He's Captured My Soul (Captured Series Book 3)

by Karen Frances

  “Yes, Libby, we need to make sure.”

  “Okay. I’m sure you’re right; she has to be crossed off the list . But I do hope for Alex’s sake this has nothing to do with Katherine.”

  We sit in silence for what could be minutes, but seems more like hours before the door opens. I gasp. Six sets of eyes turn to the door.

  “Mrs. Mathews, I’m Dr. McCann. I have been treating your husband.”

  “MRS. MATHEWS, CAN WE TALK in private?” the doctor asks. Although she does seem very young to be a doctor. Both my parents take my hand in theirs, offering their support for whatever the doctor has to tell me. Suddenly I feel fearful; I’m not sure I’m ready to hear what she has to tell me.

  “This is my family.” She nods understanding that I need them all here with me.

  I squeeze my parents’ hands and try to mentally prepare for what she’s going to say. But deep down I pray to God that history is not going to repeat itself for my family. Ethan lost his wife and mother of his child this very same way; I can’t lose my husband, father to our unborn children. We’ve not had enough time together.

  Dr. McCann sits down opposite me in the room. The shuffling of Michael’s footsteps come to a halt and he takes a seat beside my dad. I draw in a deep breath and hope.

  “Mrs. Mathews, let me say that we have finally got your husband stabilised, although his condition is still critical. As I’m sure you are aware, the car Mr. Mathews was driving was driven off the road. Your husband has suffered a number of injuries.” I listen to her spoken words and take comfort that she used has and not had. That is some small reassurance to me.

  “Mr. Mathews has suffered a TBI.”

  “What’s that in plain English?” I ask.

  “It’s a traumatic brain injury.”

  “What has caused this?” The question comes from my dad.

  “I shall explain as best I can for you. The skull is hard and inflexible while the brain is soft with the consistency of gelatin. As you are aware, the brain is encased inside the skull. During the movement of the skull through space and the rapid discontinuation of this action is when the skull meets a stationary object, it causes the brain to move inside the skull. The brain moves at a different rate than the skull because it is soft. Different parts of the brain move at different speeds because of their relative lightness or heaviness. The differential movement of the skull and the brain when the head is struck results in direct brain injury, contusion and brain swelling.”

  Fear overwhelms me as I try to digest her words.

  “We still have more scans and tests to carry out.”

  “Will he be . . . ?” The question comes from Michael.

  ‘“We should know more, in the coming days. The next twenty-four hours, as with all injuries like this, will be critical,” she says, looking at Michael.

  “Can I see him?” I ask.

  “Yes, of course you can, Mrs. Mathews. But I should prepare you, he may still need surgery depending on the results of his scans. Mr. Mathews is unconscious and has been since he arrived here at the hospital. He has other injuries—bruising, cuts, but the one causing us the most concern is his brain injury.”

  “I would like to see him now, please.”

  “Certainly, if you would like to come with me, Mrs. Mathews.”

  “Michael?” It’s a question to both Michael and the doctor.

  “Of course,” Dr. McCann tells me.

  Michael takes my hand as we leave the others in the waiting room and follow the doctor. Our shoes clink as we walk along the corridor, breaking the silence that hangs in the air between us. The hustle and bustle of the emergency waiting room fades behind us. My steps slow down until Michael is forced to wait for me. “Libby, what’s wrong?”

  The gentleness in his question makes me ask myself the same thing. The doctor stops. “I feel a little dizzy.”

  “Mrs. Mathews,” the doctor says.

  “I’m fine,” I tell them both as I start walking again. Michael holds my hand a little tighter.

  We stop outside the room where Alex is still being treated. The doctor holds the door open for Michael and me to enter. Michael looks at me and I nod. A silent understanding between us both. I’m not sure I’m ready for this, but I do know I have to see him.

  I lift my eyes from the floor to the bed my broken husband is in. The sight of him lying there is more difficult for me to take in than I could’ve ever imagined. His body lies motionless, bruised and still covered in some of his own blood. There are tubes coming from all directions, and the monitors beep away, breaking the silence in the room. I break my hand away from Michaels and walk slowly toward the bed.

  “Only a few minutes, Mrs. Mathews,” the doctor tells me. “Can I get you a seat?”

  “No thank you. I’m fine here.”

  The doctor leaves us, but the nurse that is cleaning him stays.

  I stand at his bedside; my eyes run over every inch of him, not recognising the man I love. I reach out and take his hand in mine, and for the first time since we met his hand is not warm under my touch. No, it’s cold.

  My tears form yet again. They fall continuously like a waterfall flowing down a mountain. Michael takes a step or two and stands beside me, putting his arm around my shoulder. The nurse glances at me but carries on cleaning and caring for my husband.

  “Please, Alex, we need you. I’m not strong enough to do this on my own. Please Alex,” I cry as I lift his hand and place a small kiss on the back of it. A few short months, that’s all he’s been in my life, I’m not ready to give him up just yet. I need him. We need him. These babies need their father. We have so much to look forward to, so many plans in place. We have a house that’s being built. A dream of mine that’s possible now because of him.

  “Libby, he’s strong. He will fight to stay with you, all of you,” Michael says through his own tears.

  “I know he will; it still doesn’t make this any easier though, does it?”

  “No, but he would hate the thought of you crying and working yourself into such a state, when you should be taking care of you and those two little ones. And he would kick my ass for not taking care of you.”

  The door opens I turn to face it. “Mrs. Mathews, we have to take your husband for a scan, now,” says the doctor, entering with another doctor or nurse.

  “Okay,” I say, releasing his hand.

  “Might I suggest, Mrs. Mathews, you try and eat something. I don’t want you feeling dizzy again,” the doctor tells me.

  “I will take her now,” Michael assures her.

  We leave my husband and walk along the long corridor back to the waiting room. I open the door and step in; my mum rushes toward me and I wrap my arms around her and cry and cry. I hear Michael walk over to my dad, Murphy and Joan.

  “Sweetheart, it’s alright,” she says rubbing my back.

  “Well?” I hear my dad ask Michael.

  “They are taking him for a scan just now. The doctor wants Libby to eat; she was dizzy.” Trust Michael. Did he really need to tell them that? “I’m going to go and get her something, would anyone like anything?” Michael asks.

  “I’ll come with you,” I hear Dad say.

  “So will I,” Murphy says. “Joan, do you want tea or coffee?”

  “Coffee please,” she answers him. “Come and sit down, Mrs. Mathews.”

  I go and sit with Joan and my mum. Poor Joan, this will be having an effect on both her and Murphy, I know she really cares about Alex. And I know Alex sees them both as more than employees. They are both like family to him. “Are you alright?” I ask her.

  “Of course, Mrs. Mathews, although I am worried about you.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m as tough as old boots,” I tell her with a small smile, as I try to convince myself of that.

  “So how does he look?” Joan asks.

  “Not good, Joan. He has tubes coming from all directions, there’s lots of blood and bruising. And he’s cold when I reache
d out to him. He doesn’t look like my Alex.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be long before he is back driving us all mad, or being over-bearing and protective of you,” she says. God, how I hope she’s right.

  Mum and Joan sit talking at the side of me, but I switch off. I hate all this waiting about hospital rooms. I feel as though I’ve been here for days already, but yet it has only been a matter of a few hours. My phone ringing startles me. I look at the screen, Ethan.

  “Hi, Ethan.”

  “Glad I got you, any news yet?” he asks. It’s really noisy where ever he is.

  “I’ve just seen him, only for a few minutes though.”

  “And?”

  “He’s unconscious and has been since he was brought into the hospital. He has suffered a severe brain trauma, but at the moment he is stable but critical.”

  “Shit. Libby, we are all at the airport, about to board the plane home.”

  I look at the time, seven in the evening now. “So we can expect you to land at what two thirty in the morning?”

  “Yeah about then. Look I had better go, Lucy has decided today of all days to act up. She won’t go anywhere near Sophie. I will text you our flight number, if Murphy could pick us up?”

  “Of course, but there won’t be enough room for everyone,” I tell him.

  “It’s alright I’ve arranged for Lindsay’s parents to come to the airport and take Lucy. When I told them why, they were so understanding.” Of course they would be. “I love you, Libby.”

  “Love you too.”

  I end my call with the knowledge that Alex’s family are all on their way here. I close my eyes, but all I see is Alex.

  I see him standing at the church alter on our wedding day, not even three weeks ago. He looked perfect standing there in his kilt, waiting not so patiently for me. Our day was perfect from beginning to end.

  I see him concerned in the hospital back in December, after I had my near fall at work. The night James stayed with me until Alex got to me. I see the look in his eyes when the doctor announced I was expecting, then we were given the shocking news I was carrying twins.

  I see the hurt in his eyes, that Saturday night in New York, when everything turned upside down. Katherine and James, her betrayal of her friend. I see our first day. Our time by the loch, our first kiss of many, because that kiss in my eyes was our first. Who would’ve known back in October that I would end up madly in love with him. Married and with two babies on the way. So much has changed in my life in such a short period of time.

  I see my possessive man, that day he found me with Jeff. It’s a day I try hard to forget, but it’s not so easy, especially when today he’s been in touch. Alex could’ve killed Jeff that day, maybe he should have, maybe then I wouldn’t be sitting here today waiting to see if Alex is going to pull through this.

  I don’t know what to think about today’s turn of events. It started as a good day with our playful teasing during phone calls and texts. I hear the room door opening. I open my eyes to see Michael, Murphy and my dad re-enter with cups, biscuits and sandwiches for everyone. I sigh knowing that this is for my benefit.

  “Here take these,” Michael says, handing me a packet of sandwiches and takes a bar of my favourite chocolate from his pocket. I smile as he sits beside me.

  “I’ve spoken to Ethan,” I tell him. “They were just boarding the plane.”

  “I was going to ask if you wanted me to call them.”

  I open the sandwiches and hand one to Michael. “When was the last time you ate?” I ask him.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m not hungry either, but if I’m being made to eat then so are you.” I smirk.

  “Has anyone ever told you, you’re very bossy, Mrs. Mathews?” I hear my dad laugh.

  “Yes Michael, once or twice. Now eat, Mr. Smith.”

  I’m really not that hungry, but it does give me something to do to pass the time. The food and tea is tasteless and I don’t finish either of them. Everyone has something to say about that, but I can’t help it. Michael laughs though when I eat the chocolate bar. Well, it would be a shame to waste it.

  I hear the others talking, but I don’t listen to what they’re discussing. I close myself off from them. No not just them, I try to block everything out.

  I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I jump when Michael’s phone starts ringing. He looks at the screen and leaves the room to take the call. Maybe it’s Kirsty calling to say she’s on her way. He’s out the room a few minutes before he comes back in, clearly still on the phone. “Libby, it’s Katherine she would like to speak to you.”

  Shit! Not who I was expecting to be calling Michael. Everyone else stops talking. I can only presume the police at our end have made a few enquiries in New York.

  “She’s still in New York,” Michael tells me, answering the question I can’t seem to find the words to ask.

  “Ok,” I tell him. He hands me the phone. “Katherine.”

  “Libby, I’ve just heard. I don’t know what to say,” she says in her thick American accent.

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “I’m sorry,” she tells me.

  “For what, Katherine?”

  “For New York, for being a selfish bitch. For not seeing how happy you make him. For not seeing how much you both love each other.” What can I say to that, she’s right she was a complete bitch.

  “Katherine, it’s fine. It’s in the past. I have other things to think and worry about just now,” I tell her.

  “Libby, can I ask that Michael keeps me updated as to how Alex is? I know he’s not interested in speaking to me, the message has been received loud and clear in the recent months, but I still care about him.”

  “Yes, I’m sure Michael won’t have a problem doing that.”

  “Thank you. I will say a prayer for him.”

  I end the call and hand the phone back to Michael. The room door opens and I turn finding Doctor McCann standing there.

  “Mrs. Mathews.”

  “Doctor.” She takes the seat opposite me.

  “As you know, we took your husband for a scan. As I said earlier we had other tests that had to be carried out, so we could establish the severity of his injuries.” I sit and try to focus on what she’s saying, but it’s hard. “Everything else looks better than I for one expected, considering. There’s no bleed on the brain, which is excellent news.”

  “What does that mean?’ I ask.

  “Well if there was bleeding, we would have to operate straight away, and that on its own comes with a certain amount of risks.”

  Michael takes my hand.

  “There’s a little swelling, but that’s to be expected and we will continue to monitor this. He’s had no seizures whilst in our care, which means we don’t need to sedate him. We would only do this to prevent further injury; these are all positive steps.”

  “So how long will he remain unconscious?” Michael asks.

  “I’m afraid that all depends on him. Some people are a few hours, others can be days or even longer.”

  “But he will wake up?” I ask with a shaky voice. I will myself not to cry.

  “Yes, he’s a strong healthy man, Mrs. Mathews.”

  “Will he have any lasting effects from this?” Michael asks the one question I really don’t want the answer to just yet.

  “He might. These can range from poor eyesight, coordination to memory loss. I have to prepare you. We are going to get him settled in the intensive care unit.”

  “Okay,” I mutter.

  “Mrs. Mathews, you are welcome to stay here and wait, but I would suggest you going home for a bit and have a rest. You have to look after yourself as well.” She smiles and I know she is thinking of the babies. “You will be no good to Alex or those babies if I have to admit you as well,” she says in a sympathetic voice.

  “I need to be here. Someone has to be with him.”

  “I can stay,” Michael tells me. “You go home, ev
en if it’s only for a few hours. If there’s any change, I will phone you. I promise.”

  “I will stay too,” Dad says.

  The doctor smiles, knowing that this lot won’t take no for an answer.

  “Two hours—no more,” I say giving in.

  “I will see you when you come back in,” Doctor McCann tells me before leaving the room.

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER I’M HOME. Mum came back with Joan and Murphy. I’m sure she just wants to keep an eye on me. I sent Kirsty a message saying I was coming home for a bit and I would call her in the morning. She said she was already en route to the hospital, so I told her Michael was still there. I’m sure Michael will be glad to see her. Joan heads off to the kitchen to start cooking; she told my dad and Michael she would send them some proper food. I head upstairs with Mum closely behind me, carrying my shopping bags from this morning.

  I decide to run a bath to see if it helps soothe my aching body. I smile as I think of the reasons it aches, Alex and his over use of me. The other reason is sitting around too long in that bloody hospital.

  I feel weak and know if I gave my tears half the chance, they would be falling again. But I don’t want to cry. The doctor has said everything is positive, so that’s what I need to focus on.

  Mum sits on my bed and watches me as I move around the room, putting my clothes away that I bought this morning.

  “Leave those and go for your bath, I’ll put them away,” Mum says, stopping me.

  I do as I’m told because, one it’s not worth an argument, and two, it means I will get back to the hospital quicker. I don’t spend long in the bath, because I’m anxious to get back to Alex. I only came home to stop everyone nagging at me. I leave the bathroom wearing only my underwear.

  “What are you putting on sweetheart?”

  “I think the jeans and a shirt I bought today.” Because I can get away with either trainers or flat shoes with those. I dress quickly and start brushing my hair. Mum takes the brush from me and plugs my hair straightener in. “Mum, I was only going to brush it.”