Alcee released a half chuckle. “Well, you know what they say. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
Marcel glanced over at Lincoln, Alex, and Ray. “How in the world did they end up crashing into each other anyway?” Marcel asked.
“Ain’t got the faintest idea.” Ray shrugged. “All I know is the last time I saw mon frère, he was in a panic to find Honey.”
“Why?” Lincoln questioned. “They’re always fighting.”
Zach nodded. “Yeah. Did somethin’ really bad happen this time?”
“Beats me,” Ray responded. “Now I wish I had let him bolt on out the door when I first saw him.”
Marcel frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Timing, mon frère, timing,” Ray offered. “If I’d let him go then, he wouldn’t be banged up now.”
Vic placed her hand against her stomach as tears streaked down her face. Oh, God, if Baptiste hadn’t tried to go after her, he wouldn’t be lying on a gurney in the emergency room. With her back to the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut and offered up a prayer on his behalf. Suddenly, she heard the familiar sound of the double doors to the trauma unit open, and her eyes flew open. “Edmond!” She bolted toward him and shook him hard by the shoulders. “How’s Baptiste?”
Edmond Cates placed his hands on top of Vic’s. “He’s okay, Vic. He got banged up pretty good, but he’s stable.”
“You’re sure?” Vic’s voice was shaky. She’d known Edmond since the day he and her brother Harrison began working together in the ER, six years earlier. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
With a smile, Edmond lowered Vic’s hands to her side. “You know I wouldn’t. A.J.’s one lucky man, I can tell you that much.”
Louise stood next to Vic. “What’s the diagnosis, Edmond?”
“Bruised ribs, a complex concussion—”
“CT scan?” Vic and Louise asked simultaneously.
“Yes, you Bennett nurses. I did one,” Edmond answered with a chuckle. “Negative.”
“No puncture to his lungs, right?” Vic questioned.
Edmond shook his head and smiled. “Negative again.”
“Thank you, Jesus,” Vic uttered with a sigh of relief and turned to hug her mother.
Edmond announced his orders for A.J.’s post-injury care. “Listen, I want him off his feet and on complete bed rest, at least for the first week. If he does that, he should be as good as new.”
“I need to see him,” Vic said anxiously.
Edmond nodded. “All right, but give us a few moments. He’s being transferred up to a room. With that concussion, I want to keep him overnight, just for observation.” He gave Vic a quick hug. “Gotta run, kiddo. I’ll check on him again before my shift ends.”
“Edmond, wait.” Vic followed him outside the waiting room into the hallway. “Zach told us a young girl was injured, too.”
Edmond nodded. “She’s in surgery now.”
“Will she be okay?”
Edmond palmed the back of his neck. “It doesn’t look good for her.”
A second later, a nurse from the trauma unit walked past Edmond and Vic and stopped at the entrance of the waiting room. “Is this the Baptiste family?”
“Yes,” they all replied in unison.
Somewhat startled by the onslaught of people rushing toward her, the nurse clutched A.J.’s medical chart close to her chest. “I-I see. Well, I need to speak with his next of kin.”
“There she is,” they all answered together and pointed to Vic, who’d just walked back inside.
The nurse turned to Vic and flipped open A.J.’s chart. “Okay. Your name and relationship to the patient, uh—”
A.J.’s sister, Moni slid up in front of the nurse and answered without hesitation. “Mrs. Victoria Baptiste.”
The nurse looked up from the chart and glanced at everyone with a puzzled look. “Hmm, I worked with Dr. Baptiste over at Children’s Hospital when he was chief of pediatrics. I don’t recall him being married.”
Brie, Moni, Aimee, and Caitlyn converged on the nurse like a pack of pit bulls ready to attack.
“Things change,” Brie hissed.
“Didn’t you just hear us say she’s his wife?” Aimee announced curtly.
“Uh-uh. That’s okay. I got this.” Louise pushed her way through the huddle until she stood in front of the nurse and gave her a glaring look. “Darlene, this is a family affair. Besides, I ain’t but a half step off you anyway, having me thrown out the emergency room like that.”
“Now, Louise, you know and I know you were being disruptive. It wasn’t good for Dr. Baptiste,” the nurse said defensively.
Louise looked at the women around her. “Did she just say what I thought I heard her say?”
The women all nodded at the same time.
Louise dragged the nurse off to a nearby corner, hemming her between the wall and herself. “Darlene, I’ma wax you regular, then turn you around and buff you to a high-gloss sheen if you don’t come up with a room number for my child—and quick. Feeling me?”
“Uh…Mrs. Baptiste,” the nurse stuttered over Louise’s shoulder, nervously flipping through the pages inside of A.J.’s chart. “Y-Your husband is in Room 505.”
Once the nurse exited, Vic turned to everyone. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
Marcel smiled and beckoned Ray and Alex. “Come on, guys. Let’s get down to admissions and try to cover up this lie we just stood here and told.”
Mama Z chuckled softly. “No need to rush, son. We told the truth. Just ain’t come to pass—yet.”
Vic stared speechless at Mama Z. “But—”
“No buts.” Alcee gently shoved Vic by the shoulders. “Go.”
Vic nodded, and a second later, raced out of the waiting room.
* * *
Vic tiptoed inside Baptiste’s room a few moments later and eased back the partially drawn curtain around his bed. Though she was shaking from fear and racked with guilt, somehow her feet carried her closer to his bed.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped, covering her mouth with both hands as she peered down at Baptiste.
The entire left side of his face was swollen and bruised, and the broken blood vessels caused a purplish hue that markedly discolored his complexion. When she noticed the wide strips of white tape wrapped around his chest, her heart pounded, and an intense emotion welled up inside her until she thought she’d explode trying to control it. When she finally found her voice, it was faint and hoarse. “Baptiste, baby, it’s me…Honey.”
“Hmm…” A.J. grunted, too dazed to recognize the voice. Who’s calling me? Balls of cotton had been stuffed inside his mouth, his head pounded mercilessly, and he felt as if a steel blanket had been draped over him. His eyes fluttered and struggled to stay open. Jumbled thoughts swirled through his head as he slowly abandoned the world of unconsciousness. Pain so intense that it knotted his muscles invaded him, and he groaned in agony.
“Baptiste.”
“H-Honey,” he drawled in a faint tone.
Vic pushed the bedrail down and sat on the edge of the bed, gently running her fingers along his temple, carefully avoiding the injured side. “Hush now, and don’t try and talk anymore.”
He tried to shift his body and follow the sound of her voice, but immediately ditched his efforts when a searing pain zigzagged along his left side. A bubbling sensation erupted inside his stomach, and he heaved.
Vic registered the retching sounds right away and quickly grabbed a plastic kidney-shaped pan off the table and held it to his mouth. “That’s right. Let it come on out.” Afterward, she cleansed his face and mouth with a cool, wet cloth.
“Sorry,” he slurred a short while later, embarrassed he couldn’t prevent everything he’d eaten today from coming forth.
“It’s okay,” she whispered back.
He winced. “W-What…happened?”
Hesitating, Vic knew at some point she had to tell him the truth. However, the place wasn’t in a hospital room, a
nd the time wasn’t when he was half-conscious from morphine. “Y-You had an accident on your motorcycle.”
“Car,” he moaned, remembering the impact.
Another wave of tears formed and she struggled to swallow her sob. “Y-Yes.”
“Hurts…a lot.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
“Girls…where…are—”
“Man, stop asking so many questions,” she half joked, hoping it would take his mind off his pain. She smoothed back the sweat-drenched hair matted at his temple. “Don’t worry now. They’re with Mrs. Bradford, and they’re fine.”
He ran his tongue along parched, cracked lips. “Had to find…you.”
Her heart lurched and she bit down so hard on her bottom lip to keep her anguished wail at bay that she tasted the coppery flavor of her own blood. Guilt assailed her because she knew if he hadn’t tried to follow her after what she’d told him, he wouldn’t be lying there. “I’m so sorry.”
He nodded faintly to communicate he understood. His head throbbed painfully and his tongue was heavy and stiff. Somehow, though, he managed to slowly move his bruised lips to weakly utter, “Pushed too…hard.”
Vic’s eyes filled with more tears, and her trembling was worse than before. “Hush now. We’ll talk later.”
His mouth moved again, doing its best to sound out the one word that remained soundless: Stay. His breathing slowed and finally evened out to a faint whistle. He blinked once, twice, before his eyelids gradually drifted shut.
Vic listened to his steady breathing and finally let the hot, scalding tears escape without restriction. Squeezing her eyelids shut, she desperately tried to block the memory of that split second when she thought she’d lost him.
Lifting his hand to her mouth, she kissed the back of it, wondering what he had tried to say two seconds earlier.
Chapter 4
“Oh, God, be careful with him now.”
Vic nervously held the front door open late Sunday afternoon as Marcel, Ray, and Alex helped Baptiste inside the refurbished Victorian-style home he’d purchased in East Oakland, two blocks away from the health clinic, which was scheduled to open Tuesday morning.
Ray blew out a hard breath and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “All right, Honey, where ya want him?”
Vic closed the door and pointed down the hallway. “Bedroom.”
“Uh-uh,” A.J. sluggishly drawled, undraping his arms from around his brothers’ necks. With unsteady steps, he used the wall for support to slowly guide himself toward the living room.
Vic stepped in front of him. “Baptiste, don’t go in there.”
Alex placed his palm at the small of A.J.’s back to keep his wobbly frame upright and whispered, “Man, I’m telling you, don’t argue with her right now.”
A.J. closed his eyes and winced. Alex’s soft murmur sounded like a sonic explosion going off inside his head. “Why not?”
“Because there’s a new sheriff in town: me,” Vic answered. “Until I can get you back on your feet, I give the orders around here.”
Despite his swollen face, A.J. managed a half-crooked smile. “That’s all I get, a few lousy days?”
Vic fought back the grin working at her jaw and peered around Baptiste to give Marcel, Ray, and Alex a hard look. “Well, what are y’all standing there for?” The authority in her tone left no doubt as to who was in charge. “Baptiste needs to be off his feet.”
A.J. patted Vic on the shoulder. “Can’t I go to bed later, Honey?”
“No! Baptiste, you and them sidekicks of yours got three seconds to start moving down that hall or it’s gonna get real dangerous up in here.” Vic glanced at her watch. “You’ve already used one.”
“All right.” Louise Bennett entered through the front door with a white bag containing A.J.’s medication. She tossed a sharp look at everyone. “Why is he not in bed?”
Vic snorted. “Stubborn and hardheaded.” She stood in front of Baptiste with both hands at her hips and gave him an I-just-told-on-you look. “Maybe he’ll listen to you, Mom.”
“Well,” Louise drawled, her gaze roaming over A.J. from top to bottom, “get to moving, son.”
A.J pleaded, pouting. “But Louise—”
“Uh-uh. Don’t even go there with me.” Louise turned to Vic. “When Harrison gets off he’s coming by to check him out.”
“Wait, I’m a doctor.” A.J. couldn’t quite decipher why everyone stopped talking to stare at him with an incredulous look, then turned back around and resumed their conversation concerning his care.
Marcel tried to disguise his laugh by clearing his throat, but came up short. “Come on, petit frère. I think your lady and her mère mean business.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Ray huffed, lifting A.J.’s arm around his neck again. He blew out a hard breath. “Daaayuuum, mon frère, you heavy.”
* * *
Later that evening, Vic knocked softly on Baptiste’s bedroom door, which she’d left partially open, just in case he called out to her. “Got a couple of folks I think you’d like to see.”
“Daddy, Daddy,” Taylor and Tyler happily shrieked and took off at a dead run toward the custom-made king-size bed, ready to pounce.
“No, no, no.” Vic’s warning was gentle. “Remember what Honey said…no jumping. We have to take it easy with Daddy for a few days.”
The twins heeded Vic’s instructions and skidded to a stop at the bedside.
A.J. planted sloppy, wet kisses on Taylor and Tyler’s foreheads when they stretched to reach him. “Missed my babies.”
Taylor grinned. “Missed you, too, Daddy.”
“Me, too.” Tyler lightly touched the left side of A.J.’s face with her index finger. “Honey say you got a big old raspberry,” she exclaimed, stretching her arms open as wide as they would go.
Vic chuckled at the reference Tyler used to describe their father’s injuries.
Taylor peered over at her father’s battered face from the right side. “Yep. It’s big, all right.”
A.J. chuckled. “Are you two being good for Honey?”
“Umm-hmm,” both girls answered, bobbing their heads.
Vic moved to the foot of the bed and saw the yawn Baptiste tried to hide with the back of his hand. She also noticed the droopiness in his eyes. “Okay, ladies. It’s time to get in the tub, say your prayers, and go night-night. Give Daddy some love so he can get some rest.”
As Taylor and Tyler kissed the right side of their father’s face, Vic chuckled.
A.J. was out cold.
* * *
Vic became frantic the moment she walked into Baptiste’s bedroom the next morning after dropping Taylor and Tyler at preschool. The bed was empty.
“Baptiste?”
She scurried to the other side of the four-poster bed and found him sprawled atop a sisal area rug, moaning in pain. Her heart skipped two beats, and she immediately dropped to her knees.
“Oh, my God. Baptiste, what’s wrong?”
Breathless, A.J. tried to sit up and almost made it before toppling onto his right side. “I need a shower,” he said, gasping for air. “I stink.”
At that moment, his personal hygiene was the least of her concerns. She needed to be sure he hadn’t caused more injury to himself, and sighed with relief when he told her he hadn’t fallen on his left side.
“Man, you don’t stink.”
“Look, woman, I haven’t had a shower since Saturday.” He lifted his right arm slightly. “Wanna smell?”
She chuckled. “No, I don’t wanna smell.”
“Well, I may not stink,” he refuted and sniffed, “but I certainly smell bad.”
“Didn’t I tell you last night that after I dropped the girls off at school I’d give you a sponge bath?”
“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to be clean when your mother stopped by.”
“Baptiste, Mom is a nurse, for heaven’s sake.”
“Nurse or not, I don’t want her to smell me like this.” He paused a
nd scooted on his rear, trying without success to focus on the clock on the nightstand. “By the way, what time is it?”
“It’s eight.”
“And what time is Louise coming over?”
“She called right before I got ready to walk out the door to drop the girls off and said there’s been an accident on Interstate 580 that’s causing a major backup. That’s the reason she’s not here now.”
Bracing his weight on his right palm, he attempted to sit up again. “Okay,” he panted. “That gives me a little more time.”
Vic’s eyes widened. “A little more time for what?”
“To take a shower, woman.”
She noticed that he was clutching his left side. “Don’t even think about moving. Stay right there.”
She raced to the bathroom and back, squatting in front of him with a glass of water and a container of pills. “Come on, open your mouth for me.”
A.J. started to shake his head, but the pounding at his temples convinced him otherwise. “No more drugs.”
“Baptiste…”
“Honey, I said no.”
“You’re in pain.”
“I’ll live.”
Vic scooted up a little closer and swung the medicine bottle back and forth in front of his face. “If you take these, they’ll make you feel better,” she sweetly coaxed.
“No, they won’t,” he grumbled. “They’ll make me sleepy.”
She bit her bottom lip to keep from chuckling out loud. She knew doctors made the worst patients, and he was proving to be no exception.
“Morphine usually does that. Come on, man, open your mouth for me.”
“No.”
“You’re making it harder on yourself.”
He pursed his lips.
Vic discreetly took out two pills and placed them, along with the glass of water, on the nightstand. Gently cupping Baptiste’s chin to steady his head with one hand, she grabbed the end of his nose with the other. When he was forced to open his mouth to breathe, she quickly slipped the medication into the back of his mouth, grabbed the cup off the nightstand, and placed it to his lips. “Drink and swallow.”
“You play dirty,” he said, his voice strangled from water traveling in the wrong direction down his windpipe.
When a Man Loves a Woman (Indigo) Page 4
