by Trumbo, Kari
The ward was eerily quiet. Every time Isla had been in a hospital, there had been babies crying, nurses bustling from room to room, call lights flashing with little buzzes, noise. The silence was far from comforting. Isla shuddered as she pushed her chair to Duncan’s room and stopped just inside the door. He lay in a bed, the light diffused with a curtain. He was attached to a monitor and with an IV next to his head with various bags of fluid hanging off it. His right leg was encased in a full cast and elevated. His head was raised at a similar angle.
“Go. Let him know you’re here, Isla. He will hear you and it will help him.” Mama pushed her chair farther into the room. The little nudge gave her the momentum to make it to his bedside. Once there, she fought to hold back tears.
His face, though always lighter than hers, was pale aside from the bruises and scratches on his skin from broken glass. He was completely relaxed in an induced sleep.
“I wonder how long they’ll keep him sedated?” Isla whispered to Mama, keeping her voice down so it wouldn’t travel through the whole hall.
“I don’t know. The nurse mentioned he would be in a lot of pain for some time, but I think it all depends on a scan they have to do to check for brain damage. At the desk they said he was tossed around in his seat pretty good.”
She hadn’t listened, hadn’t wanted to hear the devastation he’d endured. All to bring her a chair she should’ve had anyway.
“Do you think he’s cold? Should we pull up his blanket?” He was only in a hospital gown and the blankets stopped at his waist. The room felt chilly to her, but the whole hospital had a cold feel. All of them did. She moved forward and tugged the blanket up as best she could, bumping his arm slightly in the process. The hint of a tattoo peeked out from under the short sleeve of the gown.
“What?” she murmured. Duncan wasn’t the tattoo type. He was straight-laced, fun, a youth minister. Why would he have a tattoo, or was she seeing a bruise? She lifted his sleeve more to reveal an avenging angel that looked suspiciously like Duncan, with a sword of fire. Below the angel’s feet—as if it protected the very idea—were the words, Mi Familia.
“Did you know?” she asked her mother. Why else would he get such a tattoo. He’d had no other Hispanic foster families.
“Si, he told your father and I. I cringed when I saw it. Though nothing can separate us from the love that is in Christ Jesus, tattoos are often dark things. Not used for light. I understand why he did it, though. He has always felt that we are the closest he will ever have to a real family and he would protect us with his very life if asked to. Especially you.”
Isla swung her head to meet her mother’s eyes. “What are you saying? He certainly never said anything to me.”
“Didn’t he, Mija? Maybe not in words, but didn’t he?”
Isla reached for his hand and held it. It was cool to the touch, and she stroked it to try to warm him, let him know she was there and that she wouldn’t leave him. That she was sorry. He had told her, especially in the last few weeks when he’d focused every ounce of his attention on her. And she’d made him do that. Because all this time, she’d felt the same and had held him away from her, sure that he deserved a first-place woman, not second.
“Not in words, no.”
“But you feel it, don’t you? You are his familia, you always have been. I don’t even know if he could tell you the moment his love shifted, but it’s always been there. He’s always protected you, watched over you. When he was with you, we always knew you were in good hands. Duncan is a good boy.”
Yes, he was, and hopefully he could forgive as well. Isla gripped his hand tighter. “I’m here, Duncan. I’m so sorry. I tried to text you to stay home, but the truth is, I shouldn’t have asked you to come out in the first place. I shouldn’t have expected that of you.” She wanted to add, please wake up. That seemed cruel. Once he woke, he would have to deal with the pain of his injuries, which were more evident the longer they were in the room.
Not only was Duncan’s leg broken, but he had a gash on his right cheek that Isla hadn’t noticed from the side of the bed she was on. Only after her mother went to hold his other hand and gasped at the sight, did she strain to see the other side of his face, then winced. It hadn’t needed sutures but it was a ragged-looking wound. He had bruising that darkened his arms the longer they stood there. Who knew what could’ve caused that. She didn’t want to think about it.
“The nurses said the truck driver that hit him was fine and was even allowed to follow the ambulance in a police car to see if Duncan needed blood, and if he was a match. It was pretty amazing, really.” Mama petted his hand as if he were a beloved puppy.
“At least he wasn’t injured too.”
“I’m going to leave you here while I go check with the nurses some more. Keep talking to him, maybe the sound of your voice, and not all that beeping, will make him want to wake up.” Mama came around the bed and squeezed her shoulder. “You can do this. Duncan will be fine. He’s out of the worst of it.”
Of that, Isla wasn’t so sure. Recuperating from a broken femur and tibia would be painful. He may never carry her again. She’d always assumed he would be right there, her best friend, able to help. That wouldn’t be the case again for a long time. Even after he healed, he would have to deal with the pain.
“I don’t know what to say, Duncan. I really don’t. I can’t stand to see you here. I look at you and the guilt eats me up inside.”
His fingers squeezed hers ever so slightly and a slight smile touched his lips. He opened his eyes for a fraction of a second, then drifted back into his sound sleep. It wasn’t much, but it was a response, and that was something she could hold on to.
Mama came back in later, and she had no clue how long she’d been sitting there, just holding his hand and talking―mostly nonsense things―but the room was darker now. Mama turned on some soft lighting above his head and sat in a chair next to the monitor.
“The nurses believe he will wake up naturally in the next few hours, but everyone reacts a little differently to sedation, and the surgery to repair his leg was a long one. He was in recovery and did wake up briefly there, then they brought him up to his room to let the nursing staff keep an eye on him.”
Had the nurses come in? She had to think about it, because the whole time felt like a blur. If she concentrated, she could remember nurses coming in, quietly typing at the computer and checking his fluids and monitor, then leaving just as quietly as they’d come. None of them spoke or pushed her to speak, they just did their jobs and let Duncan heal without bother as much as possible.
“Have they said how long he will be here?” She wanted to bring him home―just getting him away from the sterile, cold feel of the hospital would help. He’d have to stay with her parents, but she could stay too and help as much as possible. She could work anywhere there was internet. He, on the other hand, would have to let Pastor Paul know right away.
“Has anyone called the church? They would want to know.”
“Paul and your father will be here as soon as they can.” Mama stood and rested her hands on Isla’s shoulders. “As much as you want to blame yourself, don’t. We all are in control of our own actions. Duncan isn’t the kind to hold a grudge.”
“He still wouldn’t have been out on dangerous roads if I hadn’t goaded him into driving. Until he can tell me I’m forgiven. I can’t just let it go. You don’t do that to someone you love.” A tear streaked down her cheek and she realized it was the first she’d admitted her feelings out loud, but it felt right. He wouldn’t die, he would mend. And when he did wake up, she wouldn’t hold her feelings from him ever again. She would never again put him in the position of having to force her to see him. That is what all those dates were. Now, she could see that. He had tried to get her to see herself how he saw her. Able. Fearless. Loved.
He’d loved her stronger and better than she’d given in return, but never again. She squeezed his hand again. “I’m still here, Duncan. Sleep as long as
you need. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
20
Duncan stared across the bed at the beautiful woman sleeping in her wheelchair on the other side of the rail. She had dark circles under her eyes like she’d been awake for a good, long while before finally succumbing, and probably hadn’t bothered to drink any water. As her coach, he’d have to get on her case about that. Her fingers were still woven in his; she hadn’t even let go when she’d fallen asleep.
Whatever the nurses provided for pain medication did the trick, though he couldn’t remember much beyond getting in his car earlier that day. Even during the period he’d been waiting for Jordan’s parents was blurry; the only thing immediately coming to mind was the text. The failure was still raw.
He remembered he’d been in an accident, but not how, when, or even where. If he didn’t see his leg elevated over his head right in front of him and three times thicker than it normally was, he wouldn’t even have known what was wrong. A nurse popped in the room and smiled, put her finger to her lips and went to the computer then started typing. He wasn’t even sure where to start with all his questions, but the first one would probably be how long he’d been there.
After what seemed like forever at the computer, the nurse came over and grabbed a digital thermometer, pushed aside the little cover on the tip and held it in front of his mouth. After a few seconds, it beeped and she pulled it out, nodded, and shot the little disposable shield into the trash.
“It is on record that she’s your sister…” The nurse whispered and raised her eyebrows.
He glanced again at their hands and understood the confusion. “Sort of, but not really. Her parents were foster parents to me at one time, but Isla isn’t even close to my sister.” Even the thought revolted him. The romantic feelings he had left no room for thinking of her as a sister in any way. As he scrunched his face, the pain of all the cuts broke through the medication briefly and he sucked in a breath, squeezing Isla’s hand. Her head popped up and she sucked in her own breath.
“Duncan!”
The surprise and joy on her face was better than anything he’d seen in a long time. Even with all the fun they’d had over the last few weeks, enjoying the dates and spending time together, he could finally see the love in her eyes that he’d questioned up until that moment.
“Been a few days.” He nodded, then laughed. His attempt at being nonchalant failed utterly and Isla snorted.
“Yeah, a few. I tried to text you. I’m so sorry.”
“Nope, we aren’t going to do this.” He would not wake up after he’d gone through who knew what, and have any type of talk that could lead to an argument. Life was too short. He’d just learned that the hard way. “Isla, I’m a grown man. I do what I want. I wanted to see you succeed. I wanted to see you make your dreams a reality. I wanted to see you have the best day of your life, but God had other plans for me. He decided I needed to be there for someone else today. I can’t explain why, because they weren’t able to come. I was too late. When that happened, I had to get to you…to make something good happen today.” At least, he hoped it was still the same day.
“I didn’t race. I couldn’t. Not when the man I care about more than any other in the world was in an accident. I couldn’t even think.”
He squeezed her hand again, because his limbs felt heavy and awkward. She had been on his mind so much the last few weeks, but if he didn’t make it out of the hospital in time for Christmas, all the things he’d planned for might not happen. At least, not the way he’d planned. As it was, getting down on one knee would be impossible.
“The nurses said they’ll discharge you in the morning. You won’t be able to drive for quite some time and you’ll be in physical therapy in about six weeks, but they think you’ll do everything you did before. Except, you’ll have to be careful flying. You’re going to set off the TSA alarms.” She smiled. “Considering how bad your car looked from the online traffic cam, we couldn’t have hoped for better.”
“My car’s totaled?” He’d had to save up a long time to put a down payment on that car. It wasn’t anywhere near new, but he couldn’t afford another. Insurance wouldn’t pay much on an older car.
Isla nodded. “I’m sure it is. Pastor Paul is already talking to people who have extra cars to see if they can spare one for a while after you get back on your feet.”
“That’s not surprising. He’s always doing something like that. Doesn’t sound like I’ll need it for quite a while though. I don’t even know what I’ll do. I don’t know how I’ll get around in my apartment.”
Isla’s mother popped up from a chair sitting on the other side of a movable monitor. He hadn’t seen her sitting there. “You’re coming home with us. We have room at our house and I’ll take care of you. Just like old times.” He would love that, but if he should stay with the Flores family, how would he get what he needed for Christmas, namely the ring sitting in his desk drawer for six months?
“Don’t worry. I sent Papi over with your keys to get you some clothes, and other things you might need.” She winked very dramatically and he glanced quickly to Isla. If she noticed her mother’s strange behavior, she didn’t let on. Her eyes never left him.
“Were you worried about me?” He unlinked his hand with hers and reached out to touch her face. She leaned in and closed her eyes. A tear escaped her lashes and she sucked in her breath.
“You have no idea. We’ve been praying for you and worrying about you all day.” The churchy thing for him to say would be that she needn’t have worried if her trust was in Jesus, but there was a time for admonishment and there was a time to decide to talk about it later.
“Isla, we should go home. It’s getting late and Duncan must stay overnight, then we can come back in the morning to get him and take him home.” Sofia stood and hid a yawn.
“I don’t want to go.” She sought his gaze and searched for his approval. While he wanted her to stay, he couldn’t have it that way. She needed rest and so did he. Even with nurses coming in all night, he had to think of not only his job and reputation, but hers as well.
“I know. But I want you to go, get some rest, and come back to spring me out of here in the morning. Promise me you will.”
“Duncan. I told you I wouldn’t leave. I mean it.” She clung to the side of his bed.
“I won’t hold it against you. I want you to go home. You can’t get a good night’s sleep in that chair, and I won’t sleep well knowing you’re there next to me and uncomfortable. You won’t be far away.”
Sofia grasped the back of Isla’s chair. “I think that’s a fine idea. Since our house is a little closer, you can stay with us for the night, Isla. We’ll come back right away in the morning and wait for the doctor to discharge you.” She came around and gave him a brief and gentle hug, then wheeled her daughter out of the room without further protest. Poor Isla was exhausted, and so was he.
21
The pain medication kept him from feeling much with his leg, but it couldn’t fix his mood. He’d been at the Flores home for two days, and Isla had been strangely absent. Her father left to pick her up at her apartment while Duncan did what he’d become good at: nothing. The sofa afforded a view of the street and the television, neither of which interested him anymore.
Where was Isla and why was she avoiding him? He’d assumed that being at her parents’ house would give her an excuse to come see him, but other than the short talk they’d had at the hospital, she hadn’t really talked to him since their trip to Minnehaha. He scraped his hand down his face and allowed the unease to settle into his chest again. What if he’d pushed too hard? He had been sure there was love in her eyes at the hospital, but had he only seen what he’d wanted to?
His phone buzzed and he grabbed for it, hoping for some word from Isla. It was an email from Pastor Paul.
Duncan,
Jordan has been found, praise God. He was staying with a friend and is safe, but when you’re feeling better he would like to talk with
you. He’s in no rush. Take the time you need.
Paul
He’d failed. Why would Jordan want to talk to him? If Jordan had wanted to talk, he’d given him plenty of opportunity. No that it mattered. He’d keeping giving Jordan whatever he could to bring him back and keep him there.
Sofia popped into the room and the fragrance of spicy foods followed her. “You look like you took on a skunk, Mijo, and lost.”
She’d never called him that before and he wanted to question her, but she gently sat next to him on the couch. “I have a feeling that from today on, the daughter of my blood and the son of my heart will agree to become one and it fills me with joy. Please, don’t let this”―she gestured at his leg―“get you down. That is a trick from Satan. Isla has called both nights, worried about you. I love that girl, but she doesn’t call home anymore, unless there is a handsome man on my couch.” She laughed.
Why would she call and not want to talk to him? “She’s called?”
“Si, but she didn’t want to bother you. She just wanted to hear how you fared and if it would still be all right for her to come on Christmas.”
He shifted and tried to sit up straighter. “She was going to stay away from her own family Christmas because of me?” He couldn’t breathe, his love slipped farther away and he couldn’t even get up to chase after her.
“No. She offered to stay away because she was worried she would get in your way, hurt you, or set back your healing. I think she suspects that you have something planned. I raised that girl to be smart, so I’m not surprised she figured you out.” Sofia stood again. “Can I get you anything before she comes? She’ll be here in just a few minutes.”
“Did Mateo bring over the box?” He’d been afraid to ask, afraid that they hadn’t and he didn’t want to make Mateo drive all the way back to his house.
“Of course! I think he’s more excited about this proposal than any of us.”