February, 2002 

He stood in the flower shop, pulling his hat further down on his head, his eyes moving from one pre-made bouquet to the next, not finding anything that matched up to what he was seeing in his mind. 

“Excuse me.”  Flagging down a worker, he motioned with his hand, gesturing to the arrangements in front of him.  “Are these all that you have, or do you take special orders?” 

“We handle unique arrangements, if that’s what you prefer, sir.”  The older woman smiled at him.  “Looking for something special?” 

He shrugged.  “You could say that, yeah.” 

“Come with me.”  She led him over to a side counter, pulling out a thick book.  “These are all the flowers we offer this time of year.  You can get a single bouquet of one kind, or you can mix and match to your liking.” 

He flipped quickly through the pages, pausing only when he reached the roses.  “Mix and match, huh?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

His gaze came up to her.  “How many flowers are in a bouquet?” 

“It’s up to you, son.”  The woman’s eyes lightened with her laugh.  “One dozen, two dozen, three.  However many you’d like.” 

He looked over the pages, his eyes widening at all the different colors of rose that were pictured. 

Blue.  Purple.  White.  Pink.  Red.  Green.  Yellow.  And what seemed to be all the different shades of each. 

His nose wrinkled when he saw the orange and he shook his head with a quiet laugh. 

Then there were the mixed colors.  White roses with blue- and purple-tipped petals.   Pink and red roses with white-tipped petals. 

He scratched the back of his neck, biting his lip as he tried to see the pairings in his mind. 

“You remind me of my son when he was picking out flowers for his wife on their first Valentine’s Day.”  The woman’s voice drew his attention and he raised his head to look at her.  “He was dead set on getting the perfect arrangement, wouldn’t settle for one that any of the stores had.”  Her eyes got that far away look of someone enjoying a memory.  “He finally got me to go with him and we special ordered the bouquet together.  Got the most gorgeous mix you’ve ever seen.”  She let out a quick laugh.  “It turned out that she was allergic to the roses.  Didn’t phase her any, though.  She just kept right on sneezing until they wilted.” 

He grinned as she laughed again.  “Your son sounds like a good man.” 

“He is.”  She nodded.  “Jim is just about as sweet as sugar.”  Her fingers tapped on the counter top as she studied him.  “She’s special, isn’t she?” 

“Yeah, she is.”  His fingertips moved over the glossy pages of the book as he turned his eyes back down.  “We aren’t married, but she’s definitely special.”  A sigh escaped.  “I’m going to be out of town on business next week, so this is the first Valentine’s Day that we won’t be together.  I want to go that extra mile to make it memorable for her, since I can’t spend it with her.” 

“More than just red roses, huh?” 

He nodded.  “More than just red roses.”  His gaze came back up to her.  “But they should be included, definitely.  I was thinking of a mix of different colored roses.”  His brow furrowed.  “I’m just not very good at color coordinating.” 

“Not many are, son.”  Her hand patted his shoulder before she smiled, reaching under the counter for a pencil and a notepad.  “Here’s what we’ll do.  Tell me about her - what you love about her, her favorite things - and we’ll see what we can come up with.” 

A brief pause settled as he tilted his head to the side, considering her carefully, wondering if he should confide in this woman.  His eyes moved down, landing on her name tag, and he couldn’t help but grin. “Well, Rose . . . her name is Hope and she has the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen . . .” 

Twenty minutes later, the colors had been chosen, the card had been written and she was finalizing the order for a bouquet that put his initial idea to shame. 

“You just need to sign on the line at the bottom and we’ll get running with it.” 

She passed him the order sheet and he looked over it quickly before signing his approval and passing it back to her so that she could total up his charges as she keyed in the order. 

Her fingers pressed keys on the keyboard and she squinted at the screen, double-checking the information she was entering, and he bit back a chuckle, his gaze moving away from her to roam around the shop, a display of single tulips catching his attention. 

“Okay, we’ve got two dozen mixed roses in an etched crystal vase to be delivered to Hope Wilson at the listed address on the afternoon of the 14th.  The message card will be filed with our copy of the order sheet and will be attached before the arrangement leaves the store.”  She pressed a few more keys and looked up at him with a smile.  “And the total charges are $65.63.” 

“Can you add one of these on there?”  He picked a yellow bloom from the display and laid it on the counter, then reached for his wallet to pull out a few bills.  As he passed the money to her, he grinned.  “Keep the change.”  Then he passed the flower to her as well.  “And this is for you.  Thanks for all your help, Rose.  She’s going to love it.” 

With a tip of his hat and a quick wink, he picked up his copy of the order sheet and walked out of the store, humming the entire way. 

************************* 

“Miss Wilson?” 

Hope looked up from her computer at the voice, her eyes widening when she saw the flowers in her doorway.  “Yes?” 

“Delivery.”  The delivery man walked into the office, setting the vase down safely on the corner of her desk before pulling the clipboard from under his arm and flipping through a few pages.  “I just need you to sign here for me.” 

She took the pen he offered and signed her name, pulling her gaze away from the arrangement to look at him.  “Thank you.” 

“No problem.”  He grinned quickly and turned to walk out of the room.  “Have a good one.” 

“You, too.”  She didn’t pay attention as he left, inhaling deeply to take in the aroma of the roses, letting out a sigh of contentment. 

Her fingers moved lightly over the delicate petals, mesmerized by their softness until her eyes landed on the white envelope with her name on it.  She smiled as she pulled it from the bouquet, her thumb moving back and forth over the familiar scrawl of his handwriting. 

Biting her lip, she lifted the flap of the envelope, slowly pulling the card out and flipping it open, looking down as a folded sheet of paper fell into her lap.  She laid the card on the desk, picking up the paper and sitting back in her chair as she read the letter. 

Happy Valentine’s, baby. 

You know I’d love to be there with you today, but it’s just not possible, so I’m making the best out of a not-so-good situation. 

Roses.  I know they’re your favorite, and by the time you finish reading this, I’m hoping that you won’t be able to look at one or smell one without thinking of me. 

There’s a meaning behind each color of flower, and while this isn’t my strong point (you know I get a little corny when it comes to stuff like this), it’s only right that I try to explain each one, so here goes: 

Pink.  You’ve always called it a girly, wimpy color and said that strong women should steer away from it.  You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known, but I love it when you let your strength take a break so that I can see the needy side that you hide away.  I know you think you can handle anything and everything, but I love it when you let me take care of you. 

Green.  Your favorite color.  Plus, I seem to recall a comment you made about how you’d started out dating me just because of the color of my eyes.  You loved to be chased by guys with green eyes.  Thank God I was the one who caught you. 

White.  The color of friendship and trust.  I love that I can come to you with anything, and I trust that you feel you can do the same with me.  You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, Hope, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.  It’s also the color of snow.  I know you love snow, that you miss making snow angels and snowmen.  I promise, one of these winters, we’ll go to Michigan so that you can show me what cold is really all about. 

Yellow.  The color of light and warmth.  Looking back, I’ve found that my life was pretty much dark before you.  I spent so many days just going through the motions.  Then you came along and things got brighter.  Your smile, your laugh, your touch . . . everything about you warms me, helps me see where I’m going, tells me that I’m exactly where I want to be.  And I can’t imagine living without you. 

Blue.  I guess we’re even, huh?  Your eyes . . . I love your eyes.  Whenever I’m in doubt or nervous or scared, your eyes tell me that everything’s going to be okay.  They’re expressive and I can tell exactly how you’re feeling just by looking into them.  I love how I can tell how much you love me just by the way you look at me.  And I love how it makes me feel when you look at me that way. 

Purple.  It seems that purple is a significant color for us.  The day we met, you were wearing that purple jogging suit.  The night I first kissed you, it was a purple sweater.  You wore that gorgeous purple dress to our release party.  The first time you told me you loved me, I was stuck in that hideous purple jacket.  And let’s not forget those purple satin sheets . . . yeah, and I’ll stop there before I embarrass myself in front of the nice flower lady. 

She grinned, then laughed shakily as she wiped the tears from her blushing cheeks, blinking quickly so that she could finish reading. 

Red.  The last color, and probably the most important.  The color that represents the entire reason for this holiday.  Love.  I can’t even begin to describe to you how I feel whenever I see you, whenever I hear your voice, whenever you look at me.  All I know is that I love how you make me feel.  I love the connection that we have.  I love how we fit together, complement each other.  I love the little things, like how your eyes light up when you laugh, how you know just when I need to hold your hand and how you always lick your lips after you kiss me.  I love who I am when I’m with you.  I love how you love me.   But most of all, I just love you. 

I know how you are with flowers.  You just sit and stare at them, happy to be able to see and smell them.  So I know that you’ll be spending some time with these.  As you’re looking at them, just remember that I’m thinking of you. 

Until I get back to you, I’ll be missing you.  I’ll be loving you. 

Happy Valentine’s Day, Hope. 

Love, Me 

Her fingers trembled as she refolded the page carefully, intending to slide it back in the envelope with the card until she could put it somewhere safe at home, but she paused when she noticed the black writing inside the florist’s card. 

Picking up the plain white parchment, she lifted the flap, her eyes moving over the brief cursive. 

Okay, you’ve read the letter and seen the flowers.  Now pick up the phone and call me.  I’ve been dying to talk to you all day and I’m probably driving the guys crazy by now, but I wanted to make sure you got your gift first.  So, stop laughing at me and start dialing.  Please? 

She shook her head with a laugh, placing the letter inside the card and sliding them both into the envelope before reaching for her desk phone, dialing his number without looking. 

He answered before it could ring twice.  “Hey.” 

Her eyes moved over the bouquet and she smiled when she heard the commotion in the background.  “I can’t believe you did this.”  Her voice was shaky, but she couldn’t tell if it was from laughter or tears.  “I love you.” 

“I know you do.”  She could hear his smile.  “I love you too, baby.  More than you’ll ever know.”

 --------------------------------------------- 

June, 2005 

She wearily pushed her way through the door, juggling with her keys, purse and bags as she walked across the entryway. 

“I’m home!”  The silence that followed was eerie, making her eyes narrow in concentration as she listened.  “Hello?” 

Her voice echoed through the house, no response meeting her call. 

She sighed, walking quickly into the kitchen to drop off the groceries. 

He was supposed to be here. 

He’d promised that he’d be here. 

But apparently he’d been called away.  Again. 

A childlike disappointment spread through her and she seriously considered stomping her foot in frustration.  As she turned back to the bags she’d set down, she caught her expression in the window over the sink, caught a flash of the pout that made her lip jut out, and had to laugh at herself. 

Shaking her head, she began to work on the groceries, making sure everything was in its place.  The milk and cheese were placed in the fridge, and as the door slammed closed, the fluttering of a piece of paper grabbed her attention. 

Her brow furrowed as she reached for the white square, recognizing his scribbled cursive in black ink. 

I don’t know how long I’ll be
But I’m not gonna let you down
Darlin’ wait and see
And between now and then
Until I see you again
I’ll be loving you
Love, Me 

She smiled, reading the note over and over.

It was part of one of his favorite songs.  What he liked about it, she’d never know, but it was one of the few that made him cry, even if he was too much of a man to admit it.  Only she knew how he’d get choked up, his voice trailing off halfway through the last chorus, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from escaping.  He would turn to look at her and she’d go to him with a smile, letting him hold her tight, his face buried in her hair, until he’d fought back whatever it was that made him so emotional.  Finally, he would clear his throat and pull away to smile at her before leaning in and kissing her.

Sighing, she took the note with her into the living room, not even bothering to take off her suit jacket, and laid down on the couch, her eyes moving over his words once again.  She wondered if he knew that she’d never give up on him, that it didn’t matter how long she had to wait for him.  Surely he knew that whenever he was gone, she loved him just as much as when he was right there with her.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.  They’d proven the cliché true, more than once.

She reached behind her and positioned the pillow so that she was more comfortable, then folded her hands over his note, holding it to her as she closed her eyes and yawned.

Within minutes, she was relaxed from head to toe, and a deep breath later, she was falling asleep.

************************* 

He was dripping wet when he stepped into the house, his jacket being draped over the carrier in his arms.

Closing the door quietly, he lifted the jacket to look through the wire door, grinning when he saw the sleeping occupant.  Carefully, he set the carrier in the corner next to the coat rack and turned back to the door, pausing just long enough to make sure that he hadn’t jarred their new friend awake.

He ran back through the rain to his car, silently cursing the builders who hadn’t finished the attached garage on time, and grabbed up the second box before running back to the house.

Stepping carefully through the kitchen, he set the cake down on the table and moved toward the living room, cringing when his shoes squeaked despite his best efforts.

He stopped to slip off his shoes, then padded silently through the doorway, expecting to find her reading or working one of her crossword puzzles.  His features softened when he saw her sleeping form, his gaze moving over her a time or two, and he found himself walking slowly across the room until he could kneel down next to her, his eyes lighting up when he saw that she was holding his note as she slept.

She sighed deeply before calming once again, her chest rising and falling with her steady breathing.

A smile played across his lips as he leaned closer to her, his fingertips tracing every curve and line of her face with feather light touches, his eyes moving over her intently, memorizing her every detail.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are.”  He whispered, his thumb brushing lightly over the line of her jaw.  “You’re stunning.  Gorgeous.”  His position shifted so that he was leaning over her, one hand coming down to help him balance as his lips met hers softly.  “And you’re mine.”  He heard her deep breath, knew that she was waking up, and kissed her again, his thumb pressing on her chin, parting her lips for a deeper contact.

“Hmmm.”  Her voice was muffled against him as she brought a hand to the back of his head, holding him to her as she kissed him back, sighing when she felt his fingers brush her cheeks on their way into her hair, the metal of the ring on his left hand cool against her skin.

He pulled back a fraction of an inch, smiling at her dreamy expression.  “Honey, I’m home.”  His lips brushed over hers once more.  “I brought cake.”

“Cake?”

“Yep.  And a present, too.”

“A present?”  She opened her eyes to see him, licking her lips as her expression turned wicked.  “Well, happy birthday to me.”

His head tilted back as he laughed, then he pulled on her until she was sitting up.  “Getting some interesting ideas for the icing?”

“You bet.”  She grinned as she stretched, her eyes widening when she saw his clothes.  “You’re all wet.”

“It’s raining.”  He turned when he heard a quiet whine followed by a scratching noise.  “I think he’s awake.”

“What?”  She shook her head in confusion.  “Who’s awake?”

“Your present.”  Standing, he reached for her hand and pulled her up.  “Come on.”

She let him pull her into the kitchen, stopping obediently when he left her at the table with a quiet “Stay here”.

Her eyes moved over the cake, a smile gracing her lips when she saw the icing roses on the square dessert.  She turned when she heard him mumbling in the foyer, her brow furrowing as she wondered what he was doing.

Then he reappeared in the doorway, having discarded his wet shirt, his hands cuddling something small to his bare chest as he walked over to her.  “I know you’ve wanted one, and I wanted to make sure that I could be here to help with him . . .”  His hands came away from his body, allowing her to see the chubby white fuzzball he was carrying.

“Oh . . .”  Her hand covered her mouth as the fuzzball yawned, then blinked at her.  “Oh, my God.”

“An American Eskimo.  Seven weeks old.”  He smiled as she took the puppy, cuddling it immediately.  “Just like . . .”

“Just like I wanted when I was a kid.”  She finished for him, sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs and setting the puppy on the table so that she could get a good look at him.  “He’s adorable, Lance.”

The puppy blinked when she touched a finger to his nose, then gave a happy bark and stood to chase after her dancing fingers, his paws sliding across the tabletop.

Lance took the seat next to her.  “I’ve got a group of guys coming out next week to fence in the backyard.”  His hand moved to stop the dog from sliding into the cake, scooping him up and putting him back in her arms.  “All he needs is a name and I can file his papers with the AKC.”

“A name . . .”  She looked down at the bundle of fur curling against her, tail wagging as he gave a quiet puppy growl and bit gently on her finger.  “I think he looks like a Cody.”  Blue eyes came up to meet green.  “What do you think?”

He tilted his head and studied the squirming puppy, reaching out to run his fingers through the soft fur on his head.  “Cody, huh?”

The puppy looked up at him with a bark, then licked his hand.

“Well, I guess he likes it.”  Lance laughed.  “Okay, Cody it is.”

Cody yawned again and she smiled, putting him down on the floor, where he curled up next to her foot with a contented sigh.  “We don’t have a bed for him or anything . . .”

“I’ve got enough food to last until tomorrow.  We can go get everything we need in the morning.”  He leaned down and carefully lifted the white fuzzball.  “He’ll be fine sleeping in the carrier for tonight.”

She got up to follow him as he carried the sleeping puppy to his temporary bed.  “Down here or upstairs?”

“He can hang out in our bathroom.”  He stopped when he felt her arms loop around his waist.  “So that we can hear him if he starts crying.”

“Okay.”  Her chin rested on his shoulder and she looked back and forth between man and puppy.  “You know, there’s something sexy about a man holding a puppy.”

“Hmm.  You think?”

“Yeah.”  Her hand moved up so that she could pet the sleeping dog.  “He’s cute and you’re manly.  A perfect match.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes playfully.  “How about you let me go for two seconds so I can put him down?”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I’m sexy and he’s cute.”  His eyes widened as he leaned over to kiss her cheek, then crouched down to put Cody in his carrier.  “He’s cramping my style.”

She grinned as he stood and turned to face her.  “I didn’t say you were sexy; I said you were manly.”

“Eh, same difference.”  He pulled her to him and rested his chin against the side of her head.  “Is he a keeper?”

“He’s perfect.”  She grinned, her arms tightening around his neck, her lips moving against his shoulder.  “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, baby.”  His head tilted down until he could give her a teasing kiss.  “Let’s go get creative with that cake.”

She laughed against him.  “Icing and silk sheets don’t mix, Lance.”

He silenced her with his mouth, lifting her off the ground so that he could carry her through the doorway, pulling away only when she was sitting on the table, her suit jacket tossed over a chair and her fingers in his hair.  Devilish green eyes came up from where his fingers were working on the buckle of her belt.

“Who said anything about leaving the kitchen?”

---------------------------------------- 

October, 2007

“Seriously, Joe . . . shut up.”  He laughed into the phone as he switched lanes.  “I don’t care who she is or what she looks like.”

“Whatever, man.”  Joey kept right on.  “She’s telling everybody who’ll listen that you’re the father of her kid.”

“And we all know that’s about as likely as my sprouting wings and flying.”

“Yeah, but Hope . . .”

“But, nothing.  Hope knows not to believe anything they print in those rags.”  He growled.  “Why is it that everybody can find out what we want the most, then go and make something awful out of it?”

There was a short silence.  “She’s still not . . .”

“No.  She has a doctor’s appointment today, but the test said no, so I doubt it.”

“Those things can be wrong, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.  I guess I just won’t believe it until I hear it from her.”  He checked the digital clock, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.  “She should be home by now and I’m on my way there, so I’ll know in the next hour or so.”

“If it’s meant to happen . . .”

“Then it’ll happen.  I’ve heard it before, man.  Still doesn’t make the waiting any easier.”  He sighed.  “She wants to look into adopting, but . . .”

“But you want it to be yours.”

“Well, yeah.  If it comes down to it, I have nothing against adoption.  I just want to be positive that it’s our only option.”  He veered the Escalade into the left lane to pass an eighteen-wheeler as they went around a curve, his eyes narrowing as he saw the way the truck was weaving.  “Okay, man.  Watch what you’re doing . . .”

“What?”

“This guy’s weaving all over . . . Oh, my God!”

He dropped the phone as the truck suddenly made a sharp turn toward his lane, as if the driver didn’t know he was there.  Blaring his horn, he let up on the gas until the truck straightened out, returning to its proper lane.

“Lance?  You okay?”

Joey’s voice carried up from the phone lying in the passenger seat and he reached out to pick it up, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

“Sorry, man.  This truck just tried to run me off the road.  Listen, I’ll call you back as soon as I get around him.”

“All right.”

He flipped the phone shut and set it down in one of the cup holders, his foot pressing harder on the gas to get around the truck.

When he was about halfway up the length of the rig, the weaving began again, then the truck was moving over into his lane.  In a panic, his foot slammed down on the brake before he realized that he was too far ahead of the end of the trailer for it to miss him.  At this point, he’d be caught between the rear tires and the concrete divider separating the road from the median.

He was trying not to think about how that would maim him when his eyes focused on the end of the barrier, some distance ahead.  As a last ditch effort, he laid his palm flat on the horn and put his entire weight on the gas pedal, hoping to clear the cement before he was crushed.

The sound of squealing tires meshed with the crunching of metal on the passenger side of the SUV, creating an awful cadence that throbbed at the back of his skull.  He was vaguely aware of the sound of other car horns blaring, echoing as everything seemed to move in slow motion.

The driver’s side slammed into the concrete as the truck pushed him further to the side and he pressed the gas harder, desperate to clear those last few yards.

He turned the steering wheel sharply to the left as they reached the end of the divider.

The tail end of the vehicle clipped the concrete, sending him fishtailing as he left the road.

Dear God, help me! 

The prayer looped in his mind like a broken record, resonating in time to the pounding of his heart.

He slammed on the brakes once again and the world started to roll, the flipping sensation forcing him to close his eyes.

There was a sharp crack on the side of his head, then the sound of shattering glass was everywhere, the shards dancing around him.

A loud crash echoed around him and he felt his body jolt, felt the sting of the seatbelt as it bit through his clothes and sliced at his neck.

The brief sensation of something coming loose inside him tore through his left side, quickly followed by a sharp streak down his right.

Suddenly . . . everything was still.

An eerie feeling of suspension overcame him and he blinked rapidly for a few seconds, groaning loudly as the pain set in.

There was a screeching of brakes somewhere outside the metal framing surrounding him before the sound of his own heartbeat became the only thing he could hear, the rushing sound flooding through his mind.

And everything went black.

************************* 

“I’m an hour late and I still beat him.”  A laugh escaped as she blinked, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the house after having been in the bright sunshine for half an hour.

Walking over to the table in the front hallway, she set down her purse and cell phone.  Her fingers lingered over the smooth casing of the phone and she smiled, fighting back the sudden urge to call him.

He could wait until he got home.

As if on cue, the phone in the kitchen began ringing shrilly.

“Of course he’ll be late today.”  She sighed as she walked through the doorway and toward the cordless unit.  “Maybe I should just tell him over the phone.”  With a quick growl, she pressed the button to answer it.  “Hello?”

“Mrs. Hope Bass?”

Her hip cocked to the side, resting against the counter top.  “That would be me.  What can I do for you?”

The voice on the other end began speaking quickly, but clearly.

“Wait . . . are you sure it’s him?”  It was a stupid question, but her mind was refusing to process what she was being told.  “Yes.  Yes.”  She started walking back the way she’d come, snatching up her purse and phone once again.  “Can you tell me how he is?  It’s undetermined?  What does that mean?”  Taking a deep breath, she made a mental grab for her sanity.  “Okay, okay.  Where are they taking him?  Orlando General.  Are they already there?”  She listened for a few more minutes, taking in the information as if her life depended on it.  “All right.  Thank you.”

She clicked the phone off, dropped it on the table and ran out the front door with her heart in her throat, not even checking that the door was locked.

The next forty minutes became a blur, her body going on auto-pilot, her brain turning in on itself, her eyes and hands making the correct movements as she sped to the hospital, praying with everything that she had for it not to be as bad as she feared.

It only seemed as if seconds had gone by when she found herself running through the emergency room doors, heading directly to the nurse’s desk.

“May I help you, ma’am?”

“Yes, my husband . . .”  She fought to catch her breath.  “They just brought him in . . .”

“Last name?”

“Bass.”

The keys on the keyboard clicked as the woman typed quickly.  “Yes, here he is.  They brought him out of X-ray twenty minutes ago and Dr. Thoms should have just finished his consult.”  She gestured to the side of the counter.  “If you go through the double doors to the left, you’ll need to turn down the first hallway on the right.  He’s in the third room from the end on the left side of the hall.”

“Thank you.”  The words were barely out of her mouth as she pushed her way through the doors.

She rounded the corner, her eyes widening when she saw all the white coats milling in the hallway outside his room.  “Dear God . . .”  Her pace quickened until she reached the outskirts of the mess of doctors.  “Excuse me.  Let me through, please.”

A pair of kind gray eyes met hers.  “Mrs. Bass?”

“Yes.  Can I see him?”

“I’m Dr. Thoms.”  He placed a hand on her shoulder.  “We just finished talking with Lance a little while ago.”

“Is he in there?”  A low groan of pain carried into the hall and she stretched her neck, trying to see through the doorway.  “How is he?”

“He was unconscious when they pulled him from the wreckage, but he was alert when he arrived at the ER.  He’s got a pretty bad concussion.  We checked for any swelling in the brain, but the images weren’t conclusive.  His X-rays showed a broken wrist, a few broken ribs, some lacerations to his appendix and a ruptured spleen.”  The doctor pulled her a little ways down the hall, away from the doorway and all the fuss.  “I don’t want to scare you, but I have to give you the overall picture, so that you can be prepared.”

“Okay, okay.”  She took a deep breath.  “How does it look?”

“The situation isn’t good.  A ruptured spleen can be deadly even when treated immediately, but it took rescue workers nearly an hour to remove him from the vehicle and ready him for transport.  He’s lost an awesome amount of blood to internal bleeding.  When he came in, he was already at a class three hemorrhage and I’m afraid he’s heading quickly to a class four.”

“A class four?”  She blinked quickly.  “Is that . . . how bad is that?”

“It’s fatal.  We need to operate immediately, remove the spleen and appendix before he can lose any more blood.  While the surgeon is working, Lance will have a transfusion to raise the levels of blood flowing through his system, hopefully before it’s too late.”  His fingers tightened on her shoulder.  “We have one of the best surgical teams in Florida and they’ll do everything they can for him, but you have to realize that this is a dire situation he’s in.”

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and she had to force herself to speak.  “What are his chances?”

“Honestly . . . in my experience with this kind of injury, at this extent, the chances aren’t good.  Every body handles it differently and I think he has a lot of fight in him, but if he keeps losing blood, his systems are going to start shutting down and we’ll lose him.”

“Why aren’t you already operating on him?  Why is he still out here if it’s risking his life?”

“He refused to give permission for the procedure.  He wanted to see you first.”

“And you listened to him?”  Her eyes narrowed dangerously.  “Don’t you have him on morphine or something?  If he’s doped up on that, how’s he going to know the difference if he sees me first or not?”

“He refused the morphine drip.  He’s in extreme pain, but he was adamant about being lucid when you got here.”

“If you’ll let me in there now, I’ll have him ready to go in a few minutes.”  She growled softly.  “Even if I have to push the bed myself.  Can you have the team ready to work on him that quickly?”

“They’re already prepped and ready, just waiting for him.”

“Okay.”  With a quick nod, she moved past him and toward the doorway, pushing through the crowd of white coats.  “He’ll be ready to go shortly.”

Taking a deep breath, she paused before stepping into the room, swallowing hard when she saw the bruises and cuts covering his face and neck, the paleness of his skin making him blend with the bed sheets, the irregular beeping of the heart monitor attached to the bed penetrating her body.

“Hey, baby.”  His eyes met hers, a weak smile crossing his features for just a second before he gritted his teeth in pain.

“Hey.”  She turned her gaze to the nurse in the room.  “How about we start that morphine now?”

The nurse nodded, quickly adjusting the knobs on the machine by the bed and inserting a needle into his IV.

Hope moved to the side of the bed, smiling down at him as she propped her hip against the mattress.  “I hear there’s an operating room with your name on it.  Team, table and everything.  What’s the hold up here?”

“I’m waiting for you.  They told me everything and I wanted to see you before . . . just in case . . .”

“You know better than to wait on me, Lance.”  Her lips began to tremble, her eyes beginning to water as she saw him relax visibly, the morphine kicking in almost immediately.  “I’m always late.”

“I love you.”  His eyes were sharp, focused on her.  “No matter what happens . . .”

“I love you, too.”  She interrupted him, sniffling quietly, her fingers lacing through his.  “But you need to let them work on you if you’re going to walk out of here anytime soon.”  Her fingers squeezed his and she knew that she’d have to tell him now.  She couldn’t let him leave the room without knowing.

Tears spilled over her cheeks as she leaned down and kissed the side of his head, turning her face to whisper to him.  “I need you to let these guys take care of you now, because I don’t know if I can raise this baby by myself.”

“Baby?”  His eyes were wide when she leaned back just far enough to smile at him.  “You’re . . . we’re . . .?”

“Yeah, we are.”  Her lips touched his gently.  “And I’d appreciate it if our child had both parents around for at least the next forty years or so.”

“I think I’d like that, too.”  He stared at her for a second before nodding to the nurse.  “Let’s get this rolling.”

The nurse left the room, rushing to round up the aides and doctors, who began alerting the surgical team.

Hope felt his fingers in her hair, trembling with the effort it took to lift his hand, then he was pulling her down, ignoring his bruised lips to give her a deep kiss.  “You’re pregnant?”

“As pregnant as I can be.”  Another tear escaped as she smiled against him.  “Now we need to get you put back together again, okay?”

“Okay.”  He released her as the room was overrun with white coats, allowing her to step away as they prepped the bed to be moved, rushing to get him mobile and out the door.  He felt the bed rolling and reached for her hand again.  “Walk with me.”  His voice was weakening as the morphine seeped further through his system.  “Don’t leave me yet.”

“I’m not going to leave until they tell me I can’t follow you.”  She kept pace with them, her grip tightening on his hand when his eyes closed.  “Lance . . .”

He breathed painfully and forced his eyes open once again.  “I’m still here, baby.”

They’d reached a set of double doors, presumably leading to the operating rooms, the aides pausing to secure the doors open.  “We need to move quickly, ma’am.”

“Just one second.  Please.”  She bit her lip as she looked down at him, then leaned close to kiss him carefully once more.  Before straightening, she moved so that she could sing softly in his ear, her voice wavering with her tears.

If you get there before I do
Don’t give up on me
I’ll meet you when my chores are through
I don’t know how long I’ll be

His fingers moved in hers, giving her hand a weak squeeze as he finished the words with her. 

But I’m not gonna let you down
Darlin’ wait and see
And between now and then
Until I see you again
I’ll be loving you
Love, Me 

He blinked slowly as her fingers combed through his hair, her eyes moving over his face with concentration, as if she were trying to memorize his every feature.  “Don’t give up on me, Hope.”  His voice was raspy and she had to lean closer to hear him.  “It’s going to be all right.  I . . .”

“Don’t promise me.”  The tears running down her cheeks began to move faster.  “You can’t promise me.”

The monitor fixed to the metal railing skipped a beep and the bed was pulled further into the doorway.  “He needs to be in there now.”

She looked up at the aides, who were watching her impatiently, then back down at him.  “I need to let you go now.”

“Hold on.”  He pulled his hand from hers, his eyes following his fingers until his palm was flat against her abdomen.  “I can’t promise your Mom, because she won’t let me, but I’ll promise you.  I’m going to be okay.  Before we know it, I’ll be spoiling you rotten.”  His voice was soft, his throat working to swallow as he forced his gaze up to her face.  “I’ve waited too long to be a Daddy to miss out on it now.”

Holding back a sob, she gripped his fingers again.  “I love you, Lance.”

A soft smile formed on his lips as she kissed the back of his hand.  “I love you too, baby.”

Allowing herself one last look at him, she released his hand and nodded to the aides.  “Take him.”

The bed was pulled through the doorway and the doors swung closed, blocking her view of him being pulled down the hall. 

Trembling in shock, she turned to walk down the hallway, one hand on the wall to keep her upright.

She’d barely made it into a seat in the waiting room when her mind left her, her hands coming up to cover her face as the first of many sobs wracked her body, rendering her helpless as she curled into herself in the corner of the couch.

Don’t take him.  Please, God, don’t take him from me.  I need him here. 

She felt a twist in her gut and one hand came down to cover her stomach.

We need him here. 

The prayer repeated over and over in her mind, almost in time with the rocking movements of her body, and all she could do was sob openly, blocking out everything but the terrified pain overtaking her.