by Anne Fraser
“Yeah, right. Speaking of trenches, do we have the lab work back on room four?” At Lucy’s blank look, Gina pointed to the scheduling board. “Does chest pain ring a bell?”
“Oh, yeah, him. I’ve been busy with the guy whose nail gun misfired and shot a nail into his hand. Before you ask, Dr Holman is making arrangements to admit him for surgery.”
Owen Holman was a top-notch orthopedic surgeon who specialized in hand injuries. “Great. But what about—?”
“The lab work isn’t back yet. I checked the printer a few minutes ago. My bet’s on indigestion.”
“Hold onto your money,” Gina advised. “He could fool you. What else do we have?”
“Nothing our PA can’t handle. Before I forget, Dr Thomas wants to see you. Preferably before his meeting with Dr Lansing at ten.”
Frankly, she’d like some distance from the man until she sorted through her troublesome thoughts, but apparently she wouldn’t get any. “OK, but the minute those lab results come through, I want to see them.”
“Will do. Oh, and, Gina?”
She turned and faced the nurse. “Yes?”
“You’ve seemed rather preoccupied today.” Lucy’s face registered concern. “Is everything OK?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”
The nurse shrugged. “You seem different. More…restrained, I suppose. Are you feeling well?”
“I’m fine. Truly,” she replied, as much to assure Lucy as herself. “And remember, I’m waiting for those results.”
As directed, Gina went to Ruark’s office. His desk was covered in what she knew were budget proposals and cost analyses, but he was leaning back in his chair, reading a magazine article.
She groaned as she rubbed the back of her neck in abject frustration. “Not you, too.”
He grinned sheepishly as he straightened. “Couldn’t resist. According to this, ever since we announced our wedding, the incidents of vandalism and other property crimes have dropped significantly. People are speculating on the details and what long-term effects our marriage will have on the two countries. It’s obvious the mood in Avelogne and Marestonia has improved.”
Just what she needed—to be reminded of why they’d gotten married. “I’m glad,” she said simply. “Is that why you wanted to see me?”
He closed the magazine and tossed it onto his desk. “No.” He studied her. “Are you OK?”
Irritated that he was the second person to ask the same question, she ground her teeth together before she evened her tone. “I’m fine. I’m swamped outside, and all this press is getting to me.”
“The novelty will wear off soon.”
“I hope so.”
“As you’re busy, I won’t keep you, but my father called a few minutes ago. Apparently, in spite of the good news I just told you, the royal family is under pressure for us to have an official state wedding ceremony.”
The idea struck fear into her heart. Although part of her had anticipated the possibility, when the subject hadn’t resurfaced since the charity ball, she’d hoped it wouldn’t.
“Do we have to?” she asked. “I mean, will we start an uprising if we don’t?”
“No, but as I’ve been living in the US for some time, he’s afraid the people will believe I’m dismissing my heritage if I don’t honor our royal traditions.”
“I see.” In other words, his duty hadn’t ended yet and, if the truth be known, never would. “What would be involved?” she asked, certain she wouldn’t like her options.
“Our ceremony won’t be as elaborate as my brother’s,” he assured her. “A trip down the main thoroughfare in a horse-drawn carriage, I would guess, then on to St Gregory’s Cathedral for the formal church blessing. After that, we’ll greet the public at the palace and host a small reception for family and friends.”
Her breath caught at his mention of the church. “What did you tell him?” she asked.
“Only that I’d discuss it with you.”
It had been difficult enough to marry a man who didn’t love her the first time, but to repeat the experience? And in such a holy setting? Hardly. She had her limits as to what she was willing to do to right past mistakes.
“Did he indicate when this happy event is supposed to occur?”
If he noticed her sarcastic use of “happy”, he didn’t indicate it. “Within the month, I expect.”
“A month isn’t very long to organize an event that elaborate,” she remarked.
“My mother has enough staff to pull it together in a week,” he said dryly. “So should I tell him to make arrangements?”
There was always the possibility he might come to love her in the few weeks leading up to the royal event, but if he didn’t…could she take the risk?
“I’d be honored to marry you again in your country because I love you,” she said calmly.
“Then all we have to do is choose a date.”
“But I won’t.”
He frowned. “You won’t what?”
“I won’t do it. I won’t go through another ceremony.”
His frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”
She smiled wanly. “I’m more than happy to marry a man I love in any place he chooses and as many times as he would like, but I refuse to marry one for a second time who doesn’t love me.
“I’ll visit Marestonia, shake hands and kiss babies like any good royal wife. I’ll even add Avelogne to the itinerary in order to see my grandmother, but…” she planted both hands on his desk and leaned toward him “…I will not listen to your pledge of love and devotion when you don’t mean it and are only reciting trite and meaningless words out of duty. How dare you even ask me to consider such a thing?”
She straightened. “So tell your father whatever you like to get yourself off the proverbial hook. Say I’m claustrophobic in churches, allergic to flowers, or that lace makes me break out in hives. I don’t care what excuse you give, but I will not repeat holy vows with someone who doesn’t love me. I have some pride and self-respect.”
Shaking with indignation and pleased she’d stated her convictions in no uncertain terms, she swept from the room and returned to work.
Dumbfounded, Ruark watched her leave as if she couldn’t escape his presence fast enough. Obligations aside, he’d been so sure she would agree because she loved him. He’d only thought of the ceremony as another event to attend, another duty to perform, but clearly Gina had seen the rite as a symbolic, religious act of two people becoming one.
Sheepishly, he admitted he hadn’t considered the vows they would make. He’d only focused on how proud he would be to stand beside the woman who made his life complete by the love and laughter she brought.
He’d greedily taken those gifts, never quite expecting or believing his good fortune. Yet, somewhere along the way, she’d become such an integral part of his existence that he couldn’t imagine facing a day without her.
In his thoughtlessness and self-centeredness he’d clearly hurt her, and he berated himself for it. He’d rather cut off his right arm than cause Gina pain. He loved her too much to be responsible for giving her a single moment of grief.
Instantly, something broke in his chest, as if he’d finally been released from his chains of denial. He loved her.
Stunned by the revelation, he tried the words on for size again—he loved her!—and realized he meant every word.
He’d always believed he didn’t know what love was or how to recognize it, and now he knew he’d been right. He hadn’t known what true love was because what he’d felt for Grace had been a mere shadow of what he felt for Gina. Love was more than affection, companionship, and compatibility. Love implied a passion that went beyond the physical and into the spiritual. It was a desire to spend every moment of the day with an individual, seeing her at her best as well as her worst, and being delighted with each experience.
If this was what Gina felt, then he understood why she had to tell him every chance she could. Others had uttered “I
love you” as a throw-away phrase that was useful on occasion, but Gina had spoken it from her heart. How dense he’d been not to recognize the difference and how foolish to let his cynicism rule him. He’d done her a disservice and if she never forgave him for it, she would be justified.
His path suddenly became clear—he had to make amends. He’d call Henri and ask for a special, romantic dinner with candlelight and flowers. No, tonight was too many hours away. He wanted to tell her now.
He jumped up, then stopped short. Unfortunately, his meeting with the budget review committee was scheduled to begin in five minutes. He couldn’t postpone it without a valid excuse. Needing a private moment with his wife wouldn’t carry enough weight to exempt him from the meeting where upper management decided on his department’s funding.
Once again duty demanded his attention and he chafed under the obligation, wishing his personal wishes could supersede it once in his life.
It would only be an hour, he consoled himself. Then he would set things straight with the love of his life.
“My gut hurts real bad.” The forty-five-year-old truck driver hunched his shoulders forward and rubbed his abdomen. “You gotta do something, Doc.”
Gina had already examined the man who answered to Glen “Gibb” Gibson, and hadn’t found anything suspicious. Normal-sized liver, no signs of fever or jaundice, normal bowel signs, no spasms, no masses, only tenderness in his right upper quadrant. Palpating his abdomen didn’t provide any clues as to why he was experiencing such excruciating pain. Of course, that didn’t mean anything, only that whatever was wrong wasn’t immediately obvious.
“I’m going to order some bloodwork,” she informed him. “I want to check your kidney function as well as your pancreas. Those results should narrow down the possibilities.”
Because she still hadn’t gotten the lab results from her possible MI patient, she decided to save time and collect the blood samples herself. Within minutes she took Gibb’s tubes to the nurses’ station and handed them to Lucy.
“I want electrolytes, amylase, CBC, glucose, BUN and creatinine, liver profile, and an acute hepatitis profile,” she stated, choosing tests that would give her information about Gibb’s kidneys, pancreas, and liver. “Get a urine specimen, too, and find out what happened to my cardiac results.”
“Will do.” The nurse got on the phone and Gina returned to Gibb’s cubicle.
“The tests will take about an hour or so,” she informed him. “Meanwhile, we’ll collect a urine sample, then send you to X-Ray for abdominal films. After that, we’ll let you rest.”
She’d scarcely finished when everything happened at once. A loud crash barely registered before the walls and ceiling came crashing down. Instinctively, she tried to cover her head with her arms, but she was too late. Something struck her temple and everything faded to black.
Impatient to finish business so he could leave, Ruark tapped his pen against his copy of the budget proposal. Their discussion was dragging on far too long and at this rate he’d be lucky if they finished their inquisition by noon.
Lansing’s secretary bustled in and Ruark bit back a groan. The woman had interrupted twice already and obviously intended to do so again. She passed a note to Dr Lansing who scanned it, then frowned.
“When did this happen?” he asked.
“About ten minutes ago,” she answered. “The phone lines in the ED are down. We just received the news.”
Ruark heard “ED” and his whole body went on alert. “What’s wrong?”
“You’d better get downstairs,” Lansing said grimly. “Someone’s just smashed their vehicle into the ER.”
Gina.
Ruark didn’t hesitate. He bounded for the exit. “Injuries?” he stopped to ask.
“We don’t know. Apparently they’re still trying to account for everyone. Don’t worry, we’ll send all available staff to sort out—”
Ruark didn’t stay long enough for the chief of medical staff to finish his comment or implement the hospital’s internal disaster plan. He bypassed the elevator and ran for the stairs, arriving at his department in record time.
Once he’d pushed his way through the double doors marked “ED Staff Only”, the scene reminded him of other disaster sites. Plaster dust hung heavily in the air and at the far end of the hall where patient cubicles had once been, rubble and a half-demolished Humvee now replaced the outer wall and allowed him to see daylight and the visitors’ parking lot.
Staff scurried to and fro in organized chaos. Although the damage to the building was extensive and various pieces of wood, steel and brick had been tossed along the entire length of the department from the force of impact, the worst damage was confined to the two treatment rooms where the Humvee had crashed through. Most of the people appeared shaken, but other than a few who were covered in white dust and held towels to their bleeding faces or extremities the number of casualties seemed minimal, their injuries superficial.
“Where’s Dr Sutton?” he demanded of a passing male nurse.
“Haven’t seen her.”
Undamaged rooms held patients and staff, but Gina wasn’t to be found. No one remembered where or when they’d seen her last. With dogged determination he continued his search, hoping she’d gone to Radiology or the cafeteria, but his instinct warned him she hadn’t.
He found Lucy near the largest pile of rubble, along with another nurse, Hugh and Joachim. Each worked to move the chunks of ceiling and wall.
“Where’s Gina?” he demanded, not caring who answered.
Lucy’s face was white, her eyes wide with worry as she pointed. “Underneath that. She and her patient are the only ones we can’t account for.”
Fear beyond anything he’d ever experienced, including the incident with the man pulling a knife, pierced him, but he reined it in as best he could. He had to be calm and objective or he wouldn’t do her any good when they finally reached her.
“Find several backboards and a C-spine collar,” he commanded the nurse. While she obeyed, he took her place to work alongside his men.
“Your Highness,” Hugh said respectfully, “you should step aside and let us handle this.”
“Forget it,” he snarled. “I’m staying.”
He’d made his intentions plain and Hugh simply nodded and returned to work as if he’d known Ruark wouldn’t listen.
“It’s so amazing,” Lucy said, her voice quivering in apparent shock. “We didn’t know what had hit us until we saw the Humvee.”
“Anyone check the driver?” he asked.
Joachim didn’t waste his breath as he heaved another large piece of plaster to the side. “Dead.”
“We’re thinking he had a heart attack and plowed right in,” Lucy huffed as she lifted several smaller pieces of debris out of the way.
“I see an arm,” Hugh called out.
Ruark’s gut churned, afraid of what he’d find and afraid of what he wouldn’t. He wanted to tear through the splintered wood and bricks to reach Gina, but they were playing a game of pick-up-sticks. Unless they worked slowly and methodically to remove each piece, more could come crashing down.
The ceiling tiles had fallen but the braces were still intact, which Ruark considered a good sign. They wouldn’t have to shore up the ceiling or worry about the upper floor crashing on top of them.
A few minutes later they’d uncovered Gina and her patient, both buried underneath the wall cabinets that had toppled over them. “Gina?” Ruark called out as they dealt with the unconscious man who lay in front of her.
She didn’t answer.
As soon as they’d placed Gina’s patient on a stretcher and carted him to a safer location, Ruark knelt beside her.
Gina’s groan was like music to his ears. He called her name as he ran his hands over her head and upper body while others worked to free her trapped legs. A lump on her head, a purplish gash along her hairline, cuts and more bruises on her arms, but no broken bones. So far.
“Hurt…everywhere,�
�� she murmured.
“I know,” he soothed. “We’ll have you out in a minute.”
It took ten to immobilize her spine, place her on a backboard and carry her into a treatment room as far away from the destruction as possible. “I want X-ray and lab here, as well as a surgeon,” Ruark commanded to no one in particular as Lucy began cutting off Gina’s shirt.
Seeing she was going into shock, Ruark barked his orders while the nurse started the IV. He leaned over Gina. “Hang in there,” he told her.
“I…will. Have…to.”
“You’re going to be fine,” he promised, willing it to be so because he couldn’t accept the alternative.
Her mouth twitched as if she was trying to smile. “Won’t be…like the…others. Won’t…leave you.”
“Darned right you won’t,” he said fiercely. “I love you.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed. As he worked frantically to determine how serious the large, darkening bruising across her hips and abdomen was, he was afraid of one thing.
She hadn’t heard him.
For the first time in a number of days, when Gina woke up, she actually felt awake. Tired and worn out, but awake.
Noticing her surroundings—a familiar hospital room—she noticed Ruark sprawled in a nearby chair. She scratched her itchy nose and he sprang out of his seat to stand beside her.
A smile spread across his face until his eyes crinkled. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
She managed a smile. “It doesn’t feel like such a good morning.”
“You’re awake and you’re stable. I’d say that’s better than good. You’ve been sedated for several days, you know.”
“I didn’t realize. No wonder I’m so stiff. I need to sit up.” She struggled to find the remote control to raise the head of her bed, but he did the honors.
After she’d settled into a new position, she reached toward his face and stroked his bristly cheek. “You didn’t shave,” she said inanely.
He clasped her hand and lowered it to his chest. “I spent the night here and haven’t gone to the doctors’ lounge to change yet. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
