Page 52 of Ripple Effect
I don’t give a thought for Iris’s retching in the back. She could stink up the vehicle with the noxious fumes, and all it’s going to do is cause me to drive faster. All I hope is that they have their life insurance paid up as I take hairpin turns at a speed that should topple all of us off the side of the cliff yawning below us.
I don’t care that when I pull up to the base, I pull up with an envoy of official cars trailing us—likely salivating to ticket me—instead of the ones who were determined to capture us. All I care about is managing to shave fifty-seven minutes off our drive so I can call my wife’s family.
All of whom proceed to rightfully blister my ears but refuse to let me talk to the woman I love before I board the transport to take me home.
Her father’s words ring through my brain over and over. “You should’ve returned my calls, Cal. Maybe then Libby wouldn’t feel like she’s going through this alone,” he snapped out, right before he slammed the phone down in my ear.
Going through what?
The thought haunts me on our flight back to Charleston where I don’t bother to debrief my team or Yarborough. Instead, I head straight to the hospital after changing into a rumpled business suit. I fiddle with my wedding ring, the weight of which I’m still not used to since I haven’t had it on in the last few weeks. I pray with all my might I’ll find my Libby safe and sound.
35
Elizabeth
Year One – Ten Years Ago from Present Day
Iwant to be left alone so I can drown in my pain, but in a hospital, that’s next to impossible.
Cal’s still not here. I do know he finally called; then again, half the hospital might know that—Dad was shouting so hard.
I’m ready to leave the smells of sanitization, the constant people wandering in and out of my room, and the lack of privacy. Josh has already been by Deja Vu with his spare set of keys and grabbed my laptop. At least my employees will be paid next week.
It’s after one in the morning. The cheerful nursing staff turned off the lights in the majority of the room, but there’s one lit so they can come in to check my vitals. Every time they do, I want to lash out and ask them, “Why bother? What does it matter if you find out if I’m breathing when I don’t feel like I’m alive?”
My heart’s somewhere on a business trip and too busy to come home.
My wedding rings are on my rolling tray table, taunting me. Where is he? Not by my side, that’s for damn sure. It’s been forty-eight of the worst hours of my life since I opened my eyes in the ICU. I’ve awoken to a severe concussion, the knowledge of being hit head-on by a drunk driver, and the not-so-gentle reminder my husband considers his job more important than his marriage. My mother or father has been constantly by my side when they’re not running errands for me to move back to the estate because I’m not able to stay alone when I leave the hospital, because there’s no one at home to take care of me. Like a husband. I still don’t know where Cal is. Then again, I’ve also stopped asking.
In sickness and in health…what part of this doesn’t qualify? The door behind me opens and closes quietly. Dully, I ask, “Blood work or blood pressure?”
“Neither. I didn’t know if you were awake. I just got here and needed to get to you as fast as I could. I didn’t even change.” Cal’s voice wafts over me from the door.
I hate there’s a part of my heart that leaps in joy because I’m about to shatter it. “Why bother now? You should have gone home to get some sleep; you must be exhausted.” I keep my back turned.
“Libby.” My name is wrenched from him.
I close my eyes as his footsteps approach the bed, but his presence still overwhelms me. He smells of airplanes and everything I’ve been craving since my eyes opened. I don’t trust myself not to cry in relief and anger, and right now that’s the last thing my head needs.
I wish I still had the IV pain pump so I could just click it and Cal would disappear—just like all the other pain I’ve endured. But I’ve been awake for almost two days; I know my schedule by heart since I’ve spent more time awake praying each time the door opened, the man who’s hovering behind me would come through it. Now that he’s here, I feel like I’m trapped into talking to him.
Why would tonight be the night I sent Mom home to get some rest? Oh, yeah, that’s right, because I love her. I debate pressing the nurse’s button; I know they’d come in. I just want someone to run interference when I tell my husband to go away—just for a little while.
Pain is supposed to hurt like this, not love.
“I didn’t get the messages; I swear it, Libby.”
“Go home, Cal. Come back tomorrow when we’ve both got some rest.” Inwardly, I acknowledge the fact I won’t sleep at all, but at least the next round of pain meds will take off the edge of hell happening right now.
“You have every right to be furious with me, but I need to see your eyes. Just let me know you’re okay.” Cal’s voice is pleading with me to turn around and face him, to forgive him. But this isn’t something as simple as coming home and screwing up a birthday surprise.
I could have died.
And the cruel realization I come in second to the man who’s supposed to place me first is worse than the accident.
It might be I want to inflict some pain of my own, but bitterness gives me the fortitude to move my hand away from the call button and to the one to raise the head of my bed. “Stand back, please. I need to do this carefully. The last thing I need is more pain.”
I slowly raise the bed the way Dr. Devin told me to, taking deep breaths along the way as the room spins. Finally, when I’m fully sitting up, I slowly rotate my head from the left to face my husband. The pillow that was cushioning the injured side of my face falls to my lap when I do.Great, I think bitterly,another thing to resent Cal for.“I see you, but do you see me?” I hiss.
