The doctor looked up in surprise, but I was used to such irrational responses.
“What does that mean?” I interjected quickly, ever the realist, hovering the tip of my pen anxiously over a pad of paper, desperate to grasp every possible detail.
“Basically, he broke his wrist.”
James sank a few inches lower in his chair, looking as if the world was coming to an end, even though the doctor was acting as if it was good news.
“Wait,” the doctor said. “Wrong patient. That was the motorcycle accident victim. This is the taxi accident. No broken wrist.”
“What is it then?” James demanded, freaking out once again.
“Sorry,” the doctor said, clearing his throat again. “Uh...other than some bruises around his ribs and a mild concussion, he’s
rather well off. Those are the worst of the damage.” He looked James up and down with a comical expression before turning to me with a faint smile. “Your husband is very lucky.”
Lucky? I wasn’t sure Nick was going to see it that way.
“Can we see him?” I pleaded.
James bolted upright, literally sitting on the edge of his seat.
The doctor nodded slowly. “He’s still unconscious, and he’s on a pretty high dose of painkillers, but yes, you may visit him.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I gushed, glad he was willing to comply. I knew if he refused, there was a good chance that the good doctor himself might have been in need of medical attention, because James might have dangled him from the rooftop until he otherwise agreed. More relieved than I could possible say, I elbowed James sharply in the side.
“Yes, thank you, Doctor,” he said gratefully.
The two of us leapt to our feet, pushed past the nursing staff, and darted around corners before skidding to an abrupt stop in Nick’s room.
Oh, sweetheart...
He looked so vulnerable lying there in the hospital bed, surrounded by a tangle of wires and beeping machines. He was so still, and his eyes had yet to open.
There was a sharp intake of breath, and I felt James shrink back beside me. When I glanced over at him, I saw him staring at the scene like it was his own nightmare come to life. I squeezed his hand again, and together, the two of us ventured slowly near the bed, pulling up chairs on either side.
We were quiet for a while, simply keeping watch, before James shifted restlessly in his chair. His eyes darted around the bed, taking in every detail, and then he reached out tentatively to take Nick’s hand. I watched as he wrapped his fingers carefully around it, taking great pains to avoid disturbing the IV taped to the front. “Do you think we should get him some ice chips or something?” he murmured.
If not for the fact that I was still crying, I might have actually smiled. “Ice chips? He’s sleeping, James,” I said.
“I know. I just thought—”
“What are you going to do, force them down his throat?”
He flashed me a scowl, then sighed helplessly as he looked around. It wasn’t often that powerful people like him found themselves at the mercy of forces bigger than themselves. For James, it was a lesson in submission that couldn’t have come at a worse time.
“Well, what about an extra blanket?” he asked hopefully, trying to seize the smallest detail he was able to control. “I could find him another...” He trailed off suddenly, as Nick stirred between us on the bed.
In an instant, the chairs were abandoned as we both pushed to our feet, staring down with bated breath.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, ever so slowly, he opened his eyes.
“That’s it, honey. Take it slow,” I said.
At first, he stiffened in surprise, bracing himself against the unfamiliar scene. The harsh light and acrid smell of antiseptic startled him, but then his muscles relaxed one by one, coaxed to calmness by a generous cocktail of drugs. Those beautiful blue eyes flickered up to the beeping machine just over his shoulder. Then, even more slowly, they found their way to me.
“A-Abby?” he mumbled in a gravelly voice.
A pair of tears slipped down my face as I stroked back his hair with a gentle smile. “Hi, darling. I’m so glad to see you awake.”