by Karen Cimms
“Yeah, I just need to pack, and I’ll catch the next flight out. Oh God. I don’t know how quickly I can get there.” More silence, then, “Kate?”
“Yeah?”
“So he told you?”
“Yeah.”
He was silent for another moment. “Tell him I love him.”
Her throat felt as if it would close on her, but she forced the words out anyway.
“I will.”
Chapter Eighteen
Billy stood awkwardly in the doorway to Joey’s room. Kate had ushered him back in before disappearing to use the ladies room. She’d been gone so long, he wondered if he should go after her.
Joey’s eyes had been closed when Billy first returned, but now he was awake and staring up at the ceiling. The two of them alone; it was as awkward as fuck.
Billy broke the uncomfortable silence. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like someone shot me in the chest.”
Always the smartass.
“Can I get you anything? Do anything for you?”
“Well, I’m dying of thirst.”
“Probably shouldn’t use that word around Kate. She’s freaked out enough.”
Billy hesitantly picked up a Styrofoam cup filled with ice chips. Like this wasn’t weird, spoon-feeding a forty-some-year-old man. “It’s the best I can do, man.”
Joey opened his mouth. Billy touched the spoon to his bottom lip and tipped it. He hadn’t done this since Devin had begun shoveling Cheerios (and anything else he could get his hands on) into his mouth.
“More?”
Joey nodded. His eyes locked with Billy’s as the spoon rose again. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
Billy looked away. He didn’t want to be in this position. Joey was flighty. He might not take the fact that he could die very well, and Billy wasn’t about to be the one to tell him and find out.
“You’ll be fine.”
“Don’t shit me. I have three holes in me I didn’t have this morning.”
Damn, this was uncomfortable. “I don’t know. They said the next twenty-four hours are critical. I guess after that, you should be good.” That might have been the stupidest thing he’d ever said.
“I want a priest. Tell Kate when she gets back.” He crooked a finger for Billy to come closer. “Listen.”
Joey was gasping after every few words. The nasal cannula feeding him additional oxygen didn’t seem to be doing much good. “Kate’s fragile. You really . . . hurt her this time. You can’t keep . . . fucking around.”
Before Billy could answer, Joey raised a hand.
“Save it. Just love her.” He took a ragged breath. “That’s all I’m asking. Just love her more.”
“How can you say that? Does she honestly think I don’t love her?”
Joey’s face contorted, and Billy felt a twinge of guilt. This wasn’t an appropriate conversation right now.
There was a low, sharp whistle as Joey grappled for another breath. “Just do it.”
Billy’s response caught in his throat. Blood gushed through the tubes in Joey’s chest. The canister on the floor collecting the blood and other fluids in his lungs was nearly full. Why hadn’t he noticed that earlier?
Joey’s eyes rolled back as one of the monitors began beeping. A loud, steady alarm sounded.
“Shit!” Where the hell was that call button?
Two nurses rushed into the room. One headed straight for Joey while the other began yanking the curtain closed around him.
“You’ll need to step outside.”
Shit, shit, shit. Where the hell was Katie?
“Now, please.”
The curtain snapped between them.
Billy dashed into the hallway. Where the hell was she? Maybe she’d gone down to the café. He stepped toward the elevator but stopped. What if she came back and he wasn’t there?
Dr. Evans came charging around the nurses station and disappeared into Joey’s room, followed by two more staff members. The monitor finally stopped screaming.
Billy was standing at the door to the ladies room, about to knock, when the medical team burst into the hall, wheeling Joey in the opposite direction.
“Hey!” He jogged toward the commotion. “What’s happening?”
One nurse slowed down. “They’re taking him back into surgery. He’s bleeding out.”
Bleeding out?
“Is he going to be okay?”
The nurse called over her shoulder as she hurried to catch up. “Someone will be out to see you as soon as they have some answers. If you’ll go back to the waiting room, I’ll let them know where to find you.”
The disappeared around the corner just seconds before Kate stepped off the elevator at the opposite end of the hall, holding two cups of coffee.
This wasn’t good.
She handed him a tall paper cup as he reached her side. “I figured we could stand more coffee, since the chances of either of us getting any sleep tonight is about zilch.” She took a sip while he just stared at the cup in his hands, still not sure what to say. “What’re you doing out here? Is Dr. Evans in with him?”
Billy shook his head. “C’mon. Let’s have a seat in the waiting room.”
“No. Let’s wait until they’re finished. I don’t want him to be alone.”
“He’s not. C’mon.” He gripped her elbow firmly and steered her toward the waiting room.
Once there, she returned to the exact spot where she’d sat several hours earlier. “How long do you think they’ll be?”
“Who?”
“Whoever’s in there with him.”
Billy lowered himself onto the sofa beside her. He placed his coffee on a side table.
“They had to rush him back into surgery.”
He grabbed her cup before she could drop it.
“What . . .”
What happened? He had no fucking clue. Probably best not to tell her about all that blood. “I don’t know. The monitors went off and some nurses came in, then Dr. Evans. They made me leave, and then they were rushing him down the hall. They said someone would come see us as soon as they had something to report.”
“Was he awake?”
He didn’t want to upset her, but he couldn’t bring himself to give her false hope either. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He was talking, but he seemed to be having a hard time breathing. It happened really fast. I’m not sure.”
He slipped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in. “He’s in good hands. Why don’t you try and rest? Close your eyes. It might be a while before we know anything.”
He expected her to argue, but she didn’t—and probably not because she agreed but because she was either in shock or just too damn tired.
Predicting the future wasn’t one of his talents, but he had a sick feeling that this time, he might be able to call it with dead-on accuracy.
Kate’s head snapped up. She blinked several times before recalling where she was and why. Billy’s arm still held her, but his head was tilted back and his mouth open. A drop of saliva pooled in the corner. She gently brushed it away with her thumb.
“Mrs. Donaldson?”
Dr. Evans stood in the doorway looking tired and grim. He crossed the small room and lowered himself into the chair across from them as Billy stirred.
“Shortly after four o’clock, Mr. Buccacino began bleeding heavily. We thought we had the injuries from the gunshot wounds repaired, but there was more vascular damage than we initially realized. We’ve tried to repair it, but he continues to bleed at a dangerous rate. We’ve given him multiple transfusions.”
He tugged the green scrub cap off his head and crushed it in his hands. “We’re not making any progress, and we aren’t able to repair all the injuries while he continues to bleed. He’s in what we call DIC, disseminated intravascular coagulation. He’s experiencing massive bleeding and clotting at the same time. DIC is very difficult to treat. What we’ve done for now is to pack the injured area in an attempt to apply pres
sure to the bleeding and allow him to stabilize so we can catch up on fluids and blood transfusions and give his body a chance to rest. We’re moving him back to the ICU. Once we feel he’s strong enough—say, sometime in the next twelve to twenty-four hours—we’ll go back into the OR and see if we can repair the rest of the damage.”
She stared at the green of Dr. Evans’s scrub top. His words floated above her head like angry gnats.
Billy cleared his throat and sat forward. “So you missed something the first time.”
“No, we didn’t miss anything, but the repair didn’t hold as well as we would have hoped. Vascular repairs, especially venous repairs as opposed to arterial, can be very tenuous. They can break open if a patient’s blood pressure goes too high. Sometimes the extent of damaged tissue is greater than expected due to the shear forces and heat generated by the passing bullet. This can create a secondary injury, not initially identified, that causes the repair to break down or give out, which is what happened with Mr. Buccacino.”
“But you can fix this, right?” Kate’s voice was froggy. “You give him some time to rest, and then you go back in and fix it.”
“That’s the plan. But you need to understand his condition is grave. The best we can do right now is hope and pray we can control the bleeding and get him stable enough to try again.”
Whatever confidence Dr. Evans had inspired in her earlier faded.
“Is he going to die?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.
The look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. “We’ll do whatever we can to see that doesn’t happen.”
She put her hand on Billy’s thigh and pushed herself up, willing her knees not to buckle. If she gave in to the fear raging inside of her, she’d be lost.
“I want to see him. Now.”
Joey’s chest rose and fell. A machine was breathing for him, hissing as it did. Bags of blood and fluids hung on poles, running into his body to replace what he’d lost.
Kate stood at the foot of his bed. “Can I touch him?”
“Of course. If you’d like to hold his hand or kiss him, yes, that’s fine,” Dr. Evans said.
Billy guided her toward a chair, which was good, since her body wasn’t quite sure what to do next. She perched on the edge of the seat and lifted Joey’s hand. It was cold and limp. She covered it with her own and wished she could somehow reach his other hand as well, hold them both at the same time.
“Oh shit,” Billy said.
She looked up.
“I forgot. Everything happened so quickly. Joey wants a priest.”
“He said that?”
Billy nodded. “I’m sorry. I forgot with everything going on. Is there someone you need me to call?”
Dr. Evans stepped in. “I’ll have the unit clerk take care of it. We have a list of priests on call.”
Why couldn’t he say that it wouldn’t be necessary, that they were jumping to conclusions and that Joey would be fine? She blinked to relieve the burning behind her eyes. Unable to use her words, she answered with a quick bob of her head.
It turned out there was a priest already in the hospital, there to administer the Sacrament of Last Rites to another patient. Two for one, Kate thought bitterly. Wouldn’t want to impose, have him make two trips.
She leaned on Billy, her mind see-sawing between grief and anger as the priest read the prayers. It’s just a precaution, she reminded herself. A just-in-case. It didn’t mean he was going to die. The priest anointed Joey with holy oil, leaving behind a greasy cross on his forehead. A precaution. A blessing. He was going to be fine.
When the priest left, Kate reclaimed Joey’s hand. She sat very still, hoping to feel even the slightest movement, but there was nothing. She tried to pray, but it was like fighting a riptide forcing her further away from where she wanted to be.
They had been friends for so long. At almost every important moment, practically as far back as she could remember, Joey had been there. He’d walked her down the aisle when she married Billy, and he’d rushed her to the hospital and stayed with her the night Devin was born. He was godfather to both her children. Hardly a day went by that they didn’t speak.
The monitor beeped steadily. The ventilator hissed. Joey’s blood pressure was dropping as his heart rate inched upward.
While the prayers she’d said all her life escaped her, the lyrics to “Amazing Grace,” one of their favorite hymns, filled her until the words bubbled up, spilling over her lips and she began to sing. But her voice betrayed her and was no competition for the tears streaming down her face.
From behind her, Billy’s voice rose up, echoing through the trauma unit and carrying into the rooms. Voices muted, and visitors who had kept vigil through the night on death watches of their own stepped into the hall. Nurses, doctors, and technicians paused what they were doing. The sick and the dying turned their heads. Surely some of them must have thought it was the voice of an angel they were hearing.
When he’d finished, Billy rested his hands on Kate’s shoulders while she stared at the faint pulse flickering beneath Joey’s jaw. More than the machines, which threatened to betray them both, this told her he was still with her.
She tried to ignore the beeping and hissing, but she couldn’t ignore the vibration of her phone. Tommy. How could she have forgotten?
She swiped her finger across the screen: “Leaving LaGuardia. Be there 35–40 min.”
“Who’s that?” Billy asked.
“Tommy. He’s on his way.”
“Tommy? Tommy Reilly? What the hell for?”
Kate stared at the screen. She never lied to Billy, but Joey had been adamant. So she told the truth—sort of. “He’s Joey’s lawyer.”
“So?” Billy waved his hand at the bed. “Obviously he isn’t in any shape to talk business.”
“No, but they’re friends too.”
He looked at her as if she’d grown two heads. “Since when? I’ve known Joey for twenty-five years, and not once have I ever heard him mention Tom.”
Kate’s fingers twitched over the screen on her phone. Should she give Tommy an update? No. Probably best to wait. He’d be there soon enough. She dropped the phone back in her bag and looked up to see that Billy was waiting for an answer.
“Why do you care? This has nothing to do with you.” It came out much more defensive than she’d intended.
“I just don’t want this turning into some sort of circus. You’re stressed enough.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Never mind. I’m just tired and cranky.”
An alarm pierced the soft sounds around them.
Kate sprang to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
Medical personnel began bursting into the room. Billy moved almost as quickly, pulling her out of the way.
A nurse stepped between them and Joey’s bed.
“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Kate repeated.
“Please. You’ll have to step outside.” The nurse raised her arms as if it were possible to shield them from what was going on behind her and herded them into the corridor.
Time passed slowly. Minutes seemed like hours. Kate paced the small waiting room, waving Billy off whenever he tried to get her to sit.
“I can’t. I feel like I’ve been sitting for days.” A picture of Jesus watched her from the wall behind the small sofa where Billy sat. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? She tried again to pray. This time the words didn’t fail her. She was halfway through the Lord’s Prayer when she sensed someone had entered the room.
“Katie,” Billy said, his voice gentle.
She stared at the painting.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be d—
“Katie.” His arm curled around her shoulder, warm and strong. Her body ached to lean into him, but her mind pulled away. “Dr. Evans is here.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Babe . . .”
“No!”
Billy stepped between her and Jesus. She closed her eyes, refusin
g to look at him. He gripped the tops of her arms and pulled her nearer, then he pressed his lips against her forehead.
“Katie. Dr. Evans is here to talk to us, and we need to listen to him.”
She opened her eyes slowly and lifted her chin. Her worse fears were written all over Billy’s face. Either she was leaning on him, or he was holding her up—it was difficult to tell which. She straightened and turned.
Dr. Evans was leaning against the door frame. Twin half-moons of sweat darkened his scrubs beneath his arms. Exhaustion lined his face. “I’m sorry. His heart couldn’t keep up with the stress to his body. He went into ventricular tachycardia. We did everything we could. I’m very sorry.”
She should say something. Anything. The best she could do was a barely perceptible nod of her head.
“A nurse will be in to get you soon if you’d like to go in, say goodbye.”
Nothing.
“Babe?”
She nodded at Billy, then at the doctor. “Thank you.”
Billy guided her to the sofa. A raw, gaping hole opened up inside her. Joey’s heart couldn’t take it? Well neither could hers. A world without Joey? It didn’t seem possible. Her body began to shiver. Billy drew her closer, wrapped his arms around her, but it didn’t help.
Outside, the sun was rising, but inside, everything had turned dark and cold.
Billy wanted to leave. Take Kate home. Now. Standing over Joey’s body wasn’t going to bring him back, and it wasn’t going to do her any good either. But she wouldn’t hear of it.
“Besides,” she said, pressing a tissue under her red-rimmed eyes as they stood outside the door to Joey’s room. “I told you, Tommy’s coming.”
What the hell for? It made no sense, but he wasn’t about to argue. There was no point in Tom coming to the hospital, just to turn around and drive home again.
“You ready?” he asked, girding himself for what would happen when he walked her through that door.
Before she could answer, the elevator at the end of the corridor chimed. The doors slid open and Tom stepped off. Kate pulled away and flew straight at him. She threw her arms around him and whispered in his ear. Tom leaned against her, his arms circling her waist and his head close to hers.
