Sheikh, Children's Doctor...Husband / Six-Week Marriage Miracle

by Meredith Webber / Jessica Matthews

  She rubbed the back of her neck in obvious indecision and he pressed on. “There was a time when you couldn’t wait to go on one of my trips,” he reminded her. “And if I recall, you loved the experience.”

  “Yes, but I have responsibilities of my own here,” she argued.

  “I’ve checked out your work commitments and I know that as of today you’re officially off the work schedule for the next ten days,” he said. “Plenty of time to go on a three-day mission of mercy.”

  “And what comes after that? There’s always another deserving community waiting in the wings.”

  “Not for me,” he said firmly. “Oh, I may go places once or twice a year, but for the most part my traveling days will be over.”

  “Oh, please,” she scoffed.

  “I don’t mind if you’re skeptical. I would be too if I were in your shoes, but it’s true. Saving our marriage requires time and proximity.” He paused. “Is it a deal?”

  “When does this unholy pact start?”

  “Tomorrow. As soon as we get home.”

  “And in six weeks, when you finally accept that we’re incompatible, you’ll sign the papers, no arguments?”

  There was no way they were incompatible—they’d had too many good years together—but if she wanted to think their time together would prove it, then she could. He, on the other hand, intended to show her just how compatible they really were.

  “No arguments,” he said, “but this is an all-out effort on both our parts. No halfhearted attempts at reconciliation. We give it our best shot.” He knew he was repeating himself, but he wanted the terms perfectly clear. She wouldn’t be able to cry foul down the road.

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Then you’d better get some rest tonight. Tomorrow will be an extremely busy day for both of us.”

  Physically he was exhausted, but emotionally he felt as if he could move mountains. He’d gotten Leah to agree to one last-ditch effort to save their marriage and with far less effort and cajolery than he’d expected. He wanted to believe that she’d given in because she wasn’t quite as convinced about her plan as she’d originally let on but, whatever the reason, he was getting his second chance and he intended to make the most of it.

  He’d handled things poorly before and now, after replaying those scenes and imagining ways he should have acted differently, he could straighten out those kinks. He’d start with sharing his own fears and feelings instead of hiding them behind his work. Hopefully, time had faded enough of Leah’s hurts so he wouldn’t feel guilty for dumping his own pain on top of hers. His father had taught him to be tough at all costs, but in this case the lessons he’d learned had come at the expense of his marriage.

  “Okay, but—”

  She held a hand in the air. “We’ve talked enough for now. Get some sleep.”

  He’d pushed all he dared, but he’d gotten more than he’d expected on his first try. Even so, he was curious …

  “Why are you so eager for me to doze off?” he asked as she adjusted his bedding once more. Her actions were completely unnecessary because there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight.

  “Gabe,” she chided. “People sleep while they’re in the hospital. Rest is part of every patient’s treatment plan.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “You won’t leave?” He hated the plaintive note in his voice, but he’d awakened far too often to the disappointing discovery that Leah’s presence had only been a dream.

  “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “Promise?” he asked, hiding his worry behind a light-hearted tone.

  She nodded, offering him a slight smile. “I promise.”

  “Ramon! Hold on!”

  Gabe’s rising voice and restless movements brought Leah out of her catnap. As she had done so many times during the last twelve hours, she padded across the dark room to pull him out of his nightmare.

  “It’s okay,” she repeated as she sat in the chair next to his bed and held his free hand. “It’s only a dream.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, still in the grip of his memories. “‘Sall my fault.” Then, “Not Will, too!”

  His anguish was almost palpable and all Leah could do was watch him relive those moments of horror with tears in her own eyes.

  “So sorry, guys,” he murmured as tears slipped out from behind his closed eyes and his shoulders shook. “So sorry. My fault. All my fault.”

  Slowly, he settled back into his uneasy slumber, although she didn’t know if her voice or her touch had caused that particular scene to fade.

  Oh, Gabe. You went through hell, didn’t you?

  As she lightly blotted the moisture from his face with a damp washcloth, stroked the hard lines of his cheekbones and brushed aside the lock of hair on his sweaty forehead, she murmured what had become her litany. Idly, she wondered if Jack and Theresa were reliving their horrible memories, too. No doubt they were. Poor Theresa.

  With his face freshened, she continued to hold his hand and stroke his fingers, thinking about how he’d glossed over his experience to her, to Jeff, and probably to everyone else he’d spoken to since he’d returned. Now, though, in the dark of night and without his full awareness, he’d given her a glimpse of the tragedy and trauma he’d endured.

  She’d been so caught up in having him home again and worrying over what his return meant to her personally that she hadn’t considered the emotional aftermath of his experience. For the past two years she’d thought him cold, unfeeling and insensitive, but he’d obviously been more adept at hiding his emotions, compartmentalizing his feelings and carrying on in the face of adversity and disappointment than she was.

  Worse, though, was how, as a nurse, she should have known he would feel survivor’s guilt, not only because he’d lived through his ordeal and his friends had not but also because his organization had been responsible for sending them on this trip in the first place.

  No wonder he felt as if he were to blame.

  He should have told her all this, she thought self-righteously, but almost immediately she understood why he hadn’t. He couldn’t blurt out the whole traumatic tale the moment he saw her, could he, especially when they’d lived separate lives for a year? Ever since they’d been reunited, they’d been surrounded by people and hadn’t had the time or the privacy to delve into the details.

  Had that been the problem with their own losses? Had they been surrounded by so many well-meaning friends and family that they’d never had the opportunity to deal with their pain as a couple? And when they’d tried, had they both buried it so far underground that they hadn’t been able to reach it?

  As she gazed at his face and smoothed away the agony etched there, his vulnerability tugged on her heartstrings. No, she decided, she felt more than compassion for a traumatized patient. She felt the pain of seeing a loved one suffer.

  A former loved one, she amended. She didn’t love Gabe in the same eye-sparkling, heart-racing way she once had because there were too many hurts and philosophical differences between them, but underneath all the bad stuff, the stuff that had gone wrong, the affection they’d once shared was there.

  Unfortunately, affection didn’t make a marriage. Love did, and hers had faded. Gabe might think they could rekindle those feelings but even if that were possible, he’d still want the family she couldn’t give him. And as she’d told her mother when she’d phoned her earlier in the evening to share the news of Gabe’s miraculous return, eventually they’d wind up in the same untenable situation.

  Her mother hadn’t been as certain about the outcome as she was but with Gabe’s parents having died years earlier—one in a car accident and the other of a heart attack—her mom had always carried a soft spot in her heart for her son-in-law. While she was willing to support Leah’s decision, whatever it might be, she’d also thought Gabe’s suggestion made sense.

  Clearly, everyone was hoping she and Gabe would have a happy endi
ng, although Leah had given up believing in them.

  But happy ending or not, she’d made a deal in order to win the prize she wanted—his name scrawled across the bottom of legal papers. In the meantime, she’d follow the letter of their verbal contract. “Say what you mean and mean what you say,” he’d said, and she intended to live by that rule.

  Perhaps the best place to begin was with the deaths of his friends. Their loss obviously weighed heavily on him and if he would express his feelings openly on that subject, perhaps they could work their way into dealing with their personal issues.

  Relieved he was finally resting easier, she stifled a yawn. She should go back to her recliner, but decided she didn’t have the strength or the desire to let go of his hand. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on her part, but it seemed as if this small contact was enough to hold his nightmares at bay.

  She’d never felt as if Gabe had needed her, but in this, at least, he apparently did. For now, it was enough.

  Gabe drifted awake to find the sun shining through the half-opened mini-blinds covering his window. Leah stood in the sunlight, gazing into the courtyard, arms crossed, her brow furrowed as if contemplating a serious subject.

  For a moment, he simply lay there, looking his fill. They’d lost so much these past few years and, if not for his accident, they might have continued down their separate paths to an irreparable end. In fact, during the first few days of his trip, he’d seriously considered agreeing to her suggestion of a divorce, not because he wanted one but because he’d felt like such a failure. After being unable to give Leah her heart’s desire—a baby—in this, at least, he could give her something she wanted.

  The plane crash, however, had changed everything.

  As he stared at his wife, who was more beautiful now than she had been when they’d married, he knew he would do everything in his power to make her happy again.

  Suddenly, she faced him and smiled, looking more relaxed than she had a minute ago. “You’re awake,” she said.

  “Hello to you, too,” he said, his voice rusty from disuse.

  She approached his bed, clearly intent on his IV pump, but he reached out and snagged her hand. Her hand was soft, her bone structure fine and her eyes uncertain.

  Gabe, however, had no doubts, no reservations about what he wanted. He tugged her just hard enough to shift her center of gravity in his direction.

  “Gabe,” she protested.

  Before she could utter another word, he tipped his chin to meet her mouth. Gradually, her lips softened under his and a small noise escaped her mouth—the same small sound that came out as a satisfied sigh.

  He wished he could give her the sort of kiss he wanted to, but he didn’t want fuzzy-teeth breath when he did. “Good morning,” he whispered.

  “Same to you,” she answered, her voice as husky as he remembered from their more light-hearted days. Then, as if she recalled where she was, she straightened and began fiddling with his tubing. “How do you feel?”

  The nurse was back and the bride he remembered had vanished. No matter. There would be time to find her again—just as soon as he sprang himself from this joint.

  He took stock of his aches and pains. They were still there, and a few new ones had cropped up, but his bone-weary exhaustion was gone. “Pretty good. How about you?”

  “Me?” She seemed startled by his question. “I’m fine.”

  “I wondered. From your expression as you were staring out the window, I’d guess you were solving the world’s problems,” he said offhandedly.

  She disconnected the tubing from the cannula in his wrist and draped it over the IV stand. “Not the world’s, just the foundation banquet’s.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Sheldon and I had planned a memorial ceremony, but with your return we should turn it into a celebration.”

  “Keep the memorial idea,” he advised. “It doesn’t seem right to celebrate when two of my group didn’t come home.”

  “Okay, but your friends, associates and donors will want to hear about your experiences. You intend to speak as usual, don’t you?”

  “Only briefly,” he said. “I’d rather review the year in pictures.”

  “Then we will.” She flicked his blankets off his feet. “Are you ready for a stroll to the bathroom?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he said fervently as he levered himself up with his good arm and swung his legs off the edge of the bed.

  “Take it slow,” she advised. “You’re probably stiff and sore.”

  Every muscle ached and his ribs protested his movements but he ignored the pain as he hobbled across the room to his destination, aware of his wife hovering beside him in case he should fall en route. “No kidding, I can manage from here.”

  He closed the door for privacy to take care of his most pressing needs. Then he studied his face in the mirror and rubbed at the stubble before proceeding to remove it.

  Fifteen minutes later, he left the bathroom and found a meal tray waiting on his bedside table. “I’d rather eat at home,” he said.

  “Good luck with that,” she said. “I emptied your refrigerator and pantry a few weeks ago when we thought you weren’t coming … back. By the time we shop for necessities, it will be well past lunchtime. Besides, if you don’t eat this, this delicious hospital cafeteria cuisine will only go to waste.”

  “Is that what you’re calling it these days to make it taste good? Cuisine?”

  “How did you guess?”

  “You can have it,” he offered.

  “Sorry. You need the nutrition more than I do.”

  “Then I’ll share. Remember when we shared a piece of pie?”

  She smiled. “That was only so I could appease my sweet tooth at a fraction of the calories. This, however, is a healthy meal and you need to eat every bite. You should be starved.”

  “I am a little hungry.”

  “I would think so. You haven’t eaten since the soup and crackers I’d fixed for you yesterday afternoon, so dig in before your eggs get cold.”

  “Okay, okay,” he groused as he headed for the chair, “but I’ll sit in the recliner. Lolling in bed makes me feel like I’m sick and I’m not.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said. “How did you sleep?”

  He vaguely remembered her unhooking his IV before stumbling to the bathroom at some point, but other than the occasional murmur of Leah’s voice, there was nothing he could focus on.

  “Fine, I guess,” he said slowly, watching as she whipped the stainless-steel dome off his plate to reveal several strips of bacon, two generous scoops of scrambled eggs and four pieces of buttered toast. “I can’t believe I missed dinner, though. Eating is something we all looked forward to. Jack kept talking about his famous grilled chicken and Theresa wanted anything covered in chocolate.”

  “And what did you want?”

  “Your Irish stew. Any chance we can have that one night?” he asked as he dug into the eggs and decided they didn’t taste like hospital cooking. However, if she expected him to polish off the double portion, she’d be sorely disappointed.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I’ll work on it while you’re napping this afternoon.”

  He shook his head as he chewed. “If I nap, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

  “You might surprise yourself. Being at home, in your own bed can make a big difference with how well you sleep.”

  Something in her tone put him on alert. Worry over what he might have said knotted his stomach. “I had a nightmare, didn’t I?”

  “It was pretty intense. Do you have bad dreams every night?”

  He carefully placed his fork on his plate, his appetite gone. “At first, yes. The last week or so, not as often. I’d hoped they’d disappear once I got home.”

  “Would you like to talk about it?”

  He let out a deep breath. “No,” he said honestly. Then, because he noticed her stiffen, he finished his sentence. “But I should.
”

  “You said we have to be more open and express our thoughts and feelings,” she reminded him. “It’s part of our contract.”

  “I know, and I will. The problem is, I don’t know where to begin.” He pushed his plate back. “Here. I’m not hungry anymore.”

  She bit her lower lip, clearly not happy with his answer or his sudden loss of appetite, but she simply nodded. “Too much too soon?”

  He wondered if she was asking about the food or the conversation, but he didn’t press for clarification. “Yes,” he admitted.

  “Small meals more often is probably best.”

  She’d been talking about food, which was a relief. “Probably,” he said.

  “The same holds true for our conversation. Even if you can’t share everything all at once, a little bit here and there is better than holding it all inside.”

  She’d caught him off guard, but her analogy was sound. He let out a deep breath. “I know.”

  “Good, because I’ll let you slide this time, but once we’re home, the kid gloves come off,” she told him.

  Relieved by his reprieve, he nodded. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. By the way, when can I leave?”

  “As soon as you have another blood test,” she said. “In fact, someone from the lab should be here shortly.”

  As if on cue, there came a knock at the door and it was, as Leah had predicted, a phlebotomist. A few minutes later, the woman left with her vials and Gabe opted to enjoy the shower once again.

  This time, when he came out of the bathroom, he felt like a new man and said so.

  “You certainly look better than you did when you first arrived,” she responded.

  “I had nowhere to go but up,” he quipped.

  “On the contrary, you could have gotten worse,” she said sternly, as if he needed the reminder. “Thanks to your overnight stay and the miracle of antibiotics, the redness on your leg has faded a lot already. I’m sure your ribs benefitted from the rest, too.”

  “Maybe so, but—”

  “Jeff was right and you know it,” she insisted. “In fact, if your roles had been reversed, you would have done the same.”