The Saint's Wife

by Lauren Gallagher

  “Got it. Good.” Hilary was probably one of the more level-headed assistants Chris had had aside from Alexandra, but she was still new to the world of cancer disasters. Seeing Chris sick and unconscious must’ve thrown her for a loop.

  While he and Joanna waited for word about Chris, David sent a text to Hilary: At the hospital w/Chris. You doing ok?

  She replied almost instantly: I’m good. Is Chris ok?

  David hesitated. She was probably worrying herself into a panic, and he didn’t want to make that worse, but he couldn’t lie to her either. Finally, he settled on, Still waiting for an update. Will text as soon as I hear something.

  Not very comforting, but it was the best he could do for now.

  She came back with a simple, K.

  Minutes ticked by. A full hour ground past. Joanna paced by the vending machines and went through gallons of coffee. David restlessly gnawed a piece of gum while he alternately sat and stood. His imagination tried to play out all kinds of worst-case scenarios, and thanks to many years watching medical dramas on television, the graphics running through his mind were a little too vivid to ignore. Things like this had happened before, though, and he reminded himself over and over that the doctors were probably just being overly cautious. Isolating Chris because of the infection and his compromised immune system. Running a CT scan to make sure the blow to his head hadn’t done any damage. Pumping him full of antibiotics and God knew what else to bring the fever down. Identifying where the infection had originated.

  There was no logical reason why there’d be doctors and nurses running around in blood-splattered scrubs, shouting medical jargon at each other while they forced a tube down his throat, cracked his chest and broke out the defibrillator. No logical reason, but logic didn’t really come into play when your best friend was in such a delicate condition.

  “Mrs. McQuaid?”

  David and Joanna both turned, and a gray-haired nurse gestured for them to follow her.

  She led them through the double doors and out of the waiting area. David’s stomach was all over the place—was she taking them somewhere to break some bad news? Taking them to see Chris?

  She took them into an exam room, but the gurney was empty. David and Joanna exchanged uneasy glances—where the hell was Chris?

  “Is my husband okay?” Joanna asked quietly.

  “He’s stable.”

  David released a breath. So did Joanna. The nurse gestured for them to sit. They both took seats, and the nurse leaned against the counter.

  She glanced down at the chart in her hands, then looked at them. “He has a moderate concussion, and needed some stitches, but he’s not showing any symptoms there for us to be concerned about. As for the infection…” She looked at the chart again. “At this point, it’s hard to say where it came from, but of course, with his immune system being what it is—”

  “It got out of control,” Joanna cut in. “Is it treatable?”

  “Yes.”

  Joanna continued grilling the nurse for several minutes, making sure she knew every detail about his condition and what needed to be done when he was released. David didn’t catch most of it—he was still reeling from the fact that Chris was stable. Thank God for Joanna. Though he’d often thought she was callous and uncaring, situations like this made it clear that she was, quite simply, the very picture of grace under fire. While David needed a moment to collect his thoughts, Joanna knew exactly what questions to ask. She wanted answers and she wanted action.

  “Can I see him?” she asked after a while.

  The nurse frowned. “He’s heavily sedated right now, and we’re keeping him in isolation to prevent further infection, so you’ll need to wait until tomorrow to visit him.”

  Joanna swallowed hard but nodded. “How long will he need to be admitted?”

  “It’s hard to say at this point. At least a few nights. I’ll reevaluate as we go along, but… It’s difficult to predict.”

  Joanna nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll pack a bag for him when I get home and bring it in tomorrow.”

  “Good idea. He won’t need it tonight.” The nurse glanced at Chris’s chart again, then tucked it under her arm. “I would definitely recommend going home and getting some rest. Take care of yourself—your husband is in good hands.”

  Joanna smiled, though her eyes didn’t reflect it. “Thank you.”

  “Do either of you have any more questions?”

  Both women turned to David. He shook his head.

  “I think we’re all right,” Joanna said. “Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome. And if you need a moment, you can stay in here. The exit is just down the hall.”

  Joanna nodded. Her lips were suddenly tight, her jaw clenched, as if she’d just about reached the end of that grace under fire.

  The nurse left, and as soon as the door clicked shut, Joanna leaned forward and covered her face with her hands.

  David hesitated, but then put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just…give me a minute.”

  “Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She tensed slightly beneath his hand, and it occurred to him that his presence might not be all that helpful right now.

  “I can, uh…I can go if you’d rather be—”

  “No. No.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Please stay.”

  David nodded. “Okay.”

  She relaxed a little. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “I guess one of us should let Hilary know.”

  “I can do that.” David pulled out his phone. “Just take a breather for a few minutes.” She didn’t protest. He texted Hilary: Chris is stable. He couldn’t bring himself to say Chris was all right or that he’d be fine in a few days. He was too sick for promises like that. But stable was good. Stable was the best thing any of them could ask for right now.

  Beside David, Joanna exhaled and slowly sat up. “All right. Let’s get out of here. I fucking hate hospitals.”

  “You and me both.” David rose, and they left the exam room. In silence, they followed the exit signs back to the double doors and out into the waiting area, then outside.

  As soon as they’d stepped through the automatic doors and into the night, Joanna stopped. She closed her eyes.

  “You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  Eyes still closed, she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m…” She straightened a bit and looked at him. “I’m fine. It’s just been a stressful evening.”

  “Yeah, it has.” He paused. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “Does three or four gallons of coffee count?”

  “No.”

  “Then…it’s been a while.”

  “Come on. Let’s go grab a bite.” He smiled cautiously. “So I don’t get in trouble with your husband for letting you go home on an empty stomach.”

  She eyed him, and he thought the joke might irritate her, but after a second, she laughed and shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  David drove them to a dive bar a few miles from the hospital.

  As they pulled into the parking lot, he glanced at her just as she wrinkled her nose. “This place?”

  “Trust me.” He set the parking brake. “The food is great, and the atmosphere is about as far removed as you can get from a hospital.”

  That perked her up a bit. “Well, when you put it like that…”

  They got out of the car and went inside.

  He hadn’t been lying when he’d said this was nothing like a hospital. No beeping machinery, no pungent solvent. In here, the air was thick with fry grease, coffee and stale cigarette smoke brought in on the clothes of the smokers. The lights were dim and warm, with the odd neon sign against a wall or above the bar. Pool balls cracked against pool balls
. Voices murmured over the crackly music from the jukebox. David loved this place anyway, but after an evening at the ER? It was paradise.

  He flagged down a waitress to let her know they were there, and then led Joanna to a booth near the back. It was a little quieter on this end of the room, farthest from the dance floor’s speakers and the livelier crowd at the bar.

  “Will this work?” He gestured at the table.

  “Perfectly.” Joanna dropped into the booth.

  David slid onto the bench across from her. “You still holding up okay?”

  She tilted her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I’m exhausted.”

  “Not surprising.”

  They pulled a couple of paper menus from behind the salt and pepper shakers, and perused the selection. David had it pretty much memorized, but he looked anyway, if only for something to do while Joanna looked at hers.

  When the waitress appeared, he said, “I’ll take an Aspen Jack.”

  Joanna looked up from the menu. “Make it two.”

  David blinked. He’d never seen Joanna drink beer.

  “Two Aspen Jacks. Got it.” The waitress jotted it on her notepad. “Do you need a minute to look at the menus?”

  “Yes, please,” Joanna said.

  The waitress left to get their beers.

  “So what’s good here?”

  “Pretty much everything,” David said. “But fair warning—they don’t mess around with their buffalo wings. Those fuckers are hot.”

  She laughed. “Good to know. I’m not a big wing person anyway.” She chewed her lip. “Man, one of those huge messy burgers sounds absolutely amazing right now.”

  He shrugged. “Order one.”

  “Hmm.” She shook her head. “My trainer would kill me.”

  “Joanna, you’ve had a hell of a night. For God’s sake, eat something. Your trainer doesn’t have to know.”

  She eyed the menu. “It’s not just my trainer I’m worried about.”

  David gritted his teeth. “I won’t tell Chris if you don’t.”

  She met his gaze. Half joking and half deadly serious, she asked, “Promise?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  That got a laugh out of her, at least. “Hmm…”

  He reached across the table and put a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m serious. After the night you’ve had, and everything you’ve been through recently, you need to eat.”

  She eyed him suspiciously but then must have decided to take him at his word, because when the waitress came back, Joanna ordered a barbecue bacon cheeseburger with fries. David went for the same thing, even though it sounded like more food than he really wanted tonight. If she was that self-conscious about her eating habits, though—way to go, Chris—the last thing she needed was David picking at a salad while she worked up the nerve to eat a burger like that.

  Turned out he’d ordered the right thing, though. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until the waitress deposited their food in front of them. They both dug in, and neither said a word until the burgers and most of the fries were gone.

  “Oh my God.” She licked some barbecue sauce off her finger. “That was amazing.”

  “Right? Told you the food here is great.”

  “It so is.” She scowled. “I’m going to regret it when I step on a scale, though.”

  “It’s one meal.” He gestured dismissively. “And quite honestly, you’re the last woman on the planet who needs to be sweating over what you eat. You look fine.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide.

  He shifted a little. “What?”

  “Are you…really?”

  “Yeah. Joanna, you look great. You always—” Their eyes locked, and he swallowed hard. His voice softer now, he said, “You’ve always looked great.”

  Her cheeks colored. His burned. They both shifted their gazes away, and David busied himself drenching a fry in ketchup.

  “So, how are you doing?” he asked.

  “Tonight? Or in general?”

  He shrugged. “Either or.”

  She fixed her gaze on her plate and picked up a fry but didn’t get much further than that. “I can’t complain, I guess.”

  “You can if you want to.”

  Joanna looked at him through her lashes.

  He idly turned his beer bottle between his fingers. “I know this has been rough on you. If you want to talk about it…”

  She drew back a little, eyeing him uncertainly.

  “Nothing leaves this booth.” He sat up a little and rested his arm on the table, keeping his other hand firmly around his beer bottle. “I promise.”

  She set down the fry she’d been holding and pushed the plate aside. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feel right now.”

  “What do you feel?”

  Her eyes lost focus. For a good minute, she didn’t say anything and didn’t look at anything. Then her shoulders dropped. “Honestly, I feel like a horrible person.”

  David swallowed. “Why?”

  “Because I…” She sighed heavily. “Look, I don’t hate Chris. I don’t want him to suffer. But…” She stared down at her wringing hands.

  “But you’re there too? Getting lost in the shuffle?”

  Joanna laughed humorlessly. “I got lost in the shuffle a long, long time ago.” She raised her head and met his eyes. “The only difference is that once he got sick, I couldn’t say a word about him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s like…up until the day he was diagnosed the first time, I could vent to people. You know, the few friends he let me have, my family. Hell, I could have left him and no one would’ve raised an eyebrow. Most of our friends and my family thought he was an ass anyway, and I can’t tell you how many people were trying to convince me to divorce him. Or telling me to count my blessings because, hey, at least he had money.” She sighed, letting her head fall back against the seat. “And the second a doctor said it was cancer, Chris became a saint. Everyone except my sister would bite my head off if I so much as hinted that we weren’t getting along. Everything was suddenly my fault. One tumor, and suddenly my husband was the Second Coming of Christ Himself.” She closed her eyes and grimaced. “Does it make me a terrible person to even think about this?”

  David swallowed. A few weeks ago, he’d have told her exactly what kind of person it made her. He could even feel that latent disgust burning in the back of his throat. But ever since she’d come back from Tillamook, he’d been paying more attention to her. To the way Chris treated her. To how miserable she looked more often than not.

  “No,” he whispered. “It doesn’t.”

  They both fell quiet, and he had no idea what to say.

  After a moment, she sat up and looked him in the eye. “You know what? This is killing my buzz. Just for tonight, can we pretend I’m not Chris’s wife?”

  David straightened. “What?”

  “Just…can we talk about other things? Have dinner and a couple of beers and shoot the breeze about something that isn’t Chris or cancer?” She cringed. “God, that sounded awful, didn’t it?”

  “No, actually, it didn’t.” David turned his head and flagged down the waitress. He gestured for her to bring two more beers, and then he faced Joanna again. “It sounds like a great idea to me.”

  “It does?”

  “Absolutely.” He held up his beer. “To a night off from real life?”

  Joanna’s face lit up with the most beautiful smile, and she clinked her longneck bottle against his. “To a night off from real life.”

  They each took a drink, and as he set his bottle down, he said, “You know, I’ve known you for, what, seventeen years now?”

  “Give or take.”

  “And I know absolutely nothing about you.”

  Sh
e held his gaze. “Likewise, actually.”

  “Well, now’s as good a time as any to do something about that. I’m curious. What do you do when you’re not studying?”

  She flashed a playful grin. “When I’m not being a decadent housewife, you mean?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah.”

  “Leather tooling.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “The workroom at the far end of the house? Down by the pool? I took that over. Chris doesn’t like the smell of some of the dyes and stuff that I use. Or wet leather.”

  “He doesn’t like the smell of leather?” David chuckled into his beer bottle. “Philistine.”

  “Right? I like it. But…” She shrugged. “So I commandeered that room. It’s kind of my little escape. My own personal Narnia.”

  “I think everyone needs one of those.”

  “Yeah, I agree.”

  He played with the edge of the beer label. “So, what do you do with the work you’ve done?”

  “Gifts. Little pieces for myself. Just depends on what I’m in the mood to work on.” She tugged her sleeve up and held out her hand, revealing a wide leather bracelet around her wrist. “This is one of my favorites.”

  He leaned in closer and gently grasped the leather, turning it just slightly so he could see the design. It was a beautifully detailed eagle flying over a mountain range, with everything from the rocky crags to the feathers painstakingly etched into the wide strip of deep brown leather. “This is…wow. This is really cool.”

  “Thanks.”

  He released the bracelet and sat back again. “How did you learn to do that?”

  “Trial and error.”

  “So you’re…you’re self-taught?”

  Joanna nodded.

  He whistled. “That’s impressive.”

  She laughed softly. “Thanks. It’s…” She shrugged. “Keeps me busy.”

  “At least you have a hobby. I’ve been working so much for the last decade or so, I haven’t had much time for anything. I’ve been trying to do something about that, though. Especially since Tiffany came along.”

  The faintest wince flickered across Joanna’s face, but she took a quick swallow of beer, and as she set the bottle down, asked, “How so?”