Critical Condition

by CJ Lyons

  He crumbled to his knees, cradling her belly, laying his head against it, listening for the heartbeat. Tears shone in his eyes, stained her shirt, rolled freely without embarrassment down his cheeks.

  Lydia ran her fingers through his hair, clutching him, loving his warmth against her body. She wasn’t crying. For the first time in her life she had no reason to: She felt safe, secure, stable. She had a family, friends, a man who loved her, a home.

  And no one could ever take it away from her. This was Maria’s legacy.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed into the air, not knowing who was listening but for the first time in her life confident that someone, somewhere was.

  “AMANDA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE SO EARLY?” the dermatology nurse practitioner asked as she joined Amanda in the otherwise empty clinic. “We don’t start until nine. Then we’ll do consults on the ward, have lunch here—don’t worry about bringing your own, there’s always some drug company sending food—and then clinic in the afternoon. Really, you need to relax. This is dermatology, we don’t believe in emergencies.”

  Amanda stared. She’d thought that she wasn’t cut out for the life of an ER doc, but after her month in the PICU she’d discovered that she liked being able to change the course of events when the worst thing possible was happening. A nine-to-five life in a clinic suddenly seemed boring in comparison.

  The nurse turned to hold the door as a caterer wheeled in a steaming tray of food. “Yum, pancakes from Pamela’s. Oh, Amanda, you’re going to love this rotation.”

  I don’t think so, Amanda thought as her phone chimed with an e-mail message. Lucas with an update on their research project, as well as pictures from her mother of bridesmaid dresses. Amanda forwarded the photos on to Lydia, Nora, and Gina.

  A few moments later there was another chime. An e-mail from Lydia. With a picture of her and Trey holding a bouquet of roses under a canopy that read JUST MARRIED. What?! Wow!

  The text read: Sorry you couldn’t have the first wedding. Dresses look great, but make mine maternity. Having fun, Lydia

  “I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT,” GINA TOLD JERRY AS SHE gathered all his stuff, ready to take him home with her once Lucas finished the paperwork. “LaRose actually told him to shut up, and he did. My father, the great Moses Freeman, speechless. Can you imagine?”

  “Wish I could’ve been there,” he said, but his voice was distant as he watched her from the bed. She tried to ignore his discomfort, but she couldn’t deny that she felt it as well. “It was a miracle, that’s what it was,” she continued, emptying the contents of his closet into a tote bag. “And she’s going to establish a scholarship in Jim and Ken’s—” She couldn’t finish, had to stop and gulp down sudden tears.

  Dropping the bag, she backed away from the closet, one hand covering her face. Jerry snagged her arm and pulled her onto the bed, sitting with her back to him.

  “It’s not easy,” he said, one hand clumsily stroking her arm. “People died for us. Living with that—”

  He faltered but it was easy to fill in the blanks. “That sacrifice?”

  He nodded. “Never easy.”

  “You’ve been through it before?” How had she never asked him this before? She’d always avoided asking the tough questions—afraid of the answers, she guessed. Wanting to protect their perfect fairy-tale romance, with herself at the heart of it, the poor little rich girl who desperately needed to be loved.

  Pathetic. Gina swiped her tears away with her fist, then turned to look at him.

  Jerry didn’t nod, but she knew his answer was yes by the pain that filled his eyes as he looked past her, staring into the dark recesses of his memory.

  “There was a hostage taker,” he finally said. “Had his ex’s kid.”

  Jerry squeezed his eyes shut. His lips clamped tight and his jaw muscles were working so hard that she knew he was swallowing tears. When he opened his eyes, they spilled down his cheeks. “Sorry. Big baby. Big blubber-baby.”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” She’d known something awful had happened to make him leave the SWAT team and his position of hostage negotiator, but she’d had no idea it was this painful.

  “Want to.” He heaved in a breath. “I was cocky. Stupid. Thought I had the guy talked down.”

  She intertwined her fingers in his, not wanting to break the spell. The distant memory was obviously—if painfully—easier for him to remember clearly than new memories. This was the most lucid she’d seen him since the shooting.

  “Went to meet the guy. Promised to give me the kid. Had my team behind me. Guy came out and—” He swallowed hard. “And he threw the kid. Off the porch. Onto cement.”

  Gina gasped, working hard to blink back her own tears. “What happened?”

  “I dove for the kid. But that cleared his line of fire. My team—my guys . . .” He swiped his face along his sleeve. “Sandy got hit, it’s why he left SWAT. And Brody, my part—my partner, he didn’t—he didn’t make it.”

  “The kid?”

  “Didn’t make it. I messed up my shoulder. That’s okay. I didn’t think I could go back to SWAT, not after that. Sandy maybe could have. I dunno. I just couldn’t get, stop seeing—” He cleared his throat and wet his lips. “That’s when I started—” His forehead furrowed as he searched for the word. He held his fingers up, mimed clicking a picture.

  “When you began your photography?” she supplied.

  “Yeah. Trying to—” He wiped his palm across the air like cleaning a slate.

  “You wanted to erase the memories. Replace them with something new.”

  He nodded. Squeezed her hand. Nodded again, wanting her to understand this was important. Did he really think taking up a new hobby would make her forget what Ken had done for her? For them?

  “Did it work?” she asked, her voice tiny and tentative.

  He shook his head. That wasn’t the lesson, she realized. He pulled her against his chest, held her tight, his tears warming her cheek. “No. Found something better. You.”

  Gina nodded, too overwhelmed to attempt words. Finally she understood what he meant. Life was the answer. Living and loving and never forgetting what was really important.

  Ken would have approved.

  Gina’s tears mingled with Jerry’s and she never wanted to release him. But she realized that she needed to let him know that she totally understood; she needed to tell him not just in words but in actions.

  She removed the ring from the chain around her neck, placed it in his palm, and squeezed his fingers tight around it. “Do you remember this?”

  He fingered it like a blind man, shaking his head. For the first time that she could remember she saw true fear in his eyes. “No.”

  “Ask me, Jerry.”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll ask you.” She closed both her hands over his, the ring caught between. “Jerry Boyle, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  His face tightened and he turned his head away. “I can’t.”

  “Why the hell not?” She stood before him, hands on her hips. Old Gina would have pouted, but instead she now waited for his response.

  “Gina. How could I? You’re so—” His voice was choked. “So smart, so beautiful. You could have any man you wanted. I can’t let you, I can’t find, can’t promise . . .” Pain mixed with frustration as he fought for the elusive words. He ended by simply hanging his head and shaking it.

  She sat beside him on the bed, then reached for his hand again. “Jerry, I know there are no guarantees, and yes, that scares me. But I’m more afraid of a life without you. Because if I can have any man I want, then I choose you, Jerry. I choose you.” Gina drew in her breath and did the bravest thing she’d ever done in her life. She said the words. “I love you.”

  Jerry stared into her eyes for a long time, longer than she could hold her breath. Then he smiled—a real smile, just like the old Jerry. His hand trembled, and she had to help him guide the ring onto her finger where it belonged. By
the time it was in place they were both crying and giggling and fumbling for words.

  They sat together, staring at her outstretched hand. Gina felt like she could do anything with this man at her side, like she could be anyone she wanted to be, and most of all, she felt she’d earned the one thing she’d been searching for all her life: someone to love, cherish, protect, and care for.

  “This is forever, you know,” Gina said. “I don’t believe in divorce. You’re not getting out of this until one of us is dead and gone.”

  Jerry jerked his head up at her words—she didn’t mean for them to sound frivolous, not like Old Gina. She was dead serious. After what they’d been through, she needed a guarantee.

  Even better, she wanted him to know that she was giving him one. New Gina kept her promises. And her vows.

  “Forever is a long, long time. That okay with you?” she asked him.

  He laughed again and let out a crazy bellow of a whoop that brought the nurses running. “Forever isn’t even a start. Not for me and you.”

  NOTE TO READERS:

  As you know, Critical Condition is the finale of the Angels of Mercy series, which made it both fun and painful to write.

  The way these four characters have evolved over the course of the series has surprised even me! Like you have, I’ve fallen in love with all of the behind-the-scenes action going on at Angels.

  So, the first people I’d like to thank are you, the readers who have embraced these characters, who searched out my books even when they were difficult to find, and who have written me such wonderful letters telling me about how my books helped you get through tough times or have inspired or empowered you. Surely that is the most gratifying thing any writer can hear from her audience! All I can say is that your notes have inspired me.

  There are many others who helped make the Angels series. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank them all, including: Shannon Jamieson Vazquez, my editor; Leslie Gelbman, Susan Allison, and all of the wonderful folks at Berkley/Jove who helped bring these books to life; my agent, Barbara Poelle; and my critique partners who keep me honest: Toni McGee Causey, Kendel Flaum, KJ Howe, Carolyn Males, and Lois Winston. From the bottom of my heart, thanks! I couldn’t have done this without you!

  My research (don’t try any of this at home!) was aided by Laurie Weaver RN, BSN, EMT-P (EMS Coordinator, Wooster Community Hospital) and the Wooster Division of Fire EMS professionals. Also thanks to Carl Causey, for helping with the penguins, and to Rob Winston, my technical adviser.

  Astute readers will notice many movie homages in Critical Condition—I’m a huge movie buff, and I hope you enjoy finding references, overt and covert, to some of my favorite films. If you want to search them out yourself they include: Die Hard (of course!), Raiders of the Lost Ark, Rear Window, Terminator II, The Birds, Psycho, and First Blood. Enjoy!

  Finally, as always, please let me know your thoughts about Critical Condition or any of my books by writing to me at cj@cjlyons.net or contacting me through my web-site: www.cjlyons.net. My new project, cowritten with the great and wonderful Erin Brockovich (I know, how cool is that?!?) should be hitting the stands in early 2011.

  In the meantime, thanks for reading!

  CJ

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author CJ Lyons is an award-winning, critically acclaimed author who trained in Pediatric Emergency Medicine, and has worked in numerous trauma centers, on the Navajo reservation, as a crisis counselor, victim advocate, and as a flight physician for Life Flight and Stat Medevac.