Georgia Pine (Southern Promises Book 3)

by K. G. Fletcher

  “Trudy will be checking on Tim for the next twenty-four hours and giving you updates. She’ll also let you know when he moves to the care unit. I’ve got my rounds to do, so I’ll see you all at the news conference.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Olson,” Tabitha said, reaching out and touching his arm.

  “Yes, thank you,” Jessica croaked.

  “You’re welcome.”

  As they watched the doctor turn to leave, Trudy’s Southern twang surprised them. “You pretty girls need to rest up. And your mama is fit to be tied needing an update.” Her smile was contagious.

  “Yes. I know. She can get a bit…”

  “Impatient?” Trudy laughed, raising her eyebrows comically.

  “Yes. Impatient is Mama’s middle name.”

  “Well, we need to give Tim some time, so I’ll walk y’all back.”

  ***

  The news conference went off brilliantly. San Francisco 49ers owner, Stuart Harding and Dr. Olson filling in the blanks to the news media as to Tim’s condition. They called him a hero.

  Jessica, her mother and Tabitha stood in the back of the room as the press asked numerous questions, the live interview interrupting regularly scheduled programming during the early evening.

  Jessica had formally met Stuart in the waiting room an hour before. It surprised her that he became emotional talking about Tim as if he were a part of his own family. Here was a man who had paid millions of dollars to have Tim on his roster for years. Stuart told her Tim was more than a quarterback on his payroll. Tim Ryan was his friend, someone who he had dearly missed when he left the team and moved away.

  Tim had kept in touch with Stu over the past two years, never really going into much detail about what he had been up to or what he was planning for the future. Stuart confessed that the Super Bowl loss was painful, but not as painful as losing one of his closest friends. He understood the need for Tim to get away from the chaos—to have a fresh start. And he could also relate to the grief Tim felt after such a loss, saying it was something that would take a long time to get over. They had an understanding going through the agony of defeat together. He was a successful team owner whose dream of taking his team all the way to the game of all games had come true. Tim was his famous, highly acclaimed quarterback that helped make that dream happen. It had been easier for Stuart to bounce back with the distraction of new players and new seasons to contend with. In the back of his mind, he often worried about his friend and the toll the loss took on him. When he found out about Jessica and her daughters, Stuart admitted he was relieved hearing Tim’s voice over the phone sounding joyful for a change. It was a far cry from what it used to sound like. Stuart was grateful and promised he’d do anything to help with Tim’s recovery and getting them back in her home.

  Stuart Harding was a seasoned professional in front of the cameras and had nothing but kind words to say about the famous athlete, Tim Ryan. Jessica became emotional when Stu scolded the media and 49ers fans who had mocked Tim after the infamous Super Bowl, reminding them that Tim was a human being who didn’t deserve the unrelenting storm of negative press afterward.

  “Saving that little girl yesterday was an act of bravery I’m not so sure many of us could have handled as Tim Ryan did. He’s a hero in my eyes as he should be in yours. The San Francisco 49ers franchise was lucky to have Tim as our quarterback for over a decade. I’m lucky to call Tim my friend. He is a kind and reputable human being—a role model of courage and respect. It’s time to let bygones be bygones and show our support and send our prayers for a full and healthy recovery. We need our boy back so we can show him a real hero’s welcome home.” Stuart nodded toward the cameras as if to emphasize his last remark.

  Jessica was floored by the media spectacle, never experiencing anything like it. Watching YouTube videos and reading articles about him, she knew Tim was famous, but wasn’t prepared for how famous he truly was. A reporter approached her and shoved a microphone in her face.

  “Are you a friend or family member of Tim Ryan’s? Care to comment?”

  Blinking from the bright light of the camera, Jessica took a step back. “Um, no…”

  Tabitha pulled her by the hand and exited the conference room through a private door. Mrs. Southers was right behind them.

  “My word. The whole world is praying for him now, Jessica. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  “You okay?” Tabitha asked, a look of concern etched across her face. “I’ve seen Tim do these kinds of press conferences all my life. If you’ve never been to one, it can seem like a circus.”

  “I’ll say,” Mrs. Southers added.

  “I think I need to lie down and sleep for the next year,” Jessica admitted, overwhelmed by the spectacle and the images of seeing Tim earlier. “I’m exhausted after everything that’s happened today.”

  Tabitha nodded. “Me too.”

  “Why don’t you come home with me and rest tonight? I’ll keep the girls out of your hair so you can get a few hours…”

  “Thanks, Mama, but I want to be here when Tim wakes up.”

  Mrs. Southers tilted her head and smiled, tucking a stray lock of her daughter’s hair over her ear. “Well, ask Trudy for a pillow. Maybe you can doze in the waiting room. I need to get back. Call me with any news.”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Southers,” Tabitha added, giving Jessica’s mother a quick hug.

  “You too, darlin’. Text me if anything changes.”

  When she was gone, Tabitha turned to Jessica and sighed. “I guess all we can do now is wait.”

  Chapter Twenty- Four

  His hand was warm to the touch—a positive sign that his heart was pumping blood through his body and he was alive. Her caress was tender, and she lovingly stroked his long fingers as she stared into his sleeping face. The ventilator had been removed, and he was in the neuro-care unit room, Dr. Olson encouraging Jessica and Tabitha to takes turns staying with him until he awoke. His face seemed peaceful, as if he were in a deep sleep after a long day, his lashes curling upward from his closed eyes.

  Other than the white gauze wrapped around his head, Tim appeared to be okay. His chest rose up and down with each breath he inhaled and exhaled on his own. His chiseled features had more color to them, and two days’ worth of scruff was peppered across his cheeks and chin, making her smile as she reminisced about her bearded love that first day he came into their lives. Reaching her hand up to his face, she stroked his skin with the back of her knuckles. Her gaze took in the injury on his head, brown stains seeping through the gauze, reminding her of the severity of what he had gone through. He seemed smaller, more vulnerable without his impressive mane of long hair. She hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed knowing the doctors had done what was necessary to save his life.

  Trudy had told her earlier that Tim was displaying “positive signs” of coming out of it. She said he had yanked at the tubes connected to his body before opening his eyes briefly and smiling. He had also squeezed her hand in the wee hours of the morning when she asked him to. These were little things suggesting he was slowly returning to consciousness. She said when he offered a full-blown thumbs-up on command, they would know he had turned a corner.

  “Come back to me,” Jessica whispered. His dark whiskers were soft to her touch and she traced her index finger across his full lips. Her insides tingled, thinking back to their first kiss in the pool. To love this man out in the open was what she wanted more than anything in her life. He had to make it back to her, his personality and loving countenance unscathed and exactly as it was before the accident. But what if he didn’t remember her? What if he didn’t recognize her or the girls? The thought made her nauseous, compelling her to grip his hand tighter.

  “I need you, Tim. Come back to me,” she urged, the familiar tears threatening to surface.

  Clutching his hand in hers, she lay her head next to his arm and squeezed.

  “I love you, Tim.”

>   Closing her eyes, the only thing she knew to do was to pray.

  ***

  Hell.

  That’s what it felt like. If there were another word to describe the doozy of a headache and the overall achiness he felt down to his bone marrow, hell would be putting it mildly. His throat was sore, and he had a hard time swallowing. The lights in the room were bright, and there was a continuous beeping from machines that pulsed through his head like a stabbing ice pick. Why was he here? He couldn’t remember.

  “Well, look who’s back. I’m your nurse. My name is Trudy.”

  The round face of an energetic African American woman startled him as she shone a bright light into each of his eyes.

  “How’re you doin’ handsome? Do you know your name? Do you know why you’re here?”

  Tim scowled and swallowed, trying to bring moisture to his dry mouth.

  “Here,” the woman offered a thin straw to his lips. “Now, don’t you be gulping this water. Take tiny sips. I don’t need you choking and popping the staples out of your head.”

  The water was cool and refreshing. He inhaled deeply after taking a few mouthfuls.

  “You and I are gonna get along real well.” She smiled, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his bicep and pumping it full of air. “What’s your name, honey? Can you remember that?”

  Tim blinked sleepily, slowly resting his head back on the upright bed. “Tim.”

  “Good job! Do you know why you’re here?”

  Tim swallowed again, his head pounding, trying to remember.

  “It’ll come to ya, baby. You need more rest, that’s all.”

  He watched the woman check the machines that surrounded him and write on a clipboard. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t form on his tongue.

  “I’m gonna let Dr. Olson know you’re awake and your vitals are good. You stay put. I don’t need my favorite patient gettin’ up without assistance.” She left the room in a flourish.

  Tim looked down at his arms taped with tubes coming out of his veins. Another tube ran down his chest and under the blue gown he was wearing. He felt drugged and sluggish. It wasn’t a feeling he liked, and he wanted answers.

  Trudy opened the door and reentered, accompanied by a tall man in a white coat who immediately smiled. “Tim Ryan. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dr. Gerald Olson. How are you feeling?”

  “Not good,” Tim managed to say, his voice gravelly.

  “That’s to be expected.”

  The doctor used a penlight to shine in his eyes making him wince.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to wake up so soon.”

  “He’s a miracle patient—a fine specimen of a man,” Trudy joked.

  The doctor laughed. “Yes, he is. Your physical condition is a plus in your recovery. I don’t think you’re going to have any problem getting out of here sooner rather than later.”

  “What happened?” Tim asked.

  Trudy’s expression emoted compassion as the doctor nodded. “While protecting a little girl in the midst of an F2 tornado, you were hit in the back of the head by a large tree.”

  Tim scowled trying to remember. “What little girl?”

  Dr. Olson continued to assess his patient, nonplussed by the question. “The pretty little blonde daughter of your girlfriend,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

  Tim clamped his eyes tight trying to remember who the hell the doctor was talking about. His head was pounding out of its skull as he racked his brain for answers. He couldn’t remember a pretty little blonde girl, nor could he remember an actual girlfriend. Living alone in Atlanta working in yards was the only thing he knew for sure. Was this some kind of cruel joke? He could feel his mouth salivating like he was about to throw up.

  And then it hit him square in the chest.

  “Julia?”

  His eyes went wide, and in a panic, he tried to sit up. Trudy grabbed him by the wrist as the doctor pushed him gently back against the raised mattress.

  “She’s fine, Tim,” he reassured. “Not a scratch on her pretty little head. You saved her life.”

  Tim’s breathing was erratic as he tried to keep the panic attack from taking over. It all came flooding back. The wind. The lightning. Julia. The yellow dress…

  “Jessica?” He was winded trying to breathe normally, the swirl of colors making him have tunnel vision. The memories were intense, coming at him like a machine gun. It was too much.

  “Relax, Tim. You’re overstimulated, honey. Relax…” The sound of the nurse’s voice faded further and further away, the colors of his world slowly vanishing, sending him back into the black.

  When he awoke sometime later, his eyes focused on a familiar face, and he blinked several times trying to make sense of it.

  “Tabitha?”

  His sister’s smile was comforting, and he could feel her running her hand across his fingers.

  “I’m here, Tim. You were in an accident.”

  Tim shifted groggily in the bed, grimacing with each move his muscles made. “How did you get here? Where’s Jessica?”

  “I flew here, Tim. Jessica called me right after it happened. She’s here too, but she’s sleeping. It was my turn to stay with you. I’ll go wake her in a minute.” Her hand stroked his whiskered cheek. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

  “Hurts like hell.”

  “I’m sorry.” She offered him a sisterly smile. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  Trudy came into the room with a tray and set it down next to them. “Good mornin’ sunshine. I need to change your bandages. It won’t hurt, but I don’t want you moving your head around while I do it.”

  “Okay,” Tim replied weakly. “Did I have to get stitches or something?”

  Trudy efficiently started to unwrap the gauze from his head as Tabitha looked on.

  “You want to tell him, or should I?” she asked, giving Tabitha a side glance.

  Tabitha shifted on the bed and clasped her hand with her brother’s. “I’ll tell him.”

  Peering into his face, she spoke calmly. “You had brain surgery, Tim. A tree in the storm fell through Jessica’s house and struck you hard, fracturing your skull which caused your brain to swell. If they hadn’t operated, you wouldn’t have made it.”

  “What?” He was confused.

  “Dr. Olson removed a piece of your skull to get to the hematoma successfully. The bone is reattached with permanent metallic plates and screws.”

  Tim was overwhelmed as he tried to process this news and watched as Trudy pulled the last of the blood-stained gauze off his head and placed it in a metal container. His hand shook as he slowly lifted it to touch his scalp and feel for himself. Trudy grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

  “Now, now. You don’t need to be touching this wound. It looks good, but it needs time to heal. You’ll get the staples removed in about ten days. Till then, these bandages need to be changed about every two days. I’ll get you all wrapped back up in no time.”

  The smell and feel of some sort of antiseptic was cool on his head. He didn’t dare move until Trudy finished.

  “And I’m sorry about the haircut.”

  Tim scowled and looked over at his sister who nodded her head with remorse.

  “They had to, Tim. This was brain surgery. It’s fine,” Tabitha reassured. “If it’s any consolation, you look like you did when you were the first round draft pick in the NFL.”

  “Great. Now everyone is going to recognize me,” he mumbled, already exhausted.

  “Well, I think everybody already knows you’re here.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. But all the news stations have been reporting on the Atlanta hero, Tim Ryan. Stuart is here too. He gave a press conference the day of your surgery.”

  Tim’s head was pounding again. He waited until Trudy was finished wrapping his head in fresh gauze to speak. “Stu? He’s here?”

  “Yep. Can you believe it? He called out all the bad fans and to
ld them to stop this nonsense—told them you didn’t deserve what they put you through. It was amazing, Tim. Everyone is praying for you. Everyone is calling you a hero.”

  Tim closed his eyes, not wanting to be overwhelmed anymore—wishing the pounding in his head would cease. “I need Jessica,” he croaked. He turned to Trudy and looked up at her. “Can you get her for me? Jessica?”

  Trudy nodded, the warmth in her expression sweet. “I need you to drink some more water first. Hydration is key. And I’ve got an ice pack for your head.”

  “I’ll get her, Tim. I hope she’s not mad I didn’t wake her up right away. I’ll be back.”

  *

  “Jessica? Jessica, wake up. Tim’s awake. He’s asking for you.”

  With fluttering eyes, Jessica focused on Tabitha’s sunny smile.

  “What?”

  “He’s awake. He remembers.”

  Jessica sat up in a hurry. “He’s okay?”

  Tears gleamed in Tabitha’s vivid green eyes, and she nodded. “Yes.”

  Jessica flew down the hallway, panting, knowing she was close to reuniting with Tim after waiting through several agonizing days for him to come to. Pausing at the closed door to his neurosurgical care unit, she intentionally closed her eyes and counted to ten in an attempt to calm herself down. When she finished, she cracked the door open and peered in.

  Tim slowly turned his head toward the door and reached his hand out to her. Taking a tentative step inside the room, Jessica was overcome with emotion, seeing him awake, his cheeks flushed with life.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  “Hey,” she replied, blinking back tears.

  “Get over here.”

  Jessica swallowed and slowly approached the side of his bed, sliding her hand into his. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it with warm lips.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  All she could do was nod.

  “I’m okay,” he reassured, his voice thick with emotion.

  At a loss for words, she gingerly bent down and laid her head on his chest, the sound of his beating heart comforting to her ears.