by Jodi Perry
Lucas and I are still young, and have long careers ahead of us, but that doesn’t stop us from yearning for that big break. It’s what we’ve always strived for. We met at university eight years ago, and clicked straightaway. He’s not only my business partner, he’s like a brother to me. Our ideas are fresh, and we’re not afraid to push boundaries. It’s what gives us the edge over our competition—we’re visionaries, you could say. There are exciting times ahead for L&B Architectural Designs, I can feel it in my bones.
If we seal this deal today, Jemma won’t need to work anymore if she doesn’t want to. She loves what she does, though. She has an exceptional eye for detail, and is already forging her place among some of the top interior designers in the country.
Is it crazy that even our careers go hand in hand? I design houses for a living, and Jemma creates the interiors. It’s not something we planned, it’s just another reason we’re perfect for each other.
When my phone rings, I slide it out of my pocket. I’m expecting to see Jem’s number on the screen, but instead it’s Lucas.
‘Hey, buddy,’ I say when I place the phone to my ear. ‘I’m just getting ready to leave now.’
‘That’s why I’m calling. I left five minutes ago. The traffic is horrendous. There’s been a bad accident at the Main and Riley intersection. It must be pretty serious because the roads are closed in both directions. Traffic is being diverted all over the place.’
The uneasy feeling in my gut intensifies. That’s the route Jemma takes to work. But I force my voice to sound normal as I reply.
‘I’ll leave now. Hopefully one of us gets there in time.’
I redial Jemma, but again it goes to voicemail, so this time I leave her a message. Jem, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this. I need to know you’re okay.
I try not to sound panicked, but I’m pretty sure I fail. I’ve always been protective of her, and that will never change.
Sliding my phone back into my suit jacket, I pick up my briefcase and tuck the blueprints cylinder under my arm, before reaching for my travel mug. I was up until late last night going over the final draft, ensuring it was perfect. I know our clients are going to love the amendments I made to the original design.
I look down at my watch as I head towards the door. Jemma left an hour and twenty minutes ago. I tell myself that I’m overreacting, that she’s probably safe and sound at work.
Then why is my stomach in knots?
The rain has eased to a light sprinkle as I walk across the front lawn. Placing the travel mug on the roof of the car, I fish in my pocket for the keys. Once I’ve stowed the blueprints and my briefcase on the back seat, I reach for my coffee as I close the back door.
I pause when a car pulls into the driveway behind me. It’s not just any car, it’s a police car. Fear grips me as images of my wife flash through my mind, and I internally freak the hell out. My brain is telling me to calm down, not to panic until I have reason to, but my heart already knows this isn’t good news.
‘Mr Spencer?’ the officer asks as he exits his vehicle and approaches me. He already knows my name, which does nothing to calm me. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. My heart is thumping hard against my ribcage, and there’s a part of me that wants to flee so I don’t have to hear what he’s going to say. Inhaling a large breath, I hold it as he comes to a stop a few feet in front of me. ‘Are you Braxton Spencer?’
Words again fail me, but this time I manage to nod my head.
‘I’m Officer Martin. I’m sorry to be the one to inform you,’ he says, reaching out and placing his hand on my shoulder. Every ounce of air leaves my body as I wait for him to continue. ‘Your wife’s been in an accident.’
I swear I feel all the colour drain from my face as my legs threaten to give way underneath me. Lucas’s words swim around in my head. It must be pretty serious because the roads are closed in both directions.
The travel mug in my hand drops to the driveway below with a thud. I vaguely feel the sting of the hot liquid as it soaks into the fabric of my trousers. The world around me appears to be moving in slow motion as the officer grabs hold of my arm in an attempt to steady me.
‘Is … is she okay?’ I’m not sure I even want to hear his reply, but I need to know.
‘She was transported to the local hospital by ambulance.’
‘I need to get to her. Are her injuries serious? Is she … alive?’ I’m rambling.
‘Only the doctors can answer that, Mr Spencer. All I can tell you is the car she was travelling in was T-boned after driving through a stop sign. She had to be cut out of the vehicle, but yes she was alive.’
I scrub my trembling hands over my face as my stomach churns. I think I’m going to be sick.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Spencer. This is the part of my job that I hate the most. If you like, I can take you to her.’
‘Please.’
This can’t be happening. Less than two hours ago, I was making love to my wife and looking forward to not only our evening together, but our future. We were going to start a family. But now, in the blink of an eye, every hope and every dream we’ve shared seems uncertain.
My eyelids close as I rest my head against the seat in the back of the police car. I’ve never been the praying type, but that’s exactly what I’m doing in this moment. I’d do anything to save my girl. Anything.
I feel numb.
Please God, let her be okay. Just let her be okay.
‘Braxton,’ I hear as I pace in the small room I was shoved into when I arrived at the hospital. I feel like I’m going out of my mind as I wait for answers, for news, for anything. My head snaps up as Jemma’s mother, Christine, comes barrelling into the room. ‘Oh, Braxton,’ she cries as she collapses into my arms and sobs hysterically against my chest.
Jemma is her only child, so of course she is distressed, but I’m trying so hard to hold myself together here, and this is not helping.
I don’t even remember the drive to the hospital. It’s like I’m in limbo, and I can’t seem to get my thoughts straight. I vaguely remember the officer asking me if there was anyone I should contact when we arrived. ‘Her parents,’ I’d mumbled. Apart from me, they’re all she has.
The universe couldn’t be so cruel as to take her away from me when our life together as husband and wife has only just begun. Could it?
‘Is there any news?’ Christine asks as she pulls away from me. ‘They won’t tell me anything.’
‘I’ve had no news yet.’ After the nurse guided me into this room, she said the doctor would be in to see me shortly, but since then there’s been nothing. Not a damn word.
I check my watch and see it has only been twenty minutes, but it feels like an eternity. In this moment, everything I hold dear is hanging by a thread.
Minutes later, the door flies open again. My heartbeat climbs to a dangerous level. I don’t know if I’m ready. As much as I need to know how she is, I cling to the premise that no news is good news.
I’m flooded with relief when I see Jemma’s father, Stephen, standing near the doorway looking sombre and breathless.
‘What are you doing here?’ Christine snaps as her eyes narrow.
These two once had a marriage I envied; now they can’t stand to be in the same room. Well, Christine can’t stand to be in the same room as Stephen. We had to sit them at opposite sides of the room at our wedding reception. Jemma’s mother threatened not to attend if she was seated anywhere near him. It’s hard seeing what this animosity does to Jem; she loves her parents and hates being brought into the middle of their drama. It’s ludicrous. Stephen messed up, but he’s remorseful for what he did. He’s a good man. I’ve always liked him. I’m not condoning what he did—he made a mistake, a huge one—but Christine played a hand in it as well, and it’s not fair that she’s making us all suffer. Especially now; now is the time to focus on Jem.
‘She’s my daughter too, Chris. I have a right to be here.’
‘Huh,’
she huffs.
Stepping back from Jemma’s mother, I walk towards her father and shake his hand. ‘No word yet. Hopefully the doctor will be able to tell us something soon.’
He bows his head. ‘She’s my little girl … my pumpkin,’ he whispers.
I have to fight back my own tears as I watch him. She has to be okay. I can’t even fathom any other outcome right now.
THREE
Braxton
‘I can’t stand this,’ I mumble under my breath as I push through the doors and head out into the corridor to find a nurse, or a doctor—anyone who can give me answers. I also need a break from those two. Christine is slumped in a chair, crying. Stephen tried to comfort her at one stage, but the daggers she shot him had him retreating to the corner of the room. She’s hurting—we all are. None of us know what condition Jemma’s in, but I do know she’s going to need all our love and support. She hates what has become of her once tightknit family, and their constant bickering would just upset her.
I head straight for the nurses’ counter, and force out a small smile when the nurse looks up from the computer screen in front of her. ‘Hi. My wife, Jemma Spencer, was brought in earlier. She was in a car accident. Is there any news on her condition? I’d be grateful if you could help me, we’ve been waiting for almost half an hour. Anything, please.’
She gives me a sympathetic look before typing something into the keyboard. ‘She’s being looked at by the trauma team at the moment. I’ll see if someone can come and talk to you.’
Trauma team. Those words are like a knife plunging straight into my heart. ‘Is there any way I can see her?’ She’s probably frightened, and I know she would want me there. And I need to be with her.
‘Not at the moment, Mr Spencer. I’m sorry. I’ll have someone come and give you an update ASAP.’
The desperate part of me wants to scream at the nurse and demand she take me to Jemma. Thankfully, the logical side of me wins out. She’s only doing her job.
‘Thank you.’
Turning, I pinch the bridge of my nose as I walk back towards that cramped room of torture; the thought of going back in there has me feeling stifled. Stopping, I take a moment and roll my shoulders a few times. I feel lost, and completely alone. Jemma has always been my rock; we have always faced everything together. I’m craving her comfort, which is ironic—I’m not the one who was in a car accident, the one who is somewhere in this godforsaken hospital being worked on by the trauma team.
I feel even more helpless when I meet the hopeful eyes of Jemma’s parents. ‘No news yet, I’m afraid.’
Christine just buries her face in her hands and continues to cry.
‘What’s taking so long?’ her father asks.
I wish I knew. In my heart I know her injuries are serious, but I refuse to let my mind go there. I’m not sure how much more I can take, or how long I can hold it together.
Fifteen excruciating minutes pass before the doctor finally enters the room. Please let this be good news. I know I’m grasping at straws; if things weren’t serious we wouldn’t be in the hospital.
‘Hi. I’m Doctor Bolton. I’m in charge of the trauma team looking after Jemma,’ he says as he looks at each of us.
‘I’m Braxton Spencer, Jemma’s husband.’ I reach for his extended hand. ‘How is she?’
‘Her injuries are serious.’ His words have my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach, but at least that means she’s still alive. I have to grab onto anything positive; it’s the only way I’m going to get through this. ‘Why don’t you take a seat?’
‘I’m Stephen, Jemma’s father,’ he says, stepping forward. After shaking the doctor’s hand, he gestures towards Christine. ‘And this is my wife, Christine.’
‘Ex-wife,’ Christine snaps.
My eyes briefly meet hers—I don’t bother to hide my anger—shaking my head as I take a seat. ‘I’m sorry, Braxton,’ she says, placing her hand on my leg. ‘I’m sorry.’
I tune her out as I focus my attention on the doctor. ‘We’ve managed to stabilise her,’ he says.
I run my hands nervously down the front of my trousers. That doesn’t sound good, but in this moment I honestly don’t care what condition I get her back in. I just need her back.
‘What do you mean by “stabilise her”?’ Stephen asks. ‘How bad are her injuries?’
‘They’re serious,’ he replies. ‘She’s been in and out of consciousness since she arrived. There appears to be some swelling on her brain, some internal bleeding, lesions and multiple broken bones. She’s been sedated and we’re taking her down for some scans now.’
‘Christ.’ The glimmer of hope I’ve been clinging to since the officer arrived at my house is dwindling at a rapid pace. ‘She’s going to pull through, right?’
He gives me a sympathetic look. ‘It’s touch and go. The next forty-eight hours are going to be critical, but I assure you we’re doing everything possible to save your wife.’
I cannot bring myself to reply as the doctor’s words sink in. Forty-eight hours? I can’t wait that long. The last forty minutes nearly killed me. Sheer panic consumes me. I can’t lose her, I just can’t. I rub my hand over the tightness that has now settled in my chest. I can’t breathe without her. She’s my air.
She’s got to pull through this. She just has to.
An hour passes and we’re still waiting for another update. How long does a scan take? I can’t seem to settle, and haven’t stopped pacing since the doctor left. I’m going to wear a path in the linoleum floor pretty soon.
I’m pulled from my internal turmoil when my phone rings in my pocket. Glancing down at the screen I see Andrew’s name. Presumably he’s wondering why Jemma hasn’t arrived at work. It’s unlike him to call me—the last time he did, it wasn’t pretty. Jemma had left for the day, and when he couldn’t find something in the office he called her; when she didn’t answer her phone, he contacted me. He had the audacity to tell me if she wasn’t back there within the hour to find it, he would fire her. He was just being unreasonable as usual, and I took great satisfaction in finally speaking my mind. He was lucky to have someone like her working for him, and he knew it, and it was the first and last time he ever spoke about her like that in front of me.
I have a good mind to ignore his call, but I know Jem wouldn’t want that. ‘Andrew,’ I say in a clipped tone when I answer. I don’t even give him a chance to reply. ‘Jemma was in a car accident on the way to work. She won’t be coming in today.’
‘I need her here,’ he snaps. When he lets out an exasperated breath, I feel my temper rise.
‘Well, it’s not possible.’
‘Can I expect her on Monday?’
‘No, she won’t be in on Monday either.’ At this stage, I want to hang up on him, but again, I hold my temper for Jemma’s sake. ‘It’s serious. We’re at the hospital. I’m not sure when she’ll be back.’ With that, I end the call. That’s all the explanation he needs.
As I go to place my phone back in the pocket of my suit jacket, it rings again. My thumb moves to press the decline button, thinking it’s him again, but I see Lucas’s number on the screen instead. Christ, our meeting.
‘Where the hell are you?’ he screeches into the phone. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for nearly an hour. Please don’t tell me you’re still stuck in traffic. I’ve been stalling for as long as I can. We need those plans.’
‘Lucas.’ I’m so glad to hear his voice, even if he’s shouting at me. I need to draw on his strength because I’m about to crumble. Pushing through the door, I step into the corridor. ‘I’m sorry, mate. I should’ve called … it slipped my mind.’
‘Jesus, Brax. Slipped your mind? What’s going on?’
‘I’m at the hospital.’
‘What?’ He pauses briefly. ‘Why?’
‘That accident,’ I say, my voice cracking. ‘It was Jemma.’
‘Bullshit … no way.’
The line goes quiet, and the shock I felt when I fir
st got word comes crashing back down. Saying it aloud makes it too real, and I know how badly Lucas will take the news. He not only adores Jemma, he cares about me. Growing up, it was always just Jem and me, and then I went away to university, leaving her behind. It was the first time we’d ever been separated, and it was hard. We spoke every day, and drove back and forth to be together each weekend, but it wasn’t the same. I struggled without her. I was lost—and Lucas saved me. Jemma was the other half of me, but I never realised how much I needed a bro, a best mate, until I found him.
‘What hospital are you at? I’m coming to you now.’
A small smile tugs at my lips. In the eight years we’ve been friends, he has never let me down. ‘Don’t. Finish the meeting, it’s important. There’s nothing you can do here. We’re still waiting for news from the doctor.’
‘I can be there for you. I know what she means to you. She’s your life.’
‘She is,’ I whisper, as tears sting my eyes, but I flat out refuse to cry. I need to stay strong for her. ‘Lucas, I don’t think I can survive without her.’
‘Hang in there, buddy. Jem’s a fighter. She’ll pull through this.’
He has no idea how much I needed to hear those words.
‘God, I hope so.’
FOUR
Braxton
I’m gripped with fear as I follow the nurse down the corridor towards the intensive-care unit. Jemma’s parents are close behind. We’re finally able to see her, but only one person at a time. I’m thankful they didn’t protest when I said I wanted to be the first.
I’m trying to prepare myself for the worst. I’m not sure what I’m going to find when I walk into that room, but I know it won’t be pretty. My beautiful wife who left me this morning with a smile and a kiss won’t be the same person I’m about to see.
When the doctor finally came back to update us on her condition we learned that due to the swelling on her brain, she has been placed in an induced coma. I asked the doctor a million questions, but there wasn’t much he could say, except that the next few days will be a waiting game, and Jemma will be closely monitored in the ICU.