Nineteen Letters, page 2
I smile up at him once I’m seated. “I love how much you love me.”
“That’ll never change,” he says, winking as he closes my car door.
My heart feels heavy as I blow him a kiss and reverse out of the driveway … I miss him already.
On my way to work, I’m driving cautiously but still faster than usual. I know I shouldn’t, considering the roads are slippery from all the rain, but the backlog of work I’m going to face from being on holiday for a month is making my stomach knot. The thought of facing Andrew in one of his moods this morning quickly undoes all the calm I’ve felt while away from him. Braxton’s idea of starting my own business sounds better by the second.
I smile to myself as I replay his words from earlier in my head. My hand automatically moves to skim over my stomach. I’d like nothing more than to have his baby growing inside me again.
“Shit,” I mumble to myself when the heavens open up.
I flick the wipers to full speed, but visibility is still poor. I can barely see the car in front of me now. I jump when my phone rings.
Gripping the wheel tightly with one hand, I blindly reach across the passenger seat with my other, trying to fish the phone out of my bag.
My gut tells me it’s Andrew, wondering where I am; I should have been there fifteen minutes ago. My chest tightens just thinking about it.
My eyes leave the road for a split second as I glance down at the screen. I was right, it’s him. As I attempt to accept the call, I hear the loud sound of an angry horn and the screech of tyres. My head snaps to the left as my body is thrown violently sidewards. The sickening crunching sound of metal is almost deafening.
Images of Braxton and our life together flash through my mind as a crushing sensation consumes the right side of my body. My head connects with the driver’s window, and the sound of shattering glass fills my ears.
Oh god. I don’t want to die.
“Braaaax,” I cry out as the world around me stills, and I succumb to the darkness.
Chapter 2
Braxton
Itake a sip of strong black coffee as I stare out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that adorn the back of our house. I’m drinking out of my favourite mug. Jem bought it for me on our first official Valentine’s Day together, eight years ago. The inscription on the front still brings a smile to my face. ‘You’re cute, can I keep you?’
It has a small chip on the rim and the interior of the once white mug is now stained yellow from all the coffee I’ve consumed in it, and part of the love heart on the front has worn away over time, but I adore this mug and everything it represents. Nowhere near as much as I adore my wife, though.
The ocean is less than forty metres away from where I’m standing, but the rain is pelting down so hard that I can’t even see it. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, and I don’t know why. I’m not anxious about the meeting I have this morning; I’m confident the deal is in the bag. Even so, something feels off.
Maybe the thought of Jemma being out there in this weather doesn’t sit well with me. I know she feels like I smother her sometimes, but it’s only because I love her so much. I’ve never loved anyone, or anything, as deeply as I do her. She’s like the missing part of my soul.
Removing my phone from my pocket, I search through my contacts for her number. She would have got a bit of traffic on the way to work this morning, especially with this rain, but surely she’d be there by now.
I’m not concerned when it goes straight to voicemail. Her boss is a pompous arsehole, so she probably turned her phone off to avoid getting into trouble. I’d love nothing more than to wring his neck for the way he speaks to her sometimes, but I know Jem wouldn’t want that. She loves her job, and all I want is for her to be happy.
Opening my messages, I shoot her a text.
Me: Just checking in to make sure you arrived at work safely. Is it wrong that I miss you already? Because I do. I can’t wait for our date tonight. Hope you have a great day. Call me when you get a chance.
It will ease my mind to know she’s okay. My head needs to be in the game this morning. This deal means everything to me, and my business partner, Lucas—it’s the break we need to catapult our company to the next level.
I know the roads are going to be chaotic, so I head into the kitchen and pour the remainder of my coffee into a travel mug before grabbing my briefcase and the plans for the new shopping centre we’ve designed from my office. This is the first time Lucas and I have branched out from our usual portfolio of designing houses and office blocks. If we pull this off, it will be the biggest deal we’ve ever landed and will launch our small architectural firm into the big league.
Lucas and I are still young and have long careers ahead of us, but that doesn’t stop us from yearning for that big break. It’s what we’ve always strived for. We met at university eight years ago and clicked straight away. He’s not only my business partner, he’s like a brother to me. Our ideas are fresh, and we’re not afraid to push boundaries. It’s what gives us the edge over our competition—we’re visionaries, you could say. There are exciting times ahead for L&B Architectural Designs, I can feel it in my bones.
If we seal this deal today, Jemma won’t need to work anymore if she doesn’t want to. She loves what she does, though. She has an exceptional eye for detail and is already forging her place among some of the top interior designers in the country.
Is it crazy that even our careers go hand in hand? I design houses for a living, and Jemma creates the interiors. It’s not something we planned, it’s just another reason we’re perfect for each other.
When my phone rings, I slide it out of my pocket. I’m expecting to see Jem’s number on the screen, but it’s Lucas.
“Hey, buddy,” I say when I place the phone to my ear. “I’m just getting ready to leave now.”
“That’s why I’m calling. I left five minutes ago. The traffic is horrendous. There’s been an accident at the Main and Riley intersection. It must be pretty serious because the roads are closed in both directions. Traffic is being diverted all over the place.”
The uneasy feeling in my gut intensifies. That’s the route Jemma takes to work. But I force my voice to sound normal as I reply. “I’ll leave now. Hopefully one of us gets there in time.”
I redial Jemma, but again it goes to voicemail, so I leave her a voice message this time. “Jem, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this. I need to know you’re okay.”
I try not to sound panicked, but I’m pretty sure I fail. I’ve always been protective of her, and that will never change.
Sliding my phone back into my suit jacket, I pick up my briefcase and tuck the blueprints cylinder under my arm, before reaching for my travel mug. I was up until late last night going over the final draft, ensuring it was perfect. I know our clients are going to love the amendments I made to the original design.
I look down at my watch as I head towards the door. Jemma left an hour and twenty minutes ago. I tell myself that I’m overreacting, that she’s probably safe and sound at work.
Then why is my stomach in knots?
The rain has eased to a light sprinkle as I walk across the front lawn. Placing the travel mug on the roof of the car, I fish in my pocket for the keys. Once I’ve stowed the blueprints and my briefcase on the back seat, I reach for my coffee as I close the back door.
I pause when a car pulls into the driveway behind me. It’s not just any vehicle, it’s a police car. Fear grips me as images of my wife flash through my mind, and I internally freak the hell out. My brain is telling me to calm down, and not to panic until I have reason to, but my heart already knows this isn’t good news.
“Mr Spencer?” the officer asks as he exits his vehicle and approaches me. He already knows my name, which does nothing to calm me. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. My heart is thumping hard against my ribcage, and there’s a part of me that wants to flee so I don’t have to hear what he’s going to say. Inhaling a large breath, I hold it as he comes to a stop a few feet in front of me. “Are you Braxton Spencer?”
Words again fail me, but this time I manage to nod my head.
“I’m Officer Martin. I’m sorry to be the one to inform you,” he says, reaching out and placing his hand on my shoulder. Every ounce of air leaves my body as I wait for him to continue. “Your wife’s been in an accident.”
I swear I feel all the colour drain from my face as my legs threaten to give way underneath me. Lucas’s words swim around in my head. “It must be pretty serious because the roads are closed in both directions.”
The travel mug in my hand drops to the driveway below with a thud. I vaguely feel the sting of the hot liquid as it soaks into the fabric of my trousers. The world around me appears to be moving in slow motion as the officer grabs hold of my arm to steady me.
“Is … is she okay?” I’m not sure I even want to hear his reply, but I need to know.
“An ambulance transported her to the local hospital.”
“I need to get to her. Are her injuries serious? Is she … alive?” I’m rambling.
“Only the doctors can answer that, Mr Spencer. All I can tell you is the car she was travelling in was T-boned after driving through a stop sign. She had to be cut out of the vehicle, but yes, she was alive when they wheeled her into the ambulance.”
I scrub my trembling hands over my face as my stomach churns. I think I’m going to be sick.
“I’m sorry, Mr Spencer. This is the part of my job that I hate the most. If you like, I can take you to her.”
“Please.”
This can’t be happening.
Less than two hours ago, I was making love to my wife and looking forward to not only our evening together, but our future. We were going to start a family. But now, in the blink of an eye, every hope and every dream we’ve shared seems uncertain.
My eyelids close as I rest my head against the seat in the back of the police car. I’ve never been the praying type, but that’s exactly what I’m doing in this moment. I’d do anything to save my girl. Anything.
I feel numb.
Please, God, let her be okay. Just let her be okay.
“Braxton,” I hear as I pace in the small room I was shoved into when I arrived at the hospital. I feel like I’m going out of my mind as I wait for answers, for news, for anything. My head snaps up as Jemma’s mother, Christine, comes barrelling into the room. “Oh, Braxton,” she cries as she collapses into my arms and sobs hysterically against my chest.
Jemma is her only child, so of course she is distressed, but I’m trying so hard to hold myself together here, and this is not helping.
I don’t even remember the drive to the hospital. It’s like I’m on autopilot and I can’t seem to get my thoughts straight. I vaguely remember the officer asking me if there was anyone I should contact when we arrived. “Her parents,” I mumbled. Apart from me, they’re all she has.
The universe couldn’t be so cruel as to take her away from me when our life together as husband and wife has only just begun. Could it?
“Is there any news?” Christine asks as she pulls away from me. “They won’t tell me anything.”
“I’ve had no news yet.”
After the nurse guided me into this room, she said the doctor would be in to see me shortly, but since then there’s been nothing. Not a damn word.
I check my watch and see it has only been twenty minutes, but it feels like an eternity. In this moment, everything I hold dear is hanging by a thread.
Minutes later, the door flies open again. My heartbeat climbs to a dangerous level. I don’t know if I’m ready. As much as I need to know how she is, I cling to the premise that no news is good news.
I’m flooded with relief when I see Jemma’s father, Stephen, standing near the doorway looking sombre and breathless.
“What are you doing here?” Christine snaps as her eyes narrow.
These two once had a marriage I envied; now they can’t stand to be in the same room. Well, Christine can’t stand to be in the same room as Stephen. We had to sit them at opposite sides of the room at our wedding reception. Jemma’s mother threatened not to attend if she was seated anywhere near him.
It’s hard to witness what this animosity does to Jem; she loves her parents and hates being brought into the middle of their drama. It’s ludicrous. Stephen messed up, but he’s remorseful for what he did. He’s a good man. I’ve always liked him. I’m not condoning what he did—he made a mistake, a huge one—but Christine played a hand in it as well, and it’s not fair that she’s making us all suffer. Especially now; now is the time to focus on Jem.
“She’s my daughter too, Chris. I have a right to be here.”
“Huh,” she huffs.
Stepping back from Jemma’s mother, I walk towards her father and shake his hand. “No word yet. Hopefully, the doctor will be able to tell us something soon.”
He bows his head. “She’s my little girl … my pumpkin,” he whispers.
I have to fight back my own tears as I watch him. She has to be okay. I can’t even fathom any other outcome.
Chapter 3
Braxton
“Ican’t stand this,” I mumble under my breath as I push through the doors and head out into the corridor to find a nurse, or a doctor—anyone who can give me answers. I also need a break from those two.
Christine is slumped in a chair, crying. Stephen tried to comfort her at one stage, but the daggers she shot him had him retreating to the corner of the room. She’s hurting—we all are. None of us know what condition Jemma’s in, but I know she’s going to need all our love and support. She hates what has become of her once tight-knit family, and their constant bickering would just upset her.
I head straight for the first counter I see, and force out a small smile when the nurse looks up from the computer screen in front of her.
“Hi. My wife, Jemma Spencer, was brought in earlier. She was in a car accident. Is there any news on her condition? I’d be grateful if you could help me, we’ve been waiting for almost half an hour. Anything, please.”
She gives me a sympathetic look before typing something into the keyboard. “She’s being looked at by the trauma team at the moment. I’ll see if someone can come and talk to you.”
Trauma team.
Those words are like a knife plunging straight into my heart. “Is there any way I can see her?” She’s probably frightened, and I know she would want me there, and I need to be with her.
“Not at the moment, Mr Spencer. I’m sorry. I’ll have someone come and give you an update ASAP.”
The desperate part of me wants to scream at the nurse and demand she take me to Jemma. Thankfully, the logical side of me wins out. She’s only doing her job.
“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”
Turning, I pinch the bridge of my nose as I walk back towards that cramped room of torture; the thought of going back in there has me feeling stifled.
Stopping, I take a moment and roll my shoulders a few times. I feel lost, and completely alone. Jemma has always been my rock; we have always faced everything together. I’m craving her comfort, which is ironic—I’m not the one who was in a car accident, the one who is somewhere in this godforsaken hospital being worked on by the trauma team.
I feel even more helpless when I meet the hopeful eyes of Jemma’s parents. “No news yet, I’m afraid.”
Christine just buries her face in her hands and continues to cry.
“What’s taking so long?” her father asks.
I wish I knew. In my heart, I know her injuries are serious, but I refuse to let my mind go there. I’m not sure how much more I can take, or how long I can hold it together.
Fifteen excruciating minutes pass before the doctor finally enters the room. Please let this be good news. I know I’m grasping at straws; if things weren’t serious, we wouldn’t be in the hospital.
“Hi. I’m Doctor Bolton. I’m in charge of the trauma team looking after Jemma,” he says as he looks at each of us.
“I’m Braxton Spencer, Jemma’s husband.” I reach for his extended hand. “How is she?”
“Her injuries are serious.” His words have my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach, but at least that means she’s still alive. I have to grab onto anything positive; it’s the only way I’m going to get through this. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
“I’m Stephen, Jemma’s father,” he says, stepping forward. After shaking the doctor’s hand, he gestures towards Christine. “And this is my wife, Christine … Jemma’s mother.”
“Ex-wife,” Christine snaps.
My eyes briefly meet hers and I don’t hide my anger as I shake my head and retake my seat. “I’m sorry, Braxton,” she says, placing her hand on my leg. “I’m sorry, okay.”
I tune her out as I focus my attention on the doctor. “We’ve stabilised her,” he says.
I run my hands nervously down the front of my trousers. That doesn’t sound good, but in this moment, I honestly don’t care what condition I get her back in. I just need her back.
“What do you mean by ‘stabilise her’?” Stephen asks. “How bad are her injuries?”
“They are extensive,” he replies. “She’s been in and out of consciousness since she arrived. There appears to be some swelling on her brain, some internal bleeding, lesions and multiple broken bones. She’s been sedated and we’re taking her down for some scans now.”
“Christ.” The glimmer of hope I’ve been clinging to since the officer arrived at my house is dwindling at a rapid pace. “She’s going to pull through, right?”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “It’s touch and go. The next forty-eight hours are going to be critical, but I assure you we’re doing everything possible to save your wife.”
I cannot bring myself to reply as the doctor’s words sink in. Forty-eight hours? I can’t wait that long. The last forty minutes nearly killed me. Sheer panic consumes me. I can’t lose her, I just can’t. I rub my hand over the tightness that has now settled in my chest. I can’t breathe without her. She’s my air.
