Page 6 of Ghost of Christmas Future
Cope turned to the chief of police to see Cisco batting away tears with his right hand, while the left held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. He studied Jude’s boss. Cisco was a hard man. Cope supposed he had to be. The safety of Salem and itscitizens was in his hands. Over the years, Jude had told so many stories about his boss. Some funny. Others serious. Most of the rest about the various ways Jude had found to annoy the living fuck out of his top boss. Even still, Cisco hadn’t hesitated to speed to their house and offer his help when he’d learned about Jude’s accident. “You love him.”
Cisco snorted. “In nearly thirty years of law enforcement, Jude Byrne is the biggest pain in my ass. Second only to Ronan. He’s arrogant. Bossy. Loud. Irreverent. A dumbass. Probably one of the best detectives I’ve ever worked with in my entire career.” Cisco took a shaky breath. He looked as if he was going to burst out crying, but instead seemed to calm himself. “Jude’s going to be fine. He’ll be back to being his usual annoying self in no time.”
Opening his mouth to tell Cisco he was wrong, Cope stopped. “Do you really think so? There was so much blood in the basement.”
“Head wounds bleed like a motherfucker.” Cisco shrugged, as if to say, “problem solved.”
Deep down in his heart, Cope knew Jude’s injuries were much more serious than needing a few stitches to close a lacerated scalp. His husband was white as a sheet when the paramedics brought him up from the basement. His body had been broken and bandaged. The medics moved with urgency, sweeping Jude out of the house in a tornado of carefully coordinated movements. They’d only stopped long enough to say what hospital they were bringing Jude to. There was no mention of his condition. A prognosis. Hope.
The sign for Salem Mercy came into view. Cope could see the hospital’s sprawling complex. “Jude nearly died here two years ago…” Cope trailed off, not wanting to complete his thought. Maybe this time, his husband wouldn’t leave in a wheelchair.Maybe this time he’d leave feet first, in a black body bag, headed for Lockheart and Sons Funeral Home.
“Knock that shit off, Cope,” Cisco said, seeming to read his mind. “Let’s not go down that dark path. Jude needs all of your good vibes to get well. If he senses you’ve given up hope, so will he. I’ve been through enough trips to the ER to know the patients’ loved ones are the key to recovery.”
“You’re right,” Cope agreed quickly. He supposed it was in everyone’s nature to think about worst-case scenarios. It was a way to prepare for bad news. Death wouldn’t be such a shock if you knew it was a possibility.
Cisco found a parking space and shut off the engine. “Let’s get in there and see what’s going on with Jude.”
Cope nodded and got out of the truck. The scared look in Cisco’s eyes mirrored his feelings exactly. Wrapping his coat more tightly around himself against the cold north wind, Cope jogged toward the entrance to the ER, with Cisco hot on his heels.
Running into the hospital, Cope saw Ronan waiting for him on the other side of the glass doors, which slid open as he approached them. His look was solemn. If Cope stopped now, if he turned and ran back to the truck, he wouldn’t have to hear whatever news Ronan was waiting to impart. He could live in the cozy world he’d created for himself where Jude was fine and dandy and asking for greasy pizza.
Instead of turning tail, Cope rushed into the lobby. “How is he? Where is he? Can I see him?” Cope panted for breath. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees. Cisco ran up behind him, looking as if he could have run the Boston Marathon to get to Jude if need be.
“We don’t know anything yet,” Ronan said. “Fitz is standing guard at Jude’s door. Neither of us wanted him left alone. After what happened last time…” Ronan motioned for Cope and Cisco to follow him. He opened a door marked Family Waiting Room. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Water? Soda?”
Cope shook his head. How could he possibly think of his own needs when Jude was lying in the emergency room, his future unknown? He took a seat on a stiff sofa and couldn’t help but wonder how many other families had sat in this very spot and heard the worst news possible.
Ronan’s phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket and went to the door. Seconds later, Tennyson entered. “What do we know?”
“Nothing,” Cisco muttered.
“The kids are with Jace and my mother. He’s going to keep them overnight. They’re gonna bake cookies, make tacos, watch movies. Jace was putting together a grocery delivery order when I left. Everly wanted to come with me but I didn’t want-” Ten paused, looking at a loss for words.
“Didn’t want her to be the first to know Jude wasn’t going to make it?” Cope asked, feeling numb inside.
Ten opened his mouth to speak but stopped. “Before I left, I asked her if she could see anything. She couldn’t. It was the first time in her life that she’s been blank. I’m the same.”
“Me too,” Cope said. “Some kind of fucking psychic I am! I didn’t see this coming. Wolf asked to have spaghetti for supper and if Everly and Aurora could come too. I was thinking about the cookies I was making and what I’d need Jude to run out and get at the store; a loaf of Italian bread, stuff for a salad, dessert. There wasn’t one inkling that anything was going to happen to Jude. I didn’t feel anything at all.”
Ten took a seat beside Cope and set a hand on his shoulder. “We’re only human. Our gifts are not infallible. Ronan and I were living together when he was shot on our front steps. I had no clue he was in any danger. It happens.”
Cope sighed. “Yeah, it happens. Today of all days, when I need my gift most, it’s gone. So is yours. Everly’s too. What the hell does that mean? Is my gift black because Jude’s going to-”
A knock came from the second door in the room. Fitzgibbon popped his head in. “Cope, you’re here. One sec.” He backed out of the room and came back moments later with a doctor behind him.
“I’m Doctor Layla Karl. I’m treating Mr. Byrne. Which one of you is his husband?”
“I am,” Cope said, taking a moment to assess Jude’s caregiver. Dr. Karl was a tiny thing, probably an inch or three over five feet tall with her brunette hair swept up and held with a clip. She wore a calm look, which Cope was grateful for. “How is Jude?”
“Your husband has what we call a closed brain injury. We’re worried about swelling and need to assess if there’s any damage, as well as determining if Mr. Byrne has a skull fracture. There are other, secondary injuries, such as his broken left arm, but what we’re focused on right now is his head. I’ve ordered an MRI and we’re about to take him down for the test. I’m recommending he be put into a medically induced coma after the imaging is complete, so that his body will be better able to heal itself. In order to do that, he’ll need to be intubated.”
Cope gasped. “You’re going to put him on a respirator?”
Dr. Karl nodded. “I feel that is the best course of action for Mr. Byrne. Once the imaging is complete, he’ll be transferred to the ICU where the intubation will be performed.”
“Can I see him?” Cope’s mind spun with the words the doctor had spoken.
“Yes, I’ll bring you to him.” Dr. Karl paused. “Does your husband have a healthcare directive?”
