Sting

by Jennifer Ryder

  I think I’ll call Ryan on my break. I miss his husky voice. Particularly when he calls me Blondie. I miss him. I don’t know what he’s doing tonight, but maybe we could go and grab a bite to eat. Take a walk. Something.

  “You done daydreaming, lady?” Gabs asks as she places the cups back on the counter.

  “Sorry?”

  “These were meant to be mug-accinos,” she informs me.

  “Sugar,” I mumble to myself. I check the last order stabbed on the spike. Clear as day, it confirms my mistake. “Please apologise for me, and take out a couple of lime melting moments. I’ll make their coffees now.”

  After I sort out the order I let Gabs know I’m taking a quick break.

  I fish my phone out of my bag. No new messages. I dial Ryan’s number and it goes straight to voicemail. He must be out on the water.

  “This is Ryan. Leave me somethin’ good. Beep.” The familiar sound of his voice sets my heart racing.

  “Hi, it’s Willow. I just thought I’d see if you wanted to do something later? Anyway, give me a call when you get this. Bye.”

  Making this work will take a leap of faith on my part, but I want to give us a fighting chance. I love Ryan and I want to trust him. I want him in my life.

  In a possessive move, I smooth my hand over my belly. It’s hard to comprehend that there is something in there. A little being is growing inside of me. Will Ryan talk to my stomach like expectant fathers do in the movies? Will he rub my swollen feet when I’m as big as a whale? Will he run for the hills when I curse with a foul mouth and attack him in the delivery room?

  I know in my heart that he’ll make a good father. Seeing him with Sienna, and knowing his truth about wanting a family, I know this will work.

  Tonight, I’ll tell him the news.

  My hand shakes as I put my phone back in my bag, a combination of nerves and excitement. Happiness blooms inside of me, knowing that I’m going to be a mother. I’m going to have a family of my own.

  Sometimes, good things happen to good people.

  ****

  Five hours later, I’m dead on my feet. Thankfully, we’re an hour from closing.

  “Today was crazy,” Gabs says, with a wipe to her forehead with the back of her hand. She leans back against the counter and produces a mammoth sigh.

  Do I tell her now? I know I should probably tell Ryan first, but I am just busting to tell someone. How do I break the news? So, something interesting happened. Found out I’m carrying Brown-Eyes’ lovechild.

  I step away from the coffee machine and turn to face her. “Um, so there’s something I—”

  Gabs’ phone shrieks like a fire drill in her pocket.

  “Gah! Sienna’s been playing with my ring tone again,” she curses. She holds up a pointy fingernail in my direction and smiles. “One sec,” she whispers.

  “Hello there,” she says sweetly. With a few slow steps, she gets closer to the back door. She gasps. “What! … Dear Lord … Are you okay?” She swings her head in my direction, and holds her hand over her mouth. Black-tinted tears waste no time trailing down her face.

  “What, Gabs? What is it?” I rush to her side, and clutch her upper arm. “Is Sienna okay?” Did she hurt herself at day-care? Please let her be okay.

  With the phone still pressed to her ear, she shields the bottom of it with her other hand. “Michael … What do you mean? … You’re both? … Ryan’s…” She gasps and the colour drains from her face.

  She curls her hand on my shoulder, still listening intently to the caller. “Okay … Yes … we’re on our way.”

  On our way, where? I’m still focusing on the mention of his name.

  “Ryan’s what?” My body trembles as a painful chill drives up the length of my spine. What on earth happened to them both?

  “Sarah!” Gabs yells out, and returns the phone to her pocket.

  Sarah’s blonde ponytail swishes from side to side as she runs from the kitchen in a flap panic. “What’s going on?” she asks, her gaze darting between the two of us. I’m not surprised by the look of alarm on her face. Gabs never yells. At least, not like she’s summoning the dead with the power of her voice.

  “Willow and I need to go. Can you lock up?”

  “No problem. Is, ah, everything okay?”

  “I’ll fill you in later, Sarz.”

  I untie my apron and sit it on the sandwich bar. I rush into the back and grab my handbag. Gabs grips my elbow, and ushers me out the back door to her car.

  “Gabs, what the hell is going on?” I ask, as I buckle my seatbelt.

  “What’s going on, lady, is that we need to get to the hospital, pronto.”

  “Tell me what’s happened to Ryan!” I screech.

  Fear consumes my every cell, triggering the tightness in my chest and causing sweat to pour out of me. Or is that my heart preparing to break?

  “We’ll find out when we get there.”

  The car tyres screech as we pull out of the laneway, without another word from my friend. It’s the longest twenty minutes of my life.

  ****

  I can barely keep up with Gabs as she runs into the emergency entrance of South Perth Hospital. She rushes up to the counter, demanding the attention of attending staff.

  “Mick Gallagher. I need to see him urgently,” she announces, as she slaps both palms on the counter.

  A uniformed male police officer, with dark curly hair, shuffles in a nearby seat. He tosses an empty paper coffee cup in a nearby bin and then marches to her side.

  “Come with me, Ma’am,” the tall man invites, offering a hand in the direction of two cream fire-doors. He nods at a young nurse behind the counter, and a buzzing noise opens the doors. We weave through a sea of patients in emergency beds until the officer shows us into a small room.

  “Here’s my sunshine,” Mick says, in a hoarse whisper. He’s propped up with pillows, his head bandaged, and wearing a pale green hospital gown.

  “Michael,” Gabs breathes. Her chest heaves and she chokes on a sob. “I should slap you sideways!” she yells, and then slaps his arm.

  He winces, and a rough chuckle rumbles up his throat. “Hey,” he says in a soothing tone. He holds her hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “I’d prefer you kissed me, instead.”

  Without wasting another second she dives in and grants him a loud kiss. She puts distance between them and stares deep into his eyes. He hooks his hand behind her neck.

  “Hey, not so fast,” he says, and pulls her lips to his, for a slow, tender kiss.

  “Are you okay?” she asks him, eyeing the bandages closely.

  I clutch at my neck and swallow down the acid that’s rising up my throat. My mind is racing, and I can’t find my voice. Where is Ryan?

  “Just a bump on the head. I’ll be fine. They’ll probably release me in the morning.” He lets out a long breath, the air whistling through his lips. “Did you bring Willow?” he asks. I see the top of his head as he peeks out from behind Gabs’ curves.

  I’m scared to approach him, terrified to ask about Ryan. Why didn’t Gabs say anything to me on the way? Not a peep came out of her blabbermouth as she drove like a crazed maniac.

  “Here,” I groan out, and take a step closer. “I’m here.”

  “Come sit.” He pats the side of the bed. Gabs moves over to the chair in the corner. The timber legs grate along the linoleum floor as she drags it close to his bedside and sits.

  “Ryan?” I ask, wiping a tear from my cheekbone.

  “He lost a lot of blood, Willow. I’m not sure if we got him help in time.”

  My head spins out of control. I shake it roughly from side to side. “No. No. No.” I gasp.

  He’s gone. I can’t even … No.

  “I haven’t been given an update, but he went straight to surgery from the chopper. I’ve seen this before …” What has he seen before? What the hell happened on their boat today? Did they capsize? Did Ryan nearly drown?

  “No!” I scream. “He’s fi
ne. He has to be.” I stand and stumble on my feet. Luckily, I gain my balance as I set my sights on the door. He’s in this building somewhere and he needs me by his side. I need to be with him. I can’t let him go. Why? Why is this happening?

  “Willow,” he says, gruff and authoritative. “You need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

  I run from the room, deeper into the ward.

  “Ryan Palmer,” I screech, when I see the same police officer.

  “Ma’am, you need to calm down.” He grips my upper arms, albeit gently, and I wilt in his hold.

  “Where is he? Please tell me what’s wrong,” I plead, gasping for air. I can’t breathe. Not knowing what has happened to the man I love is suffocating me. Every second is eating away at my soul.

  “Okay, let’s calm down,” he says, ushering me into a nearby sitting room, with a square table and plastic chairs. He holds my arm, guiding me into a seat.

  “There was a shooting. He’s been in surgery the last few hours. I’ll get a status update to you as soon as I can, but you need to remain calm. We’re all praying he pulls through. Believe me, the doctors are doing everything they can.”

  I slump onto the table in defeat, and cry my heart out. I can’t hold it back.

  I’m a stupid, stubborn girl for not fighting him to get to the truth sooner. Instead, I wasted the final days I could have had with a strong, loving man, who made me feel like a queen, a princess and Cinderella all wrapped into one body. I’ll never again feel his breath on my skin, his possessive hands on my body, or the quivering of my heart like when we made love. He’ll never know that he’s created life, and that stabs at my heart more than anything else.

  My life has become a fairy-tale gone wrong. My happily-ever-after, which was within my grasp, has withered and twisted into my darkest nightmare. I’m too late.

  The officer taps my shoulder. I glance up through blurry eyes as he places a box of tissues in front of me. “I’ll leave you for just a minute. Let me see what I can find out, okay, Miss?”

  I can’t even bring myself to nod.

  A pair of high heels clacks on the floor. A warm hand rests on my shoulder, and squeezes.

  “I got this,” Gabs says in her familiar motherly voice. If only I had my mum here. It tears at my heart, thinking of my own mother and how I had to shut her out of my life to keep me safe. I’ve given a lot of things up in my life, but I’m not giving up on Ryan. My heart can’t take this assault. If he’s gone, I’ll give up. I’ll stop trying. What’s left to live for if I lose him?

  No. There is something.

  Her sweet perfume caresses me as she takes a seat beside me. I can’t look her in the eye, instead staring at my fingers in knots in my lap.

  “Talk to me, honey. Please,” she says, softly.

  I shake my head, and bury it in my arms folded in front of me on the table-top.

  “I’m here, no matter what happens. I’ve been here … Right where you are.”

  Oh my God. Yes, she has.

  My emotions rage a battle within me, tearing at my insides. I feel as if I’m breaking—my heart, my soul. Gabs had to deal with this. She lost the love of her life. Somehow, she didn’t break. She’s a strong remarkable woman, and whatever happens, I know she’ll be by my side.

  I stand up and look my dear friend in the eye. “My heart breaks for what you went through, Gabs. No one should ever have to feel like this.”

  “Honey, you’re a survivor. We’re one and the same. I got you. No matter what happens.”

  Gabs sweeps me into her arms and I let it all out. Our tears meld together in some sort of strengthening ritual.

  Please, God. Please save my love.

  “I’m pregnant,” I whisper.

  I struggle to hold Gabs as she withers in my arms. “No,” she cries, jerking her head from side to side. I pull out a chair and help her sit down as she trembles.

  ****

  A short time later a man in blue hospital scrubs walks into the room, escorted by the uniformed officer. He takes the matching blue surgical cap from his head, exposing his bald scalp.

  “Are you Miss Asher? I’ve been told you’re Mr Palmer’s other half?”

  I jump to my feet. “Yes. Yes I am.”

  Gabs links her fingers with mine in a silent offer of support.

  The doctor extends his hand and I slip my free hand into his and shake it. “I’m Dr Rosenthal. I just came out of surgery. Mr Palmer lost a lot of blood. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s relatively stable.” His words are clear and his speech robotic as he nods his head with each break in his dialogue.

  I silently thank the sun, the moon and the stars above that he is alive. He’s alive!

  The waterworks start again. This time, each tear is laced with relief. “When can I see him?”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as it can be arranged. It’ll take a little time for the anaesthetic to wear off, and he’ll be groggy for a while,” he says, finishing with a nod and a fleeting smile.

  “Thank you so much, Doctor. I don’t know how to thank you.” I throw my arms around him and give him a quick hug.

  His beeper goes off, filling the small room with the siren-like squeal. I jump back in fright.

  “Um, ah, if you’ll excuse me,” he says, his voice now carrying more empathy than before.

  A short female nurse with matching blue scrubs dashes into the room, grips the doctor by the forearm and tugs. “Doctor, he’s coding,” she says, her small voice wavering.

  They both run from the room, heading left down the corridor—the opposite direction to where I came in.

  “Wait! Who’s coding?” I call out after them.

  “You need to wait in here,” the officer says, standing just outside the doorway with his legs firmly planted shoulder-width apart.

  My chest labours as I drag air in deep. I size up the policeman. This man will not get in my way. He will not keep me away from him.

  I dart to the right of the doorway, then pull back and duck through the opening he leaves as he tries to stop me. He catches the back of my tank top with his finger, but I’m too quick. I run as fast as I can down the ward, my sneakers squeaking on the lino floor with each quick step. I follow the commotion of beeping alarms and staff dressed in blue rushing around.

  I catch the distinct sound of the squeal of a machine. I turn right into another corridor. The sound grows louder and gains a higher pitch with each second. I stop outside a window and stare in horror at a room filled with people who are all crowded around a lifeless Ryan.

  “No!” someone cries out. Was that me?

  I cover my mouth, stifling the scream that’s burning up my throat. My body stiffens and I freeze. His gown is torn open, exposing his bare chest. A large white patch is taped over his hip, and a bloodied bandage covers his collarbone.

  Two sharp quick beeps pierce my ears.

  “Clear!” a young man shouts. He pushes a pair of white paddles to Ryan’s chest on either side of his heart, one above and one below. The paddles thump his body with an almighty punch. His back arches, then slumps back to the bed.

  A quieter machine makes a long even tone in the background. It might as well be the sound of death.

  “Charge!” someone orders. A second later the machine commences its squealing octave once more.

  “Don’t leave me,” I scream, and stumble into the room.

  “You can’t be in here,” a male voice says. Someone wrenches my right arm back. I yank it forward and dig my feet into the floor for leverage. Another set of arms clutch at my shoulders. I scramble to the ground. They lift me to my feet.

  It’s all happening in slow motion. I’m going to lose him.

  A hopeless breath leaves my parched lips. If he goes, it might as well be my last.

  I throw my head back and scream as the enormity of this moment collapses on top of me.

  I can’t do this. I can’t deal.

  A sharp twinge in my lower belly causes my knees to b
uckle. I stop fighting and let them escort me from the room. The door slams in my face, but I don’t miss the sound of the machine thumping at his chest a second time.

  I bend over and rest my hands on my knees. Sobs wrack my body, crushing my insides. Another ache between my legs has me clutching my stomach. A trickle of fluid runs down from my shorts. I run my hand over my inner thigh. Blood coats my fingers.

  Pounding footsteps grow louder. A flustered policeman and a breathless Gabs rush to my side. I turn my palm upwards. Gabs’ eyes grow wide.

  “Gabs?” I whisper, as I slip to a heap on the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  MICK

  (real name, Connor Macey)

  Gabrielle huffs her fringe from her bloodshot eyes and snuggles into my chest. The poor darling looks as if she’s been through the ringer. This situation must really be hitting home for her.

  “How’s Willow doin’ in there?” I ask.

  “The bleeding has stopped, but she’s waiting on an ultrasound. The poor girl is so frightened she’ll lose her little miracle,” she chokes out.

  I drag in a deep breath. My chin quivers. I clench my jaw before she notices how much this shit is affecting me. I can’t stand to see a woman in pain, emotional or otherwise.

  Willow could lose her baby. That shit is life-altering. It fucking sucks. Palmer and his girl should be settling down, having a family. They’re both young and in love, and I get the impression that it’s what they both want.

  Palmer needs to pull through. He needs to know what’s waiting for him out here. I only have one regret in my life, and that’s not having a child. I should’ve made it a priority. I should’ve worked harder at my marriage. I’m forty-two now, and I’ve missed my chance. I don’t want to see history repeated in the eyes of someone else, especially such a top bloke.

  Gabrielle sniffs at my chest, and her shoulders jerk in tiny movements as she cries. Aw, shit.

  How do I assure her that everything will be okay? This old bloke is out of touch. I never was real good at this emotional stuff.