His relationship with Mark had not been good, and although they lived in the same town, Allie knew that Mark hadn’t spoken to him in nearly a year. Had he even heard that she and Mark had been separated? He must have—he often ventured out at night to a little hole-in-the-wall bar called the Pop-A-Top Lounge, where he drank with his buddies; someone would have told him. Even so, as he sat with her now, he didn’t mention it.
For the first time since she’d met him during her engagement to Mark, she felt compassion, rather than disgust, for the man who had raised her husband. It hadn’t been easy for him to come here, but Mark was, after all, his only son. She pictured him hearing about the shooting during an episode of Jenny Jones, thought of him stumbling around the filth and clutter of his decaying house to find something clean to wear to the hospital, forcing himself not to take the drink that would have made things easier to bear…
When the doctors finally allowed her to go in to see Mark, she leaned over to her father-in-law and touched his shaking hand. “Eddie, would you like to come in with me?”
He shook his head. “No, that’s okay. He’s your husband.”
“He’s your son.”
Tears filled those red eyes that looked so much like Mark’s, and he wiped them quickly. “He won’t want me there.”
“Please, Eddie,” she said. “I want you there.”
He looked up at her, stricken with emotion, and she wondered how long it had been since anyone had shown him compassion. She had failed as a daughter-in-law. She should have been drawing him into their family, instead of avoiding him as if his presence would contaminate their marriage. Funny how they’d managed to contaminate it without him.
Eddie cleared his throat, then stood up and nodded toward the door. “Okay,” he said. “You lead the way.”
Filled with trepidation, she headed out of the waiting room, wondering what condition she would find her husband in. A nurse met them at the double steel doors of ICU and escorted them back to the three-walled room where Mark lay, still unconscious, under a tangle of wires and monitor cords.
For a moment, she thought they had led them to the wrong room. The man on the table had little resemblance to Mark. His eyes were bruised, and she could see the bare, bristly skin of his shaved scalp above the bandage that covered one side of his face. His color was deathly pale against the black of the bruises. Looking down at him, she went numb.
“He’s very lucky,” the nurse said as she made some notations on his chart. “If that bullet had changed its direction by even a centimeter…”
“But…he looks so different. It doesn’t look like him.”
“It will.”
Allie stood paralyzed, staring, unable to grasp the idea that this helpless, wounded, unconscious stranger was her husband, who had been so protective of her just this morning. She heard a garbled sound behind her and turned to see that her father-in-law was doubled over, his hand covering his mouth as he muffled his own sobs.
Quickly, she went to embrace him. “I…can’t,” he said. “I’ll…I’ll be in…the waitin’ room.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “I understand.”
She let him go, and he fled from the unit.
She turned back to Mark and touched his face, then bent down to kiss his cheek. His skin felt warm, and the stubble was thicker than it had been earlier. It felt rough, familiar, beneath her lips. She closed her eyes and kept her lips there, wishing she’d had the grace to make such a move when he was awake, wishing the kiss could stir him to life. But Mark didn’t move.
“If he’s doing so well, why isn’t he conscious?” she asked the nurse. “Is he in a coma?”
“No,” the nurse said. “He’s been awake for a minute or so a couple of times since the surgery. The concussion is the main reason he’s out.”
Allie looked hopefully up at her. “Did you talk to him? Ask him questions?”
“He wasn’t talking yet,” she said. “He was very groggy. But if he wakes while you’re here, ask him questions like who he is, where he lives, what your birthday is, things like that. We’ll be able to tell a lot about his condition when he wakes up.”
The nurse began to describe the purpose of all of the machinery in the room, and a heaviness came over Allie’s heart. So many instruments waiting for something to go wrong. So many things that could go wrong.
“I have to go talk to some other families now,” the nurse said, “but if he wakes up while I’m gone, let me know, okay?”
“Should I try to wake him up?”
“Yes. It’s important that I evaluate his progress.”
Allie held her gaze. “He could still die, couldn’t he?”
The nurse hesitated to answer. “Everyone in here is in pretty critical condition, Mrs. Branning. But we have a high success rate.”
She left them alone, and Allie stood beside his bed, gently stroking her fingers along the side of his face. “Mark?” she asked, close to his ear. “Mark, wake up. Wake up and let me see that you’re all right.”
He didn’t stir, so she tried shaking his arm.
“Mark? Wake up, Mark.”
The silence and limpness of his body made her despair even more, and as a sob rose to her throat, she dropped her forehead to his chest. The terrible, irrational fear that he would die without knowing that she loved him overwhelmed her. “Why did you do it?” she whispered against his face. “Why didn’t you take cover?”
He didn’t have to answer. She knew why. It was because he loved her. From the beginning of this ordeal, he had been there, worrying and protecting and watching over her. If he’d loved Issie, he would have been watching over her, but he’d given no indication that he’d even thought about Issie in days. And Allie hadn’t made it easy for him.
It was so simple, despite all the pain, and the betrayal, and the fact that she had biblical grounds for divorce. The Bible never mandated divorce in the case of adultery. It only allowed for it. The simple fact was that Mark loved her, despite how he had strayed. He had spent the past two days proving it.
A tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto his. “I love you, too, Mark,” she whispered. “I do. And I’m so sorry for all the things I’ve said and done. How I’ve acted toward you. I do love you.”
There was no change in the expression on his face or in the position of his body.
In a broken voice, she whispered, “Oh, Lord, please let him wake up.”
It occurred to her that she had almost no right to ask for that, when she had been willing to throw her wedding vows away without a fight. She had behaved as if her vows were contingent on his. But her vows hadn’t included “as long as you keep your vows to me.” In their wedding ceremony, she had said, “Till death do us part.” And now that there was a real chance of that very thing happening, she realized that she didn’t want it to end. Could God hear her prayers now, when she’d been so out of touch with him that she’d almost broken the most important earthly commitment she’d ever made?
She pressed her face into the sheets, muffling the words that she knew God heard clearly. “Forgive me, oh, God. Please forgive me for letting my marriage fall apart. Lord, if you’ll just give me one more chance, I’ll make my marriage work, I promise. I’m committed now, Lord, whether he is or not, whether he does what he should or not, whether he admits to me that he had feelings for Issie or not. Even if he doesn’t change anything, I’ll change, Lord. Please, just let me have one more chance.”
She was wiping her eyes, trying to pull herself together, when she noticed the other families beginning to leave. Her time was up, and it wasn’t enough.
The nurse came in, and Allie asked in a heartbroken voice, “Can’t I stay? He never woke up.”
“No.” The nurse touched her shoulder and met her eyes with compassion. “But I’ll tell you what. If he wakes up before I get off tonight, I’ll let you come in for an extra visit.”
“Will you?” she asked, wiping her tears. “You promise?”
“Yes. And if that do
esn’t happen before you come in for the eleven o’clock visit, let one of the new nurses know that you haven’t seen him awake yet, and she’ll do the same thing.”
She took in a deep cleansing breath. “All right. I’ll be right out there. I won’t leave.”
“You need to eat,” the nurse said. “It won’t do him any good if you get sick.”
“I can’t eat,” she said, and went back into the waiting room.
She saw with some relief that her parents had arrived and were talking with Celia, Jill, and Nick. They were waiting for her to return, but she dreaded telling them how bad things were. Eddie sat off to himself, still obviously distraught, but unable to speak to anyone. Her heart welled with love and compassion for the man she had never gotten to know very well. She wished she had some good news for him.
When they spotted her, Allie’s parents rushed to intercept her from the crowd coming back from ICU. They pulled her into a family hug, and she clung to them with all her might.
“We got here as soon as we could,” her mother said as they broke the hug. “How is he?”
“I don’t know,” she said. By now, Celia, Nick, and Jill had joined their cluster, waiting eagerly for some positive word. She racked her brain for something to tell them. “His vital signs are good.” There. That was it. The only positive thing she could think of.
“Is he awake?”
“No.”
“Has he been?”
“Only for a second. They’re gonna call me if he wakes up again.”
Allie’s mother, Mattie Miller, had given birth to Allie when she was eighteen years old. She was only forty-three now, and people often marveled at how young she looked. Her father, still handsome at forty-five, didn’t have a gray hair on his head, and he worked out to avoid the paunch that many men his age carried.
Though they looked more like yuppies than potential grandparents, when it came to their daughter, they both behaved like typical parents.
“Honey, your mother and I talked about this all the way down here,” her father, Robert, said. “We’re worried. Someone is trying to kill you. Coming to Georgia was a good idea, and we still want you to do it.”
She looked up at them, surprised. “Now?”
“Yes,” her mother said emphatically. “There’s a killer out there, and he’s after you, Allie. There’s nothing you can do for Mark here.”
She stiffened. “No way. I’m not leaving him.”
“He’s the one who left you. Two months ago.”
“Today he took a bullet for me!”
Her mother shot her father a look, and he sat down next to Allie, set his hand on her shoulder, and stared intently into her face. She could see that he struggled with his words. “Allie, what Mark did was admirable. I’m grateful to him for it. You’ll never know how grateful. But right now, for his action to have any meaning, you have to think of your own safety.”
“You don’t have to feel any guilt, honey,” Mattie piped in. “You’re not even really married anymore. You have no obligation to stay here with him.”
Allie closed her eyes and told herself to stay calm. They meant well. She knew they did. “We are married until we have divorce papers, and neither of us has filed,” she bit out. “I’m not leaving.”
Eddie looked up from his stooped position a few seats down, and Allie saw the pain on his face.
“Allie.” Jill’s voice stopped her mother’s reply, and Allie saw that Jill was staring, stricken, toward the door. “What is it?” Allie asked.
Jill looked as though she didn’t quite know what to say. “Uh—looks like you have a visitor.”
Allie looked through the doorway. Issie Mattreaux stood at the desk. Allie’s heart crashed like a lead ball. She didn’t have the energy to deal with this now.
“Who is it?” her mother asked cautiously.
Allie hesitated. If she told her mother who was waiting outside, Mattie would launch out of her chair to “give that woman a piece of her mind.”
Celia and Nick, both of whom knew of Issie’s role in the Brannings’ marital problems, stood up as if to divert whatever confrontation was imminent. Nick started toward her. “Allie, you just sit and rest. I’ll do it.”
It was tempting to let her pastor handle it, but something reminded Allie that she had made a commitment to God, despite what Mark had done or what had happened with Issie. Now that she was committed to her marriage again, she felt a sense of compassion for Issie, instead of the rage and resentment she might have felt earlier. Had God empowered her already? “No, Nick, that’s okay,” she said, getting up. “I’ll go talk to her.”
Allie was dimly aware of everyone’s surprise as she walked toward the front. The receptionist, who was still talking to Issie, pointed back toward her. Issie turned and saw Allie coming toward her. Looking unsure of herself, she met her halfway.
For a moment, the two women stared at each other. Allie saw the trepidation in Issie’s eyes. She didn’t know whether Issie’s coming here showed an incredible amount of gall or an incredible amount of courage. Breathing a silent prayer for strength and wisdom—and an extra measure of gentleness—Allie reached her.
“I had to come,” Issie said. “I just wanted to see how he is. And how you are.”
Issie’s eyes were red, and Allie knew she had been crying. People cried when their friends were in trouble. It didn’t really reveal anything about her relationship with Mark.
“Mark’s still unconscious,” she said. “But the bullet didn’t penetrate his brain. He’s got a bad concussion, but they’re expecting him to recover—or at least that’s what they say. We’d appreciate your prayers. Until he wakes up, we can’t be sure how he is.”
Issie looked at her hands, where she clutched a shredded tissue. “I don’t know how effective my prayers will be, but I’ll give it a shot.”
Allie swallowed and followed her eyes to the floor between them.
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt,” Issie said. “It must be awesome knowing your husband loves you so much he’d give his life for you.”
Allie looked up, soaking in the words, the meaning, the intent. Did Issie even know that she was the main reason for their breakup? Or was she in denial, too? Was she, like Mark, pretending that nothing had ever happened between them?
Her heart began to stray down that dangerous path, and she jerked it back, reminding herself of her commitment just moments earlier. Regardless of Mark’s feelings, regardless of his behavior, regardless of his admitting or denying his relationship with Issie, Allie was committed to her marriage.
The silence stretched, and eventually Issie said, “I probably shouldn’t have come.”
“No, no, it’s nice that you did.” Allie locked eyes with Issie again. “I’m sure it’ll mean a lot to him.”
Issie was quiet, probably sifting Allie’s words for some sign of sarcasm, but Allie had intended nothing malicious. Issie’s coming would mean a lot to Mark.
“Not as much as you might think,” Issie whispered.
Allie held Issie’s gaze, looking deeply, and seeing the sincerity there, and reassurance, and even promise. Issie was not out to steal her husband away, Allie realized suddenly. At least, not anymore.
The thought made Allie uncomfortable, for it had been easy to think of her as the malicious other woman, the one who had finagled her way into Mark’s affections, the woman who had rejoiced when she’d heard that Mark had moved out. Now Allie saw a different picture—one that confused her.
“Why don’t you come sit down and wait with us?” Allie asked. “They’re going to call me when he wakes up.”
Issie looked over Allie’s shoulder to the people in the back corner. Allie glanced back and saw that her parents were watching, arms crossed like judges. They had figured out who Issie was, and she didn’t blame them for their feelings. She had vented to them so much about the woman that it wouldn’t surprise her now if they stormed over and ordered Issie out. Guiltily, Allie realized that she had cr
eated their hostility, giving them a bitter play-by-play of what she’d seen and heard and thought. No wonder they felt no allegiance to Mark.
Issie forced a smile and blinked back the tears in her over-bright eyes. “No, I really need to go. I just wanted to come by for a few minutes.”
Allie didn’t mention that Issie had driven almost an hour just for those few minutes. She knew Issie wouldn’t be comfortable staying.
“I’ll have someone call you and give you a report when he wakes up, okay?” Allie didn’t know what had made her say that, but now she would have to do it.
Issie gave her a surprised look. “I would appreciate that.”
The two women stood with eyes locked for a moment longer. Finally, unable to keep her tears at bay any longer, Issie leaned forward and hugged Allie. Reflexively, Allie hugged her back—a tight, warm hug that somehow felt like an apology. When Issie let her go, she looked embarrassed, then took a step back. “I’ll talk to you later, Allie. Hang in there, okay?”
“You too.”
Issie headed back down the hallway and disappeared.
Nick Foster watched from his seat across the room, moved at how gracious Allie had been to the woman who had almost destroyed her marriage. He had expected such a different reaction. Perhaps one like he’d experienced earlier when Dan had insulted him.
And Issie seemed to have no ill will toward Allie, either. Though he wouldn’t have advised her to come had she asked him, he saw that it might have been for good. He saw Issie struggling with tears, saw her hug Allie…
And then he watched her walk out.
He didn’t know why, but he felt the need to go after her, to comfort her in some small way. He didn’t know her that well. What he did know about her was that she was unchurched and uninterested, that she spent a lot of time at Joe’s Place, that she did have an unhealthy interest in a married man.
But if she was lost, then why should he expect her to act any differently?
He excused himself and followed her out into the hall. She had already stepped onto the elevator and the doors were just closing behind her. He pressed the button, and the elevator next to it opened.
Private Justice Page 18
