Justin drove Jena to the hospital where he accompanied her to the plastic surgeon’s office to get marked prior to surgery. Then he remained by her side, holding her hand, his presence calming and reassuring, until the nurse denied him access to the surgical suite. He leaned over the railing on the stretcher, kissed her on the lips and whispered. “I am not leaving this hospital without you.”
A few minutes later, as the anesthesiologist administered her medication, while she counted back from fifty, Jena thought about Justin’s last loving kiss and his emotion-filled expression as he told her, “I am not leaving this hospital without you” and felt at peace.
Jena emerged from sedation unable to move but aware of sounds. A monitor beeped out a steady rhythm. People talked, Justin and a male voice she didn’t recognize. She tried to open her eyes but couldn’t. She swallowed. Her mouth felt dry.
She drifted back to sleep.
The next time she awoke to quiet, lying on a bed. This time she opened her eyes to a darkened hospital room. A big, warm hand held hers. She turned her head. Justin stared back at her. “About time,” he said with a smile.
“I made it.” She forced a small smile. “Time?” It hurt to talk.
“Nine o’clock at night.”
“Water?”
He stood to get a cup and held a straw at her mouth. She took a small sip.
“Abbie and Annie?”
“Mrs. Calvin says they’re doing fine. One of her granddaughters came over after school and is spending the night to help her. She said not to worry about a thing and to concentrate on healing.”
Jena tried to change her position, felt an uncomfortable pull beneath her armpit, and winced.
“Should I buzz for the nurse?” Justin asked. Worried. “Do you need pain medication?”
“No. Feel strange. Woozy.”
He sat down. “The doctor said to expect you to be groggy.”
“You don’t have to stay,” she said.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to stay.” He leaned in close. “Maybe you don’t remember, but I told you earlier. I’m not leaving this hospital without you.”
She thought that’d been a dream. “Okay by me.” Jena closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
* * *
The next afternoon Justin walked beside Jena ready to catch her, amazed she’d made it from the car to the fifth floor unassisted. “I can’t believe you refused to stay in the hospital another night,” he said. He’d even offered to pay for the room, not that she needed his money.
“I’m fine,” she said, but more tight-lipped than the last time she told him. “I need to be home.”
“Almost there.” Duh. Of course she knew they were almost there.
Justin wanted to help her, to hold her up but he didn’t know where it was safe to touch her above the waist. In addition to two dressings over her breasts, held in place by a surgical bra he’d seen glimpses of, Jena had four bulb-type drains he’d been taught to empty, two below each armpit, that she said hurt worse than her surgical incisions.
In the condo, Justin got Jena settled into the recliner chair where she promptly fell asleep.
And for the first time since they’d left the hospital he inhaled deeply then exhaled a relieved breath. They’d made it. He entered the kitchen to microwave water for a cup of coffee and saw some letters on the table. Four of them.
He lifted the one on top labeled “Justin” and opened it.
Dear Justin,
If you’re reading this letter I guess my worst fears have been realized and I didn’t survive the surgery.
A read-if-I-die letter. He dropped it and hurried over to Jena—to check her breathing—fearing he’d somehow jinxed her by reading a letter she’d intended for post-mortem viewing. The thought made him sick to his stomach. The microwave pinged. He dumped the boiling water down the sink and sat at the table. Stared at the letter. Wondered what she’d want him to know if she wasn’t here to tell him. Only she was here, thank you, God. And whatever she had to say to him he’d much rather hear coming from her beautiful lips in her melodic voice. He picked up the letter and crumbled it into a ball. But couldn’t get himself to throw it out.
Curiosity got the better of him.
He flattened out the wrinkles.
I’m sorry to leave you alone to care for our daughters. You have to know if it were at all within my power to be there with you, I would be. Since I’m not, I thought you should know I have complete confidence in your ability to raise our daughters in a way that would make me proud. Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it.
In the pages that follow I’ve left detailed instructions for special things I’d like you to do for the girls each year, little things to help them remember me and how much I loved them.
Justin’s heart felt raw and he reached for a napkin to blot his eye. This was crazy. He should be celebrating Jena’s survival not reading this letter, but he had to know how it ended.
In high school, I had a crush on the boy you were, handsome, fearless, and fun. As an adult, it’s only taken me a few short days to fall in love with the man you’ve become, still handsome, fearless and fun but also kind and gentle, confident and responsible. Your support and help has meant so much. Nothing would have made me happier than to live out my years as your wife. I am so sorry I didn’t get the chance.
I love you.
Yours Always,
Jena
Justin sat back and clasped his hands behind his head. Jena loved him. He looked over at her sleeping form. Never in his life did he ever think it possible that a smart, proper, discriminating woman like Jena would ever see him as more than a quick screw. I love you. Yours Always, Jena. She loved him. Always.
And since his hours in the surgical waiting room consisted of some time spent considering the possibility of a life without Jena—during which his insides felt like every one of his internal organs had gone rotten—he was pretty sure he loved her right back. And he’d make it a point to tell her at the first opportunity. He glanced at the clock on the stove. An hour until dinner.
Time to prove his worth as a family man. He pre-heated the oven, took out the vegetable lasagna Jena had left in the refrigerator, and put it in to cook. Then he called Mrs. Calvin and went upstairs to retrieve the twins.
They started to cry in the elevator. Maybe he should have taken Mrs. Calvin up on her offer to feed them before he took them home. But in giving a full report on Jena’s condition, he’d already spent more time upstairs than he’d planned, and he worried about leaving Jena alone for too long. “Daddy’s going to take good care of you,” he told them as he wheeled the stroller down the hallway. “You need to quiet down or you’ll wake mommy.”
Seems they were more concerned with their empty bellies.
He entered the condo ready to apologize for waking Jena, to find the recliner chair empty. “Jena,” he called out, maneuvering the stroller inside and closing the door.
No answer.
He walked to the closed door of the hall bathroom. “Jena?” He tried the knob. Locked. “Jena!” He knocked on the door.
“I’m fine,” she said, sounding weak.
“Unlock the door.”
“Go take care of Abbie and Annie. I don’t need any help.”
“Call me if you do,” he said. Although how the heck would he hear her over their crying daughters?
He rushed to get the bottles made. Had all his supplies lined up and was ready to start when he heard a horrible gassy squirty type noise come from the vicinity of the stroller. Red-faced Annie—dressed in yellow—the guilty party. “This is not a very good time,” Justin said as he placed the empty liner-filled bottles on the counter to wheel the girls into their bedroom.
He picked up Annie, holding her away from him so her s
oiled bottom didn’t leak onto him. He set her on the changing table. “Daddy will have you all cleaned up in a minute.” He unsnapped her outfit, revealing her cubby legs. Then he undid the diaper and, “My, God!” He closed her back up. But not before a hideous odor wafted up to the pocket of air where his next inhaled breath had come from. He retched. While he may be new to this diaper changing thing, it did not take an expert to see that Annie was not tolerating her formula well and something needed to be done. He eased down the front of the diaper. Slowly. Hoping. Nope. That gag-worthy, hold-your-nose-and-close-your-eyes mess had not been his imagination. And it was, in fact, as bad as he’d first thought.
Annie kicked and twisted, and the mess started to spread.
“Whoa. Hold still.”
She didn’t.
“I can do this,” Justin chanted. “I can do this.” Had to do this. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Do it quick. He turned his head, inhaled and removed the diaper. It took eight baby wipes and four gasps of tainted air to get her clean. He set her on a fresh towel, put on a new diaper and changed her into a sleeper. In what had to beat the slowest most toxic diaper change on record.
While Annie had calmed down, Abbie continued to scream. He couldn’t put Annie back in the stroller which she’d defiled, so he set her on the bed. Then got worried she’d roll off. Although he’d never seen her roll, and had no idea when she might start, he refused to risk it. She would not get hurt on his watch.
He put Annie in her crib—which she did not like at all, and ran to check on Jena.
He knocked on the closed bathroom door.
Nothing.
Abbie and Annie continued to scream their displeasure with him not giving them his full attention.
He pressed his ear to the door. “Jena? Are you okay?”
He heard what sounded like sobbing. “Go away.” Her words, the way she said them, conveyed absolute misery.
“Open this door or I’m going to kick it in.”
A smoke detector went off somewhere in the condo, the noise shrill, and loud enough to drown out Annie and Abbie. Something smelled burnt. Damn it. The lasagna. He ran to the kitchen and opened the oven door releasing a plume of thick black smoke. He turned on the fan over the stove. It did nothing. He checked for flames, seeing none he closed the oven door and turned it off.
He ran back to the bathroom. “Jena!” He pounded on the door.
But the girls were screaming and the smoke alarm blaring and now someone was knocking on his front door. He ran to open it to see his pain-in-the-ass neighbor. “It’s okay. Burned dinner.” He slammed the door in the man’s face.
He climbed on a chair and tried to disable the smoke alarm.
He glanced at the closed bathroom door worried about Jena. Surely, if she was okay she’d have come out to investigate. The siren hurt his ears. The smoke made him cough. And Justin realized he could not handle this alone.
Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it.
He hopped off the chair and called Jaci then ran to check on the girls to make sure the smoke hadn’t affected them. He found a screaming Annie in her crib, her pink cheeks wet with tears, her legs kicking in anger. Abbie had gotten herself all wedged sideways in the stroller, pushing with her legs and jamming her head into the side cushion. And she had a cut under her eye. Tiny but a definite nick. With blood. “Dammit.” He unstrapped her lucky she hadn’t strangled herself. He was a total screw up. A failure at fatherhood. What the hell had he been thinking taking on care of an incapacitated Jena and two babies by himself?
“Justin,” Jaci called out.
“In here.”
He heard some banging and the smoke alarm went quiet.
Jaci entered the girls’ bedroom followed by Ian who held a broom. Justin handed Abbie to Ian, picked up Annie from the crib and dragged Jaci by her arm to the bathroom. “I’m sorry to do this to you, and Jena will probably hate me forever, but I don’t know if she needs a nurse or her sister. All I do know is she needs someone and she certainly isn’t opening the door for me.” He knocked. “Jaci’s here. Open up.”
“No,” Jena cried out.
“What the hell did you do to her that she locked herself in the bathroom?” Ian asked.
“Shut up.” Justin pushed Annie into Ian’s other arm. “Go wait in my bedroom and open a window. I’ll be in with the bottles in a minute.”
Ian didn’t move until Jaci said, “Go. The smoke isn’t good for them.”
“What happened?” Jaci asked, worried.
“She needs to be the one to tell you,” Justin said. He leaned close to the door. “Honey, come on. It’s me or Jaci. One of us is coming in.” Tomorrow he’d remove the lock.
“Jena,” Jaci said calmly through the door. “You’re scaring me. Please, let me in.”
The lock clicked. Thank you. Jaci turned the knob, opened the door and peered inside. She must have gotten the go ahead because she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Justin didn’t have time to feel relieved because he still needed to tend to Abbie and Annie. So he headed to aerate the kitchen and make bottles.
* * *
Jena sat back down on the closed lid of the toilet, too tired to stand any longer, sore from wriggling out of her zip up sweat jacket and multiple unsuccessful attempts to empty her drains.
Jaci stood with her back to the door, staring down at Jena’s surgical bra in shock. “What happened?” It didn’t take her long to figure it out. “No,” she whispered. Her eyes went wide and filled with tears. “Not cancer.” She lifted her fingertips to her mouth. “Not you.”
“I’m fine,” Jena said, hoping if she said it enough—and avoided mirrors—she’d believe it.
“You don’t look fine. You look like a woman who is post op bilateral mastectomies. You look like you went and had a major surgery without telling me. Why?”
Jena looked down. “You said you didn’t want to know the outcome of my genetic testing. I couldn’t very well share my decision to undergo prophylactic bilateral mastectomies without explaining why.”
“Prophylactic.” Jaci clutched her fist to her heart. “Thank, God.” She let out a breath. “I may not have wanted to know the results of your testing, but I most certainly would have wanted to know your plans included surgery. I most certainly would have wanted to be there for you, to listen and research and help you formulate the pros and cons list I’m sure you have stashed somewhere.”
In her research folder. Jena smiled.
“When did you have it?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Yesterday morning?” Jaci screeched. “What are you doing home from the hospital? With twins? And Justin? Of all the—”
“I made a terrible mistake.” Although she’d thought she was all cried out, new tears flooded Jena’s eyes. She dropped her forehead into her palm. “I wanted to be home, but I feel awful, I can’t manage my drains by myself and I don’t want Justin to see me like this.”
“Oh, Jen.” Jaci leaned down to give her a gentle hug. It felt so good.
“I think I rushed the surgery.” She sucked in a stuttery breath. “Maybe if I’d waited.” She looked up at her sister. “Maybe this would be easier if I’d given Justin and me more time together to feel more comfortable around each other.” Too late now.
“But Aunt Lynnie.” Jaci understood.
“I can see daddy’s face when he looked at mom after her surgery. Can’t bear to see that look from Justin.” Now she ached on the inside, too. “Re...re...repulsed by me.”
“Jena Piermont you snap out of it, right now.” Jaci knelt on the floor by Jena’s feet and put her hand on Jena’s knee. “Daddy was an inconsiderate jerk. Justin is a good man.”
“I love him,” Jena cried.
“I know.” Jaci rubbed her back.
>
“He won’t ever love me now.” She hated that she sounded so pitiful.
“I think you’re mistaken,” Jaci said. “He’s pretty upset out there. If he’s not crazy in love with you already, it’s only a matter of time. I’m sure of it. Who wouldn’t love you? You’re perfect.”
Not even close.
Jena reached up to touch her breasts. “I’m half the size I was.” She pressed. “And I can’t feel anything.” But an overwhelming, smothering despair. “They feel dead.”
“It’s so early in your recovery. Maybe some of the sensation will come back.”
And maybe her retained nipples would survive and not fall off. And maybe the scarring would be minimal. And maybe in a few weeks, fully clothed, no one would be able to tell the difference. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
“Come on,” Jaci said. “Let me take a look at you.” And just like that, she shifted into nursing mode, assessing Jena’s dressings and drains.
“Thank you, for coming,” Jena said, feeling calmer. “I hate to be a bother.”
“Stop it,” Jaci snapped. “You’re my sister. My twin. I love you.” Jaci turned to face her, so serious. “You have to know how much I love you. You hurt, I hurt. You’re happy, I’m happy. I’d do anything for you, Jena. Anything.”
“You’re going to make me cry again,” Jena said.
Jaci waved her off. “Then forget I mentioned it.”
Not likely.
Jaci washed her hands in the sink.
“Jaci?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you, too. And I’d do anything for you, too.”
Secrets of a Shy Socialite Page 15