Inked by an Angel

by Allen, Shauna

  She looked right back. It was now or never. Nobody in her family would understand. Perhaps Michael wouldn’t either. But he was her best shot. She gripped his hand with all her might. “Michael,” she spoke with all the conviction she could muster. “Please try to understand. I need to get to Jed. Now. Will you help me?”

  He shifted and cradled her face between his huge hands. Then he pierced her with a gaze so intense, it was as if he was searching her soul, and she was unable to form a coherent thought for a split-second. When he released her, miraculously her headache was gone, her nausea had disappeared. Her body felt, well, rejuvenated. It must’ve been because she saw the answer in his eyes before he said it.

  “Yes. I’ll help you, Miz O’Neill. But we gotta hurry before your family comes back.”

  He gathered her clothes from the small closet in the corner of the room and found her a hospital issue comb, toothbrush, and toothpaste so she could try to look presentable. He helped her disconnect the IV tubing and she yanked the catheter from her arm and held a paper towel to the site to staunch the small flow of blood while Michael dug up a Band-aid from a drawer.

  She excused herself to the bathroom to change and use the toiletries he’d found. She studied herself in the mirror. Holy Toledo, she looked horrible! Oh, well. She quickly shucked the hospital gown and put on the clothes Michael had found. They were the ones she’d been wearing the day of the accident. She was lucky they hadn’t cut them off of her! But dirt and blood caked her shorts and a there was a small tear at the bottom of her T-shirt. She dampened a washcloth and tried to wipe off what she could before leaning over and washing her face and brushing her teeth.

  She ran the comb through her ratty hair and made a semblance of a ponytail with the rubber band she found in the pocket of her shorts and then slipped on her flip-flops. It was the best she could do for now, but she would kill for a shower. That would just have to wait until she laid eyes on Jed. Priorities.

  She took a breath and stepped out to find Michael waiting for her with a grin on his face. “What’re you smiling about?”

  “Nothing. Life is good, that’s all.”

  “Whatever.” She searched fruitlessly for her purse. “Let’s go.”

  He ducked his head out the door, making sure it was all clear, then led her out. She felt like an escaped convict as they made a break for it, but the fresh air felt heavenly on her cheeks and the sunshine was a welcome reprieve from the confines of the hospital room.

  Michael led her to a bright blue Volkswagen Beetle and opened the door for her.

  She looked up at him in surprise. “You drive this?”

  He stammered a bit. “Yeah. When my Harley’s in the shop. What’s wrong with it?”

  She smiled. “Nothing. Not a thing.” She slid inside with a laugh.

  He walked around and got in the driver’s side. He turned over the engine and the radio started jamming Barry Mannilow’s “Copacabana” loud enough to burst Kyle’s eardrums. He couldn’t turn it off fast enough, his face flaming red. This gave her the biggest fit of the giggles she’d had in a long time. Big, bad Michael ‘The Angel’ Smith, sought after Tattoo artist and generally cool dude, wasn’t that big and bad after all. He was a Fannilow!

  He didn’t say a word as he threw the car in reverse and started driving.

  After several miles, and a few giggles, her stomach gave a noisy grumble. Michael glanced over. “Hungry?”

  “Starved,” she admitted. “I guess I haven’t eaten since, well, I’m not sure.”

  He signaled and turned into a fast food restaurant. “I’ll get you something to eat. What do you think you can handle?”

  “A moose.”

  He smiled. “How about a salad or a small burger? Maybe a milkshake? Something not too big on your stomach to start with?”

  He drove up and placed an order. Kyle idly wondered what her family would think when they found her missing from her hospital room. Hopefully they wouldn’t blame Michael, though her mother probably would.

  “Here you go.” He handed her a bag of divine-smelling food and a small milkshake.

  “Thank you, Michael. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do.” He started driving again while she rifled through the bag and pulled out their food.

  She unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. “Oh, my goodness. I think this may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  “So, Miz O’Neill,” he asked between swallows. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’ll you do if we get all the way there and we still can’t find out anything about Jed? What then?”

  She nibbled the end of her straw. “I have no idea, Michael. I can’t believe that’ll be the case.”

  He glanced over at her. “Why is it so important to you? I didn’t think you even liked each other. Has something changed between the two of you?” His knuckles turned white where he gripped the steering wheel as he waited for her answer.

  She dropped her half eaten sandwich back in the bag and turned to look out the window. “Yeah, something’s changed, Michael. I’m just not sure what.”

  Two and a half hours later, thanks to rush hour traffic and a minor fender bender sitting on the side of the road causing some rubber-necking, Kyle and Michael finally made it to Brackenridge Hospital.

  Michael led her in and Kyle felt herself suddenly losing her nerve. What if Jed didn’t want to see her? Worse yet, what if he was barely clinging to life? What if . . .?

  She gnawed the inside of her cheek and turned to Michael. “I’m not so sure about this anymore. Maybe it’s not such a good idea. We’re probably invading his privacy.”

  He shook his head, refusing to let her pull away. “No way. We came this far, we’re going to at least see what we can find out.” He dragged her toward the volunteers’ desk.

  A white-haired lady smiled up at them, deepening the lines of her face. “May I help you?”

  Michael leaned on the counter with a charming grin. “Yes, please. We’re looking for a friend who was in a bad car accident. His name is Jedediah Gentry.”

  The woman turned to a computer screen and clicked some keys on the keyboard. “Yes. There he is.” She glanced up at them. “Are you family?”

  Kyle felt her hope sink. They were never going to get to him.

  Michael shifted his weight. “Well, no, ma’am, we’re not. But this here is his lady.” He hiked his thumb in Kyle’s direction.

  Her mouth dropped open to protest, but the old woman smiled and nodded, looking back down at her computer screen. “Well, your young man is in Room 306. I hope he gets to feeling better very soon. Y’all have a good evening now.”

  Michael grabbed her hand and led her toward the bank of elevators. He hit the ‘up’ button, whistling like he was very pleased with himself.

  “You lied to the woman,” she hissed at him when the doors slid open and they stepped inside.

  He looked like she’d wounded him. “But, I thought . . .”

  “Never mind.” She pressed the button for the third floor. “At least you got the room number.”

  The elevator doors parted when they reached the third floor and the first thing Kyle saw was the glass partition of a small waiting area. Behind the glass, Jed’s mother sat alone dabbing her face with a tissue. Should she go to her? Would Mrs. Gentry welcome her comfort? She glanced up at Michael. With a silent tip of his chin, he indicated for her to go in the room while he stayed back to give them privacy.

  This was her chance to find what she’d come here for. She braced herself and stepped across the threshold of the elevator onto the softly carpeted hallway. She made her way toward Jed’s mother. The woman she’d met at the country club was gone, th
e polish and upper-class perfection totally chipped away. All that was left was just another worried mother with a pale, drawn face and flat hair.

  Paula Gentry looked up when Kyle approached. She stood and pressed down the legs of her wrinkled jogging suit. She eyed Kyle up and down. “You were with him?” she finally asked, her voice wobbly with tears.

  Kyle nodded.

  “Are you hurt badly?” Tears streaked down the older woman’s face as she gently touched one of the bruises on Kyle’s arms.

  “I had a concussion. Got tossed around a bit. I’ll be fine.”

  On a gasp, Mrs. Gentry threw her arms around her and squeezed. Kyle felt his mother’s hot tears soaking through her T-shirt as she hugged her back.

  Eventually, Mrs. Gentry let her go, but took her hand and led her to sit next to her on a small sofa. She searched her eyes, concern evident. “Are you sure you’re all right, Kyle?”

  “Yes. But nobody can tell me what happened to Jed. Please, how is he?” she implored.

  “Oh, dear. How frightening for you.” She squeezed her hand. “He was pinned in the car for over an hour after they got you out.” Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “He had a major concussion. His left leg was severely shattered. He needed several hours of surgery and a blood transfusion. But he hasn’t been awake the few times they’ve let me in to see him so I don't know what he remembers.” She took a deep breath to stall the tears that were threatening. “But it was a miracle, really. I was told, with the accident the way it happened, that neither of you should have survived. Someone was watching out for the two of you.”

  “Oh, my God,” Kyle whispered. She had no idea. Not really.

  His mother reached for extra tissues and handed Kyle one. She hadn’t realized that she’d started crying.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Kyle,” Mrs. Gentry said around her tears and a watery smile.

  Kyle didn’t know what to say to that. She simply nodded.

  “He’s been my rock since my husband passed away, you know,” his mother continued. “I was an absolute wreck.” She looked at Kyle with true remorse in her eyes. “I cursed God for taking him away. I couldn’t understand. I just didn’t know how to be alone in the world. I’m sorry for that now.” She bowed her head and took a breath. “But I think my son blamed his father.”

  “Why?” How could Jed blame the man for dying?

  Mrs. Gentry shrugged sadly. “My husband was a precious man, but he had no sense of urgency about things. So when the doctors told him about his heart condition, he didn’t take it seriously.” She dabbed her eyes. “I think my poor child can’t get over the fact that his death broke my heart.”

  “Oh. I’m sure he would’ve done it differently had he known.”

  Mrs. Gentry smiled softly. “Who knows? I’m sure he’s happy wherever he is now. And I’ve found some peace with it now. I just wish my son could.” She stretched her neck and squeezed Kyle’s hand. “We could never have any more children, you know. I got uterine cancer when Jedediah was about four years old and had to have a hysterectomy.” She gave a nostalgic little laugh. “He was enough of a handful. I didn’t really worry about having more. And we never really talked about adoption. My two men were enough for me. Now my one man is enough.” She took a watery breath. “I just need him to be okay.”

  “I’m sorry.” Kyle offered the only platitude she had.

  “You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all of this.” She shrugged. “I’m just emotional I guess.” She dipped her head and wiped the fresh tears that were spilling over. “He’s my baby, Kyle.”

  She patted Jed’s mom’s hand, offering what little comfort she could. “I know.” She wondered how to get her mind on happier things. She gave a small, rueful smile. “Did you know Jed pierced my ears, Mrs. Gentry?”

  His mother looked up. “No. Let me see.”

  Kyle turned her head from side-to-side to show off the blue stones.

  “Pretty.” His mom gave a sly smile. “Did you know Jedediah gave me a tattoo?”

  Kyle’s mouth fell to the floor. “You’re lying.”

  “Nope.” She stood and rolled down the top edge of her jogging pants. There, on her hip, was a tiny red heart with the initials JJ in fancy curly script.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Kyle said with a laugh. “You are, hands down, the coolest mother I’ve ever met.”

  Mrs. Gentry sat back down. “I don’t know about that. But I had the coolest husband and I have the most wonderful son around.” Her smile turned serious. “And I don’t know how I’ll survive if I lose him, too.”

  “Well, Mrs. Gentry, I’m sure—”

  Her thought was interrupted by the intercom as the mechanical voice overhead announced a Code Blue in Room 306.

  Chapter 19

  Jed fought to open his eyes. He felt like he’d had too much to drink. Way too much. His throat felt like a big cotton ball, his eye was swollen and pulsing with each heartbeat, and he could tell he needed a shave because he itched like the devil. And damn it, if he wasn’t in some major ass pain!

  Finally, he was able to crack open his non-swollen eye and get a look around. Tubes and wires connected him to monitors beside his bed and a small table held a white water pitcher next to him. He tried to sit up, but a weight tugged his left leg down, trapping him. He pulled back the sheet.

  “Son of a bitch!” He reached down and tapped the cast that enclosed his leg from foot to groin. “What the hell?”

  He heard a faint alarm ringing in the background and people bustling outside his door, but he paid it no mind as his newest discovery under the sheet had him baffled. Then disturbed. By the time the group of harried looking people in scrubs came bursting into his room, he was downright pissed off.

  They stopped short with the big rolling cart and stared at him, their mouths agape. “Uh,” one of them stammered.

  “Did they call the wrong room?” someone asked as they darted out the door.

  “He’s looks pretty responsive to me,” another smartass said.

  “Damn right, I’m responsive.” Jed kicked at the sheet with his good foot so they could get a good look at his dilemma. “So will somebody please tell me why I’m wearing a dress?” He raised an eyebrow and lifted a piece of the offending fabric. “And why in the hell I have a fucking tube stuck in my dick!” His voice rose with each word.

  Nobody said a word.

  Overhead, clear as day, the detached voice announced, “Code Blue, Room 306, all clear. Code Blue, Room 306 is now all clear.”

  One of the women in the group stepped forward while everyone else cleared out with the big, clunky cart. She pulled the sheet back up to cover him. “Mr. Gentry, that’s a foley catheter. It’s draining your bladder since you’ve been mostly unconscious since your accident.”

  “Accident?”

  “Don’t you remember?” She studied him with kind, green eyes before she moved to examine his monitors and machines.

  He thought about it. His head hurt. An accident? What kind of . . . wait a minute. It was coming back. “A car accident?”

  She smiled and adjusted something on his IV. “That’s right. A pretty bad one from what I’ve heard. You were lucky to survive with just that broken leg and a concussion.”

  He gripped her hand urgently as the memory flooded back. “And my . . . friend? What happened to her?”

  The nurse furrowed her brows. “Friend? I hadn’t heard of anyone else being brought in from your accident. What’s her name?” She moved to her computer screen.

  His stomach churned nervously. “Kyle O’Neill.”

  She clicked a few keys. A few more. A confused expression crossed her face. She turned back to him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gentry. There’s nobody by that name here in the hospital. Maybe she . . .”

  He
closed his eyes as his heart sank.

  “Maybe she was taken to another hospital?” she offered.

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  But maybe not.

  Jed agonized through the longest hour of his life after the nurse left the room. The pain coursing through his body was overrun by the sheer terror of not knowing what had happened to Kyle. He’d begged his nurse to help him dial the stupid hospital phone as he plugged in his mother’s number, but her cell rolled over to voicemail.

  The door opened and he looked over expectantly. But it was only his nurse again. She’d forgotten something and she scribbled some notes down on a pad and double-checked his IV fluids. She offered him a half-hearted smile that really said I’m busy and overworked and hustled back out the door with a promise to return with some Jell-O and broth. Yummy.

  He closed his eyes and wiggled his toes at the end of his cast. It felt weird to be so heavily weighed down. He tried to remember the accident. All he could recall was the huge red truck barreling for them, slamming on the brakes to try and avoid the impact, the spinning, and maybe the first roll of the car. After that, nothing.

  Man, just the thought of his car brought on a whole new kind of ache. Poor, poor, baby. She was irreplaceable.

  But so was Kyle.

  The door opened again, but he didn’t open his eyes this time. Probably the Jell-O run. Mmm Mmm, good.

  A small, warm hand clasped his. “Jedediah?”

  He opened his eyes. “Mom.”

  She leaned down and brushed her lips to his forehead. He could tell she’d been crying. “I’m glad you’re awake. You’ve been out every other time they’ve let me in. I’ve been so worried.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re looking much better.”

  “Well I feel like my car chewed me up and spit me out.” He rubbed his free hand across his stubbly face. “Which I hear is pretty much what happened.”

  “Yes, sweetheart. You and Kyle were both very, very lucky.”