Chapter 27
Rory sat in her bright sitting room, staring at the draft marriage contract in her hands with a huge smile.
“Yes, Hank. I’ll be your wife,” she whispered, tasting the words, testing them. Did she dare say them aloud to him?
For two days, she mulled over all her worries and objections, and then the draft contract arrived.
Even though she knew what it would contain, seeing it all spelled out bowled her over.
He knew exactly what she needed. To be free to stand on her own two feet.
That was what he was giving her. She could be with him and still stand on her own.
She stood up and spun around, hugging herself. Her delicious pilot was all hers at last. She couldn’t wait to tell him. He was supposed to be home this evening, wasn’t he?
With a little whoop, she ran into her room and threw open her wardrobe. She needed exactly the right dress for getting engaged—something flirtatious and flowy but not overly formal.
Stripping off the plain cotton frock she was wearing, she changed into a gown that was a deep plum color with fluttering whispers of silk at the shoulders for sleeves, a square neckline, cinched waist, and a flowing skirt whose hem fell to mid-calf.
It was decadent without being too showy or revealing.
She paired it with gray suede kitten heels and examined the effect in the mirror. Perfect.
Then she sat at her vanity and arranged her hair up in a twist with curled tendrils framing her face.
She used a touch of rouge and lip paint and accentuated her eyes with dark eyeliner.
Most of her jewelry, she had to leave behind when she left her father’s, but she still had the string of pearls from her mother, so she put them on.
Lastly, she put on a touch of magnolia scent. She was ready.
Just as she was getting her handbag to walk over to Hank’s, there was a knock at her door. Could it be him? Maybe he came straight to see her after he landed.
She opened it and was surprised to see Bill O’Donnell. His face was uncharacteristically somber.
“You’re not Hank,” she said.
“No, I—” He stopped, glancing at her dress and then her face. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I’m sorry, Rory. I have bad news. There’s been an accident.”
For a moment, the words didn’t register, and then the world narrowed to a pinhole. She grabbed the doorjamb for support.
“Hank?” she asked, knowing the answer before he spoke.
“I’m afraid so. He’s at Nassau Hospital.”
That meant he was alive. Thank God. “What happened?”
“Something went wrong when he was landing. He plowed into the stands at Belmont. He was thrown from the cockpit and hit his head. He’s unconscious. The doctors say it’s touch and go.”
She grabbed Bill’s arm. “I have to see him.”
Bill nodded. “I’ll take you.”
Everything around her seemed far away as Bill walked the few blocks to the hospital with her. It was dusk, and the world was surrounded by deep, insidious blue. It seeped into her, making her shiver despite the sultry summer evening.
When they arrived at the entrance, it felt like she was wading through mud. Her body didn’t want to move. She needed to see but didn’t want it to be real. Seeing it would mean accepting that it happened, that he was hurt, that she might lose him.
She clung to Bill’s arm as he walked her into the hospital and up to the front desk. Bill asked for the room, and the woman told him, “I’m afraid only family members are allowed in at this time.”
“She’s his fiancée,” he bluffed. Little did he know that it was very nearly true.
“Oh, sweetie! I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “You can go right in. It’s room twelve.”
“I’d better go with her,” Bill said. “She’s not very steady on her feet at the moment.”
The woman gave him a look. “You can go in and help her get seated, but then I want you back out here in the waiting area. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and steered Rory down the hall.
The sounds of the hospital echoed around her, but she hardly heard them. All her attention was on putting one foot in front of the other so that she could get to Hank. He steered her into a small room with two beds. One was empty, the other had Hank.
She rushed to his side, and Bill backed quietly out of the room.
Hank looked so peaceful, as if he was sleeping, except for the bandage around his head.
Then she looked closer and saw his left leg was in a cast beneath the covers.
“Hank, it’s me, Rory. I came as soon as I heard.
Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me. ”
Nothing.
Tears prickled the corners of her eyes. “I wanted to tell you I’ll marry you, Hank. I was hoping to tell you today. You finally convinced me.” She took his hand and kissed it, then pressed it to her cheek.
She pulled up a chair and sat beside him, holding onto his hand.
“The contract was perfect. You gave me exactly what I needed to feel free and independent. I love you for it.”
The words took her by surprise. Hank had said them often enough, but she had resisted.
She hadn’t spoken of love before, except to family.
But that was what Hank was now in her heart: family.
He was the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with.
Or the rest of his, she thought sadly, looking at his still form on the bed.
This was what Hank always feared. He didn’t want to cause the heartbreak and grief that came with accidents like this. Never getting close, he kept everyone at arm’s length.
Rory couldn’t help but think of the war widows she worked with through the PBA. They had all been through this, though they weren’t able to sit beside their husbands’ bedsides. It was a luxury to be here, holding his hand.
If she lost him…
No, she wasn’t going to think about that. Somehow, she was going to get him through this. He was going to recover. He had to.
“Hank,” she tried again. “Hank, it’s me. Please show me some sign you’re in there.”
Then she felt it—the slightest squeeze. “Oh, thank God.” She squeezed him back and kissed his hand again.
At that moment, a doctor came in. “Excuse me, young lady. Are you a member of his family?”
“I’m his fiancée,” she said, sitting up but refusing to relinquish his hand.
“I see. Well, you can stay while I examine him, but I’ll need you to step back.”
She got up and pulled her chair against the wall, then sat well out of the way.
The doctor listened to his heart, checked his pulse, opened his eyes and checked them with a light for response. He shook his head and began making notes on his clipboard.
“Can you tell me anything, doctor? Please, I need to know.”
The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. “He’s had a severe concussion.
We stitched up and bandaged his injuries, but it’s the internal damage we have to worry about.
It’s impossible to know what will happen after an accident like this.
He could wake up just fine five minutes from now.
He could wake up with brain damage. He could stay in a coma indefinitely, or he could pass on.
I don’t want to alarm you, but I also don’t want to hide the truth.
I wish I could tell you something more definite, but in cases like this, only time will tell. ”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eye makeup must look a fright, she thought idly as she attempted to absorb the doctor’s words. “Is there anything I can do, doctor?”
“Talk to him. Read to him. Anything to stimulate his brain. People respond to their loved ones differently than strangers. You may have luck where we’ve failed.”
Rory nodded. “Just now, I asked him to give me a sign that he heard me, and he squeezed my hand ever so slightly. I think he heard me.”
The doctor smiled at her. “Any reaction is a good sign. Keep talking to him. Maybe you’ll get something more.”
“Thank you, doctor,” she said wiping her tears.
“Of course, my dear. Take care, and I’ll be back to check on him in a few hours.”
He left, and she took some tissues and water from Hank’s bedside and wiped off her eye makeup as best she could, using a compact to check the results. Her face was red and puffy, but at least she no longer had black dripping down her cheeks.
Pulling her chair back over to Hank, she took his hand again.
“Did you know I almost died of pneumonia in this hospital when I was three?” she said, holding his hand to her cheek.
“My family has a vacation home on the North Shore, and we were there over Christmas when I got sick. My father says I was in here a whole week. All I remember is the piles of candy my brothers brought me to cheer me up. And I remember the worried look on Papa’s face.
It’s one of the few times I remember him looking worried at me instead of angry.
I think he was worried he was going to lose me like he lost Mama.
When I finally came home from the hospital, he had bought me a pony, even though I was too young to ride. ”
Rory caressed Hank’s hand. No response.
“Papa’s upset, and he’s wrong about so many things when it comes to women in general and me in particular. But I hope someday we can reconcile. I don’t care about the money, but he’s my family. All I’ve ever wanted is his love. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it, but I have to hope.”
She kissed Hank’s hand. “Now you’re going to be my family. You’re going to be my husband, and I’m going to be your wife. And you had better wake up if you want to have any hope of getting me in your bed. Although I suppose a bed isn’t strictly necessary. A rooftop or a Jenny will do.”
She felt another squeeze, this one stronger than the last. “When we were growing up, Evelyn used to tease me about marrying a pilot, you know. Or a jockey. Or a racecar driver. Or perhaps a hot air balloonist. I always had a daredevil streak. When she and I race, I almost always win. I want it more, and I’m willing to take bigger chances. ”
She poured herself a cup of water from the pitcher on Hank’s nightstand and took a drink.
“Once, we were all at the circus, and after the show, I ran off and found the tent with the trapeze artists. When my nanny found me, I was asking them all about how to join the circus and learn to do tricks just like them. I lost desserts for a week for running away like that.”
She took another drink. Her throat was dry from talking.
“I just want you to know who it is you’re marrying.
I would like to say I’ve settled down since then, but really, I haven’t, as you well know.
There are so many new and interesting types of trouble to get into.
But I promise to be a good and faithful wife.
I’ll be boring as bread for you if you’ll just wake up. ”
She felt another squeeze. It ran through her like an electric jolt, prodding her to tell more stories. She talked for hours, stopping only to feed him some broth, slowly spooning it into his mouth and making sure he swallowed.
The doctor stopped by, checking his pulse and examining his head injury, but when she asked if there had been any change, the doctor shook his head and left.
At some point, Bill came back and asked if she was ready to go home.
She told him she was staying and sent him on his way.
Eventually, she drifted off sitting in the chair with her head resting against the bed, her hand still in his.
She slept fitfully for hours, having one terrible dream after another until a squeeze on her hand woke her up in the darkness just in time to hear him murmur, “Rory.”