by James, Sandy
“I swear. She was going to tell Nate tonight, and then they were driving home tomorrow to talk to you.”
He snorted a disbelieving laugh that pissed me off.
Where was the benefit of the doubt? Mad or not, I thought he owed me at least that much.
“You know, Mark... I remember once upon a time when you swore you had plans to talk to someone who cared about you very much, but she happened to find you before you could say anything. But when you told her you were going to call her, she believed you. She cut you some slack.”
“That’s not even the same thing.” Mark knit his brows in irritation and waved the notion away with the back of his hand.
My protective guards were popping up left and right, and I allowed my anger, hurt, and fatigue to take control of the reins. Unfortunately, Mark seemed to have a knack for pushing my buttons. The old sarcastic and defensive Jackie was coming back with a vengeance.
“Yes, it was,” I said, letting my annoyance be plain in my voice. “I guess it’s fine when you need time, but if Kat needed a couple of days to adjust, you get all pissy.”
“She’s my daughter. She should’ve come to me.”
“But she didn’t, did she? She came to me. She needed me. Not you. Me.”
Jackie, what in the hell are you doing?
“That was below the belt,” Mark replied. “You know, I really expected better from you.” He shook his head. “I expected better from you in a lot of ways I probably shouldn’t have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You disappointed me, Jackie. You know, you haven’t even apologized.”
He was right. I shouldn’t have just said it, either. I should have shouted it.
I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to hurt you!
But I wasn’t sorry for the reason he thought I should be, and my pride wouldn’t let me back down a solitary inch. I’d protected Kat—just like I had promised her I would. It wasn’t my fault this whole thing had turned out to be such a nightmare. I couldn’t have anticipated any of this.
I was sorry for a lot of things, but not for helping Kat. And I damn well wasn’t going to apologize. Not for doing what I thought was best.
“You know,” I said. “I am sorry.”
He cocked his head, obviously thinking he’d won my concession.
I quickly set that notion straight. “I’m sorry Kathy and Nate have to go through all this. I’m sorry we lost our grandchild. But I’m not sorry for helping your daughter.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”
I nodded my stubborn head and dug in my heels. I knew what he wanted, but I wasn’t going to apologize for lying because I hadn’t. I just hadn’t told him everything.
There’s no difference, my thoughts accused. A lie is a lie, whether it is by omission or otherwise.
“It’s different,” I mumbled to myself.
Mark just stared at me with angry brown eyes.
He got to his feet. “Since no one in this family seems to need me, I’m calling a cab and getting Kat’s car. Then I’m going home. I need some time to think.”
“To think? What exactly do you need time to think about, Mark? Hmm?”
“Whether I can trust you anymore.”
He might as well have hit me. It would have hurt less.
I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve apologized. I should’ve told him how much I loved him. Instead, I simply watched Mark leave as I stood there with nothing but my pride to keep me company.
It was all suddenly too much. The days of tension waiting for Kat to confess, the fact that I’d lost my first grandchild, and my husband walking out on me were just too much. The weight of it all bore down on me, crippled me, and threatened to drive me to my knees.
I got to my feet and ran to the closest ladies room.
Away from prying eyes, I began to cry in long, ragged sobs. I allowed myself the luxury of weeping for several minutes, entirely grateful no one else came into the restroom to see me making a spectacle of myself. When the tears were spent, I stood there and hiccoughed while I splashed my face with cold water. Then I stared at myself in the mirror.
“What a fucking mess.”
My husband had just walked out on me. I pictured him going home, packing my bags, and setting them on the porch. He would most likely want me out of his house. At least we hadn’t closed on my old house yet. I could go there if Mark really wanted me gone.
He doesn’t want you to leave. He just needs a little time alone to adjust to all this.
How could I face the world on my own? How could I survive without Mark in my life? How could I survive knowing he had discarded me?
He didn’t discard you, you silly fool.
I stared at my reflection. I looked tired. I looked sad. I looked like I needed a good, stiff drink.
“Get it together, Jackie.” I splashed some more cold water on my face as I searched deep down for some calm and some courage. I could do this. I had to do this.
From somewhere inside me, I found enough strength to soldier on. I would be an Army brat to the bitter end. Kathy and Nate needed me. I would be there for them.
I just prayed the rest of our problems would work themselves out in time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I finally got Kat tucked away in her bedroom before I slipped into my own.
Mark’s unmarked sedan was gone when we got home, replaced in the garage by Kathy’s beat-up Chevy. I would have figured he was called to work, but there had been no text message, and he hadn’t left a note. Mark was gone. Where, I didn’t know. For how long, I had no idea.
I’d really blown it this time. Not because I’d helped my stepdaughter. I was still sure I’d done right by Kat, and in a way, helping her through all this had helped me lay many of my own ghosts to rest. It was the aftermath, the revelation of her pregnancy and miscarriage that I hadn’t handled very well.
Very well?
I’d screwed the pooch on this one.
I should’ve swallowed my stubborn pride and apologized to my husband. I just hadn’t been able to force myself to do so. My inability stemmed from thinking everything that had ever gone wrong in my first forty-two years had been my fault. I’d already said, “I’m sorry,” more times than any other woman on the face of the planet. I’d said it to my mother. I’d said it to David.
The irony of the whole situation was that I really was sorry. I was sorry that I’d hurt Mark, even if I’d done what I thought was best for everyone involved.
Why couldn’t I tell him that?
When I should have been soothing him, I couldn’t put aside my stupid, obstinate pride.
“I’m an idiot.” I flopped down on the bed, entirely exhausted.
My cell phone vibrated for a second, signaling a text message. I fished it out of my pocket, hoping it was a note from Mark telling me he was at a crime scene. I retrieved the message.
Cop stuff. Back later.
I wanted to cry again when I read the cold words, desperately wishing there had been some mention of love. I stretched out on the bed, grabbed Mark’s pillow, and held it to my chest. Burying my nose in his scent, I tried not to lose hope.
He’d promised. On the day we were married, he’d promised to stick around no matter how rough it got.
Well, the waters were definitely getting choppy—but until today, I’d never feared that he would leave. We had weathered our share of arguments, but I had never been afraid I would lose him. Not once.
I was afraid now. I was petrified.
“Mark promised,” I reminded myself over and over. It didn’t help much. I could feel sleep dulling my thoughts, and I gave in, desperately needing some rest.
The last notion that floated through my mind was that my husband always kept his promises.
I’d just have to trust him.
***
“Is there anything else I can get you?” I asked as I picked up the tray of empty dishes from Kathy’s dresser
.
“No thanks, Jackie. I’m just really tired.” She leaned back against the stack of pillows.
“Do you need anything else for pain?”
“Nah. It’s not bad now. I’m just a little crampy. Nothing I can’t deal with.”
I nodded, happy she was making a wise choice. “It’s better not to take the strong stuff unless you really need it.” I inclined my head at the tray full of dishes. “I’m taking this stuff to the kitchen. Just holler if you need me.” She closed her eyes, and I left the room, shutting the bedroom door behind me.
Putting the tray on the kitchen island, I tried to squelch an enormous, wide-mouthed yawn. My nap hadn’t done much to revive me. I was exhausted, I was frightened, and I was nursing a growing annoyance with Mark.
He hadn’t called, nor had he sent another text. He knew I hated it when he was out of touch, and I wondered if he was staying quiet just to get to me. That seemed out of character. It was more like something I would resort to.
As I put the dirty dishes in the sink, the phone rang. I hoped it was my husband. Grabbing the dishtowel, I dried my hands and picked up the handset. The ID read the police station.
About time he checked in.
“Long time, no hear, Detective Brennan,” I said. Then I tried to rein in my annoyance and be a bit more conciliatory. After all, I loved the guy. “I was hoping we could make up over a nap. But, here I was, all alone in our big bed, waiting for you to come home and get naked.”
“Mrs. Brennan?”
I have a really, really big mouth.
“Yes, this is Mrs. Brennan. I’m sorry, I thought you were my husband.”
“This is Lieutenant Barrows. I need to tell you something.”
Time stopped. Just stopped—right along with the beating of my heart.
I knew what was coming. I knew, and I wanted to scream in anguish.
Moments like this changed lives forever—just simple seconds of time that we should be able to stop and hold in place to keep disaster from striking. It’s like the precious seconds before a car crashes into yours—those seconds that seem to last an eternity as you see the car coming right for you and realize there isn’t enough time for you to be able to do a fucking thing about it.
Why couldn’t we suspend the laws of the universe and stop that moment and just... fix it?
The fear thrumming through me made me want to go bury my head under a pillow and scream.
No. No. No.
I wasn’t ready. Whatever it was, I wasn’t ready.
“Detective Brennan was shot.”
I sat down hard on the floor. Mark was dead. I could hear it in the lieutenant’s voice. I could feel it in every muscle, every nerve, and every bone. Mark was dead.
“Mrs. Brennan? Are you still there?”
I stupidly nodded my head. I wanted to talk to the guy, to get some more information. I really did. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
The phone slipped from my fingers and clattered on the tile.
Mark. My Mark.
He was dead.
I tried to grab the handset sitting on the floor next to me. My hand trembled, and for the briefest of seconds, I stared at it as if it wasn’t my own. Then I groped to pick up the phone.
“Where is he?”
“Methodist Hospital. Do you have a way to get there?”
I nodded.
God damn it, Jackie, stop nodding!
“Mark’s dead. Just say it. He’s dead.”
“He’s not dead, Mrs. Brennan. He’s at Methodist. They’re taking him to surgery. Do you need a squad car to come get you?”
I’d already grabbed my purse and was running to tell Kathy where I was going.
***
I didn’t even remember the trip to the hospital.
I’d been on the cell phone most of the time. Kat was next to hysterical when I told her, but she’d calmed down enough to call Carly at Faith’s. She decided to wait at the house until Carly was able to make it home and Nate came to get them. I don’t think she was ready to face the hospital again, and she wasn’t physically strong yet. I had faith that Nate would help her through this.
Patrick told me he was heading directly to Methodist, and I was afraid he was driving too fast—as usual. At least this time he had a good excuse.
My heart was breaking from fear and guilt—guilt that Mark might leave this life hating me because he thought I’d lied to him. I couldn’t bear it. But I had to—I couldn’t fix this now.
I wiped away the tears that were flowing freely down my cheeks and tried to concentrate on getting to the hospital in one piece.
I strode into the Emergency Room, feeling so cold it was as if there weren’t a drop of blood circulating in my body. I almost retched at the smell and my overpowering dread, but I forced the bile back down my throat with a hard swallow. I didn’t even stop at the reception desk. Instead I went right through the enormous doors leading to the treatment area and walked toward my future—a future I was positive would no longer include the love of my life.
I bit back a grieving sob by chewing on the inside of my cheek. It wouldn’t do Mark any good to have me standing there bawling like an infant when I saw him. I was a cop’s wife—a detective’s wife. I needed to pull myself together and damn well start acting like one.
“Strong, Jackie,” I whispered in an empty affirmation. “Be strong for Mark.”
But Mark’s dead.
“Then do him proud.”
“Are you Mrs. Brennan?” a nurse in pink scrubs asked when I stopped at the busy nurses’ station.
She had to know who I was by the absolute panic that had to be smeared all over my face. I wasn’t sure I was ready to see some nurse pull back a white sheet to show me my deceased husband. I would never be ready to face that.
But it was clear I had no choice.
“Yes, I’m Jackie Brennan. Where is he?”
“He’s waiting for you.”
“He’s alive?” My heart pounded so hard and fast I was sure everyone else could hear it.
He’s alive! Mark is alive!
She nodded. “He’s stable. He wouldn’t go into surgery until he talked to you. The surgeon’s scrubbing up. We really need to get him to the O.R. soon.”
He’s alive! Mark’s still alive!
I took a couple of shuddering breaths and tried to find some kind of control over my tumbling thoughts. “I understand. Just give me a minute with him.” I had no idea why he would want to wait. I was tempted to tear him a new one for being so damned obstinate.
I followed the nurse to a small treatment area. When she pulled the curtain aside and I saw Mark lying there on that gurney, my legs almost gave out as the world spun around me.
Get it together, Jackie.
He looked like a macabre science project. The left side of his chest was covered in big gauze bandages that had already bled through. Small tubes were coming out of both his arms and a bigger one poked into his left side. One of those goofy nasal oxygen cannulas was stuffed in his nose. His right index finger had an enormous clip on it that glowed red next to his skin. All around him, bags of fluid hung on machines that beeped and whirred and turned my blood to ice water.
“Sweet Jackie,” he rasped and held out a hand to me.
I rushed to his side and grabbed his hand, giving the back of it a gentle kiss, wanting to crawl into the bed with him and wrap my body around him like a cocoon. “I hear you’re being stubborn as usual.”
He actually smiled. Then he coughed and winced. “I needed to see you first. If I’m not going to make it—”
“No! Don’t you dare say it!” Tears started streaming down each of my cheeks. “You’re going to be fine, Mark. Just fine.”
“You’ll have to take care of things. I got all the paperwork done after we got married. All the life insurance will go to you.”
“There won’t be any life insurance money. You’re not going to—”
He held up his hand. I figured he woul
d be wagging his index finger at me if it wasn’t entirely encased it that stupid clip. “Don’t argue with me. Please.” He chuckled and coughed. “For once.”
I nodded, sniffing back more tears.
“I know you’ll take care of my girls—especially after what you did for Kat.”
I squeezed his hand. “You know I will. I love them like my own.”
“That’s why I put everything in your name. I didn’t want them to fight over anything if I... if I...”
“Please, Mark,” I squeaked, trying not to wail my anguish and despair, trying to be strong. I clutched his hand, wanting to draw strength from his warmth. “Please don’t say it.”
“I couldn’t go into surgery without talking to you, without saying I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t, babe. You don’t need to apologize. I know why you didn’t tell me. As soon as I calmed down, I understood. You were trying to help Kat.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to talk without weeping. I thought I should say something meaningful, but nothing came to mind except, “You can’t die. I need you.”
He smiled, the warmth of it thawing me. “You need me. That was harder for you to say than ‘I love you.’ Wasn’t it?”
It was a hell of a lot harder than he would ever know. I just nodded.
“I need you too.”
Two orderlies in teal scrubs came into the room and started to pack things up to take Mark away. “Sir, we need to get you to the O.R.,” the tallest one said before he nodded at me. “You’ll need to go to the surgery waiting room. Take the main elevators to the third floor and turn right. It’s just down the hall.”
“I love you, Jackie,” Mark whispered, refusing to release his grip on my hand. “I love you so much.”
I kissed the back of his hand again as one of the orderlies covered him with another blanket. “I love you too, Mark. More than I ever thought possible.”
“You’re everything to me.”
“Don’t you dare die on me, Mark Brennan. Don’t you fucking well die on me. You hear me?”
My husband gave me a weak smile. “I’ll sure try my best to stick around. I want to grow old with you.”