[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Chapter 198

The waiting continued, but Claire was no longer alone.

Jamie had gone back home, taking the twins with him, at her insistence. He’d been surprised when she had told him she wasn’t going with him. “I thought that was the whole point of me coming to the hospital,” he’d said in annoyance. “To pick you up.”

“The point was to bring me some clothes, so I don’t have to sit around in a hospital gown for no reason,” Claire corrected him gently. “I’m not leaving.”

He’d argued with her briefly, but had inevitably given up and packed the twins back into their stroller. “Drive careful,” had been Claire’s last request as she watched him leave with her children.

She spent a lonely afternoon by Nick’s side, keeping up a running conversation that was mostly one-sided, except when one of the nurses or Nick’s new physician, Dr. Renck, was around. She tried to get friendly with all of the hospital staff, hoping that they would be candid with her and accommodating when she needed them to be. It took a slight lack of honesty on her part, but by evening, she had the entire intensive care unit believing that she and Nick were practically engaged, which, combined with his VIP status, gave her some added benefits. They allowed her to stay with him longer than most visitors would be allowed, and they kept her informed on his condition, answering whatever questions she asked. Surely, it helped that she was the only one around to be his advocate.

And then, suddenly, she wasn’t.

She had gotten up to stretch her legs and was trying to force-feed the vending machine with a crinkled dollar bill when a raspy voice said, “Try this one,” and a tattooed hand extended a crisp, new bill.

Claire gasped in surprise, her tattered dollar fluttering to the tiled floor as she whirled around and found herself face to face with AJ McLean. “AJ!” she cried, and then she noticed Howie standing a few feet behind him. “And Howie… what are you guys doing here??” Well, duh, Claire, she thought immediately, and added, with a sheepish grin, “Well, I know why you’re here, but I… I didn’t expect you, that’s all. At least not so soon.”

AJ offered a grim smile. “Well, D and I were both in Orlando for Thanksgiving and decided we couldn’t just sit on our asses down there knowing Nick was up here in God knows what kind of shape, so we tried our luck at the airport. Had to charm a pair of tickets for an early flight off a couple of college girls – traded ‘em for autographs, pictures, and seats on a later flight – but after that, it was pretty smooth sailing. The weather up here must be better than it was yesterday – O’Hare wasn’t nearly as backed up as we thought it’d be. Orlando to Chicago, Chicago to Des Moines, and here we are.” He opened his arms, and she hugged him, then Howie.

“What happened to your hands?” Howie asked as she pulled away, his smooth brow creasing with concern.

She held up her bandaged paws and looked at them listlessly. “Burns,” she answered, “but they’ll heal. The doctor assured me they won’t fuse into lobster claws, anyway.”

The guys smiled weakly at her attempt to make a joke, but AJ looked a shade paler than he had before. Perhaps the mention of burns had brought back the severity of the situation. They couldn’t beat around the bush forever; they all knew this wasn’t intended to be a happy reunion.

“How about Nicky?” was Howie’s next question, his voice dropping to a whisper. “How’s he doing? Brian made it sound bad.”

She wasn’t going to lie to him. “It is. He almost died last night, Howie. But he’s alive now, and… you know Nick. He’s stubborn as hell. He’s not gonna go down without a fight… and he fought last night. He’ll get through this.” She nodded, forcing confidence into her voice, trying to reassure herself as much as them. “You wanna see him?”

“Can we?” Howie glanced at his watch. “I know regular visiting hours are probably over by now, aren’t they?”

“Don’t worry… I spent the day wrapping the ICU nurses around my little finger,” replied Claire, wiggling her pinky through the gauze. “They know Nick’s VIP, and I made them think I’m his almost-fiancée, which is really like his almost-wife. I don’t think they’ll stop us.”

“Nice,” said AJ, offering an appreciative smile.

They got her the Diet Pepsi she’d been fighting the vending machine for, and she led them back up the hall to the ICU.

“Brian and Kevin want to fly up too,” Howie explained as they walked, “but last time I talked to one of them, they were having a harder time getting a flight. They’re both in Lexington for the holidays, and apparently Kentucky got ice overnight. The airport’s practically shut down.”

“I hate ice,” Claire sighed. “I hate snow. I hate the Midwest. I hate the hospital. I hate all of this.” Her frustration was setting back in, and now that she had someone conscious to vent to, she let it out. “If we weren’t here, this never would have happened.”

“Why were you and Nick here anyway?” asked AJ, and she saw him glance over at Howie. This was apparently something the two of them had pondered as they’d made plans to fly there. “We thought Nick was with the Kentucky clan for Thanksgiving.”

“He was. And I came here right after Thanksgiving to settle some things with Jamie and our house here. Nick just kinda showed up last night, I guess to surprise me. I didn’t even really get a chance to ask him…” She trailed off, as this sad fact dawned on her for the first time. She and Nick hadn’t had the chance to just talk, to hug, to do anything. Would they ever again?

She swallowed hard, determined not to let her mind go to that place now, and forced herself to keep talking. “It’s a long story, but something happened, and he was angry, and we were fighting in the car, and then…” She shrugged, looking down at her bandaged hands, the rest playing out in her mind, a slideshow of horrific images that would stay with her for the rest of her life.

She didn’t have to describe anymore; Howie and AJ knew what they needed to know of the rest, or could at least guess, and besides, they had reached Nick’s unit. “He’s unconscious,” she said before they went in, trying to prepare them for what they would find, “but he’s not in a coma. I think he can hear you if you talk to him; I got him to open his eyes once earlier. He’s just on a lot of painkillers and sedatives, too, because of the breathing tube.”

“Breathing tube?” AJ asked, his eyes widening a little. “So… does that mean… he can’t breathe on his own?” His face was stricken, and Howie’s looked equally grim.

“Not very well. His lungs have been damaged. Most of his injuries from the crash were to his chest.” She relayed what Dr. Wittig had told her just this morning, though it seemed as if it had been a week since that conversation. This had been one of the longest days of her life… and she’d spent many a long day in the hospital.

When they seemed ready, Claire led Howie and AJ into the unit and over to Nick’s corner. It wasn’t a room, just a cubicle made of glass partitions, which had curtains that could be drawn for privacy. Most of the curtains in other cubicles had been left open, but the nurses had closed Nick’s that morning and left them that way all day. Claire supposed that, even in the ICU, there was the risk of him being recognized and the news getting out before his publicist had a chance to release it.

She paused to wonder if any of the guys had thought to call such a person. Was a press release being prepared at this very moment?

She didn’t ask. Now wasn’t the time. AJ and Howie were just getting their first look at Nick, and she stayed out of their way, letting them have the moment to themselves to take it all in.

Neither of them spoke at first, but after a minute or so, Howie put his hand over Nick’s and said, “Hey Nicky… it’s your big brothers, Howie D and AJ. We’re here, man.”

AJ’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Then he rasped, “Yeah, Prick, here we are, visiting you in the hospital yet again. Did you think it had been too long, or what? Thought you’d give us a fresh scare for the holidays?”

Claire smiled at his sarcasm; she sensed it was the only thing holding him together. She could empathize; that was pretty much how she operated too. She could handle what she could joke about.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor seemed to accelerate, and when she looked up at it, she saw that the number measuring Nick’s heart rate had climbed slightly. “He’s listening,” she murmured. “He knows it’s you guys. Keep talking to him.”

They did, and although Nick’s eyelids fluttered, he was still too sedated to wake. Soon, his heart rate fell again, and Claire knew he had drifted back into a deeper sleep. Disappointed, she said, “Well, I’ll let you two have some time with him. I’ll be in the waiting room down the hall, by the vending machines.”

“You sure?” Howie asked, turning to look at her.

“Absolutely. He’s probably sick of hearing my voice anyway; I’ve been here all day.”

She had, but when AJ joined her in the waiting room twenty minutes later and offered to relieve her, Claire didn’t want to leave.

“Come on, you’ve been here since, what, last night?” AJ asked, sinking down into the chair to her left. When she nodded, he went on, “You should get out of this place for awhile. Howie and I got a pair of adjoining suites at the Marriott. Let me call you a cab, and you can head back there. Have some dinner, take a shower, get some sleep in a real bed…” Before she knew it, he was pulling his room key out of his back pocket.

“AJ, no,” she protested, as he tried to hand the swipe card to her. “I have a reservation at the Best Western if I want to do that...” As she said it, though, she doubted her hotel room would still be available. She was supposed to have had one reserved from Saturday until tomorrow, but she’d never checked in Saturday night. If she had her days straight, today was Monday. Which meant she and the twins had seats on a plane back to Tampa tomorrow morning. She wondered if she should call the airline and get a refund for her tickets. She wouldn’t be using them now. There was no way she was flying back to Florida while Nick lay in a hospital in Iowa.

As she trailed off, lost in her thoughts, AJ’s voice broke into them. “A room at Best Western ain’t no suite at the Marriott, though, is it?” He grinned and forced his key card into her hand. “C’mon, babe, work with me – I’m trying to be a gentleman here. So take advantage of my gentlemanly hospitality and go get some rest in my suite. D and I will stay and keep an eye on Nick for ya.”

He was being so sweet and so generous, she couldn’t resist. A hot shower and a big bed did sound amazing, after the night and day she’d had. She felt uncomfortable with the thought of leaving Nick, but logic told her it was pointless to stay, especially if AJ and Howie were going to.

“Will you promise to call me, if anything changes?”

“Of course. Good or bad,” AJ vowed. “Whaddya say?”

“Alright,” she gave in with a sheepish smile, holding out her bandaged palm to receive his key. “You really don’t have to do this, but I do appreciate it.”

“It’s nothin.’ Now, let’s see… it’s room 724…”

“724,” she repeated, trying to lock the number into her memory.

“… and Howie’s right next door, 726. Help yourself to whatever you want and put it on my tab – room service, pay per view, mini bar… I won’t be using that, but you might need it.” He offered a grim smile and a knowing wink, and she let out a rueful chuckle.

“I think I’ll be fine with a shower and some sleep. Thank you so much, AJ.”

“Not a problem. Let me call for a cab…”

She sat and watched him in amazement as he called information on his cell phone, got the number of a cab company, and ordered a car to be sent to the hospital to pick her up. Then, as if it were no big deal at all, he pulled a wad of bills out of his wallet and gave them to her, saying, “This should be enough to cover the fare to the hotel and back here in the morning, when you’re ready… oh, and dinner, if you don’t want room service.”

“AJ…” She shook her head. “I can’t take all this. Really, you don’t have to-”

But he refused to take back the money, even as her bandaged hands tried clumsily to push it back into his. “It’s the least I can do. I know I can’t give you what you really want… what we all really want: for Nick to be all right. That one’s on Nick and God, I guess. But I can at least keep us all comfortable while we’re waiting, right?”

She put her arms around his neck and hugged him, telling herself that when she said a prayer for Nick that night, she would include AJ in it. He and Howie – all the guys, really – were better friends than most, to Nick and to her. They’d welcomed her into their circle years ago, and despite all the ups and downs of her relationship with Nick, they’d never stopped being kind to her. Even though she was the reason Nick was here in the first place, AJ embraced her like a sister.

Humbled, she left the hospital in the taxi he had sent and was taken to the Marriott hotel. A flash of déjà vu struck her as the cab pulled up in front of the large hotel, and as she paid the driver and climbed out, she remembered getting out of a similar taxi and walking into this same hotel… to meet Nick. It was the one he’d stayed in when he had come to Des Moines last year to cheer her up.

The déjà vu stuck with her all the way to AJ’s suite on the seventh floor. She was almost positive this was the same floor Nick had stayed on, and when she unlocked the door to AJ’s room, she found herself walking into a luxurious suite that was practically identical to the one she’d spent the night in with Nick. He had been so good to her that weekend, so loving and understanding. Everything Jamie wasn’t. She wished she had taken advantage of her impulsive nature and ended her marriage back then, instead of six months later. She and Nick could have had so much more time together… time they might never be able to make up…

Completely alone and exhausted, Claire sunk down onto the king-size bed, allowing her eyes to fill with tears for the first time since last night. AJ had been generous to offer her his room, but she had no business staying here while Nick was fighting for his life in a hospital bed. She wished she could hold him and heal him with hugs, the way he had comforted her back then. She owed him so much, and yet, she felt completely powerless. It was a frustrating feeling, as frustrating as all of the waiting and wondering and worrying in store for her that night.

She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, even in such a comfortable room, but when she burrowed into the center of the large bed and pulled the covers up around her, fatigue conquered fear, and she drifted off. She slept deeply, but not peacefully. Stress turned her dreams into nightmares, and she awoke in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat, her heart palpitating fast against her ribs. Thinking of Nick, she rolled over in bed and snatched up her cell phone from the bedside table. But there were no missed calls, not even a text message from AJ or Howie.

She let out her breath slowly, trying to calm her racing heart. There was nothing to worry about, she tried to assure herself. Nothing too bad, anyway, or one of them would have called. The fact that they hadn’t meant that nothing had changed with Nick. And that, she supposed, was the best she could hope for now.

It was that thread of reassurance that carried her back into a restless sleep.

***

Claire awoke early the next morning. She’d showered the night before – almost more of a hassle than it had been worth, with the effort it had taken her to wash without getting the bandages on her hands wet – and so she settled for running a brush through her hair and throwing on some clothes. She called for a cab, swiped a danish from the complimentary breakfast downstairs to nibble as she waited, and took the taxi back to the hospital.

She hadn’t heard from either AJ or Howie since she’d left them there last night. As far as she knew, neither of them had come back to the hotel; she hadn’t heard a peep from Howie’s room next door all night. She worried about what state Nick might be in. Had they been afraid to leave him?

When she got to his cubicle in the ICU, she was shocked to find Nick sitting up. Well, propped up was the better term; the head of his bed had been raised to a forty-five degree angle, and he lay slumped against it, pillows tucked around his body to help support him. She was disappointed to find that he was sleeping, his head lolling to the side, still tethered to the hose of the ventilator. Other than the change in position, he looked no different than he had when she’d left him the night before.

AJ was nowhere in sight, but Howie was sitting at Nick’s bedside, and he greeted her with a smile when she came in. “Get a good night’s sleep?” he asked.

“Best I could hope for, I guess,” she replied, returning the smile. “How about you? Did you get any sleep?”

“Yeah, I dozed.” Howie shrugged. “I can sleep pretty much anywhere.”

“Sounds like Nick.” Her gaze returned to him, and she gestured. “How’s he doing? I see they’ve got him sitting up a little.”

Howie nodded. “AJ and I met his doctor this morning when she was doing her rounds. Nice woman. She said he needed to be propped up to reduce the risk of pneumonia.”

Pneumonia. The word sent shivers down her spine. She knew it was a possibility, and Nick had had it before, but it was a complication he definitely didn’t need now, not with his lungs already struggling. Pneumonia could kill him.

She tried not to think about it now and asked instead, “Has he been sleeping like this the whole time, or…?”

“He’s been in and out,” answered Howie. “There have been a few times where he’s actually been conscious, but he’s still pretty out of it when he is. He recognized AJ and me, but he seemed confused about where he was and what was going on. We tried to explain, but who knows how much he’ll remember. He’s only been awake for a few minutes at a time, and then he drifts off again. It must be the sedatives and stuff. Dr. Renck said they need to keep him calm so that he won’t fight the ventilator.”

Claire nodded. “Any word on when he’ll be able to come off that?” As she asked the question, her eyes roamed to Nick’s monitor, where his oxygen saturation level was displayed. She knew from past experience that the normal range was in the nineties; any number below that meant a lack of oxygen. Even with a ventilator breathing for him, Nick was only at a 92. That answered her question before Howie could.

“She didn’t really say. I guess it’ll take some time for his lungs to heal…”

Howie drifted off uneasily, and their eyes met briefly before they both looked away. She hated the uncertainty of waiting, and not knowing what was going to happen.

“Well, listen,” Howie said after a pause, “AJ went down to the cafeteria to check out the breakfast options. Since you’re here, I think I’ll go find him… give you some time alone with Nick.”

“Alright… sounds good,” replied Claire with an appreciative smile.

“You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good; I grabbed something at the hotel.”

“Okay. We’ll be back later then.”

Howie left, and Claire sat down in his place, returning her attention to Nick. “Morning, Stumpy… it’s me.” She gingerly picked up his limp hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles with tenderness.

Just as it had last night, his heart rate quickened, either because of her voice or her touch. She wasn’t sure which, so she kept on talking and kept on touching, her fingertips stroking the back of his hand. “I wish you’d wake up for me,” she coaxed him, feeling oddly maternal, the way she did when she was trying to gently rouse the twins. But like the twins, when they were sleeping deeply, Nick didn’t respond. “Those must be some good drugs they’ve got you on,” she added, reaching up to smooth his flattened hair away from his forehead. “I just hope they’re keeping away the pain.”

Beneath her hand, his brow furrowed. She pulled away in surprise and watched hopefully as he made a face, much like her babies did seconds before they were about to wake up. And sure enough, in the next second, his eyelids began to flutter.

***

Images swam in Nick’s mind like some sort of movie montage that faded in and out. He saw bright lights. He saw Claire in the water, her ghostly hand reaching up to grasp his. And then she was above him, her face leaning over his. He saw Howie and AJ too, their faces appearing like strange flashes in the distance. And there were others, but none familiar to him.

There were sounds too, strange beeping noises and disjointed bits of conversation that he could not seem to follow or comprehend. Voices he didn’t recognize would say his name, but among them, he would occasionally hear Howie or AJ or, most recently, Claire.

“Morning, Stumpy,” her voice drifted into his dreams.

Was it morning? That meant it was time for him to get up. He struggled to open his eyes. He could feel her fingertips, light and gentle, on his forehead now, playing with his hair. It felt good, yet he frowned. Why did his eyelids feel like lead weights?

He fought gravity for a few seconds, finally managing to force his eyes open, only to close them again. Why was the light so bright? He blinked and tried again. As his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting, Claire’s face blurred before them, gradually coming into focus.

“Morning, Claire,” he tried to say, but the words did not come out. There was something in his mouth, he realized. His tongue felt thick and heavy, but he moved it around and felt the smooth, foreign something snaking to the back of his mouth. It was a tube, he realized, and it extended all the way down his throat. The intrusiveness of it made him gag, and he felt a sudden rush of panic. He couldn’t breathe; the tube seemed to be choking him!

“Nick,” he heard Claire’s voice say. “Nick, calm down; it’s alright. Look at me, Nick… Nick.”

Her voice was firm, but soothing… reassuring. He forced himself to listen, to focus on her face, while he struggled to take a breath.

“You’re on a ventilator, Nick. It’s helping you. Don’t fight it, okay? Just let it breathe for you. Relax… let it do its job.” Her face was right over his now, looking him in the eyes, and he could feel pressure on his shoulder, her hand caressing his upper arm.

Her voice and her touch comforted him, and he managed to relax a little, adjusting to the sensation of air being forced into his lungs, outside of his control. Still, he felt as if he weren’t getting enough air. It was an oddly familiar sensation, one he’d experienced before. But why now?

Confused, he looked past Claire and all around at his surroundings. He was in the hospital, he realized – that became clear quickly. If the ventilator wasn’t enough of a dead giveaway, the sterile surroundings, fluorescent lights, and beeping monitors were. Even if he was groggy, he’d been in hospitals enough to put the pieces together. But even that realization didn’t answer the question of why.

He wanted to ask Claire, and it was frustrating that he couldn’t. Thankfully, she’d always had a knack for reading his mind, and that power proved intact.

“You’re in the hospital, in Des Moines,” she told him, still rubbing his arm in a reassuring way. “We got into a car accident. Do you remember?”

Car accident? As his mind slowly processed her words, he frowned in confusion. When had that happened?

“Guess not,” Claire smiled. “That’s okay. It was two days ago. You’ve been in and out ever since. You broke some ribs, and your lungs took kind of a beating, which is why they’ve got you on the vent. But I know you’re going to be okay. Just hang in there, alright?”

She took his hand, and he felt her give it a squeeze. Some of what she’d said had gone right over his head, but he clung to her last words. Just hang in there, alright?

He would. He would try to, anyway. But God, he felt so drained. The fog of sleep was creeping back up on him. He tried to fight it, wanting to stay awake for Claire, wanting to know more, but his eyelids were growing heavy again, and soon, he just couldn’t keep them open.

The hospital room, with its bright lights and unnatural noises, slid away again as he drifted back into a dark calm.

***