I’d explained that even if he’d been home, this might’ve still happened. We agreed to disagree, and hadn’t spoken of it since.
I wish I could have offered more words of compassion, but I wasn’t that type of man. I was a harsh, get things done kind of person, and words always seemed to fail me when I needed to speak the most. So, oftentimes, I came off as rude and unapproachable when things couldn’t have been further from the truth.
“What now?” Ember asked, eyes locked on me.
“We wait.”
***
Four days later
“You need to wake up. You have to kick this haze off, or you’re gonna lose your girl for real this time.” I whispered to Jack.
No movement. Not even an eye flutter.
“She had another miscarriage. Then she demanded to talk to you, and we had to tell her that you weren’t doing so well either. Her doctor can’t explain why she’s not waking up because her injuries weren’t anywhere near as life threatening as yours. I think she’s giving up.” I whispered.
The beep, beep, beep continued. “Don’t leave me, too.” I whispered and dropped my head to the hospital bed beside his hand.
I fell asleep in that awkward position, woke two hours with a crick in my neck the size of Texas, and an overwhelming need to use the facilities.
Just as I got my feet under me to stand, and started to pick my head up, a hand snuck its way into my shaggy hair and held on tight. I turned my head toward Jack’s direction and burst out laughing when he didn’t let go.
“This is familiar. Even from a hospital bed you can’t leave me alone.” I joked.
“Always,” He coughed and then continued. “Don’t let her leave me. Stay with her. Tell her if she leaves me again, I’m going with her. To the moon and back.”
I knew he was telling the truth, too. If Winter died, then so would he. He’d stop fighting so he could be with Winter. He’d made a promise never to leave her again, and he’d honor that promise to the death.
“Okay,” I choked out, but he was already asleep again and didn’t hear me.
Standing, I exited Jack’s door only to turn immediately and enter Winter’s. Their rooms were right next to each other, and even with all the begging and pleading in the world, the nurses wouldn’t let them stay in the same room.
In my opinion, hospital policy was complete bullshit in this situation. I knew if they both had each other, they’d heal faster. Knowing the other one was just right there. Not that my opinion mattered in the slightest.
Elliott’s wife helped smooth the way for the DNR order to be overthrown. Fortunately, since the first day Jack’s heart stopped, we hadn’t had to use it, which was a blessing in itself.
Winter just plain didn’t wake up. After waking the second time and being reminded of the miscarriage, followed by Jack’s prognosis, she’d gone to sleep and hadn’t moved since. That is, unless you tried to get near her stomach. Then she’d wake and start fighting with a vengeance.
The nursing staff had wanted to sedate her, but that was one thing I could control, and refused. My opinion of “just stay the fuck away from her” didn’t go over well with them, and I was kind of on the shit list.
Cheyenne stood, as I came through the door, smoothing her scrubs down over her hips and thighs. She looked worn and ragged, just like the rest of us.
“Hey,” She whispered and took a step away from the bed. “How’s Jack doing?”
“He woke up. Told me to tell Winter that he’d follow her if she left, and then passed out again. You working?” I asked.
Which was obvious, but she didn’t feel the need to make me feel stupid for asking.
She smiled as she heard me tell her what Jack said. “Yeah, I’m on lunch. Thought I’d spend an hour here. Payton’s gonna come down on her lunch break, too. We’ll text Blaine when we leave so she can sit here with one of them.”
“I’ll sit with Jack while you talk to her. Good luck!” She said as she walked out of the room.
I stared at Winter for a few moments, taking in the messiness of her hair, the white pallor of her skin, and the purple bruises that covered most of the exposed skin I could see.
Taking a seat in Cheyenne’s vacated chair, I cradled her palm in between my own and studied the comparison between our two skin tones as I spoke. “Jack woke up. He said to tell you he’d follow you to the moon and back.”
Nothing. No movement. Nor a twitch. Exactly like Jack.
My phone rang in my pocket and I pulled it up to my ear and said, “Hello?”
“They solved the case.” Thomas said with glee highly evident in his voice.
“Who’d they tag for it?” I asked.
I knew who did it, of course, what I didn’t know was if everyone else knew it now, too.
“Mr. Edward Clayton and his no good son, Peter Clayton.” He said mirthfully.
“Score!” I said pumping the air with my fist. “What’s the reasoning for doing it?”
“Apparently, Adam stumbled into a drug den, and instead on having it confiscated, he decided to blow it instead.” Thomas explained.
Confusion wrinkled my brow. “What? That doesn’t even make sense. How did they end up explaining the stray kid that we were looking for?”
“Someone that Edward double crossed called in an anonymous tip. He knew that the fire department could get in there without a warrant on the bogus endangered child call. The man didn’t know the place was wired, though. Came forward later and told the police everything he knew because he felt bad for Adam dying.” He said softly.
“Well, that’s wonderful news. Anything else?” I asked as I glanced over at Winter’s face.
Her brow was wrinkled, but both eyes were still firmly shut.
Raising my hand, I ran it along her brow and it smoothed out under my touch.
“Not really, no. Edward and Peter Clayton are wanted for the murder, but they’ve gone underground. You wouldn’t happen to know their whereabouts, do you?”
“Ahh, no. Not at this time.” I lied through my teeth.
Well, more like an omission, really. I didn’t know what happened to them after Jack, and company, left the bombing site. There were fire and police investigations that were pending, and apparently, there wasn’t much to work with since the whole thing blew to kingdom come.
Luckily, they were out in the country, or the surrounding buildings would’ve been affected. Not to mention all the people.
“How’re they doing?”
“Stubborn and hardheaded. They’re gonna make it.”
“Damn straight.”
We hung up with each other after a few more muttered assurances.
The clanging and banging of a heavy machine outside of Winter’s door announced the arrival of the ultrasound technician that I’d been putting off for the last few days, but it looked like my luck had run out.
“Mr. Stoker? We have to do this. If we don’t, she could still have leftover tissue that didn’t pass, and could get really sick. It has to be done.” She explained hesitantly, fearful of my reaction.
The woman was most assuredly young. Too young for me anyway.
She also didn’t deserve to have the shit I’d thrown at her the last four days, but someone had to watch out for those two if they weren’t willing to do it for themselves.
“Okay.” I said, backing away so she had room to move the machine in beside the bed.
“This,” she hesitated. “has to be done internally. Can you step out of the room?”
“How about you try to do it the normal way first.” I said. “Then, if she wakes up, at least she doesn’t have a wand stuck up her hoo-hoo.”
“Hoo-hoo? How old are you?” She giggled.
I pretended not to notice that she did what I asked. Instead, I watched the screen that meant a whole bunch of nothing to me.
“Holy cow,” she whispered eyes wide with shock.
My stomach clinched. “Oh, God. She can’t have surgery yet. He’s not
awake.”
I’d obviously missed something that she was seeing though. All it looked like to me was a black and white screen with a bunch of waves on it. Hell, she could be showing me what she ate last night for dinner for all I knew.
“Umm, well,” she hesitated and met my eyes. “I’m not supposed to tell you. I’m only a tech. The doctor will have to read it first and then tell you.”
“No, you’ll tell me now.” I demanded.
She looked incredibly uncomfortable, but broke at the pleading look on my face. “She’s still pregnant.”
Chapter 22
Little girls cry. Big girls say Fuck.
-T-shirt
Winter
“Did you bring me my box?” I asked Tai as he came into the room.
He nodded and came straight to me as I sat up in bed. “Yeah, it’s on Jack’s bed; I found another box in there too, so I brought that one as well.”
Wincing from the pain, I made it to my feet with minimal help. Well, to be completely honest, it was probably more than I was thinking, but I was letting myself tell a little lie.
I felt like complete shit from the tips of my split end hair to the end of my ‘need a pedicure now before I turn into a weirdo’ toes.
I’d woken in the hospital the day before. Ember was there when I woke, and told me about all that I’d missed in the last two weeks.
Which was a shit load, to tell the truth.
At the time, I hadn’t cared about anything until I heard that Jack was all right. They’d told me he’d suffered multiple contusions to his head, a broken left leg, like me, and a lot of bruises and cuts from the explosion. Not to mention the sucking bullet wound in his chest.
The wound had collapsed his lung, broken ribs on entry and exit, and accounted for an insane amount of blood loss.
The first time I’d seen him, I’d almost fainted. His leg was up in the air held in place by some port of pulley system, unlike my casted one. Bruises faded from a purple and black to a sickly yellow, and a clear tube peaked out from underneath a bandage that wrapped his head.
The doctor had explained that, due to the increased swelling in his brain, they’d made the decision to insert a tube that would drain off the excess fluid in hopes that it would help with the swelling. He’d looked at me like I would jump down his throat, until Tai explained about the DNR hours later. I’d worried that Jack had something more wrong with him, and the doctor just didn’t want to tell me, fearful of the repercussions.
Luckily, Tai had gotten the DNR overturned, or I wouldn’t have been going to visit Jack right now. The procedure saved his life, according to the nurses, and I would be forever thankful. Even if Jack was pissy about not having any hair later on.
I walked into Tai’s arms and gave him a fierce hug. “What was that for?” He asked.
“Thank you for saving him, Tai. I love you.” I told him.
His arms tightened around me for a few moments before he stepped out of my embrace and gave me a stern look. “Go wake my brother up.”
Although the worry of brain damage still lurked inside our minds, we were still hopeful that he would pull through. He had to, because I couldn’t do this by myself. Not anymore. Not after Jack helped me realize everything that was missing in my life.
Tai helped me into the wheel chair and wheeled me next door. This time, he’d managed not to hit the wall and the door on his way in, unlike yesterday.
Jack looked just the same as yesterday, minus the tube they told me would be coming out just before lunch today. His head was no longer wrapped, and only had a large piece of tape covering the hole in his head where the tube had once been. Everything else was still the same. Which made me wonder who gave him a bath.
“Can you ask the nurse to bring in some water and soap in about an hour when you leave? I want to wash him.”
He nodded his agreement. “I’ll be sure to send in cold water. He’ll need it if you’re doing that little chore for him.”
The plastic pitcher hit him in the head as he was leaving and his laugh followed him out the door.
Sighing in exasperation at Tai’s antics, I scooted closer to the bed, picked Jack’s hand up, and placed a kiss on it. “I’m going to open this box. I have to. I might need you to hold me afterwards; it would probably be a good time to wake up.”
Shoring up my walls, I placed his hand back down on the mattress and turned towards the box. Well boxes. The first box was the one I’d seen in the bottom of Jack’s closet a few months ago. I set that one aside for later, although I fully intended to check it out after I’d opened mine.
The other one was my box. Four by four by seven, innocuous as it was, I was still scared to death at what lay inside. Although it’d been seven years, I still thought about the baby that would have been. If I’d had the baby, would I have remembered who I was sooner? Would I even be here today?
The first thing I saw was a piece of paper. Just plain computer paper, but in the middle of the paper said ‘Baby Girl Doe’ in the middle. Then the date of “September 9, 2006.”
As I was reading the papers myself, I read them aloud, too. I wanted Jack to be able to experience this; I had a feeling he could understand a lot more than we thought he could in his coma like state.
The second paper was a letter from one of the nurses that was there throughout my recovery. “This is a letter from the nurse, Jack.” I said, then cleared my throat and started to read.
This is a letter that I hate having to write you. You were such a delight to have around, even if you were brooding at first, which was understandable. At first, due to your injuries, we were not aware that you were having a miscarriage. We assumed that it was either part of the trauma you had sustained during an altercation with a person, or a vehicle, or that you were raped, and were showing signs of the trauma associated with that.
Once we realized what was going on, an ultrasound was done that clearly showed that your baby was no longer alive. You measured thirteen weeks and five days. Starting at thirteen weeks, in this hospital, all mothers who are past that time of gestation have to go through labor and delivery instead of a D&C. The decision of letting it happen naturally was due to the trauma that your body had gone through. At the time we didn’t feel that it would be beneficial to you to have any surgical procedures done that weren’t medically necessary.
You gave birth to your baby at midnight on September 9, two thousand and six. She was a perfectly formed baby girl. She was not breathing after the cord was cut, I’m sorry to tell you.
I just wanted to write this letter for you, explaining what was done and why, since you were unable to hear about it then. I am truly sorry for everything you suffered, but if you ever want to hear more, please do not hesitate to contact me.
Ivy Bonner.
“God, Jack,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “Fuck.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I moved the piece of tissue paper that was covering a flat rectangular box, and lost the hold I had on my tears.
Underneath the tissue paper was another memory box, very similar to Jack’s in appearance. Except this one had a picture of our beautiful baby girl’s feet and hands. They were close ups, so you could see how perfectly formed every little digit was. Never again would I think of an unborn baby as anything less than a human being, because, in these pictures, it was like a shot to the gut.
That was my baby. My baby that, if it had lived, would have grown up to be a beautiful little girl.
If only she’d been given a chance.
“Jack,” I said and buried my face into his hand.
The nurse arrived with the steaming water, snapping me out of my crying jag. “Do you need anything else?” She asked.
Embarrassed that she’d caught me crying, I shook my head instead of answering. “Is there anything I need to avoid washing? Can I wash around the pads on his broken leg?”
“Yes, you can wash anything that’s not wrapped. I’d stay away from his hair for today though. That ar
ea is most assuredly sore for him right now, but everything else is within limits.” She smiled.
Once she left, I went to work on wiping his body down. The nurse had given me water with what smelled like baby body wash; by the time I was done, he smelled very good.
It made me wish that the smell that was wafting off his body was from a baby, and not just the wash. But also, that he was awake, and well.
I just might have that wish, according to my doctor. If I took it careful, during the next six weeks and let my body heal.
“You know we’re going to have a baby, don’t you Jack? Has Tai told you about the baby?” I asked him while smoothing the towel over his chest to dry him.
“We should name the baby Catori if it’s a girl and Adam if it’s a boy.” I declared.
“You can have the middle names since I chose the first names.” I chattered.
I don’t know what I’d been hoping for, but after an hour of crying into his hand, and then another hour telling him about my hopes and dreams for this baby, he still wasn’t awake. A little tendril of hope was extinguished as I was wheeled out of the room later that evening.
I’d given him a bath, and talked to him constantly, but still had no reaction out of him in the slightest. His face remained impassive and slack. His eyes didn’t move. Fingers didn’t twitch.
My eyes fell on Jack’s box. I’d brought it with me as I’d seen it on my way out. Curiously, I opened it and was flabbergasted.
Mountains and mountains of newspaper clippings, computer reports, police reports, and finally the police file of the day I was kidnapped filled the box. The reports were of supposed sightings of red headed women all over the United States. The police reports were of possible sightings as well. The file on my abduction was the hardest to read, but I did it.
I don’t know why I continued to file through the papers after long hours, but I did. What most surprised me was how Jack said he didn’t look for me, but the papers lying in front of me spoke differently. All of the paperwork here spanned over the last seven years. He’d never given up, and I knew he never would have.
Last Day of My Life Page 24
