Mentally picturing the scene, Leah shuddered as her grip tightened on the blood-pressure cuff she was still holding.
“You three are celebrities now,” Jeff remarked. “Not many people walk away from an experience like that.”
Gabe’s face became stoic, his expression shuttered. “Two of my group didn’t.”
“Who?” she asked, hating it that not everyone associated with Montgomery Medical would have a happy ending.
“Will. Will Henderson, and Ramon.”
Will was an information technology guru Gabe had hired about eighteen months ago to facilitate the internet connections between remote medical clinics and hospitals to specialists at centers like Spring Valley. Leah had met him a few times but had never had any dealings with him.
Ramon Diaz, however, was a man she knew quite well. As the first pilot Gabe had ever hired and the organization’s most senior pilot, Ramon had usually taken charge of Gabe’s flights. He’d also begun dating Theresa, one of the foundation’s nurses, right before Leah and Gabe had split up, and had recently proposed to her. No doubt they’d both been thrilled to go on this trip together. How sad it had ended so horribly.
“Oh, Gabe,” she breathed, knowing how the loss of two people who had been more friends than employees must weigh heavily on him. She dropped the cuff and clutched his hand in sympathy. “Did they…suffer?”
“Will didn’t. He died in the crash. Ramon…died later.”
Gabe’s tight-lipped expression suggested there was a lot more to his story, but she didn’t press for details. “I’m sorry, both for you and the company. Theresa must be devastated.”
“She’s having a tough time,” Gabe agreed.
Making a mental note to visit with Theresa as soon as she was able, Leah watched as Jeff unwrapped the bandage around Gabe’s leg. The gash was red and swollen, but didn’t look nearly as bad as Leah had anticipated.
“I’ve seen worse,” the doctor remarked, apparently agreeing with her opinion. “How long ago did this happen?”
“About ten days. I slid down a hill and bumped into a few rocks along the way. One of them sliced my skin.”
“Then it definitely isn’t healing as fast as I’d like.”
“We cleaned it as best we could but, as you can see, our topical ointment couldn’t quite do the job.” Gabe winced as his colleague probed the area and his grip on her hand tightened. “Sutures might have helped, but those weren’t available, either.”
Leah wasn’t fooled by his innocent tone or his condensed version of events. He could probably talk for hours about their struggle for the things she took for granted—food, water, protection from the elements and safety from predators. And he’d definitely had a difficult time because his clothing appeared as if he’d walked through a shredder.
As for his injuries, he’d made them sound as if they were nothing more than minor inconveniences when they were visible proof of his harrowing ordeal. Cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder were painful under ideal conditions and to “slide down a hill and bump into a few rocks” before they’d healed would have been agony. If the truth were known, it wouldn’t surprise her to learn that his so-called “hill” could probably compete with Pikes Peak and his “few rocks” had probably been boulders.
She wanted to throttle him for acting as if his stint in the jungle had been as easy and effortless as a Sunday stroll through the city park. Making a big deal out of bumps and bruises, gashes and cracked bones went against his macho grain, even if he was speaking to a physician who recognized what it took to create this degree of damage. There were two females in the room, too, and it wouldn’t do to appear weak in front of them. In essence, it was a guy thing—part of that caveman, show-the-woman-who’s-strongest mentality.
It was also a Gabe thing. He’d always tried his best to insulate her from the harsh realities of life instead of treating her as a partner in the challenges they faced—and they’d had a number of personal difficulties and tragedies to contend with. Obviously, he still pictured her as being too weak to face the truth. While some women might appreciate being treated like a Fabergé egg, she wasn’t one of them. After ten years of marriage, Gabe should have learned that, but he hadn’t.
As soon as she recognized the familiar resentment building inside her, she wondered why her former frustrations were rearing their heads again. She should be elated Gabe was home safe and more or less sound and not dredging up old complaints. Her only excuse was that she could finally give herself permission to be angry about his decision to take this flight in the first place.
Yet, however one might psychoanalyze her reaction, Gabe’s return didn’t wipe their slate of problems clean. They still had to be addressed in some manner and the easiest and most expedient method was to get his signature on those divorce documents, wherever they currently were.
Realizing her fingers were still entwined with his, she pulled her hand free.
Jeff’s gaze was speculative as he glanced at her. He’d clearly noticed how her touch had lingered longer than was actually necessary, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he finished his exam and tucked his stethoscope back into his pocket with deliberate movements.
“All things considered,” he said, “you’re not in too bad a shape.” He paused ever so slightly as his gaze slid sideways to Leah and then back to Gabe. “You’re a lucky fellow in more ways than one.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” Gabe answered fervently.
A meaningful note in his tone made Leah question if the two men were discussing Gabe’s health or if this was some sort of private male discussion, but before she could wade into the conversation, Jeff fell back into his professional mode.
“You’ve probably diagnosed yourself, but I want X-rays to check your ribs and your arm as well as basic bloodwork and cultures. To be honest, I’m not happy with the way your leg is healing, so prepare yourself for a few rounds of IV antibiotics.” He glanced at Leah. “I want those started immediately.”
Considering the state of Gabe’s leg, Jeff’s treatment plan was not only sound, it was necessary to stop the infection from turning septic. Without a word, she began pulling the appropriate IV supplies from the cabinet.
Gabe sighed audibly, as if he also knew the IV was necessary but wasn’t particularly happy about it. “I’d expected as much.”
“I’m glad we agree. After I see the films and lab results, we’ll talk again.”
“Any chance I can shower in the doctors’ lounge before you run me through the testing mill?” Gabe’s expression was hopeful. He might be the full-time CEO of the Montgomery Medical Foundation but he was also a member of the surgical staff at Spring Valley Memorial and, as such, he filled in a few nights a month and the occasional weekend when the regular surgeons took time off.
“Of course,” Jeff agreed, “but if we delay your tests, we also delay your treatment. So let’s do the cultures, blood samples and X-rays first, then by the time you finish your shower, we’ll have answers and can decide what comes next.”
Knowing how Gabe hated to compromise, Leah expected him to argue, but to her surprise, he didn’t. “Okay. If it means I’ll get out of here sooner, we’ll do it your way.”
Jeff grinned. “I’m glad to hear it. While you’re stuck in Radiology, I’ll see about arranging for first-class bathroom accommodations.” He turned to Leah. “He’s all yours for now.”
It was a throw-away statement, a figure of speech, but she wondered if his qualifier referred to tending Gabe’s injuries or if it had more personal overtones. Because it was far easier to fall back on the comforting routine of following a doctor’s orders, she did so, determined to leave the soul-searching for later when her mind had stopped reeling.
Thank goodness experience allowed her to perform her tasks without thinking as she still considered Gabe’s return as nothing short of miraculous. Thankfully, and perhaps Jeff had alerted Marge to the situation, Jane came in to help.
“Stay,” Gabe said w
hen Leah tried to escape, and so she did, but by the time he’d finished the lab draws and X-rays, his face was white and pinched with pain. Clearly, he was in desperate need of rest.
“I think the shower should wait,” she began.
His jaw squared. “No way.”
“Not even until you’ve napped a few hours?”
“Not even then.”
Seeing how unsteady he was on his feet, she offered, “How about a sponge bath instead?”
His eyes lit with an unholy gleam before it faded. “As intriguing as that sounds, I want a shower that lasts until I empty the hot water tanks. I need a shower because I’m tired of smelling myself.”
“You smell fresher than some patients who’ve walked through our doors,” she replied.
“Too bad. I know what I want and I want water. Gallons and gallons of it.”
“But you can hardly—”
His gaze was determined. “Trust me. I can and will do whatever I have to.”
She wanted him to be reasonable and take her advice, but if he’d found the fortitude to survive the jungle, he’d find the energy reserves to shower. However, as both his nurse and his wife, she’d watch to ensure he didn’t over-extend himself.
“You always were stubborn,” she remarked.
He nodded. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Well, hang tight while I see what I can arrange.”
After a short consultation in the hallway where she couldn’t speak privately to Jeff because Jane was part of their group, Leah wheeled Gabe to the nearby med-surg wing and into a patient room. She expected him to protest at the obvious implication, but he was too intent on his prize and didn’t.
While he brushed his teeth with the spare toiletry kit she’d commandeered from their supply cabinet, she located towels and soap so he could finally indulge in his much-wanted and much-needed shower in the wheelchair-accessible bathroom.
After removing his splint—the X-ray had shown the bones in his arm and shoulder weren’t broken—she covered his IV site with plastic so it wouldn’t get wet.
“I’ll be out here if you need me,” she told him. “Be careful with your leg and when you’re finished, I’ll dress it.”
While he hobbled into the shower, she turned down his bed and double-checked the medications that Jane had delivered. When she had everything in place except for her patient, she returned to the bathroom and stood in the doorway.
“How are you doing in there?” She raised her voice over the rushing water, noting he’d had at least a seven-minute shower.
“Fine.” A groan came from behind the curtain.
That didn’t sound good. Instantly worried, she straightened, ready to invade his privacy. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. God, this feels so good.”
The awe in his voice reminded her of other times when he’d said the same, under more intimate circumstances. She quickly stuffed those thoughts inside her mental box labeled “to be opened at a later date”. “I’m sure it does, but Jeff wants those antibiotics started ASAP.”
“Just a few more minutes.”
“The shower will still be here, waiting for you, tomorrow,” she coaxed.
“I know, but five more minutes. Please.”
It seemed cruel to deny him this simple pleasure when those extra minutes probably wouldn’t affect his treatment outcome. “Okay, but I’m timing you.”
“You’re the boss.”
If that were only true.
“I’d get done faster if you scrubbed my back for me,” he added.
He sounded so hopeful and so like the old Gabe—the Gabe before their lives had drifted apart—that she flashed back to those happier times when they had shared a shower. The memory of the subsequent lovemaking burst into her head, but it was more than simple recall. She replayed how it had felt—from the sensation of his rough skin against hers, the tickle of his breath and his lips on sensitive areas, his clean, sandalwood scent teasing her nose.
His suggestion was so very tempting…especially when she reflected on their stolen moments during the early days of their relationship. In his position as a surgical resident and hers as a newly minted ED nurse, as long as a deadbolt guarded their privacy, they’d been happy.
Unfortunately, they didn’t have a locked door and Gabe had become a celebrity, which meant privacy was impossible. Although those details didn’t present an insurmountable problem, making love at this point implied that their personal life was fine and dandy.
And it wasn’t.
“Not a good idea,” she pointed out. “Why not?”
“You mean, other than that you’re barely able to stand?”
“Yeah.”
“This place will be like Grand Central Station before long,” she reminded him. “Everyone wants to drop by and give you a personal welcome.”
“They can wait. Besides, people will understand if we have a quiet, intimate reunion. They’re probably expecting it, which means no one will interrupt us unless there’s a fire.”
The sad fact was he was probably right. Most people knew they were separated, but no one, other than Jane, knew the D-word had been floated between them. Everyone loved a happy ending, which meant everyone would speculate—if not hope—that Gabe’s return would be the turning point in their relationship. Perhaps under other circumstances, it would have been, but their differences were more deep-seated than a conversation or a few promises could fix.
“They can expect all they want, but it isn’t going to happen.”
His sigh was audible. “I suppose not, but I really would like you to wash my back. I can’t reach.”
Instantly, she felt ashamed for not realizing how his bruised ribs and stiff shoulder made his request completely valid. Irritated at herself for jumping to the wrong conclusion, she shoved the curtain aside to see her dripping husband struggling to touch those hard-to-reach places.
“Turn around,” she ordered, determined to handle her task with clinical detachment. Yet, as she ignored the spray of water on her scrub suit to run a soapy washcloth down his spine and over the lean muscles of his back before moving around to his front, her concern over what he’d endured grew. This wasn’t the body of the man she’d last seen a month ago. Oh, the birthmark in the small of his back was the same, as was the general shape of his torso, but while he’d once reminded her of a lean mountain lion with rock-hard muscles and sinew, now he resembled a starving wolf.
“If you keep that up,” he said dryly, “our private reunion will be extremely one-sided.”
Realizing she’d come dangerously close to an area of his body where she hadn’t intended to go, she froze.
“Although,” he added softly, “there’s always later.”
The promise in his voice sent an unexpected tingle through her body but, then, a mere glance, a simple touch, or a softly spoken word from Gabe had always carried enough power to melt her into a puddle. What truly surprised her was how she could respond so easily in spite of the issues that had driven them apart. Was she so starved for attention and affection that when he showered her with both, she would greedily accept it?
Disliking what her response suggested, she dropped the washcloth over the handrail. “Rinse off. I’ll be waiting.” Suddenly realizing what she’d said, she clarified. “Outside. I’ll be waiting outside.”
As he laughed, she flung the curtain closed and counted to twenty so Gabe could finish and she could recover her composure.
“Time’s up,” she called.
He didn’t respond.
“Gabe?” she repeated. “Your time is up.”
Still no answer.
“Gabe?” Although she hadn’t heard a thump or other worrisome noise, his silence raised her concern. She flung back the curtain once again to find him leaning against the tiled wall, his eyes closed, his dark hair dripping.
“I knew it,” she scolded as she cranked the taps until the water stopped. “You’ve stayed in here too long. You’re abou
t to fall on your face.”
“Maybe, but being clean would be worth it.”
CHAPTER THREE
GABE hated feeling weak. For a man whose body had never failed him before, it was a humbling experience to be at less than peak condition. However, if his injuries convinced Leah to give him another chance, he wouldn’t complain too loudly.
Although, in spite of his aches and pains, he’d been relieved to discover one part of his body still worked quite well. If he hadn’t stopped her from toweling him off like a child, he would have needed a second shower—an ice-cold one.
“I don’t suppose I can wear a scrub suit instead of that,” he said, eyeing the hospital gown she held out.
“We’d never be able to take care of your leg if you were wearing trousers.”
“I could wear a pair of athletic shorts.”
“You could,” she agreed, “but a pair isn’t available at the moment. You’re stuck with this for now.”
“You could cut off the legs and turn the pants into shorts,” he coaxed.
“If you were going to stay a few days, I would, but I suspect you’re not, so I won’t. Now, stop arguing.” She tied the string at the back of his neck then guided him to the nearby bed.
He sank gratefully onto the mattress before he rubbed his face. “Did you bring a razor?”
“Not this trip. Count your blessings for the toothbrush I found. Would you like to sit or lie down?”
“Sit.”
She immediately adjusted the bed to accommodate his wishes then pulled the sheet over his good leg, leaving his injured extremity uncovered while she fluffed his pillows. “We’ll tackle the beard later. You’ve done enough for the moment.”
He hated to admit she was right, but although his spirit was willing, his flesh was weak. He’d been functioning on adrenalin for too long. Now that he’d enjoyed a hot shower, although a much shorter one than he would have liked, he’d crash soon. With any luck, after a rejuvenating nap, his IV would have run its course and he could convince Leah to drive him home, where he’d deal with the proverbial elephant in the room.
Six-Week Marriage Miracle Page 3
