by Connie Cox
As they both caught their breaths, she laced her fingers in his, content to lie beside him, her silky smooth leg over his rough one. Her breath puffed in and out, a kitten snore that brought a smile to his face.
His mind drifted on a haze of bliss as all the tenseness left his body. Since time was meaningless, he had no idea how much later she asked, “How’s your shoulder?” as she trickled her fingers over the places that usually ached.
“What shoulder?”
“Cole?”
“Hmm?” The concern in her voice cleared his head.
“I told Gloria.”
“Told her what?”
“Told her you were Adrian’s father. It will be all over the hospital tomorrow.”
And he had thought his heart couldn’t expand any further.
Barely above a whisper, she asked, “Are you okay with it?”
He swallowed to get the words past his thick throat. “I’m more than okay with it. I think this is the proudest moment of my life.”
“There will be talk, and maybe questions.”
“I imagine there will be. How would you like me to answer?”
“The truth.”
“I can do that.”
“Cole, if anyone says anything mean to you, let me know.”
“And you’ll beat them up for me?” The visual image he had of tiny Bella with boxing gloves squaring off to defend his honor made him laugh. “Thank you. Hopefully it won’t come to blows in the back alley.”
“I’ll be sure to tell everyone that you didn’t know.”
“It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, Bella. It never did. It’s always been you who are important to me. Not them.” He should say it. He should say he loved her.
But he couldn’t get it out. The last time he’d said those words they’d been in bed, just like this, and he hadn’t seen her again for fifteen years.
They were both older and hopefully wiser. But fear was irrational, whether it was fear of flying or fear of saying “I love you.”
He would wait—wait until he could give her the assurances he hadn’t been able to offer last time. Wait until he could tell her about the relocation and assure her that this time they would never be apart again.
She drifted to sleep cradled next to him and he followed soon after.
Sometime during the night she left him for her own bed.
It was the right thing to do because of Adrian but it still left a knot in his stomach.
The day couldn’t come soon enough when the right thing to do would be to stay.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE first thought on Bella’s mind on awakening was that she hadn’t told him.
How could she have fallen asleep without telling Cole she loved him?
But, then, he hadn’t told her either. They had both fallen asleep too soon.
The house was eerily quiet around her and the sun was too bright in her window. How late had she slept?
How long had it been since she’d felt this rested?
Her clock showed her half the morning was gone. Rearranging her schedule to observe Ernest’s surgery had given her a free morning, but she hadn’t intended to spend it in bed.
But she still had time for a nice long bath and to fix herself a leisurely breakfast—although she had gotten spoiled by Cole’s breakfasts already.
She would tell him tonight, no matter how late he might be.
Isabella grinned to herself. She would tell him in bed tonight, as she had intended to tell him last night.
Communication. They would talk. No matter how much comfort she found in living for the moment, she would make plans for the future, a future with Cole.
She had intended to say hello to Cole before he went into surgery, but she’d had to spend some time talking Ernest through his panic before he was wheeled to surgery and she missed him.
Instead, she took her place in the gallery, fully intending to avert her gaze for most of the procedure. But she knew the moment Cole walked into the O.R. The pull was as strong as if he had called out her name.
While she couldn’t see his mouth behind the mask, she saw the smile in his eyes. She was sure she had a broad enough smile for both of them.
* * *
As he walked into the room, the patient on the table took most of his focus, but the woman in the gallery above him still pulled his attention. He looked up to see her looking down.
Seeing Bella, knowing she was seeing him at his best, gave Cole a sense of pride he had searched for all his life.
Instead of distracting him, she made him sharper, more aware, more in tune with everyone and everything around him.
Cole always felt a strange buzz in surgery, a kind of energy that seemed to race through his body, swirl around the patient and fill the sterile field.
Today, as he scrubbed in as consultant to Dr. Lockhart, he relished that electric feel. The only other time he’d ever felt this way had been with Bella, only that was so much deeper, so much more intimate than this.
He loved her. He had always loved her, never stopped loving her. But now he loved as a man, where before he’d loved as a boy. It seemed to be a broader, deeper, more encompassing kind of love.
“Ready, Doctor?” Dr. Lockhart asked beside him.
Cole took a cleansing breath to get his head back into the game. “Ready.”
Then Cole took a good look at the patient’s shoulder prepped for surgery and his whole world centered on the task before him.
They had expected a textbook case of a glenoid labrum tear. But once in, the surgery quickly became complicated by posterior neuroma-in-continuity extending into the auxiliary nerve.
The microsurgery was tedious and delicate, more of an urging of nerve stimulation and conservative serial sectioning than a cut-and-stitch kind of job. Dr. Lockhart was fastidious and light-handed as well as innovative, qualities that would make him the perfect practice partner.
Ernest was fortunate to have such a skilled surgeon operating. And Cole could now see why the sports clinic was asking such high buy-ins. The costs were worth it to have both Dr. Lockhart and Dr. Wong in partnership.
Three hours in and Cole’s neck and shoulder were screaming under the tension. Any amount of shifting and shrugging did nothing to relieve the pain.
“Can you help me out here, Dr. Lassiter?” Dr. Lockhart asked, pointing with his scalpel.
“Forceps,” Cole ordered, holding out his hand and waiting for the snap.
The team of surgical nurses assembled was the best he’d ever worked with. The instrument came quick and clean.
He closed his fingers—milliseconds too slowly. And the forceps fell into the field, clinking on the table on the way down to the floor.
Over the mask, Dr. Lockhart raised his eyes in question.
Cole knew the answer. It hit him in the pit of his stomach.
Surgery. The one thing he was born to do was in jeopardy.
From the gallery he felt Isabella’s eyes on him. She had witnessed his downfall.
“Forceps,” he immediately called again.
The nurse supplied him with another pair, hesitating a second before turning them loose this time. The clumsy handoff felt like his first few years of training.
He kept his hand steady by nothing but sheer willpower.
Once he was no longer needed and he could release his hold, his brow was sweating as though he’d just performed the procedure himself.
Dr. Lockhart liked to close himself, something Cole always did, too. At the last suture he pronounced the procedure “Done.”
As he exited the operating room, he whispered to Cole, “I’ll see you in my office this afternoon. I’ll have my staff discreetly schedule radiology appointments as well.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, or even a kind offer. It was a surgeon taking care of his profession as a whole. Dr. Lockhart would examine Cole and make the decision he had to make, for the good of all.
* * *
Instead of f
inding herself queasy, she had found herself fascinated with everything about the surgical procedure.
Knowing her father had been an early pioneer in the area, knowing he had saved lives as well as given back the mobility that gave a purpose to so many people’s lives, raised her respect for her father in a whole new way.
Seeing Cole in such a heroic role made her heart pound for him.
She could see the intensity of his eyes above his surgical mask as he discussed the case with Dr. Lockhart. Even with the sound muted in the observation gallery, she could tell each man had the utmost respect for the other’s opinion.
He held out his hand for an instrument.
Then it fell from his hand. If she hadn’t been watching so carefully, she would have missed the bleak expression in his eyes.
For a split second Dr. Lockhart raised his focus from his patient and centered it on Cole instead, looking concerned, worried and sad.
Isabella didn’t quite understand what had just happened, but she knew in the pit of her stomach it wasn’t good.
Cole had said he might be late.
She waited for Cole as long as she could but she had to pick up Adrian. She wanted to sooth that anguish she had seen. Maybe there was paperwork, or post-surgery examination.
Maybe he would join them at swim practice or at dinner.
But she had a bad feeling, a feeling that wouldn’t go away no matter how she tried to rationalize it.
What she had seen in Cole’s eyes when he’d looked at her in the gallery had been goodbye.
* * *
In Dr. Lockhart’s private office Cole didn’t need to be a radiologist to interpret the images on the four oversize computer monitors.
“I’m a shoulder man, and your problem is in your spine. You need a few more opinions. But what I think I see is degenerative disk disease with spinal stenosis in the cervical spine. I’m sorry, Cole.” Dr. Lockhart pointed to the brachial plexus. “See the impingement? This is causing your paresthesia as well as the pain and numbness. We can give you anti-inflammatories and the occasional spinal injection to ease the symptoms.”
“Surgery?”
“We could try an anterior cervical disk fusion but ACDFs haven’t proved very successful for stopping the pain or the deterioration.
“Or the numbness?”
“Or the numbness,” Dr. Lockhart confirmed. “You’ll want to consult with several spinal specialists before you decide for surgery.”
“What caused it?”
Dr. Lockhart pointed to the deterioration. “Degenerative disk disease can be inherited. Did anyone in your family have this problem? Or have you had an old injury in this area?”
“I had an injury when I was twelve. That time is fairly fuzzy, though, and I don’t remember what the diagnosis was.” He reached to rub his neck, then put his hand back down again.
To combat memories of that cold, dark night, Cole deliberately thought of Bella, thought of how she’d looked last night as she’d slept in his arms.
Real-time physical pain moved out of the spotlight as remembrances of physical pleasure with Bella moved into it and he could breathe again.
“I don’t know about family history. Both my parents died when they were about my age.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m sure they would be very proud of their son with all your accomplishments.”
“My past accomplishments.”
“There are plenty of career paths a brilliant physician like you could follow besides surgery.” Dr. Lockhart paused, trying to find the right thing to say. “I’m sorry, Cole.”
Dr. Lockhart’s tone was the same as he would use at a funeral to express his sympathy.
His sentiment was appropriate. The diagnosis meant the professional death of a surgeon. Cole would have to be reborn in a role that didn’t include the one skill in his life that made him special.
Dr. Lockhart clicked off the images. “I’m afraid the partners will have to be informed. I can try to keep it quiet for a few days if you want to get those other opinions first, but you’ll need to hurry. You know how gossip spreads in this place.”
Not only did his diagnosis put his career in danger, it also endangered his fiscal soundness, which endangered his financial care of Adrian and Bella.
Cole stared at the monitors, seeing a future as stark as the black-and-white images displayed there.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HE HAD to think about Bella and Adrian. He had to think—but all he could do was feel. Despair had him driving slowly back to Bella’s home in a fog.
Who was he now? All he’d ever wanted to be was a surgeon and now his whole identity was in jeopardy.
Cole longed for Bella and the comfort she could give him. But what could he give her in return? Even the financial security he’d promised her and their son was at risk.
Get a second opinion, Dr. Lockhart had suggested—no, had insisted on. And Cole had access to the best spinal specialists on the planet.
What did he have to offer Bella?
He didn’t know. And he wouldn’t burden her until he found some answers. Between her father and her son, she had enough people to care for, without adding him into the mix.
He scribbled a note and stuffed it in an envelope he’d picked up at the hotel: “Have gone to New York for testing. Will call you later with details.”
With one hand he shoveled clothes into his suitcase and with the other he punched speed dial for the airlines. As he listened to the flights available he checked his watch and jotted down airlines and flight times.
If traffic was light, if seats were available, if all the stars were aligned, he could make the flight to New York tonight.
Using his phone, he punched buttons until he’d purchased his ticket then left for the airport at a run. He needed to catch that flight.
If he arrived early enough, he could call in favors and arrange appointments and diagnostic tests for tomorrow.
Traffic was kind, but airport security was not.
Airport security made a big issue out of the ring in his pocket and he almost missed his flight.
As he sat in first class, waiting for the plane to take off, he took out the ring that had kept him from leaving New Orleans, turning it to create refracted light rainbows on his empty water glass.
Between being scanned, shuffled, queued up, ordered to buckle up as they had to leave the gate immediately to avoid the impending thunderstorm coming their way and taking off, he didn’t even have a chance to turn his phone back on.
But he had no idea what he would have said, anyway.
Once seated, he had too much time to think about the woman he’d bought the ring for.
He had picked out the ring that morning right after he’d dropped Adrian at school. He had intended to promise a secure future in the city she had taught him to call home again.
Instead, he would be sitting in his sterile apartment, staring at the bright city lights of New York.
He’d done the same thing over fifteen years ago.
He’d come so close to asking her to marry him last night—so close. Had he known instinctively to hold off?
The last thing Bella needed was another person in her life to take care of.
What would she think of damaged goods? He gave her more credit than to kick him to the curb, but how could she help but look at him differently now? He certainly saw himself differently.
No, worse than that. He didn’t see himself at all. Right now he was a purposeless man.
Cole rubbed his neck and shoulder, feeling the ache all the way through to his heart.
* * *
Bella had been calling Cole all day. She called him between clients, and as she waited for Adrian at the speech therapist, and now as he finished up swim practice. As Adrian buckled up to head home, Bella called Cole once more, listened to his voicemail and hung up.
Why did this feel just like fifteen years ago when she had called and called in vain?
As sh
e drove into her driveway, her house felt empty. She knew he was gone before she even checked his closet or picked up the note on his bedside table.
An old but too familiar fear began to fill her.
No. This would not be like last time.
Bella stared at the envelope in her hand as the cryptic numbers began to make sense.
“Come on, Adrian. We’re going to take a ride on an airplane.”
Grabbing the manga book and wolf, she rushed her son to the car.
As she swerved in and out of traffic, all her thoughts were wrapped around Cole. Didn’t he know he could come to her for comfort? Didn’t he know she wanted to be strong for him?
No. He didn’t know any of those things. He’d never been loved before when he’d needed it most.
Would it have made a difference if she had told him she loved him last night? Somehow she didn’t think so.
As she pulled into a parking space at the airport and began the three-mile hike to the terminal, she couldn’t decide if she would strangle Cole or hug him when she finally caught up with him.
One thing was for sure, she would tell him a thing or two and when she got done talking, he would have no doubt about how she felt.
Bella had to laugh at her own hypocrisy. How could Cole know how she felt? She had never told him. Why did it take almost losing him again for her to finally be courageous enough to speak her mind?
As she ran to the ticket booth, she saw the flight Cole had circled on the envelope had already departed.
“Two tickets to New York on the next flight out.”
“Yes, ma’am. Baggage?”
“No baggage.” If only that was true in every sense of the word.
She handed over her credit card to the attendant. Buying tickets for two at the last minute would cost more than she made in a month, but Cole would be paying off the balance.
Only for Cole would Bella risk her life and that of her child by getting on an airplane. Her experience in hiding her emotions came in handy as they took off and Bella carved grooves into the armrests with her fingernails. Amazingly, the plane stayed up in the air the whole trip.