“Can I help you?”
“Um … yes, I’m here to see Devin Clay.” Everything is quiet, minus the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears as I wait for a response.
“Ma’am, visiting hours have ended for today. If you could, please come back tomorrow any time after nine a.m.”
My heart drops to my toes and I shake my head. I heard what she said, but it doesn’t make sense. She isn’t going to let me see him? “What?” I croak, stepping closer to the door. The familiar burn of tears builds behind my eyes, and I swallow past the lump sitting firmly in my throat. “No,” I shriek, shaking my head frantically. This isn’t happening. “You don’t understand. I need to see him now. Please,” I plead, pushing the button again because I don’t even know if she’s listening—and I need her to listen. “Please let me see him.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I apologize for any inconvenience—”
“Is this a joke?” I laugh humorlessly, maniacally. “You apologize for the inconvenience?” My body trembles as the weight of the past couple of days slams into me, and desperation quickly takes over. “You don’t understand. You have to let me in there. Please,” I beg, banging my fist against the door. There is no response, and I pound my fist on the door again before fruitlessly jiggling the handle. Every emotion that has been building inside of me boils over. My throat constricts, making it hard to breathe. “Please let me in. There are so many things—” My words break off into a sob and I swipe at the tears that now run down my face. “I swear I won’t get in the way. I’ll be quick for tonight, but I have to see him.” My words are rushed—desperate. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I have to see him now.”
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Spinning around, I thread my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out a way to get in. Oh God. What do I do? I have to get in there. What if he … what if I don’t get …
No. I shake my head, refusing to let myself go there.
Turning around, I face the door. It’s killing me, knowing that Devin is somewhere on the other side of this wall. I lift my hands, placing them flat against the treated wood. “Please,” I whisper. Something inside of me breaks and I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing another wave of tears down my face. A broken cry rips from my chest, and my shoulders heave as I fight to suck in air.
Why is this happening?
Hasn’t he been through enough?
Haven’t I been through enough?
Devin is finally within reach—for good—and I can’t even touch him. He’s in one of those cold, sterile rooms, hooked up to God knows what, and I’m not in there with him. I should be in there. Curling my fingers inward, I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, making a fist, and then pound furiously against the one thing separating me from him.
I have no idea how long I bang on the door, determined to get someone’s attention, but no one walks by or offers to help, and eventually anger and determination overshadow my pain. Dropping my arms, I step back from the door, remembering something Devin once said to me. “Strength comes from within. We make ourselves strong, Katie, and right now I need you to dig deep and find your strength. And when you find it, I need you to hold on to it. I don’t care how many times you want to give up and let go, you hold on to that strength and you fight.”
A shiver runs through me as though he physically just whispered those words in my ear. Pushing past the sadness, exhaustion and pain, I dig deep, finding that strength he was talking about. Straightening my back, I step up to the intercom and push the button again.
“May I help you?” It’s the same woman from before. I cringe, knowing I’m not going to get anywhere but determined to at least try.
“I am not leaving.” My words come out firm and strong, the complete opposite of how I’m feeling on the inside. The tears sit just behind the eyes, waiting to erupt again, waiting to pour down my trembling cheeks. “I will stand outside this door and push that annoying little button until someone lets me in there.”
“Ma’am, listen—”
“No, you listen,” I demand, pointing my finger at the speaker as though it’s her face. “I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours. I’m crabby, I’m tired and I’m scared to death because the man I love is in one of those rooms fighting for his life, and you won’t let me see him.” Adrenaline is flowing through my body, and I run a trembling hand down the front of my shirt. The desire to see him, to feel him, surpasses any weakness in my legs. It puts the breath back in my lungs. It quells the tears that want to fall. “Devin is mine,” I proclaim, fisting my hand over my heart. The truth and potency of that statement seeps through my veins, warming me from the inside out. I know that if Devin were standing here right now, he would be proud as hell. “He. Is. Mine. And if you think for one second that I’m going to walk away now because you say visiting hours are over, well then, you’ve got another thing coming.”
The handle on the door shifts and I step back, eyes wide, thankful that someone is giving me the time of day. The door cracks open and a short, plump, older woman steps into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind her.
“Ma’am—”
“Katie,” I interject. “Please call me Katie.”
“Katie, I understand that you want to see your loved one, but as I stated earlier, visiting hours are over. We have strict visiting hours for very specific reasons, and I know how frustrating it is, but you cannot stand out here acting like this. And if you don’t stop, I’m going to have to call security.” Without so much as a second glance, she turns away, shutting the door quietly in my face.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pacing across the hall. Every ounce of strength I had managed to muster shatters. My head spins and I reach out, steadying myself against the wall. I’m completely numb—my heart, my brain, my body … all of it is numb. Pure and utter exhaustion takes over. Pressing my back against the wall, I slide down until my butt hits the cool tile. I bend my knees, wrap my arms around my legs and pull them in close. “I’m here, Devin,” I whisper, burying my face in my arms.
A tight band constricts around my chest, and this time when the tears fall, there is no warning. They simply fall, and I let them. My heart is telling me to get my ass up and find a way to get to him, but my head is having no part of it. The last thing I need is to get hauled out of here by security.
“Miss?”
My body jerks when a hand lands on my shoulder, but I don’t look up. I can’t. “I’m good,” I mumble, a sob crawling up my throat because I’m anything but good. “That’s a lie.” I sniff, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my jacket. “I’m not good. I’m miserable. I have no idea if Devin is okay.” My voice cracks when I say his name out loud. “They tell me he’s alive,” I cry, “but that’s all I know, and all I want to do is go in there and … I want t-to tell him that I l-love him and that he has to s-stay strong. I need to t-tell him th-thank you for saving me and for”—I suck in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the amount of things I need to tell him—“loving me. I don’t know what I’ll do if h-he doesn’t make it.” Blowing out a slow breath, I pinch my lips together. My chin is trembling so much that it physically hurts, and I wonder if anyone would mind if I just curled up into the fetal position right here on the floor. “I won’t sur-survive without him. I know I won’t.” I shake my head, batting away the tears, still staring at the floor between my legs. “He has to be okay. He just has to…” I keep rambling because it feels good to get this all out, but I have absolutely no idea if the woman is still there or if she really did go to get security.
Lifting my head a fraction, I peek up through spiked lashes and come face-to-face with a young woman. “I don’t know what to say.” Flopping down next to me, she leans her head against the wall. “He sounds like one lucky man to have you.”
Clearing my throat, I straighten my legs to mimic her position. I can’t even imagine how horrible I look. My eyes feel puffy and swollen, and I’m sure they’re about as red as can be. My make-up from two days ago is long gone and m
y hair is nothing short of a rat’s nest, but the woman is watching me with open curiosity and unbridled compassion. And right now, that’s something I could use a little bit of. “I’m the lucky one,” I tell her. “He’s my world and I’d do anything for him.”
“And by him, you’re referring to someone over there, I assume.” She points her hand toward the ICU and I nod. “I see. I’m guessing that you got here after visiting hours.” I nod again. “When was the last time you’ve seen—?”
“Devin,” I answer with a watery smile. “His name is Sergeant Devin Clay, and I haven’t seen him in forty-three days, eighteen hours and”—I glance down at my watch—“thirty-three minutes.”
“But who’s counting?” She laughs and pushes up from the floor. I notice for the first time that she’s wearing a pair of blue surgical scrubs much like the older woman from earlier. She holds out her hand and I stare at it like it’s a foreign object. “Would you like to go see Devin?”
I scramble up off the floor. “You can do that?” I ask, pressing a hand to her arm.
“I can,” she says, nodding. “Just as soon as the shifts change and the day shift leaves, I’ll bring you back.”
“How?” I breathe. “Why can you let me in, but she couldn’t?” I ask, waving my hand toward the ICU. I’m a nurse; I should know this answer. But right now, my mind is focused on one thing and one thing only.
“Was the nurse you talked to older?” I nod and she smiles. “Some of the older ones are set in their ways. They don’t like to bend the rules; they like to stand firmly next to them. Lucky for you, the much cooler, much younger group of nurses run the night shift, and we prefer to break the rules rather than follow them.” She winks, and without thinking, I wrap my arms around her shoulders, dragging her in for a hug.
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Pulling away, she guides me toward a waiting room. “Have a seat in here and I’ll come and get you in a bit.”
“Katie!” I blurt, catching her attention after she turns to walk away. She cocks her head to the side, looking at me curiously. “My name is Katie.”
A friendly smile slides across her face. “Jennifer.”
“Thank you, Jennifer.” I can’t infuse enough gratitude into those three words, but hopefully she knows just how appreciative I am. Nodding once, she turns away.
Walking into the waiting room, I notice a young woman asleep on one of the couches. Two little girls are sitting on the floor with a box of crayons and a coloring book, and when I sit down in one of the chairs, they both look up.
“Hi.” The youngest one smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back.
“Hi.”
“Is your fadder here too?” The question is so innocent, and if my heart wasn’t already broken, it would’ve just now.
“No,” I answer, shaking my head.
“Your mudder?”
“No.” I laugh, shaking my head again. “My boyfriend.” My best friend. The love of my life. The man I want to marry. The f—
“Ah!” The pint-sized cherub squeals, slapping a hand over her mouth. “You have a boyfwend?” she whispers. I nod with a smirk and she lowers her hand. “Daddy says no boyfwends until I’m firty.”
“Well, your daddy sounds very smart. I’m almost thirty, so I think I’m good.”
“Want me to pway wif you?” I cock my head to the side, trying to determine if she said ‘play’ or ‘pray.’ “My Nana says I hafta pway awot. She says that will help bwing Daddy back. I will pway wif you, if you want.”
“Stop it, Sally.” The older girl slaps Sally’s arm, but Sally just smiles.
“Dis is Sawah.”
“Hi, Sarah.” I offer a small wave at the young girl. “My name is Katie.”
Sally stands up and walks around the table, not stopping until she’s standing in front of me. “I wike dat name. I havva fwend named Katie.”
“You do?”
Her little head bobs excitedly.
“Knock, knock.” I spin around at the familiar voice and see Jennifer standing in the doorway. “Ready?”
“Yes!” Turning toward Sally, I stick out my hand, thankful that this precious little girl could momentarily distract me. Sally slips her tiny hand in mine and shakes it. “It was so nice meeting you. I’m going to say some extra-special prayers for your Daddy.”
“Fank you,” she says, and her smile brightens the room. But the second I move into the hallway and fall into step behind Jennifer, that brightness fades.
After she slides her badge, the door clicks and she pulls it open, I follow her into the dimly lit ICU. She asks, “Have you been updated on Sergeant Clay’s status?”
“No. Actually, I don’t know much at all.” We pass by the nurse’s station and then stop in front of room two. He’s in there. My chest tightens and I swallow hard. “I got the call about the explosion. I was told what city and hospital he was being transported to and that his condition was labeled as critical. That’s all I know.”
Jennifer nods her head slowly. “Dr. Karesh has been taking care of Sergeant Clay, and he’ll be in tomorrow morning around ten. If you stop by then, he’ll be able to go into more detail about your boyfriend’s injuries and condition.”
“I’ll be here.”
“I figured you would be. Just remember that when we switch shifts you may have to step out.” She pats my arm and I nod as I turn away. Little does she know that I’m not going anywhere, but there’s no sense in starting an argument because right now I have something much more important to tend to. Gripping the knob, I crack open the door and the cacophony of sounds float through the air. How many machines is he hooked up to? Is he swollen and bruised? Will I recognize him? “Are you okay, Katie?” Jennifer asks.
Pinching my lips together, I nod jerkily and step into the room.
The sight in front of me stops me dead in my tracks. Lifting a trembling hand to my mouth, I suck in a sharp breath.
Oh my God.
A stabbing pain rips through my chest. “Devin,” I breathe, rushing toward him. “Oh, God.” Tears race hot down my face and I scoop his cold hand up in mine, kissing it several times before cradling it against my chest. He’s always seemed larger than life, but today, tucked beneath the crisp white sheet, Devin looks so incredibly fragile. I’m reminded in the worst possible way that my hero … my soldier … is human. Squeezing my eyes shut, I send up a silent prayer.
Please, God, please let him pull through this.
Swallowing hard, I peel my eyes open and look at Devin. My Devin. Clear plastic tubing disappears between his lips, undoubtedly leading to his trachea, and my eyes drift toward the ventilator sitting next to his bed.
He’s not breathing on his own.
Thick, white gauze is wrapped around his head. Gashes and bruises mar his gorgeous face. An IV is attached to his right hand that leads to three different bags of clear fluid hanging from an IV pole at the head of his bed. He has a blood pressure cuff secured around his left arm and electrodes are visible under the neck of his gown. My eyes drift to the heart monitor. A steady beep resonates throughout the room, infusing me with hope.
His heart is still beating.
My gaze sweeps over the room, and I spot a small canvas bag tucked against the wall in the corner as though it was tossed aside and forgotten about. Without thinking, I gently rest Devin’s hand on the bed and walk across the small space. Dropping to my knees, I pick up the bag and reach inside, pulling out a dark green t-shirt—at least that’s what I think it is. The fabric is tattered and … is that blood? A shudder racks my body and I set it aside.
Glancing in the bag, a glimmer of metal catches my attention and I pull the object out. A strangled moan rips from my chest at the sight of Devin’s dog tags. Gripping the chain in my hand, I reach inside one last time and pull out a picture. I choke out a watery laugh, running my thumb over the dirty photograph. Taken the last time I saw him, it’s one of my favorites.
We were in the hotel ro
om, and it was Devin’s last night in Pittsburgh after his mother’s funeral. Devin’s gorgeous green eyes are trained on the camera. His face is split into a huge grin while I’m kissing his cheek. My chin trembles as I remember the moment. That day—that entire weekend—was pivotal for us in so many ways. Wow. Was it really only a little over a month ago? I feel like so much has happened since then.
Pushing from the floor, I shrug out of my wet jacket and hang it on the back of the door. Carefully, I place the photograph in my coat pocket, slip Devin’s dog tags over my head and make my way toward him.
“I feel so lost,” I mumble, running my fingers over the top of his hand, wanting nothing more than for him to grab my hand, pull me in close and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I want him to tell me that this is just a tiny bump in the road that leads to our forever.
We were so close—so close—to the end of his deployment and starting our lives together. What if I never again get to feel his hand wrap around my neck to drag me in for a kiss or feel the warmth of his lips against mine? What if I never get to hear him laugh again or look into his eyes as I walk down the aisle? What if I never get the chance to tell him that he’s going to be a daddy?
The urge to touch him, to be close to him, to feel the warmth of his body against mine is overwhelming. My limbs grow heavy and, like a punch to the gut, everything hits me all at once. There are so many things we’ve yet to experience together, so many things left to say and do, and the thought of never getting the chance makes me feel as though someone is taking a machete to the center of my soul.
Lifting Devin’s arm, I gently sit on the bed next to his hip and very carefully, without disturbing any of the tubes or wires, curl my body against his. Resting my head softly on his chest, I let the steady thump of his heart soothe my aching soul. I use it as a reminder that he’s still here, he’s still fighting and I need to fight with him—for him.
“Hey there, soldier.” My voice cracks and a stream of tears run out of the corner of my eye, over my nose and fall from my face, only to be absorbed by the soft cotton of Devin’s hospital gown. “I’m going to need you to fight, okay? I need you to pull through this, because I can’t live this life without you.” I sniff, nuzzling my face into him. “You know what happened to me last time. I can’t go through that again. I won’t survive this time, Devin, not without you. You are everything to me. You’re the reason I wake up every morning. Just knowing that I’m going to get to talk to you or read your words gets me through the day. You own me, Dev. My heart is yours, and I gave you my soul a long time ago.”
A Lover's Lament Page 33
