Forever Night: One Night, #3

Chapter One

I’m heading to the hospital, but I’ve no clue what I’ll find when I arrive. My chest is heavy, filled with worry and sadness. My heart aches, so much is unknown. I’ve fallen for Logan, my new lover, but a part of my heart is still with Christopher. I’d had hoped to reconcile my marriage and continue to build a future together. A year ago, Christopher changed the game, deciding our marriage was no longer what he desired. The problem was I never received that memo. He decided our future together without me. Now, that future might change again, for both of us.

Our lives have been tangled since we separated. Christopher has a child on the way with Janet. I just said goodbye to my new lover a few hours ago. I’m not even sure if anyone has contacted Janet yet. I’ll assess the situation when I arrive. I need to find out the basics before I worry a pregnant woman. Most people would think that I’m insane for looking out for Janet and the baby, but I wish her no harm. As I drive to the hospital, a million different things are racing through my head. I’m trying to sort out what needs to be done after I get more information from the nursing staff. I’ll need to call Christopher’s family, Janet, and my best friend, Tabitha. I should call Tabitha while I’m on the way, but I know if I try to tell her, I’ll break down in the car. One accident a day is all I can handle. Nothing good will come from us both being in the hospital.

Locating a spot in the parking garage, I gather up my items and head down the stairwell toward the emergency room. The sliding doors open, and the stale smelling air hits me like a wave on the shore. I stop right inside, glancing around the waiting room to locate the registration counter. I spot it off to the left-hand side with a few nurses gathered around.

I approach the desk, shy as a kitten being stalked by a stranger. I’ve never had to deal with tragedy, and I’m scared shitless. I can’t show fear. I have to keep on my brave face. I refuse to show Christopher that he could break me even more, I tell myself. I’m only here because I’m his next of kin. Once I find out what I need to know, I’ll get him in touch with his family to care for him. I shouldn’t be here, but the draw for me is too magnetic.

Excuse me. I’m looking for a nurse Johnson, I squeeze out like my voice box forgot how to work.

Not even looking up from her outspread papers, Your name, she says.

Angela Stephens… My husband was brought in; I was told he was in a car accident. That got her attention.

The nurse jerks her head up, eyes wide open, taking me in. Yes Mrs. Stephens, give me just a moment. I’ll locate Nurse Johnson. Please have a seat, it should only be a moment. She abruptly stands and turns, disappearing behind the door with a brown placard marked triage. I locate a row of empty seats and plop down in the middle of the row, the dingy baby blue vinyl seat makes a swoosh sound as I sit. Whatever material they stuffed the seats with sure needs to be replaced. Heck, who am I kidding? They all need to be burned and replaced.

County Regional is the trauma hospital. I’ve never been treated here, always using Memorial Place after hearing some horror stories about County. I look around the waiting room, examining the others around me. I take in the mother embracing her young son against her chest, rocking him back and forth. The child appears tired, but not as tired as the mother looks, or is that the face of worry?

An elderly couple sits across from the mother and child, the gentleman with his right arm protectively around his wife’s shoulders. She rests her head on his right shoulder. Who knows the reason behind their visit. I keep looking around, assessing everyone I see waiting. Wondering who they are here to see, and if they all have a special someone to go home to when they leave.

Faintly, I hear my name called. The voice reminds me of my grandmother’s, soft and gentle. Mrs. Stephens?

Yes, I’m Angela Stephens, I reply, approaching the tired, worn out woman.

Nurse Johnson has to be in her late sixties, five-foot-five inches is pushing it, her solid gray hair in a single braid down her back, giving her a motherly aura.

Mrs. Stephens, please follow me. She directs me to a set of nearby doors. Making our way down the corridor to another set of doors, Nurse Johnson opens the one designated family room. Nurse Johnson and I are the only ones in the room.

Once Dr. Maxwell is finished he’ll join us. She directs me to take a seat in another nasty, blue vinyl chair.

Silence engulfs me, so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife. I know the nurse can’t divulge any information without a doctor present. There’s this sinking feeling that once the physician walks through that door, my world will shatter even more. If Christopher’s alive, I would have seen him already.

Excuse me? Do you know how much longer the doctor will be? I’d really like to find out something soon, please, I say, fidgeting and wringing my hands. I’m tired, worried, and exhausted. Life has moved so quickly over the last week or so that I just want to rest. I’m ready for a mental break from everything. I know I shouldn’t complain, but this whole ordeal has turned me into a whiner. I’m normally not a whiner, so I feel entitled.

Nurse Johnson stands, Let me see if I can find him. I’ll be right back. The door shuts behind her making me feel as though I’m locked inside with no way out. I stand and start pacing across the worn, gray, fake tiles, pulling at the neck of my shirt. I do this when I’m upset or nervous. It drives Tabitha nuts when I pace. If I want to take that crazy to another level, I start to tug at the neck of any shirt I’m wearing. It’s calming and helps me think. Some people pick at their nails, chew their lip, or twirl strands of hair. I do none of those; I pace and stretch my shirts.

It’s only been a few minutes, but it feels like hours waiting for their return. I pivot to continue my mad pacing when I hear the door knob turn. I barely lift my head all the way, I feel defeated before the conversation even starts. I move my eyes up, taking in the doctor’s stance. He’s younger than I expected and looks to be pushing six-feet tall. His hair’s covered with one of those green surgery caps and looks to be a light brown from the few strands hanging out the side. It’s when I take in his scrubs that I collapse. The gray tile opens up and swallows me. The doctor’s scrubs are covered in splotches of blood. Is it Christopher’s blood?

Chapter Two

Limp as a ragdoll on the floor, time stands still. All I can think is that he’s gone; my husband, or soon-to-be ex-husband. There was so much more that still needed to be said. Now, I won’t ever have that peace or that chance. I slide my eyes forward on the tile and spot a pair of white sneakers in front of me.

A soft, gentle voice, full of sorrow says, Mrs. Stephens, I’m Dr. Maxwell. He places his hand in front of me to help me stand. Up we go. Let’s have a seat in one of the chairs. I stand and follow him to those dreadful blue vinyl seats again. Situated, I turn to face the doctor and notice nurse Johnson is no longer in the room with us. I was hoping she had stayed, just in case. Clearing his throat, Mrs. Stephens, your husband was brought in this evening after he suffered severe injuries from a head-on collision. I gasp, waiting to hear that Christopher is gone. I can’t fight the tears, although I try. Dr. Maxwell takes my hands in his. It’s going to be fine. He made it through surgery, Mrs. Stephens. I thought they already told you this. Now I can see that you didn’t know.

My heart speeds up, and I’m not sure if I heard him correctly. You mean he’s alive? I manage to ask.

Yes ma’am, he is. The next twenty-four hours are going to be very critical, but he should pull through.

What injuries? Where is he?

Mr. Stephens is currently in an induced coma. We had to relieve some swelling of his brain due to the head trauma he received from the accident. His right leg is fractured, but we were able to repair it in surgery. His left ankle was sprained pretty bad and will need some therapy. He will have a boot for at least six weeks while it heals. The impact ruptured his spleen, and we removed that during the operation as well.

When can I see him?

He’s in recovery right now. As soon as we move him to a private room upstairs, I’ll have a nurse take you up. Mrs. Stephens, there was another person brought in with your husband, a young lady by the name of Janet Ward. Do you happen to know her?

I shouldn’t have been shocked that Janet was in the vehicle with him. Christopher’s been staying with her, plus they work together. Yes, she’s his assistant. Is she okay?

I ask trying to display some compassion for Janet.

I really shouldn’t tell you this, but we’re having a hard time locating next-of-kin for Ms. Ward. Do you have any contact information that you could pass on?

No. Janet’s parents died a few years ago. She’s an only child. I’d have to ask my father-in-law to see if he knows of anyone.

If you could see what you can find out, it will be very helpful.

Where is Janet? Is the baby okay, I ask, knowing once Christopher wakes he’ll want to know what happened.

I hate to tell you this, Mrs. Stephens, but you’ll need to know this while seeking her family. Miss Ward didn’t make it. She died on impact at the scene.

Letting out a gasp, I throw up my hands, covering my mouth in shock. I don’t know what I feel. From what I knew of her, Janet was a wonderful person. I’d wished no harm to her or the baby. Yes, she’d taken my husband away from me and was giving him what I had always wanted, a family. I wipe away the tears, tears I didn’t think I could shed for her. Are they really for her? Or are they for the loss of Christopher’s unborn child? Somehow I’ll have to let Christopher know what happened.

I’ll see what I can find out. If not, we will take care of the arrangements. I know Christopher will want to handle things. They were going to start a life together after all. I can be the better person right now and set my differences aside.

That’s very kind of you. I’ll let the nurse know. As soon as we have your husband in his room, we’ll let you know. Dr. Maxwell stands, opens the door then turns sideways towards me, I’m sure your husband will be okay, and I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.

With that, he walks out the door. Friend? If he only knew the real reason why she was in that car with my husband, he might think differently.

I dig around in my purse to find my phone. I need to make a few calls to Tabitha, my father-in-law, and Logan. It’s been a whirlwind. I never thought to text or check my phone to see if Logan has landed. He had told me that he would touch base with me as soon