Married Or Not?. Brenda Jackson
in good shape, considering what she went through.”
Greg’s relief at the news caused him to choke up. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to gain control over his emotions.
“May I see her?” he finally managed to ask.
“She’s in recovery at the moment. Once they move her to ICU one of the nurses will come get you.”
“Thank you.” Greg held out his hand and the surgeon shook it before leaving the room.
Broken bones. Those would heal. The trauma caused by the surgery would also need time to heal. She was going to be okay. He fought the constriction in his throat. He was tired, that’s all.
He glanced at his watch. It was after six and he still hadn’t followed up on the investigation he was conducting. The team needed answers quickly. Law-enforcement personnel knew that the first forty-eight hours after a crime was committed were the most critical for gathering evidence. He needed to get back on this one before any more time was lost.
He approached the nurse who had taken down the information on Sherri. “May I help you?” she asked.
“Do you have any idea when Sherri Masterson will be out of recovery?”
“Not really.” She shook her head. “They’ll keep her in recovery until her vitals stabilize.”
When would that be? Soon, he hoped. He really needed to see her.
“I have to get back to work right now, but I’ll definitely be back later tonight.”
The nurse nodded and Greg headed for the elevators. He’d started to shake once the doctor had left. Reaction and relief that her injuries were no longer life-threatening and that she’d made it through surgery all right had gotten to him.
There was nothing he could do for her at this point, a feeling he’d often had when they were together. That didn’t mean that he could just walk away from her now.
Three
Greg returned to the hospital a little after midnight. Another shift was at the nurses’ station.
He’d managed to get some work done on his latest investigation before he’d gone to find Sherri’s car. What he’d seen had sickened him and caused him to wonder how she had survived.
“I’m Sherri Masterson’s husband, Greg Hogan,” he said quietly. “I haven’t been able to see her since her surgery. Would it be possible to see her now?”
An older nurse came around the counter. “Follow me. Please don’t stay long.”
“Has she been awake at all since coming to the ICU?”
“For a few minutes when they brought her to her room. She’s being given something for pain and is pretty groggy.”
Greg hadn’t known what to expect when he walked into her room. He hadn’t seen her in almost two years, but nothing could have prepared him for the shock of seeing her lying there so still.
He wouldn’t have recognized her. Her face was swollen, with cuts and bruises that no doubt occurred when her airbag inflated.
The hospital staff had her hooked up to machines and a bag of liquid. One machine monitored her heart, another kept track of her blood pressure and pulse and he knew the drip contained saline solution to keep her hydrated.
She was so pale that if it hadn’t been for the steady beat of the machine, he would have thought she was dead.
He’d forgotten how small she was because she had loomed so large in his memory.
Her thick lashes lay on her cheeks hiding her amazingly green eyes. She looked peaceful lying with her arms beside her. Her dark hair framed her face and he realized she’d cut it. Now it feathered around her head. Her poor face was battered and she had a black eye but all of that would go away with time and rest.
He stepped closer to the bed and placed her limp hand in his.
“What have you done to yourself, Sherri?” he whispered.
“What were you doing out on the highway in the middle of the day? Had you gotten sick at work and gone home early?”
She stirred and her lashes fluttered, but her eyes stayed closed.
The nurse returned to the room. “You’ll need to leave now. I’m sure she’ll be more awake in the morning.”
The next morning Greg was at the hospital by seven o’clock. He found Sherri sleeping. One of the nurses came in.
“How’s she doing?” he asked, his voice low.
“Remarkably well, considering. She roused a few times in the night while we were checking on her but went back to sleep. Rest is the best thing for her. “
Sherri heard people talking nearby. She wished they would go away and let her sleep. The alarm hadn’t gone off yet to remind her to get up. They continued to talk and Sherri could have sworn she recognized one of the voices: a deep voice that had always made her heart race.
“Greg?” she whispered. Surely not. Why would he—
“I’m right here, Sherri,” he replied, picking up her hand and bringing it to his lips.
She was probably dreaming, but why would she dream of him?
Finally, she opened her eyes and stared at him. “Greg?” she whispered in wonder. “Is it you?” She remembered now that she was in the hospital. What was he doing there?
He nodded and flashed a brief smile at her. “How are you feeling?” He sat in the chair next to her bed.
She looked at her hand still nestled in his. “Very strange. I think I’m actually dreaming this conversation.”
“No, I’m really here. I’ve been worried about you.”
“I must be in worse shape than I thought if you’re here,” she said roughly, her mouth dry.
Without hesitation he reached over and handed her a bottle of water with a plastic straw in it.
She sipped on the water, trying to bring her brain into some kind of focus.
He brushed her hair off her forehead. “You cut your hair.”
“Yes. It’s easier to keep this way.”
Neither one of them spoke after that. Sherri couldn’t come up with a coherent thought or question.
“Do you remember the accident?” he finally asked.
“No. I guess I got a little banged up.”
“Some internal injuries and a broken arm and leg would bear that out.”
“The doctor said he had to remove my spleen and sew up some tears inside.” She paused before saying, “No more gymnastics for me, I guess.” He didn’t smile, which didn’t surprise her. It was a lame joke.
“My guess is that the seat belt did its job and saved your life but caused damage of its own.”
She had trouble keeping her eyes off him. Greg Hogan was there in the hospital to see her. They’d had no contact in years and yet, now he was here.
“This is too weird. Why are you here?”
“I told you.”
“How did you hear about the accident?”
“At the station. That was one heck of a pile-up and several units were out there. Someone radioed in that your car had been sandwiched between an eighteen-wheeler and an SUV.” He nodded toward the nearby table. “They brought your purse back to the station when they recognized you and gave it to me. I left it here when I checked on you last night.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m having trouble concentrating