numb with shock.
“Doctor?” Val asked as if she’d misheard the explanation.
“She didn’t make it,” the doctor said. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Nick’s hands slid down the outside of his jeans toward his knees. The next thing he knew he was on all fours staring at his hazy reflection cast back at him from the linoleum floor of the waiting room.
Val’s hair brushed his cheek, and he felt her hand calmly rubbing circles in the center of his back. She was speaking softly but the words were barely registering. He breathed deeply, trying hard to right himself.
“Let’s get you up into that chair,” Val said.
Nick suddenly felt a strong hand that he assumed to be Declan’s grip him under his arm. With their assistance he found the rigid cushion of the love seat he’d been a prisoner of for the past several hours. He looked up at his friends who returned his inquisitive gaze with a look of compassion and concern.
Embarrassed by his collapse, Nick hung his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Don’t apologize to us,” Declan said. “Not now. Not ever.”
Nick looked back up at his friend. The former SEAL’s normally rugged exterior was somewhat softened, and Nick saw the wetness of fresh tears still matted in Declan’s eyelashes. This caused him to crumple again. A whimper escaped as he fought, without success, to suppress his pain.
The three sat silently consoling one another for what seemed like an eternity. The doctor had retreated into the recesses of the restricted area marked Medical Personnel Only, leaving them in the privacy of the waiting area to grieve the death of their friend.
“We should be here to soften the blow when her mother arrives. Not something you tell someone over the phone,” Val whispered to Declan.
“I can’t believe she’s gone. There were so many things I never told her.” Nick’s voice cracked, and he stopped himself from finishing his train of thought.
The doors to the surgical area re-opened behind them and the same doctor reappeared, stopping abruptly after passing through its threshold.
“Who’s Nick?” Doctor Robshaw asked.
Nick, bookended by Val and Declan, turned slightly in the uncomfortable chair to face the doctor.
“I am,” Nick said. “Why?”
“When we initially brought Isabella into the ER we looked through her phone trying to locate an emergency contact number of a family member,” Doctor Robshaw said.
“Izzy,” Nick interrupted.
“Excuse me?” the doctor asked.
“Izzy. She hated being called Isabella,” Nick said.
“Sorry. When Izzy came to us, we went through her cell phone. We found her mother’s number, but there was an unfinished and unsent text message to you, Nick,” Doctor Robshaw said.
In his haze Nick hadn’t noticed that the doctor was holding a cellphone in his left hand. Nick swallowed hard at the sight of it.
“Would you like to read it?” the doctor asked.
Nick didn’t speak, terrified at what throaty noise might erupt from him if he did. He only managed the slightest nod of his head.
The exchange made, the doctor left again, back behind the boundary of the secured doors.
Nick held the phone with two hands. The unknown gravity of the message cont
ained therein gave the small device an incomprehensible weight. He forced himself to breath.
“Do you want us to give you some privacy?” Val asked softly.
Nick shook his head, knowing he needed the strength of his friends to get through this. He flicked his finger across the shattered screen, opening it. He tapped the messenger app and it opened. His name was positioned on top of the list of messages. The word draft in red italics noted the unfinished text. He sighed loudly and tapped lightly on the conversation.
He read silently the words never sent, never spoken: Nick I really wish that things had turned out differently between us. I’ve started this message a thousand times before but never finished it. I don’t know why, but I woke up this morning thinking about you. I am going to say this not expecting that you’ll respond but I need to say it. I lo”
The cursor blinked next to the “o” as if taunting him. The message unfinished and unsent hit Nick hard. Those words they’d never said to each other, but he knew were always tucked just beneath the surface.
Nick gave way to its weight, letting the phone slip out of his hand and onto the floor.
No one moved. His friends sat frozen.
“I killed her,” Nick mumbled.
“What are you talking about?” Declan said.
“She was trying to reach me. Message me. She was distracted. It’s my fault,” Nick rambled almost incoherently.
“That’s absurd. You can’t make this worse than it already is. You had absolutely nothing to do with her death,” Declan said.
Nick didn’t answer. His eyes stared out at the painting on the wall and envisioned a massive tidal surge smashing the small vessel.
“Take solace in the fact that the last thought she had was of you,” Val said.
The words hit Nick like a sledgehammer, and he crumpled into the crux of her neck, sobbing uncontrollably. He let the pain roll down her shoulder in the form of pent-up tears.
Chapter 8
“You’re not staying in a hotel! Val won’t hear of it.” Declan said with a resolute look. “You get the pleasure of sleeping at Casa de Enright. Prepare yourself for a five-star experience.”
The Rabbit's Hole Page 4
