“I’m sorry, officer,” I stuttered through my reply, attempting to explain why I felt so compelled to be there longer, “that is my girl in there and I need to know that she is ok.” My voice sounded foreign to me as I explained to the officer who stood in front of me unmoved by my plight. He nodded slightly in understanding, a sliver of sympathy washing over his features as he looked back toward the car.
“I can understand that however, we need everyone out of the way so that the fire department can bring in their rig. We are going to have to cut her out of there. She is still alive and is breathing but her position is precarious, and we need to work quickly to get her free. So, as stated, if you would please join the mob on the corner over there, we will have her out of there as soon as possible.” The officer lowered his gaze to mine, taking care to make sure he looked me straight in the eye as he spoke, driving his point home. My shoulders slumped forward, and I turned to do as he had instructed. I dragged my feet, my legs felt like they were made of lead, impossible to move. Concentrating on my feet, I continued to will them to keep moving until I was safely out of the intersection.
Another vehicle approached, sirens blaring, pulling an enormous rig behind it. The sea of cars and people parted, allowing them access to the scene. Pulling up as close to Jessica’s car as they could, the passenger in the cab of the truck hopped out and rushed toward the other fire fighters who stood huddled around the almost unrecognizable vehicle. As I watched, the other man jumped out of the driver’s seat and joined the rest of the crew. They spoke to each other in an animated fashion, using their arms to demonstrate what strategy they would use to save my Jessica. The world started to spin, and I nearly collapsed onto the concrete below when one of the people standing next to me noticed and put their hand around my arm.
“Are you ok?” An unfamiliar voice reached my ears, “let me help you down, you look like you’re about to fall out. I think you should take a seat.” The man standing next to me on the sidewalk eased me to the ground where I sat, helplessly watching as the metal contraption the firefighter referred to as the spreaders, began to cut through the steel frame of Jessica’s car. I had never seen them up close and personal until that moment, only on television and they were a lot scarier looking than I remembered. The sound was deafening, louder than I had expected and those standing nearby were plugging their ears with their fingers as the two fire fighters operating the contraption kept working.
The crew worked on cutting the driver side door free, pulling hard on the metal in between cuts. After several tries, they were successful, the door falling open and crashing to the ground next to the demolished vehicle. Circling the car, they repeated the process on the other door, only it yielded much sooner since it had not been smashed upon impact. Satisfied with their work, the two fire fighters nodded at the others who proceeded with the plan. I watched as two individuals squeezed inside the cab of the car and came to rest directly under where my Jessica still hung, suspended by the dashboard. On the ground just outside the vehicle I saw a backboard had been placed, poised and ready to go.
As the scene continued to unfold in front of me, I felt a new sense of hope when the two inside the car placed their hands strategically on different places of Jessica’s body and held her while several emergency responders on the outside went to work on the dashboard. They chipped away at it carefully, freeing the ends from the from of the car before using another device to push it back up and off her leg. The entire dashboard was pulled from the cab and thrown to the ground, discarded hastily as they turned their attention back to the woman who was being lowered slowly onto the backboard that had been moved underneath her while the others held her fast.
The paramedics fastened large straps around her body in intervals. One around her forehead to hold her head to the backboard and the rest spaced evenly down the length of her figure. Once she was secured to the board, they lifted her and guided her out of the opening and away from the car. A gurney had been wheeled to the scene and stood at ready to receive its load, my Jessica. She lay perfectly still, her eyes still closed and her face a puffy, black-and-blue mess. I winced when I caught a glimpse of her face, what was once so perfect and beautiful had be come a grotesque mask of blood and gore. As soon as they checked her out, quickly running several lines to her arms and placing an oxygen mask over her face, the elastic securely holding it to her face, the paramedics turned and wheeled her quickly toward the awaiting ambulance.
That was my cue. I turned and rushed back toward my limousine. My driver had been smart enough to get himself out of the initial traffic jam, parking it on one of the side streets. He stood at ready, next to the vehicle waiting for me to return. When he saw me come around the corner and rush toward him, he sprung to life instantly, jumping back inside the car. I was completely out of breath, panting wildly as I attempted to regain enough composure to tell him where to go. He seemed to know, turning the limo around the corner just in time to see the ambulance speed off.
“Follow that ambulance,” I barked at him, my voice high-pitched and frantic as I watched it fly by us. It was important that I be there when Jessica finally woke up. She had walked in on something she completely misunderstood, upsetting her to the point that she was unable to drive safely, resulting in a devastating accident. I had no idea what condition she was in, only what I had seen from the place on the sidewalk nearby where I had been sent by the police officer, and I desperately needed to know she was alright. I also needed a chance to explain what was really happening when she walked in on Sandra and me. The entire thing was my fault and I blamed myself entirely for the outcome. Had I caught up to her before the elevator doors slid shut and carried her to the bottom floor, she would not be inside that ambulance, she would be in my arms, where she should be.
We wove our way through the streets, the ambulance leading our way toward the hospital. When it pulled into the semi-circular driveway in front of the Emergency Room at the closest hospital, I was a little relieved. My driver pulled up to the side of the building with the door for non-emergency personnel to enter. I pulled on the door handle and pushed it open quickly, spinning around in time to see them wheeling her inside. Her eyes still closed, and her body still strapped to the backboard, my stomach lurched before settling again, causing a wave of nausea to wash over me. When it subsided, I rushed inside the Emergency Room.
I had been instructed to take a seat, that Jessica was being worked on inside the Trauma Unit, so there I sat, alone and afraid. Afraid that she would not make it or would be permanently damaged somehow. Afraid that she would never forgive me, never speak to me again. I shook my head and let my face fall into my hands, rubbing hard with my palms on my eyes, that were now aching relentlessly. Fighting the urge to cry right there in the waiting room, I pulled my phone from my pocket and stared at the screen. There was no way of knowing how long I would have to wait, Jessica’s condition appeared dire, at least from where I was standing, so I settled in and flipped through several pages of news on my phone. It was a welcome distraction.
Several hours passed and I still waited. I had gone up to the window a few times, the woman on the other side obviously annoyed by my impatience and desire to know what was happening. But I was turned away every time. As I sat staring at the various posters on the wall, the other various characters that occupied the waiting room and the occasional person who walked through the lobby after exiting the back, I tried desperately not to panic. The door cracked open again, a scrub-laden man peered out from the entry and called my name. It was enough to have me snap to attention immediately and I sprung to my feet, practically flying in his direction.
“You’re here for Jessica Goldstein, right?” he inquired before saying anything further. I nodded quickly, my eyes wide and ready to shove him out of my way to get into the back. “Please, follow me, sir,” he turned and headed back inside as I grasped the door with my hand, pulled it open a little more and followed him. We passed several beds lined up along t
he walls and a long, elevated desk with several nurses mulling about. On the other side of the open space, there were two, humongous double-doors and the young man I followed headed straight toward them. Pushing firmly on the door after someone who had seen us approach pressed the button to allow us entry, the man continued down the long, dark corridor until we came to a stop in front of another set of double doors. Trauma Unit was etched across the doors in large, black text.
The man pushed through the door after punching a series of number into the keypad to the right of the entrance to the Trauma Unit. On the other side, another hallway with three doors lining either side and one where the corridor dead-ended. I followed him inside fighting the urge to shove him aside and run screaming Jessica’s name through the space. When he came to a stop in front of one of the doors, he held his hand up toward me and went inside. I waited in the hallway shifting my weight impatiently between my feet. Several moments passed as I stood, barely noticing the other staff members who mulled about, busying themselves with their tasks. As soon as I thought I couldn’t stand waiting any longer and was about to burst through the door the man had gone into, another figure emerged. Short and pudgy, his long, lab coat coming to rest just above his knees, he regarded me with serious eyes.
“Hello, Mr. Abrams,” I had already given my name to several people at the front, so it was no surprise that the man knew exactly who I was, “I am Dr. Cameron Shultz.” The name barely registered in my mind as I waited for him to continue. Enough of the pleasantries already, you know exactly why I am here! My mind was working overtime and I was on the verge of exploding. My patience had reached its end and I needed to know the condition of Jessica, and I needed to know right then.
“Hello, Dr. Shultz. Please, tell me, I have been waiting for hours, how is she? How is my Jessica?” My voice quivered, and my body had started to tremble. I was on edge, a bundle of nerves, and the only thing that would calm me down was to know that she was ok. Beside myself with anguish, I waited for him to continue, my eyes trained on him, giving him my full attention.
“Ms. Goldstein is doing fine. She is stable, but we have her sedated for the time being. The accident was very bad, and her femur is completely shattered. Ms. Goldstein will need months to recover and will definitely require physical therapy once they remove the rods we have implanted. She has a massive concussion and some broken ribs,” my heart pounded as Dr. Schultz continued, describing Jessica’s injuries and what that meant to her in the future. I nodded with each statement, his words finding my ears but not registering immediately in my mind. “The good news, Mr. Abrams, is that the baby is fine. Miraculously, the baby made it through,” all the air was forced from my lungs at once. The room swayed, and I reached out and steadied myself using the wall to support my weight.
“What did you say?” My voice was nearly a whisper. The color drained from Dr. Schultz’s face at my question, like he suddenly realized he had said or done something horribly wrong. I stood in front of him, in complete shock and still trying to process what he had just said. My mind kept circling back to his last statement: the BABY made it through?! He stood there searching for something to say. There was no backing out of what he had let slip and he knew it, I could tell by the look on his face and how his eyes darted back and forth as he tried to look for an escape route.
“I do apologize, Mr. Abrams,” he finally said, his face reflecting genuine sympathy, “I did not realize that you were not aware.” Dr. Schultz’s eyes shifted nervously over to the nurses’ station where two women stood, busy working on some paperwork in front of them. “Would you like to go in and see her now?” It worked like magic. Dr. Schultz decided to promptly distract me with the news that I could go inside the room and see her myself. I stood tall, taking a deep breath and letting it out before I pushed in on the door.
The low light in the room was a welcome relief to the bright, hospital lights out in the corridor. A short, yet curvaceous, young nurse busied herself with checking all the machinery that surrounded the figure that lay still in the bed. Jessica lay in the center of the mattress several lines of plastic tubing snaked their way across her and up toward a series of bags of liquid that were suspended from an IV pole above her head. Oxygen hissed through tiny, pinhole openings into her nose from the tubing that wrapped around her face and behind her ears. She did not move, and I could barely see her breathing as I approached the side of the bed. When I lay my hand gently onto her shoulder, she was cold to the touch and she flinched slightly, but I needed to touch her, so I did not pull back despite her reaction.
I sat with Jessica in the recovery room for hours before two orderlies entered the room. They were taller than I was, and their muscles bulged out ridiculously on either arm, straining the scrub tops that they wore. When they reached the bed where she lay, the began to push and pull on a series of levers and buttons. From somewhere behind me, I heard another person clear their throat to get my attention. Turning toward the sound, I saw the nurse looking at me.
“Ms. Goldstein is being transferred to the Med-Surg Unit, Mr. Abrams. If you would like to follow them upstairs, you are more than welcome to join them. We just ask that you do your best to stay out of our way, so we can do our jobs,” that was the third person who had said that to me in the last several hours. I doubt they realized how difficult that was for me since I wanted nothing more than to be by the side of my girl.
“Thank you, I will do my best,” I offered her a small smile. She returned my smile and walked past me to assist with untangling the mess of tubing that surrounded Jessica’s body. Within a few minutes, they were finished preparing her and were wheeling the bed out the door and down the long corridor toward the exit. I followed at a distance, heeding what the nurse had said and attempting to keep out of their way. Several twists and turns later and we were entering a large elevator. It was much larger than a standard elevator, with plenty of room to house the bed and all four of us, no problem. The doors slid shut once we were all safely inside, and the car lurched a little before carrying us upward.
The Medical-Surgical Unit was on the third floor. Once the car stopped and the doors slid open, I waited until the bed was cleared from the elevator to follow them down the hallway. Doors lined the left side of the floor and circled around the enormous nurses’ station that was directly in the center. Coming to a sudden stop in front of one of the doorways, the orderlies spun the bed around and pushed Jessica inside the room, head first. They pushed her up against the wall and started the task of plugging her back in. When they finished, the two orderlies disappeared as the nurse continued to check the tubing to make sure it wasn’t kinked anywhere. She finally finished her task and walked out of the room without another word.
I sat next to Jessica, as close as I could get the chair to her bed without obstructing any of the equipment that was circling her bed. If I had my way, I would have crawled up into the bed with her and cradled her in my arms, but something told me that would not be the best idea, given the circumstances. Jessica was banged up pretty bad and I would surely cause her discomfort if I bumped her the wrong way. Instead, I held her hand in mine and stared at the television mounted on the wall opposite from the bed. Occasionally I would look back at her, hoping I would see her eyes flutter open, each time disappointed. I would wait there forever for her to open her eyes, I wanted to be there when it happened, so I was the first thing she saw. Then perhaps she would know what she really meant to me.
Chapter 17
Jessica
I could hear a faint beeping and mumbling voices but could not open my eyes. It was like I was suspended in time in the darkness. For quite some time I drifted in and out of a state of semi-consciousness, faces I did not recognize floating across my vision before disappearing again. Once in a while, I would hear Reighn’s voice and I would try harder to open my eyes only to fail. Consciousness danced just out of my reach and I was powerless to grab ahold of it. When the beeping became louder, and I could feel mysel
f swimming to the surface, a sense of fear washed over me.
My eyes snapped open as I flailed about, trying to make sense of where I was and what was happening. The last thing I remember is having a nasty car accident and rolling my car over several times before it landed on its roof, trapping me inside. Pain ripped through my body relentlessly and I cried out loud. When I did, a figure seated to my right jumped to his feet and called for help over his shoulder. I recognized the voice and rolled my head to the side, my eyes finding Reighn’s before another bolt of pain shot down my leg.
A short, petite nurse approached the other side of my bed, a syringe grasped firmly in her hand. She rushed to sort through the tubing, found the opening and wiped it clean with an alcohol pad before pushing the needle inside and pressing down steadily on the plunger. Within a few seconds, the pain was fading away slightly, enough for me to gain some semblance of control over myself, as I lay panting in the middle of a hospital bed. When the pain finally subsided enough for me to tolerate, another thought occurred to me. Without a word, my hands found their way to my abdomen, fear and anguish gripping me so suddenly I could not breathe.
“What happened?” That was all I could manage. Everything was a complete blur and I had no recollection of anything after I was hanging suspended upside down in the cab of my car. It was obvious that I was in a hospital, but I had no idea which one and I was overwhelmed with the need to know. Reighn leaned in close, his voice both soothed and revolted me, images of Sandra splayed across his lap getting ready to seal the deal with a kiss dancing through my mind. His touch suddenly disgusted me, and I pulled my hand back, out of his grasp and looked at him seriously. Realization swept across his features, perhaps a reminder that he was about to get busy with my friend and co-worker when I caught him red-handed. What a fool I had been, thinking that the great and mighty Reighn Abrams could ever change. It had seemed like he had, like I had become the center of his universe, but I now knew that it was just a big game after all, and I was a sore loser.
Make it Reighn (A Threads Inc. Saga Book 1) Page 20