I looked at the clock again. Two armed police officers stood outside the room. They told me that my family, as well as Lynn and even the dogs, had been moved into protective custody and would be brought to the hospital once it was safe. Several uniforms had gone directly to the farmhouse. Lily was still there. I asked what would happen to her and got a vague answer of her eventually finding a foster family. It took me a moment to remember that she was only fifteen
I lay on the bed, scraping my fingers along the sheet, and listened to the seconds tick by on the large, white-faced clock that hung over the door. Jackson had been in surgery for over an hour. I closed my eyes and thought of his handsome face. So badly I wanted to be with him, to hold him, to run my fingers along the many scars that covered his body.
The curtain pulled back. I opened my eyes and whipped my head up, which instantly caused me to feel sick. The same nurse, Elyse, stepped into the room.
“Are you doing all right, Adeline?” she asked carefully. She strode over to the computer in the corner and swiped her badge.
I didn’t respond. It was a stupid question. I wanted to tell her so, but I could sense her concern and compassion. Besides, what else was she supposed to say?
“Are you in any pain?”#p#分页标题#e#
“Not really,” I said.
“Your lab work is back,” she said before I had a chance to ask about Jackson. “Your hCG levels suggest you’re about seven weeks pregnant, which means you got pregnant about a month ago.” She paused to let me absorb the information. “The doctor ordered an ultra sound.”
“Jackson will want to be there,” I told her and began to feel like I was getting sucked backwards. The room was spinning, and I slowly pitched forward. Elyse rushed over and helped me up.
“I can’t imagine,” she said softly and sat on the bed next to me. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through. I’m so sorry.” She shook her head. The phone that she carried in her scrub pocket rang. She stood to answer it. “He’s in recovery,” she told me and re-pocketed the phone.
My stomach flip-flopped and I nodded. “Can I go?” I pushed myself off the bed.
“Yes. But I’m taking you in this.” She gripped the handles of a wheel chair.
“I can walk,” I told her.
“I know you can, but you’re my patient, and I want to take care of you,” she said with a smile. “Plus it’s hospital protocol.” She wheeled the chair over. “Hang on. You’re more than a little exposed in the back.” She got a second gown and put it on me like a robe. “Better?”
“Yes. Thanks,” I said quietly. She disconnected my IV and helped me into the wheelchair. I picked at the plastic hospital bracelet that was around my wrist as we went through the hall. The nurse hadn’t told me anything about Jackson’s condition, and I was afraid to ask.
There was a family in the OR waiting room. I knew that no scheduled surgeries were being done at this late hour.
“What happened to the people we hit?” I asked suddenly, afraid that the family belonged to the victim.
“Treated and released,” the nurse said.
I internally sighed. Elyse pushed a button on the wall that opened double doors to a large room labeled PACU. A police officer stood outside that door as well. My heart began speeding up again.
There were several nurses standing around the very first bed we came up to. An older nurse with gray hair saw me and smiled.
“You have a visitor,” she said softly to Jackson.
I got out of the wheelchair before Elyse came to a complete stop. The gray-haired nurse stepped aside. I flew to the bed. Tears stung the corners of my eyes.
“Jackson,” I said and gently touched his hand. He was connected to a scary amount of tubes and wires going to various machines. One side of his body was covered in bandages, and his arm was precariously placed over his chest and propped with pillows. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow. “Is he okay?” I asked, unable to keep the tears back.
“He’s stable,” the gray-haired nurse told me.
“Does that mean he’s going to be okay?” I slipped my fingers through Jackson’s. His eyes fluttered halfway open for a second before closing again.
“He has a long recovery ahead of him,” she said, ominously avoiding my direct question.
I just nodded and rubbed the palm of his hand. Using my other hand, I wiped away the tears that streaked my face. Someone else joined the room. I could feel their presence behind me.
“You must be Adeline,” a man with a heavily accented voice said.