by Sierra Rose
He unclenched his fists by force of will. He wanted to run, to grab Bella and take her away from the antiseptic stink of this terrible place where people were in pain and people were dying. She didn’t belong here, hooked up to machines and surrounded by strangers in this dimly-lit, icy cold holding pen for the sick and injured. He thought he could smell blood and the indefinite but recognizable stink of sickness and decay. He counted the curtains until he came to the ninth one and he slid the curtain aside, the rattle of the hooks as they slid along the rail in the ceiling seeming deafeningly loud in the hush.
There she was, impossibly small on a narrow, high gurney, the rails up on either side of her to stop her from falling. Her left cheek was swollen, and there was blood crusted up by her left eye where no one had bothered to clean her up. They were attending to injuries and assessing the damage, he knew, not trying to make her look pretty. The line of her jaw, her cheekbones were obscured, puffy and slightly discolored. And her mouth, her beautiful mouth, was open and pulled down in one corner by the tubing, the tape used to fasten the ventilator to her face. The sight of all that tape stuck to her skin made him wince. That tube went all the way down her throat, he knew. And it meant she wasn’t breathing on her own. She was covered with a sheet and her clothes were gone. EMS probably had to cut them off of her. He shuddered at the thought of strangers’ hands scissoring through her pants, her shirt, peeling back her clothes to get to her wounds. A technician came in to check the machines, and he turned to her.
“Could I talk to the doctor?” he said, and his voice was raspy as if he’d been screaming.
The woman nodded and soon another woman, older and larger than the tech, came into the cubicle. “Are you family?”
“Yes,” a woman said. “He’s her fiancé.”
Harvey looked at her and recognized her from pictures. It was Bella’s sister.
The doctor handed Bella’s sister a pen. “I need you to sign a release.”
“What for?”
“Surgery. She’s got broken ribs and pelvis. We’ll find out from the CT what her lungs and spleen look like. Doctor’s pretty sure the spleen’s ruptured and needs to come out. I’ll bring you the paperwork.”
“Do—whatever you have to do. Just don’t let her die,” she said.
“That’s the plan,” she said with what may have been a smirk and left them alone with Bella and the whoosh of the ventilator and the beep of the machines. He stared at the ventilator mechanism, mesmerized. Like a giant bellows pushing air into her body and then drawing it back out. Animating her body while her soul was who knows where. He had always known Bella as vibrant, strong, opinionated and sexy. Now she seemed broken and fragile somehow on that narrow slab of a gurney with tape all over her, her pretty features distorted by the trauma.
“I’m Madison,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Harvey.”
“I know who you are. I’ve seen you in pictures, but it’s finally nice to put a face to the man my sister is in love with.”
“I’ve seen pictures of you on social media as well. Your sister has told me a lot about you.”
“I’m glad you’re here. It shows how much you really care.”
“I love her,” he said “More than anything.”
“And she loves you. And you guys have a beautiful family. So I don’t know why you fight over visitation and stuff.”
“That’s all over. I’m going to make Bella my wife, and we’re going to be a family.”
“That’s all Bella ever wanted,” she wept looking down at her sister, holding her hand.
“We’re going to be happy. I swear to you, I’m going to make her happy, no matter what it takes.”
“Don’t you see? It doesn’t take Bella a lot to make her happy. She just wants someone to hold her and watch movies on a Friday night with the kids.”
Tears welled up in his eyes. “She’s my world, Madison.”
“That’s wonderful to hear.” She swallowed hard and then looked at him. “Can I have a few minutes with her alone?”
“Sure.”
Harvey left and gave Madison the time she needed. When she was done, she touched his shoulder. You can go in. I’m going to go get some coffee.”
When she started to cry, Harvey hugged her and encouraged her to be strong. He let Madison sob into his chest and held her as a tear fell down his cheek.
When Madison left, he went to room where Bella was.
Harvey pulled the rolling stool over beside the gurney and sat on it, took her hand in both of his. He had to be careful not to disturb her IV. He wondered if she was sedated, if they were pumping pain medicine into her veins or just fluids. He felt powerless, confused by all the machinery and tubes and the overwhelming dread he felt.
“I love you, Bella,” he said as a tear rolled down his cheek. “And I’ve been thinking. We’re not toxic. It’s me, baby. It’s all me. I was this playboy billionaire raised by a cold-hearted woman who taught me to be successful and do whatever I wanted. So I did. And when I met the perfect woman for me, I got scared and let you go. And that was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I should’ve asked you to marry me. Because I knew you were the perfect woman for me. I’d never been so hopelessly in love with any other woman. You captured my attention like nobody else. You were so funny, so charming, so sweet, so humble, so down to earth. And when I saw you again after all those years, I was still crazy in love with you. But I’m not a man to settle down. I’ve never settled down, and it scared me to death. But now…I’m seeing everything in a different light. Losing you is not an option. I want to marry you, and I want us to raise our beautiful family together. I’m never letting you go, not ever. You’re my world, and I love you so much. So, just keep fighting, baby.”
He held her hand carefully, delicately even. He pressed a kiss to her knuckle, afraid to hurt her, afraid to disturb any of the wires and tubes that were keeping her alive. If it was a rib and pelvis thing, broken bones, why the ventilator? He needed to talk to the doctor, needed to get his head together enough to ask questions. He choked back a sob, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and stood to leave.
The nurse headed him off. “One of the police officers would like to speak with you. You can meet him in the waiting room. This one’s due down at radiology.” He nodded and went to meet the cop.
“Mr. James?”
“Carlson. Harvey Carlson,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “Were you on the scene when they found her?”
“Yes. I’m Officer Lane. It looked like a drunk driver hit her. He drifted into the oncoming lane. It’s a good thing she was driving here in town and not on the interstate. At high speeds, Corvettes flip and you’re dead, you know,” the man said.
Harvey nodded, cursing himself for buying that stupid car for her. He should’ve gotten her something safe—a Volvo. When she got out of here, he was going to make her drive the safest, biggest van in the world, he promised himself.
“She’s a lucky girl, surviving this crash as it is. She made it out alive and she’ll be in my prayers.”
“Thank you.”
The officer then went into details about the accident. Harvey was upset with driver who had hit Bella’s car and went into a fury. He learned it was sixteen-year-old girl who had gotten drunk during the day with her friends in some basement. She was driving home. The girl hadn’t been hurt, but was deeply sorry.
“I’m so sorry,” the policeman said.
“Thanks. Good day, officer.”
He went back and waited for her to be wheeled in from radiology so he could talk to her surgeon.
So many thoughts rushed through his mind. He realized what was important in life. And he didn’t want to live without Bella, he couldn’t bare it. She made his dead, black heart beat again.
Harvey sat in her empty cubicle, the IV pole standing there without its bag and tubing, those machines still and silent. He cracked his knuckles, a habit he’d given up at age twelve. He used t
o do that when he and Ryan went away to boarding school. The elite day school they’d attended only went through sixth grade, so their parents bundled them off at age twelve to New England with new blazers sporting the school crest. Harvey had been miserable and homesick. Ryan had immediately made friends and started smoking.
Ryan, it seemed, had a genius for the clandestine, making a substantial amount of pocket money from a homework sharing program that employed the smart and awkward to write papers in exchange for bullying amnesty. The lazy kids then paid for the essays and Ryan took a cut. He offered to let Harvey write for them, jokingly, knowing his brother was far brainier than he was sneaky. Harvey had been disgusted by the underhanded operation. He did his own work, spent a lot of time by himself those first few months, and bit his nails down.
It took a lot for him to go out for the cross-country team, to get his head in the game and focus. To give up feeling sorry for himself. It had helped him a great deal. He’d made friends on the team and gotten into shape, so he was no longer scrawny. It had helped him learn to rely on himself. Now that was all he had, self-reliance and fear. So he got on the phone and Greta who he wanted consulting on Bella’s case. Within minutes, he had a callback. The friend from Johns Hopkins had put his head general surgeon in contact with the trauma team at St. Cecelia’s and her scans were being emailed as they spoke.
Fifteen minutes after that, Bella was back in the room, and both teams told him her spleen had to come out, and that she’d broken six ribs. Internal bleeding was minimal, thankfully. There would be a lengthy surgery, and she would not be conscious until she was in recovery. He wouldn’t have the chance to say he loved her, to tell her he’d take care of the kids.
Harvey asked the nurse if Bella could be brought out of sedation long enough to speak with him, or to call their children and hear their voices. They shook their heads. It wasn’t in her best interest. The pain she’d suffer would be immense, and she would be unable to speak sensibly with anyone. It was better to keep her comfortable and get her into surgery as soon as possible. He agreed, signed the consent. The nurse gave Harvey her personal effects in an ugly green plastic bag. Inside he found her phone. He touched the screen and it blazed to life with a photo of their twins clowning around in the grass from a few days ago. She’d messaged him that picture, he recalled.
Tapping in the kids’ birthdate, he unlocked the phone, his password guess correct. There on the screen was an incomplete text message. To him. “Harvey, I’m coming to make this right. I’ve always loved you, and I’m not letting you go, not ever.” If she’d just waited, or if he hadn’t been so damned stubborn and just told her how he felt—that he was mad but he still wanted to be with her. Then she’d be fine, unhurt, healthy.
He heaved a sigh and went to the nurse’s station to ask where the waiting area was for surgery. When she looked up at him briskly, the words that tumbled out were, “Is she going to die?” His voice was not his own, but something lost and ragged.
“Depends on what happens in OR, young man. She has extensive injuries, but they’re not necessarily fatal. If she makes it through surgery, it’ll be months of physical therapy for her to recover, but she could recover.”
“Thank you,” he said, feeling lighter, buoyant even.
“That’s not a guarantee she’ll pull through, mind you,” the nurse cautioned.
She told him how to reach the family waiting area and assured him that her patient number would be on the monitor to let him know if she was in surgery or post-op recovery. He nodded and forgot to thank her and got lost twice by taking a left turn instead of a right. He had traveled all over Europe and Asia, took great pride in how he never got lost, and today he couldn’t find a room with some chairs and closed-circuit TV.
On his third attempt, he located it. Then he called Maria and told her the news. Maria wept loudly, professed that she would stay with the twins no matter what and that she’d pray the rosary for Bella until she heard from him. He asked how the kids were and she told him that they had succumbed to Redbox rentals and a bucket of chicken—rare treats she was using to distract them.
“After all the jumping at the trampoline park, they will go to sleep early, thank the Lord. By tomorrow, tell me this will all be over with and a bad memory, Mr. Harvey.”
“I hope so, but I can’t promise anything. Do you think I should come over and talk to them, tell them about the accident and what’s going on?”
“Yes. That would be wonderful. They might not know your there father, but they need you so much.”
“I hope she comes through this—” he broke off.
“So do I,” she said and hung up.
It occurred to Harvey that in the hours since this happened, the only person he’d felt compelled to phone was the nanny. Not his mother, or his friends, or even a coworker. He’d called Greta, but that was to get something he wanted, the medical consult. It looked like Greta had called him a few times since then. So he called her back and gave her the lowdown, albeit in far less detail than he’d given Maria, whom he already considered family. Was it because of the secrecy and the unresolved situation about the twins that he hadn’t confided in anyone? Or was it that he didn’t have any real family at this point besides Bella and the kids? He felt strangely alone, and more afraid than he’d ever been in his life. Disgusted with himself, he called Ryan.
“What?” Ryan mumbled into the phone.
“It’s five in the afternoon, why are you asleep?”
“I was out till after nine this morning. I have to sleep sometime. Why did you call me?”
“Bella James was in a car accident. It’s bad.”
“Is that the maid you knocked up?”
“Ryan, pay attention. Bella James is a VP at JC and the mother of my children.”
“So, is she your girlfriend? Because you sure scored a nice piece of ass. Or wait? Does this mean she’s out of the way, and you get the kids now? Because Mom has a boarding school all picked out in Connecticut.”
“We are not sending five-year-olds to damned Connecticut, Ryan. I don’t want Bella out of the way, either. It’s contemptible of you to suggest that, although I’m not sure what I expected. Brotherly support and compassion, maybe. I’ve bailed your ass out of trouble often enough I thought I could count on a little civility.”
“Harvey, you’re such a fucking drama queen, I swear. I’m going to bed. Don’t call me unless she dies. And if she dies, don’t call me until you know the funeral arrangements. I’m sure Mom will insist we attend to keep up appearances for the Carlson heirs,” Ryan said, heaving a burdened sigh.
“Go to hell, Ryan. I’m deleting your number. The next time you’re in a Serbian holding cell and get one phone call, I suggest you try Mom because I won’t answer.”
Harvey shut off his phone in disgust. That his own brother would say something so vile as ‘call me if she dies.’ And the fact that she might. It was too much for Harvey. He looked at the screen, saw she was still in OR and the expectation was at least three hours more of surgery. He stormed out of the hospital and found the nearest bar.
Harvey started with Scotch, but it made him maudlin. He regretted all the time he and Bella had spent apart, all the milestones he’d missed with the twins. He switched to tequila and two shots in he was ready to beat Ryan’s smug face until he begged for mercy. Anger surged through his veins like life itself. He was powerless to save Bella. He was facing life without her.
So he raised his shot glass and drank it down, even knowing all along in some shadowed place in the back of his mind, that she’d hate what he was doing. If he were on an operating table, Bella would be sitting vigil on the edge of a plastic waiting room chair, her pretty face white with worry. She wouldn’t go get sloppy drunk in some dive a block from the trauma center. Because she was an adult and a parent, not some sad sack ex-boyfriend drinking away his sorrows.
He pushed the empty glass away, laid down cash for his tab and went down the street and ordered coffee. The
least he could do, he thought sadly, was be coherent when the news came about whether she’d survived. He didn’t want to lose her, and he didn’t want to dishonor her memory—if it came to that—by acting like the spoiled rich boy she’d run from all those years ago.
Harvey would be better, starting now, whether he had Bella by his side or only her children to live for. They deserved the best of him, and he was going to live up to that. He drank the bitter coffee with lots of sugar, forced down some kind of disgustingly sweet muffin, so he had food in his stomach with all that alcohol, and went back to the hospital, sick worry riding in his gut.
He resumed his seat in the nearly empty waiting room and saw that there was less than an hour left on Bella’s surgery. So she was still back there. So she was still alive. He messaged Maria that the display showed she was stable and still in the OR. Then he gripped the armrests of his chair and stared straight ahead, his brain clear and cold, painfully aware of what was at stake.
If she survived, he’d win her back.
He’d do anything she wanted.
Just as long as they could be together.
Be a family.
Chapter 17
There were no windows in the room. It was dark except for the greenish gleam of the monitors hooked to Bella. To say she was resting would be wrong. She made whimpering sounds from time to time, her blood pressure spiked from pain, and she’d moved her legs, and then whimper again. It gutted him to think of what she was suffering. But she had survived. Because ahead of her there was life, and being with her children and maybe being with him as well. She was going to live. And nothing was more beautiful than that.
He had called Maria who wept and praised God and said she would take care of the twins. Bella’s sister also helped. Harvey told Maria if she needed anything including a backup babysitter, to call Greta and she’d take care of it. He messaged Greta to give Maria anything she wanted, and to send a twenty-five thousand dollar bonus to her checking account before the end of business tomorrow. He also told her to have Chad, one of the executive VP’s, cover any emergencies and to cancel all his meetings for the next week at least.