“So, was he right?” Brad’s face showed no hint of emotion as he watched her, waiting for her answer.
“What part?” she had a hunch as to which part he was asking about, but needed to hear it for certain.
“The part about hating me and my job? Well, the job I had.”
Tiffany searched her heart and mind to find the honest response. Could she give it to him if she knew?
Brad waited, patiently at first. As the seconds passed, fear and anger replaced the lighthearted mood they enjoyed the previous hours.
The conversations that passed between them gave him hope and insight into the woman next him. He learned her favorite foods, best and worst moments with her answer to the worst bringing a few tears, how she liked her coffee, and the list went on. The familiarity of her answers made it easy to remember. He would take time later to think about the thoughts and pinpricks of emotions. Right now, he wanted to know as much about her as he could.
Her mouth opened like she was about to answer and then it closed. He was captivated by the movements of her mouth as they talked. It was like a knife in his gut with each pucker. There had been a couple of times he had to press down the urge to take hold of her lips with his own. He feared the response from both of them if he did. Not yet, Brad. A repeat of last time caused too much havoc. No more impulses.
Wanting to ease the pain of giving the right answer, he attempted to encourage her. “You can tell me, you know. I can’t blame you if he is right. But I can’t apologize if I don’t know.”
He wasn’t sure how she would respond, but the sobs of a stressed and broken woman was not at the top of his list. She didn’t yell at him or beat on him. She just sat cemented on her end of the couch, crying into the throw pillow she cradled.
Giving into the need to comfort her, Brad reached for Tiffany. At first, she refused to take his hand, but his persistence won out. He knew she expected him to just hold her hand because every interaction was chaste and safe for her. His angel needed his arms around her and he was willing to be there for her, even if it killed him.
Tiffany placed her hand in his and he pulled her to him, placing her in his lap. Wrapping her in his arms, he held her tight while she struggled to run.
“Please, let me go.” Her whimper broke his heart.
“No. Not yet. Just sit here.”
“I can’t, Brad. I can’t handle being close right now.”
“You can’t handle me not holding you? Trust me and stay for just a moment.”
More cries radiated through her as she relinquished the battle, wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her nose there.
The weight of her mixed with her breath on his neck did things to him, things that any red-blooded man would have no problem taking advantage of. But not him. This woman was his wife, the person who trusted him to protect her. No matter what.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” She tried to interject a response, but a gentle touch of his fingers on her lips stopped her. The feel of her soft lips on his hand took his breath away. Keep it together. “Please, let me finish.
“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry this life that I promised you years ago didn’t go as you planned; as we planned, rather. I’m sorry if I made you feel less then important. I was a fool.” The next part caught in his throat like a knife. “I’m sorry I can’t love you like I once did. I’m sorry that my job robbed us of the life we could have once had. I’m sorry I can no longer be that man for you.” Another whimper escaped her lips, nearly breaking his resolve. He had to finish his speech. He waited, impatiently this time for her to settle down. When he had her attention, he continued. “I can’t be all I once was for you. But this man holding you now would like to give it a try, if you’ll let me.”
That grabbed her attention.
“You mean date again?”
“If you’d like. You set the pace, Tiffany. I just want to see what it would be like loving such a strong, capable, woman with all the love in the world to give.”
Her eyes searched his. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for. He hoped she’d find it.
Tiffany moved to exit his hold; the lack of her in his space left him feeling cold. She stood before him with her hand outstretched. He took her dainty hand in his, laughing at how much struggle he had in prying himself out.
He expected for her to let go, but she held fast as she began to shake his hand.
“Hello, my name is Tiffany Jones. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello, I’m Bradley Jones. The pleasure is all mine.”
CHAPTER 16
PAIN RIPPLED THROUGH her lower abdomen, waking her from the first hopeful dream she had in a long time. Brad’s arms were around her, as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. It was pure bliss.
She breathed through the pain, praying for reprieve so she could get out of bed. It didn’t come. Tiffany rolled to her side as the pinch and pull did it’s best to keep her in place.
Unsure how long it would last, she tried every relaxation technique she knew to get the pain to subside. This wasn’t a new occurrence, but its timing was impeccable. The endometriosis had spread and was now taking complete control of her womb.
Sure to make slow movements, Tiffany reached for her cell phone on the bedside table. Any other time, the obvious response would be to call for Brad, but it had been three weeks since he came home from Ryan and Emma’s and they still felt like strangers. No, this time she would need to call someone else.
Emma? No, she had the baby and it is a school day.
Jill? Same thing. School.
The pain stabbed at her again, this time invoking a cry that she feared would wake Brad. The pounding of his feet on the stairs indicated he had heard her and was quick to act. Just like a soldier. He stormed through her door and she heard his panted breath as clear as if he was beside her. Another finger of pain radiated across her midsection again, invoking another cry.
A downward dip in the bed alerted her to his location. “What do you need?” The panic in his tone was evident. “Is there a pill or a heat pack I can grab?”
A shake of her head was all she could conjure up.
“Who can I call?”
Another shake of her head.
“Lord, what do I do now?” She heard him pray. For a split second, she wondered when he started that and then she was lifted from the bed, throw blanket and all.
She breathed through the pain as he carried her from the room, down the stairs and fumbled his way out of the house. She wanted to ask why he had not called for an EMT, but her world was beginning to turn black and fuzzy with pain. Before she lost all consciousness, she heard one more prayer. “Don’t take her yet, Lord. I’m just discovering her again.”
Brad lost all thought and responded to Tiffany’s cries on impulse. As he wandered down the stairs and out the door, he took special care not to cause her to be in more pain. He knew there was someone to call; he just could not recall who it was fast enough. Her cries vibrated through his ears, making their way straight to his heart. What could be hurting her at such a level that she could hardly respond to his questions?
Not bothering to look for any oncoming traffic, he paraded down the darkened street toward the hospital. He visited just enough to know it was only mere blocks away. The flash of streetlights overhead, flickering their fluorescent lights sparked flashes of a desert landscape and the thunder of a Black Hawk’s propellers.
Tiffany cried out once more, but in his head he heard the cries of men surrounding him. Frightened by the sounds in his head, he looked to her to reassure himself it wasn’t as bad as his mind was telling him. Instead, he found her limp form hanging in his arms. His mind was playing games, bouncing images back and forth between Tiffany and a wounded man.
Sweat covered his face, blurring his vision as he approached the hospital’s emergency room entrance. “Lord, help her. Help me.” The automatic doors opened and he hurried in. The woman at the registry desk met him at the door and a
sked for her information.
“I don’t know all that. I just know her name, that she is my wife, and she is in such pain that she has passed out. Now help her!”
An attending nurse rushed out with a chair, “Tiffany? Follow me, Brad.”
The woman’s surprise did not deter him from doing as she commanded. He would ask her how she knew him later.
“What happened?” the woman asked.
“She woke yelling in pain.”
“Okay. Did she say where it hurt?”
“No, but she gripped her abdomen.”
“Place her here on the gurney and I’ll get the doctor to examine her soon.” He placed her on the gurney he was instructed. “She will be okay, Brad. Just hold her hand and breathe. Some one will be by in a moment to get her information.”
He couldn’t leave her side once she was laid down. He could feel the nurses watch him; the one who knew them whispered directions. All the while, his focus remained on Tiffany. Her unconscious state made her look as if she was resting peacefully, but he knew better.
“Call her family,” one nurse instructed as a flurry of movement continued around him. No one asked him to leave, not that he would anyway. The longer he watched her, the more he worried. He was just getting to know her. He couldn’t lose her now.
“Mr. Jones?” A faint touch on his arm broke his concentration. “My name is Chelsea. I used to work with your friend, Mike Emerson here in the ER. I have had your family called. A doctor will be here soon to go over it with you.”
Numb, he nodded his understanding. Someone brought him a chair and slid it under him. Without letting go of her hand or looking from her face, thanked the person and sat down.
What would he do without this woman? Yes, he couldn’t remember their life in the past, but he remembered the present. He could remember the lines of her face, the fact that she was expressive with her hands, and that every time she walked into the room he could feel his temperature rise. There was something natural that bound them together, no matter what his recollections were. So why did they keep the barriers up? Why was he keeping this woman, who clearly loved him, at arm’s length? Weren’t the things they shared worth rediscovering?
“Lord, we have wasted so much time. We could have been rebuilding our life instead of the walls. If she makes it through this, I promise to work harder in rediscovering her and us.”
Whispered words filled her ears. Pressure encircled her hand. There was an aching tightness around her stomach, but something was different this time. It was like a large cut and pulling of skin. The pain that rendered her unconscious was replaced with a new sensation.
“Come on, angel. Wake up for me, please,” a familiar voice called to her through the fog. “I didn’t know what to do. I hope…” he choked back his words. “I hope I did the right thing. You could have… just. Wake up, please.”
“How is the patient this morning?” a new voice called.
Tiffany commanded the blackness and fog to clear so she could find out what was going on; and discover why Brad was broken and eager for her to wake. Her body wasn’t listening very well to her commands, but she would not quit.
“Ah, there she is. I will give her a couple minutes then we can all talk.” She peeked through the slit-like openings her eyes made in time to catch a white coat move from the room. Confusion replaced concern.
“Doctor?”
Brad rose from his chair, bent over her in slow-motion, and kissed the top of her head. She wanted to process the feeling of his lips on her and his firm grip on her hand, but her surroundings required her attention.
“Why?” The dryness in her mouth made it difficult to create more words.
“Here, let me get you some water. Then we can talk before he comes back.” Brad busied about the sterile room, one side to the next. “I remember how dry my mouth was when I first woke up. It was like sand.” He returned to her side with the Styrofoam cup, a straw protruding from the top.
She took a sip from the offered cup, a million questions begging to be answered. By watching Brad, she got the impression he was not sure he was ready to tell her. With a deep breath, he submitted to the internal struggle he clearly battled.
“I didn’t know what to do. No, that is a bad way to start. Um….” She never, in their decade together, had known him to struggle for words.
The events from before she passed out began to play in her mind, and she put the pieces together. Stabbing pain, cold sweats, her OB/GYN told her she needed a surgery weeks back, the feeling of floating down the stairs at home, Brad’s panicked gaze - it all equaled her reason for being on the OB floor.
“Brad,” she called to him, reaching her hand to him. She knew what happened, she just needed to hear it. Then she would deal with the devastation. “What happened after you brought me here?”
“I took you to the ER and a friend of yours, Chelsea, talked me through everything you, we, have been dealing with. She and the doctor told me what they found in some alphabet-like tests that I can’t remember.” Sorrow flashed in his eyes. “They said you would die, soon if they didn’t do the surgery. They said you were, oh what’s the word, hemorrhaging and other things were happening too, but I can’t recall the terms.” A tear escaped his eye and she followed its descent to his mouth and he acknowledged her fear. “They had to do a hysterectomy.”
So, that was it. Any hope she held onto for the future was gone. There was nothing left to hold on to. It was over and there was little she could offer him now. She was just a shell of a woman and that is all she would ever be.
Brad’s calloused hand caressed her face, his thumb brushing away the tears that slid down her face. “I’m sorry.” She could only nod her understanding. It was not his fault. Her body rebelled and when the war was over, she lost.
She turned her head into his hand, absorbing the feel and comfort it offered. It wasn’t enough. “Brad?” The pools in his eyes matched her heart, shattered and spilling over. He knew their struggle, even if the pain of it was foreign to him.
Letting go of his hand, she shifted to one side of the narrow hospital bed. The need for more than his hand on her face was too great. Questions lingered in his eyes, until she patted the empty space she created. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t care about everything else going on. I just need my husband to hold me for a bit.”
Slow and steady, his hulking frame climbed in next to her. One arm slid under her shoulders, the other steadying him as to not bump her. Once settled, the dam broke and she buried her face in his chest. All the bitterness, anxiety, frustration, pain, and uncertainty poured from her as his strong arms held tight to her shoulders.
“How do I remember this pain?” Brad whispered in her ear. “Is this empathy or an emotional recollection?”
“I don’t know, but I am glad you are here to share it with me. I could not do this without you here.” She tipped her head back to meet his eyes, “I am sorry you had to make that call and sign the release. I’m sorry we haven’t talked about it since you came home. I knew it was coming, so don’t hold the burden on your shoulders. Just keep holding me.”
He tucked her back to him, “I can do that.”
She heard the door to her room open sometime later. Neither of them looked to see who it was. She didn’t care at this point. It was just the two of them in this moment of pain and loss. For the first time in months, she had her Brad and letting him go was not an option.
CHAPTER 17
BIRDS SANG OVERHEAD as trees swayed in the warm summer breeze. The river rushed at a dangerous pace after three days of heavy rain. It was as if the heavens knew just how much pain Tiffany was in and cried with her. Brad struggled to know how to help her the way she had for him but nothing he could do seemed to help. Her sorrow permeated the air. All he could to do was make her sandwiches and sit beside her. Many times he wanted to take her in his arms like the night he returned from his in-laws. Each time, something about her made him pause. Now was not the tim
e. It amazed him how emotional he was about the situation as well. Physical pain was one thing, he could handle that. This emotional pain was new, and stronger and confusing.
Brad roamed through the house with a tray filled with eggs, toast, fruit, and a carafe of coffee and two mugs in his hands. He scolded himself for not looking in on her before he made the eggs, but there were only two places she could be. Since he heard her open and close the door to the west wing porch, he knew right where to find her. He found her wrapped in a light blanket, her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head with her legs resting on the coffee table in front of her. Brad didn’t want to disturb her, but she needed to eat.
Brad placed the tray on the table, making sure not to bump her. “I thought you might want something light to eat. And I know how you love your coffee.”
Crystal pools regarded him, tears making waves. “I’m not hungry, but the fact that you made all this on your own is touching.”
Wanting to see a small smile on her beautiful face, he took the plate with less on it, bent low in a bow, and offered it to her. “Good, then you will eat as a thank you for all the hard work.” He followed it with a raised brow and an upturned grin. Her reply was exactly what he was looking for.
They ate in silence as cars drove by. A couple of neighbors walked by, waving as they passed. Only Brad waved in response. “Do you remember them?“ Tiffany asked. He searched his memory for their faces, but came up empty.
“Sorry I don’t.“
“It’s okay, I don’t either.” She offered him a weak smile. “Thank you for breakfast. You didn’t have to do that. Toast and coffee would’ve been just fine.“ The sadness in her voice tore at something inside him just a little more.
“I’m sure it would’ve been just enough, but you haven’t been well in a couple of days and I am only returning the favor.” He made sure to give her the most playful smile he could come up with.
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