Stonehill Series Collection, page 59
Paul leaned close to her. “Do you hear that beeping?”
She listened until she could focus enough to hear the rhythmic ping-ping of a machine.
“That’s your heart monitor.” He laughed softly. “It’s going a little bit crazy right now, Annie. If you don’t calm down, your nurse is going to come in here and kick us out for upsetting you. I know you’re scared. You have every right to be, but you’re not alone, and you’re not in any kind of danger. We’re all right here, and we are going to take care of you, so just take some breaths and do your best to calm down.”
She looked beyond him to her youngest brother. Matt nodded. Marcus agreed as well.
He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. At first, her attention fell on the scruff of his unshaved face as it brushed over her skin, and then she noticed how pale he was, how red his eyes were. How aged he looked. His hair was longer than she remembered—not scraggly, just longer.
He looked unkempt. Marcus never looked unkempt.
Taking in her brothers’ appearances, she saw they were clearly tired. Stressed. Whatever was going on was bad. It was very bad.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly, deeply, and let herself fall away.
Marcus stroked the hair from Annie’s face, smiling when she looked up at him. She licked her lips and visibly struggled to swallow.
“Thirsty?”
She nodded just enough for him to understand, and he grabbed the cup of ice chips a nurse had brought in. Most of them had melted, but he managed to fish out a few. She parted her lips, and he slipped the ice in her mouth. “Better?”
“Yeah.”
His movements stopped. Returning the cup to the table was no longer important.
She’d just spoken to him. Her whispered answer was barely discernible, but it was a word. A real word, not a grunt.
Hearing her voice lifted his spirits higher than anything else could have. The doctor continually cautioned Marcus and her family about getting too excited—the odds of her coming out of this unscathed were very slim—but he didn’t know Annie. Annie was a fighter, and there was no way she was going to just lie back and not do her damnedest to get better.
“The nurse went to get the doctor. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Confusion filled her eyes. “Doctor?”
Each time she woke, she seemed to be more aware, but each time was also the same. Confusion. Fear. Panic. Sleep. That was her cycle, but he hoped it was broken now that she was actually speaking. He tried not to get his hopes up too high—he didn’t want them crushed—but she seemed to be there. To be seeing him, hearing him, communicating with him. That was more than the doctors thought they’d ever see from her again.
He traced his thumb lightly over the mark left from her surgery. “You got hurt, honey.”
“Hurt?”
“Yeah, but you’re on the road to recovery now.”
Her eyes drifted closed. He wanted to beg her to stay awake, to keep looking at him, but he didn’t have to. She blinked a few times, and he was certain that some of the fog in her mind cleared a little as she looked at him.
“Mal?”
“She’s home right now, but I’m going to call her in just a minute.” He grinned. “She’s going to lose her mind when she sees you.”
“My brothers.”
“Matt’s here. He’s getting coffee. I can go get him.”
She lightly squeezed his hand. “Wait.”
He glanced back when the door to her room opened. “This is Doctor Oritz. He’s been taking care of you.”
She moved her eyes around until she focused on the elderly man standing on the other side of her bed.
“Well, look at you,” he said in his thick accent. “How are you feeling, Annie?”
“Tired.”
He smiled and patted her hand. “I bet you are.”
Per the ritual, Oritz moved around Annie’s body, asking if she felt this and that as he poked and pressed on her, asking questions about her and her family and Marcus, and doing it all over again. This time, however, Annie was much more alert throughout the exam. She actually answered with words instead of sounds and nods.
Marcus’s heart was damn near the point of exploding with happiness by the time the doctor finished.
“You’re doing great, Annie,” he reassured her. “You’re doing just great.”
She turned her eyes toward Marcus. She looked uncertain, but she didn’t look terrified like she had so many times before as her mind was coming alive again. She slowly lifted her hand, reaching for Marcus. He sighed with relief as he slid his palm against hers. Leaning down, he kissed her knuckles and tried not to let his emotions show. He didn’t want to frighten her or upset her in any way, but he honestly had begun to wonder if she’d ever fully wake up. As she’d slowly started regaining consciousness, the doctors continually warned her family about getting too excited or expecting too much. But seeing her reach for him—it was more than he had dared to hope.
He lowered his face so she couldn’t see the tears that were burning in his eyes.
She moved her hand in his. “Marcus?”
He laughed softly. Hearing his name on her lips—even though her voice was thick and hard to understand—made the tears run. “Give me just a second.” He sniffed, trying to control his emotions.
“Marcus and your family have been waiting for you for a long time,” Oritz said in his cheery voice.
“What?” she asked weakly.
“You’ve been in a coma, Annie.”
“What?” she asked again.
Marcus looked up, no longer caring that she was going to see him crying. “Three months, honey. You’ve been gone for three very long months.”
Annie couldn’t quite grasp what everyone kept telling her. She’d been in a coma. For three months. Three months of her life was gone. She’d missed it. In what felt like the blink of an eye.
She’d been at work. She remembered that. When she closed her eyes, she remembered being at the office. She remembered the car ride, or at least parts of it, to the house. Marcus had laughed at something she’d said. He’d put his hand on her knee and told her that he loved her.
Then she awoke in the hospital and was told she’d lost three months.
She didn’t believe it initially, but a nurse had opened the blinds in her room, and the trees, which had been just starting to blossom, were filled with green leaves. Spring had passed, and summer had arrived.
She couldn’t make sense of that. She couldn’t make sense of a lot of things.
Her family talked to her, but she couldn’t focus long enough for a conversation. Her mind kind of went blank until someone would touch her hand or say her name and draw her back. Sometimes they looked at her when she was talking. They didn’t have to say that they couldn’t understand her. She read the confusion on their faces.
She’d have to swallow, take a breath, and try again. She felt like her tongue would get too fat for her mouth sometimes. Or maybe like she’d had three too many margaritas. She had yet to ask, but when Donna and Dianna finished catching her up on all the gossip they mistakenly thought she cared about, she finally ventured into territory she’d been too scared to ask about.
“What’s wrong with me?”
Her sisters-in-law stared at her.
Annie sighed. “Please. Tell me.”
Donna smiled. “Honey, you’re fine.”
“Liar.” She looked from one in-law to the other. “Tell me.”
They cast anxious glances between them, and Annie knew, undoubtedly, that whatever it was that was causing her to space out and trip over her words wasn’t something minor. She wasn’t looking at something that could be resolved with rest or medication. There really was something wrong with her.
No one had told her what had happened. Just that she’d been hurt. No one had told her the extent of her injury. Just that she’d been hurt. And no one would tell her about her recovery. They’d just again remind her that she’d been hurt.
“Annie,” Dianna started, “you were hurt.”
Something reminiscent of a laugh pushed through Annie’s throat, but she wasn’t amused. “Someone talk to me.”
“We’ve been talking to you.”
Annie slammed her hand down as hard as she could and glared at them. “About me. Tell me about me. What is wrong with me?”
Donna hesitated. “You’ve been in a coma, Annie. You can’t expect—”
Annie wasn’t a crier, she never had been, but tears stung her eyes as her irritation built inside her, and she couldn’t find the words to let it out. “Goddamn it.”
“Please don’t get upset,” Dianna said soothingly. “Annie, it’s just that…we’re not the ones who should talk to you about this.”
“But nobody talks to me.” She swallowed hard. Her anger and frustration were exacerbating her confusion and the heaviness in her voice. She put her hand to her head. “You just say I got hurt, but you don’t say how or why or what it means. Someone tell me. Now.”
“Honey,” Donna pleaded.
Closing her eyes, Annie sighed. “Get out.”
“Ann—”
“Get. Out. Now.”
Donna stared at her for a moment. “Listen—”
“Get. Out,” she said angrily.
“Ladies?” Marcus asked from the door. “What’s going on?”
Donna and Dianna stood, both looking shocked, but it was Dianna who spoke. “She’s a little agitated.” She smiled down at Annie, but it lacked that condescending sweetness from before. “We’ll see you later.”
Annie exhaled harshly. She wanted to tell them not to bother if they couldn’t tell her the truth, but she didn’t have enough energy to waste on the rant.
“What happened?” Marcus asked quietly, as if Annie couldn’t hear.
She was right there. Yes, she was in a hospital bed, but she wasn’t deaf. And she wasn’t stupid. And she was damned tired of everyone handling her with kid gloves.
“She was asking about her condition,” Donna said just as softly.
“You have to talk to her,” Dianna said.
He nodded as he looked at Annie. “See if you can find her doctor. Ask him to join us.”
Annie sighed when they left, and Marcus sat in the chair Dianna had just vacated.
He took her hand. “You okay?”
Once again, her words got jumbled. Grinding her teeth, she closed her eyes and took a moment. “What’s wrong? With me?”
“Your doctor wanted you to start feeling a bit stronger before we got into all this. We told him that was a bad idea, but we took his advice. We should have gone with our instincts and told you. I’m sorry.”
“Just tell me.”
“We were at an open house. Some kid came in, we think to mug you. He shot you.”
Annie widened her eyes. “What?”
“Right here.” He ran his finger along her forehead.
She gasped.
In the head? She’d been shot in the head?
“The doctors told us you probably weren’t going to survive. But you did. You held on. You were in a coma, but you held on. And then little by little you started coming back. Sometimes you’d move your hand or open your eyes. They said it didn’t mean anything, but we stayed with you, and we talked to you.” He smiled. “And look at you now.”
She swallowed as another stupid tear fell from her eyes. “Broken.”
“No,” he whispered.
Putting her hand to her head, she drew a ragged breath. “I’m in a fog. All the time. Can’t think.”
“That will get better. It will. You got shot in the head and then spent three months playing Sleeping Beauty. Do you really think you can just wake up from that and everything will be perfect?”
She stared at him for a moment. Yes, that was what she’d thought. Apparently, that was wrong.
He stroked her hair, and his smile fell. “I’m probably going to get in trouble with Doctor Oritz for talking to you without his consent, but I’d rather face his fury than yours. He wants you to get some strength back before they do any testing, so right now, we don’t know the extent of the damage done to your brain.”
Damage? To her brain? This couldn’t be happening.
“A lot of the symptoms you’re displaying are going to get better with time and physical therapy, including that fog you mentioned, but we don’t know how much or how quickly.”
“Symptoms?”
There was that supportive, condescending smile she hated so much.
“Some of the things you noticed: how it’s hard to speak sometimes, and you can’t move quite right. Your speech is slurred,” he said. “Sometimes it’s hard to understand you. Doctor Oritz doesn’t seem concerned about recovering full use of your legs, but he is worried that you’ve permanently lost some ability in your hands. He’s very happy that you are moving your fingers, but doing so isn’t a sign of how much you’ll recover. Some of the confusion you’re feeling may not clear up as much as we’re hoping. That short fuse you had might be a little shorter—which may or may not have just shown itself when you kicked your sisters-in-law out of the room.”
Annie swallowed as she tried to process what he was saying. She wasn’t going to be able to talk, use her hands, or think clearly, and she’d be even bitchier than normal.
Great.
She turned her face away, but Marcus put his fingers to her cheek and pulled her back. He ran his thumb over her lips as they trembled with her attempt not to cry.
“Hey,” he said softly but firmly. “We’re going to do everything we can to get you back to being just as strong as before. It’s going to take some time and a lot of work, but we’re all here to help you through this.”
She shook her head and a sound left her—was that a sob?
He held her face and put a long, lingering kiss on her head. “Do you know how lucky we are that you’re alive?”
“Not like this.”
“Oh, honey, this is so much more than they told us to hope for.” Leaning back, he wiped her tears away. “I know you don’t remember what happened, but I do. I was there. I didn’t think you were going to make it.” His brow creased and he blinked, but he couldn’t hide how his eyes shimmered with the sudden onset of unshed tears. “I honestly thought you were going to die before help even got there. But you didn’t. You held on, and you made it through surgery, and you pulled out of your coma. And, yes, there are some side effects to all of that. I’m not going to lie to you; this is going to be difficult. You’ve got a battle ahead of you, but you are here to fight it. And that, sweetheart, is so much more than any of us—including your doctors—expected.”
Her heart ached. “You don’t have to—”
“I swear to God, woman, if you even attempt to tell me that I don’t have to stick by you through this, you’ll also be recovering from having my foot shoved up your ass.”
She laughed as much as she could manage. “There’s therapy for that?”
“They’ll have to come up with something.” He kissed her hand. “I was so scared that I’d lost you forever. I don’t care if you never fully recover, Annie. I don’t care if I have to listen a little more closely or help you with the little things for the rest of our lives, because you’re still here to share our lives. And I’m not going to put up with your stubborn, overly proud bullshit this time. I’m here, and I’m going to help you, and you’re going to just have to deal with that. Got it?”
She reached out for him, and he leaned in to her. She kissed him, or at least tried, closed her eyes, and sighed as he put his forehead to hers.
“I love you,” he whispered, and she let out another of those sobbing sounds. He hushed her, tried to soothe her, but all she could focus on was how far from herself she was. “It’s okay,” he breathed, hugging her. “We’re going to work this out, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay.” He put his hands on her cheeks and dragged his thumbs across them before he kissed her again.
This time she knew she kissed him back. Maybe not as gracefully as before she’d been shot, but she figured it was better than sleeping through it.
“Who knew the first step to recovery was PDA?” Oritz teased, coming into the room.
Annie grinned slightly as Marcus leaned back.
“I’ve filled her in a little bit,” Marcus said as he stood. “But I’m sure she’d like to hear the whole story from you.”
Doctor Oritz pulled a chair next to her bed and settled in to tell her all about her injuries and impending recovery.
The last thing Marcus wanted was to leave Annie’s side, but Paul and Matt practically kicked him out. He didn’t want to miss a moment of Annie being awake. What if she slipped back into her coma? What if she slipped away, and he wasn’t there when she needed him?
But her brothers twisted his arm and his guilt. Someone needed to take Mallory home and make sure she actually got some rest. She’d been sitting in the hospital just as much as Marcus had since Annie had come back. The O’Connell brothers put the responsibility of taking care of Mallory squarely on Marcus. Unfair, he thought, but effective.
“I’m so tired,” Mallory said as they left the hospital where Annie had been for the first few weeks of her coma. After she’d recovered sufficiently from the surgery, with still no signs of waking, she’d been moved to the long-term care facility. But after she’d started to come to, they’d moved her back to the ICU. Only two visitors were allowed at a time, and Marcus and Mallory did their best to monopolize visiting hours.
“It’s probably a good thing they bullied us out,” he agreed.
“I can’t decide if I want real food or to sleep in a real bed first.”
“Food,” Marcus said. “Or at least as real as it gets going through a drive-through.” He put his arm around her shoulder as they sleepily made their way toward the parking lot. “My treat?”
“Sounds fair.”
They climbed into his car and debated which burger place was most appealing. If Marcus were honest, he could go for a good home-cooked meal. Dianna and Donna did their best to keep Sunday dinners going, but they all admitted that it wasn’t the same without Annie. More often than not these days, dinner was skipped in favor of rotating through her room.
