Nineteen Letters, page 3
She’s got to pull through this. She has to.
An hour passes and we’re still waiting for another update. How long does a scan take? I can’t seem to settle and haven’t stopped pacing since the doctor left. I’m going to wear a path in the linoleum floor pretty soon.
I’m pulled from my internal turmoil when my phone rings in my pocket. Glancing down at the screen I see Andrew’s name. Presumably, he’s wondering why Jemma hasn’t arrived at work. It’s unlike him to call me—the last time he did, it wasn’t pretty. Jemma had left for the day, and when he couldn’t find something in the office, he called her; when she didn’t answer her phone, he contacted me. He dared to tell me if she wasn’t back there within the hour to find it, he would fire her. He was just being unreasonable as usual, and I took great satisfaction in finally speaking my mind.
He was lucky to have someone like her working for him, and he knew it, it was the first and last time he ever spoke about her like that in front of me.
I have a good mind to ignore his call, but I know Jem wouldn’t want that. “Andrew,” I say in a clipped tone when I answer. I don’t even give him a chance to reply. “Jemma was in a car accident on the way to work. She won’t be coming in today.”
“I need her here,” he snaps. When he lets out an exasperated breath, I feel my temper rise.
“Well, it’s not possible.”
“Can I expect her on Monday?”
“No, she won’t be in on Monday either.” At this stage, I want to hang up on him, but again, I hold my temper for Jemma’s sake. “It’s serious. We’re at the hospital. I’m not sure when she’ll be back.” With that, I end the call. That’s all the explanation he needs.
As I go to place my phone back in the pocket of my suit jacket, it rings again. My thumb moves to press the decline button, thinking it’s him again, but I see Lucas’s number on the screen instead. Christ, our meeting.
“Where the hell are you?” he screeches into the phone. “I’ve been trying to call you for nearly an hour. Please don’t tell me you’re still stuck in traffic. I’ve been stalling for as long as I can. We need those plans.”
“Lucas.” I’m so glad to hear his voice, even if he’s shouting at me. I need to draw on his strength because I’m about to crumble. Pushing through the door, I step into the corridor. “I’m sorry, mate. I should’ve called … it slipped my mind.”
“Jesus, Brax. Slipped your mind? What the fuck is going on?” he grumbles down the line.
“I’m at the hospital.”
“What?” He pauses briefly before asking, “Why?”
“That accident,” I say, my voice cracking. “It was Jemma.”
“Shit!”
The line goes quiet, and the shock I felt when I first got word comes crashing back down. Saying it aloud makes it too real, and I know how badly Lucas will take the news. He not only adores Jemma, but he cares about me too.
Growing up, it was always just Jem and me, and then I went away to university, leaving her behind. It was the first time we’d ever been separated, and it was hard. We spoke every day and drove back and forth to be together each weekend, but it wasn’t the same. I struggled without her. I was lost—and Lucas saved me. Jemma was the other half of me, but I never realised how much I needed a bro, a best mate, until I found him.
“What hospital are you at? I’m coming to you now.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. In the eight years we’ve been friends, he has never let me down. “Don’t. Finish the meeting, it’s important. There’s nothing you can do here. We’re still waiting for news from the doctor.”
“I can be there for you. I know what she means to you. She’s your life.”
“She is,” I whisper, as tears sting my eyes, but I flat out refuse to cry. I need to stay strong for her. “Lucas, I don’t think I can survive without her.”
“Hang in there, buddy. Jem’s a fighter. She’ll pull through this.”
He has no idea how much I needed to hear those words.
“God, I hope so.”
Chapter 4
Braxton
I’m gripped with fear as I follow the nurse down the corridor towards the intensive-care unit. Jemma’s parents are close behind. We’re finally able to see her, but only one person at a time. I’m thankful they didn’t protest when I said I wanted to be the first.
I’m trying to prepare myself for the worst. I’m not sure what I’m going to find when I walk into that room, but I know it won’t be pretty. My beautiful wife who left me this morning with a smile and a kiss won’t be the same person I’m about to see.
When the doctor finally came back to update us on her condition, we learned that due to the swelling on her brain; she has been placed in an induced coma. I asked the doctor a million questions, but there wasn’t much he could say, except that the next few days will be a waiting game, and Jemma will be closely monitored in the ICU.
Her injuries are vast, and hearing them made me feel sick to the stomach. The surgeon stitched her open wounds, but they won’t be able to operate until the swelling subsides. She’s going to need pins in her right arm and leg, as well as a hip replacement, because the bones are shattered. As much as I hate that my girl is so broken and battered, we can deal with that. She’s alive, and bones heal. Our primary concern is getting her through the next few days. As the doctor said, she’s healthy and strong. I know she’ll fight this.
She has to.
The nurse stops walking and turns to face me when we reach Jemma’s room. My heart is beating so fast I can hear the thumping in my ears. There’s a sympathetic smile on her face.
“This is your wife’s room, Mr Spencer.”
“Thank you.”
I turn and nod to Jemma’s parents. No words would be enough to comfort any of us in this moment. Christine’s sad eyes meet mine, and she manages to force a smile as she reaches out to rub her hand down my arm. This is the caring and nurturing woman I love and miss.
“Good luck,” she says. “We’ll be out here waiting if you need us.”
I pause in the doorway and steady myself. I can do this. Willing my legs to move, I take a step forward, followed by another.
My breath hitches in my throat the moment my eyes land on Jemma. My knees threaten to give way underneath me as I approach the bed. The person lying before me doesn’t even resemble my wife.
I’m not sure what I expected to see when I walked in here, but it certainly wasn’t this. The white sterile sheets are pulled up under her chin, so I can only see her bruised and battered face. She’s hooked up to several machines, and a large white tube protrudes from her mouth.
I stand and stare for the longest time, afraid to go closer. It’s a surreal feeling. Never in my life did I think I’d have to face anything like this. The right side of her face and forehead are heavily bandaged. I immediately divert my eyes away from the dried blood I see caked in her hair. I can’t bear it.
Her face is so swollen she’s barely recognisable. I can’t even describe how much it hurts to see her like this.
There’s a chair sitting by the wall. I make my way towards it and drag it to Jemma’s bedside. The left side of her is still perfect, still her. Tears rise to my eyes as I gently run the tip of my fingers down the left side of her pretty face.
I promised myself before coming in here that I would remain strong, but I’m so overcome with sadness I no longer can. I’m so scared. Leaning forward, I place my lips softly on her cheek. She’s so lifeless, so pale, and her skin feels cold against my mouth.
Reaching under the blanket, I fold her hand in mine.
I want to wrap her in my arms and beg her to get better, but I’m too afraid I’ll hurt her further.
I’ve spent my entire life caring for and protecting this woman, but the one time she needed me most, I wasn’t there. Logically, I know there’s nothing I could have done to avoid this. None of us could have seen it coming, but it doesn’t lessen the guilt that I’m feeling.
The officer’s words from this morning echo in my mind. “All I can tell you is the car she was travelling in was T-boned after driving through a stop sign.”
“Jem,” I whisper against her skin. “I need you, baby. Don’t leave me.” I can taste the saltiness of my tears as they stream down my face. “Fight for us … fight for you. Just fight.”
My heart aches as I rest my forehead against her, unmoving for the longest time. Even this simple contact gives me strength, and I can only hope it gives Jem strength too.
I’m startled when I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. I look up to find the nurse beside me. “Mrs Spencer’s parents would like to come in and see their daughter now.”
“Okay,” I say, leaning back into my chair and wiping the tears from my face with my free hand.
“You can come back in once they’ve seen her.”
I wait until she leaves the room before leaning forward again. “Your parents are here to see you,” I whisper. “I’ll be right outside. I’m not going anywhere.” I brush my lips against her cheek and gently release her hand as I stand. “I love you.”
My heart feels shattered as I leave the room. I pass Christine in the doorway. She reaches for my arm, but I shrug her off.
“How is she?” she asks. I shake my head in reply. I’m numb. I have no words for how she is. Christine will see for herself in a minute.
Stephen pats my back as I pass him. I know that the grim look on his face is reflected in my own. I feel bad for what they’re about to see. Jemma has always been their little girl. Seeing her in this condition won’t be easy.
“Braxton.” I glance over my shoulder as I walk towards the line of chairs positioned along the wall. Lucas. No words are spoken as he comes to a stop in front of me and pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. He has never hugged me like this before, but I’m too grateful to feel awkward. I need something, anything, to hold me together right now. “She’s going to pull through this, bud.”
I’m so glad he’s here.
I pull out my phone when I feel it vibrate in my pocket. I see it’s a text from Jemma’s friend Rachel. She’s on a flight from New York as we speak.
“Why don’t you go home for a few hours and get some rest,” Stephen says, placing his hand on my shoulder. “You look like crap.”
“Geez, thanks.”
Three days have passed since the accident, and I haven’t left my wife’s side. I’ll go home when I can take her with me, and not before.
Although it’s apparently against hospital policy, the nurse let me have a shower this morning. It made me feel somewhat human again. Lucas went to our place and brought back some toiletries and fresh clothes.
He’s been calling in to the hospital on his way to work, and again in the evenings on his way home. There’s not much he can do here, but I’m grateful he’s keeping things moving at the office, even though I’m struggling to focus on anything other than Jem at this moment.
“You know what I mean, son,” Stephen says. “Jemma’s going to need you when she wakes, and you won’t be able to function if you keep this up.”
He’s right. I’ve barely slept and I’m not eating, but I can’t leave. I won’t be able to breathe easy until I know for certain she’s going to be okay.
“I’m not leaving her.”
She survived the first forty-eight hours, and with every passing day, my confidence grows. She’s still in an induced coma, but the doctor did some more scans this morning, and they showed that the swelling is subsiding. I know she’s going to have a long road to recovery once she’s conscious, but she’ll never be alone. Me, her parents, Lucas, and her best friend, Rachel—we will all help her, every step of the way.
“You need some rest,” Stephen persists.
None of us are really functioning properly at the moment. Stephen and Christine are here from early morning until late at night, but unlike me, they go home to sleep.
“For god’s sake,” Christine snaps. “His wife is lying in the hospital. Why would he want to leave her? He’s committed to the woman he loves. Unlike you, he’ll honour his wedding vows.”
Burying my face in my hands, I will myself to bite my tongue. I’m at my wit’s end with the snarky remarks she’s thrown at Stephen over the past few days. I get it, I do: she worshipped the ground he walked on until he broke her heart. But what we’re facing at the moment is proof that life is short. None of us knows what lies around the corner. And Jemma is their only child; surely if anything could bring them closer, it’s their shared pain and love for their daughter.
Christine needs to move forward and somehow try to forgive. The hate and resentment she’s carrying around is making a once compassionate and loving person bitter and resentful. I barely recognise the woman who was so kind to me when I lost my mother.
I feel for them both. It’s clear they still love each other; any fool could see that. But it appears Christine is going to make him pay for his mistake for the rest of his life. It’s so sad; the love they once shared is far too precious to waste.
“I’m going to get a coffee,” Stephen grumbles as he stalks towards the exit. I think he’s just hanging on by a thread as well. This is the closest his wife has let him get to her since they split two years ago.
“You really should cut him some slack,” I say, turning my attention towards Christine.
I’ve tried to stay out of this for the past few years, but right now it’s almost impossible. I even refrained from speaking my mind during the whole wedding fiasco. What Christine failed—or refused—to realise then, was that Jemma’s father was going to be present at our wedding and give his little girl away whether Christine wanted him there or not.
The pressure nearly tore Jemma apart—on more than one occasion I held her in my arms while she cried tears of frustration brought on by her mother—but I know how much she loves both her parents, so I kept quiet. But not now.
“This shit needs to stop,” I mutter. “I won’t stand by and let you upset Jemma during her recovery.”
Christine’s eyes narrow slightly and her mouth opens to speak, but then she pauses. I see her whole body deflate, and I know she knows I’m right. Our priority right now needs to be Jemma.
“You’re right,” she replies, exhaling loudly. “I’ve tried to let go of the hurt, but I can’t.”
Rising from the chair, I make my way towards her. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Christine, but tell me this: does constantly beating him down make you feel any better?”
“No,” she whispers. “No, it doesn’t.”
This isn’t her. Not the real Christine, the mother figure I loved growing up. When my mother passed away, Christine stepped in and cared for me like I was her own, and I’ll always be grateful to her for that. She has been wonderful to me and my father over the years. She and Stephen both.
“Just try to be a little bit nicer,” I plead, placing my hand on her shoulder. “Jemma’s going to need all of us to be united when she wakes.”
“I know.” The remorseful look on her face tells me she’s at least going to try.
I open my eyes just as the night nurse is leaving the room. Apart from the thin strip of light coming from behind Jemma’s bed, the room is bathed in darkness.
I crack my neck from side to side as I sit forward in the reclining lounge that has become a makeshift bed. I long for the day that I can again sleep on a comfortable mattress with my wife wrapped in my arms. My watch shows it is just after two in the morning.
Rising, I drag the chair closer to Jemma’s bed. I need to be nearer. If she wasn’t hooked up to so many machines, I wouldn’t hesitate to climb into bed beside her and hold her.
There is so much I miss. Her smile, her laugh, her touch, her love—but more than anything I miss waking up beside her. She’s been my life for as long as I can remember, so having her here but not present is hard to endure.
Bending down, I place my lips on her forehead. “Please come back to me soon.” I lie back down on the recliner and slide my hand under the blanket that’s covering her. I need the contact. Maybe this might help me sleep; I need to be at my strongest when she wakes. “I love you,” I whisper as my fingers wrap around hers.
We have never gone to sleep without saying those words to each other.
Chapter 5
Braxton
Ipace back and forth in the corridor because today is the day. The doctor and two nurses are in with my wife now. The swelling on her brain has subsided, so they’re going to start the process of bringing her out of the coma. They’ll also take her off the machines that have been helping to keep her alive. I should be feeling relieved, but I’m not—I’m extremely anxious. As positive as I’m trying to remain, there’s still no guarantee she will pull through.
Christine, Stephen and Lucas are all sitting down watching me. I’m sure I’m making them feel uneasy, but I can’t stay still. My stomach is in knots.
“Braxton!” I look up and see Rachel, Jemma’s best friend, running towards me.
Rachel moved to New York for work just over a year ago, but there was no doubt in my mind that she would come home once she found out about the accident. She and Jemma are as close as sisters. That’s why I waited until the day after the accident to call her. I didn’t want her flying back here unnecessarily. She was only here three weeks ago, to be Jemma’s maid of honour at our wedding.
My heart hurts when I think back to the day we picked her up from the airport. She and Jemma Skype each week but they hadn’t seen each other for nearly a year. The moment Rachel emerged from Customs, Jemma had dropped my hand to run to her. They held each other and cried.
Arriving this time must have been hard for her, for such a different reason and with nobody to greet her. But my mind has been clouded with worry and I just didn’t think to organise somebody to collect her.
