The Bracelet

“Mom’s going to pick out what we should take downstairs to her storage room. The rest she said she might donate to the Salvation Army. The apartment isn’t very big—just a kitchen, a bedroom with a sitting area and a bath….”

As Laura peeked into the other room, her chest felt tight. “Brady, it’s wonderful. But I’m not certain I can afford this.”

“Mom said you could pay whatever you were going to pay for the room in that boardinghouse.”

That wasn’t nearly enough. “Maybe I could help your mom in the shop when I’m not working at the store.”

“I’m sure she’d like that, especially during her busy times. It really gets crazy at Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter—most of the holidays.”

Jubilant over the idea of having an apartment of her own, she threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

His fingers laced in her long hair. “I think I do.”

When Brady’s lips captured hers, she melted into him, wishing they could start a life together right now…wishing the war waiting for him would simply go away.

A nurse came through the sliding glass doors into the OHICU cubicle, bringing Laura back to reality again—the reality that Brady wasn’t breathing on his own and seemed too ill to ever recover.

“Time’s up,” the woman informed her gently.

Laura had so many questions. How soon would it be before Brady could breath on his own? What did she need to know to make his recuperation successful? Would he look better tomorrow? Would he really be ready to go home in a few days?

Yet she understood the nurse couldn’t answer those questions. She realized that for now she’d have to take one hour at a time. For certain, she wasn’t going to let Kat or Sean visit their dad. Kat would fall apart, and Sean, even though he’d pretend to handle this scene, really couldn’t.

There were so many tubes and lines and electrodes attached to Brady she couldn’t give him a real hug. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she leaned over him to kiss his cheek and a tear landed on his jaw. The terror of seeing him like this built inside her until it was clawing at her chest to break out.

After she squeezed his arm, she said close to his ear, “I love you, Brady.” Then reluctantly she let go of him and left the cubicle.

Tears from fatigue, from worry about Brady, blurred her vision. Exiting his room, she ran into a nurse, murmured, “Excuse me,” and headed for the shelter of the hall. She had to be alone. She needed to cry out the weakness inside her so it was gone and she could deal with the rest of this.

“Mrs. Malone, are you all right?”

Having spoken with Dr. Gregano a few times now, she recognized his voice. She swiped her tears away with her palms. “I’m just—” she finally raised her gaze to his “—tired.”

“Stay here a moment,” he ordered, his brow drawn.

Where was she going to go?

To her dismay, the tears kept coming, and she scrubbed at them like a small child who didn’t want to be caught crying.

Suddenly Dr. Gregano was back, carrying a box of tissues. He offered them to her. “Here, blow your nose. Then you have to listen to me.”

She felt like an idiot, blowing her nose in front of him, but she did, and wiped her tears and stuffed the tissues in her pocket. “I’m sorry, I—”

He was already shaking his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. The first visit is tough. I saw my father like that. I thought I was prepared. I knew how he’d look. I knew what the machines would be doing. But to visit a loved one like that is devastating. I’m here to tell you, though, the next visit will be better and the one after that better still. Your husband’s color will improve. He’ll begin breathing with the respirator. He’ll be more alert and realize where he is. In a few hours, we’ll get rid of that tube down his throat and he’ll really start the road to recovery.”

“I’m so scared,” she admitted. “This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. We have some family issues and—”

“Every family does. But as far as being at the worst time—” he shook his head “—this shake-up can let everyone reevaluate what’s happening in their lives.”

This doctor might be years younger than she was, but he had experience she didn’t have and there was a maturity about him. Maybe it came from dealing with life and death every day.

“How old are you?” she asked boldly.

At first he was taken aback, and then he smiled. “Forty-seven. How about you?”

“Fifty-eight,” she admitted with a sigh. “But feeling a lot older right now.”

“At times I feel a hundred and four,” he confided. “But fortunately, once I get out of this hospital, work out at the gym and eat a breakfast that counteracts everything I’ve done, I feel middle-aged again, ready to come back in here and start the war all over.”

“You fight for your patients,” she said, “even when they give up.”

“Sure do.”

Almost reflexively, she glanced at his left hand. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

Observant of where she’d targeted her gaze, he said, “I’m not married. No woman would put up with my schedule.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right one.” A man like him, dedicated to his profession, determined to give his patients most of his energy, deserved to have somebody waiting for him at the end of a long day. But she didn’t say that. It seemed too…personal somehow.

“Feeling a little better?” he asked.

“Yes, and thank you for your concern. You’re busy and I know Brady’s your patient, not me. I’ll be fine. After the next visit I’ll try to get some sleep.”

“Away from the hospital?”

“Well, I was just going to stretch out in the waiting room again.”

“Go home, Mrs. Malone. Sleep in your own bed. Try to get a good night’s rest. You’ll do more for your husband that way than if he spots those dark circles under your eyes and realizes you’re dragging because you haven’t slept.”

“I just…I just don’t want to leave him. It’s crazy, but I feel that as long as I’m here watching over him, as long as I’m talking to him and touching him, he’ll get stronger faster.”

Dr. Gregano gave her a wry smile. “Mr. Malone is a lucky man. I imagine that whether you’re here or whether you’re at home, he’ll feel you pulling for him.”

The cardiologist’s pager went off. Excusing himself, he checked the number. “I have to get this,” he said with a grim expression. “Remember what I said and take my advice. Go home.” Then he was rushing toward the elevator.

Laura looked back at the cubicle she’d exited. Dr. Gregano had said Brady would be better in another hour. She couldn’t leave yet…she just couldn’t. She’d call Pat to pick up the kids, but she was going to stay. No matter what Dr. Gregano said, she wanted Brady to feel her presence. She wanted him to feel her touch.

After thirty-three years of marriage, she didn’t know what else to do.

Chapter 5

“Kat looked so grown-up today.” Brady laid down his fork and rested his head against the back of the chair Sunday afternoon, four days after surgery, feeling more tired than he could ever remember feeling. The surgery should have fixed him. Had it?

Making conversation took effort. But he didn’t want Laura worrying any more than she already was. He could see the guilt in her eyes that she’d caused his heart attack. He could see the questions. But he wasn’t ready to face problems that had been around much too long. He needed a hell of a lot more energy than this to do that.

So he concentrated on pushing his lunch around his plate and forced himself to talk just to get this visit finished. “But I got the feeling she couldn’t wait to leave.” He could still hear the rasp in his voice from being on the ventilator.

After a moment’s hesitation, during which he could tell Laura was debating with herself, she said, “She likes to spend time with you. She just doesn’t want to spend it with you in a hospital.”