Chapter 35
Over the next several hours, Mary underwent X-rays and scans, all while Bert held her hand and provided silent support.
The hospital neurosurgeon had consulted via video link with Dr. Casteel back in Montana to ensure they were addressing and coordinating all the complications that could arise from her spinal cord injury.
The results showed two cracked ribs, significant soft tissue damage to her throat, and various contusions and abrasions. But the doctor’s concern went beyond the obvious injuries.
“Ms. Smithwick,” the doctor said, pulling up her X-rays on the monitor, “we’ve done a complete scan of your lower extremities as a precaution.
The good news is there are no fractures in your legs, which was a concern given that you were fighting in close quarters and wouldn’t have felt any breaks or severe trauma below your level of injury. ”
“That’s a relief,” Mary said, her voice still hoarse.
“However, we need to discuss some complications specific to your spinal cord injury,” the doctor added, his expression serious. He continued to list the areas of concern with Mary’s spine that would need medical care and her attention to ensure the injuries did not worsen.
Bert’s hand tightened on Mary’s, his jaw clenching.
“Understood,” Mary said, though she felt a flutter of anxiety.
The list seemed endless, and with each concern the doctor reviewed, Bert’s hand squeezed even more. She finally caught his eye, looked down at the grip he had, and then sighed in relief as he loosened his fingers.
The doctor droned on, and while Mary tried to focus on each word, she felt as though only a few were actually being heard. “Trauma… stress… higher risk… symptoms… immediate medical attention.”
Mary nodded, feeling the weight of additional worry settle on her shoulders, as if the cracked ribs and throat damage weren’t enough.
But she knew the information was necessary, and she had long ago stopped feeling embarrassed over socially awkward topics of bowel movements, bladder issues, and sores.
But no matter what the doctor said, Bert spoke up immediately. “I’ll help with that. Whatever she needs.”
The doctor nodded approvingly.
“Is there anything else?” Mary asked, feeling overwhelmed by the cascade of potential complications. She quickly wished she hadn’t asked since the doctor seemed to be a walking medical encyclopedia.
“One last thing,” the doctor said.
Mary snorted. “Lay it on me, Doc.” She knew if she didn’t try to laugh, she would go crazy.
The doctor lifted a brow as one side of his mouth quirked upward, probably from seeing patients use humor to defuse their fear. But one look at Bert’s face, and she realized that even humor wasn’t going to offer him any relief. She sighed and nodded to the neurosurgeon to continue.
“Your immune system is going to be compromised while you’re healing from these injuries. The stress your body is under right now makes that risk even higher. Any fever, any signs of infection, you need to be seen immediately. Don’t wait.”
“I understand,” she said, though privately, she felt exhausted by the litany of potential complications. It wasn’t enough to heal from the attack itself, but she had to navigate all the additional risks that came with her paralysis.
After the doctor left, Bert pulled his chair closer to her bed. “That was a lot of information.”
“Welcome to life with a spinal cord injury,” Mary said with a tired smile. “Everything is more complicated. Every injury comes with a cascade of potential secondary complications.”
He was quiet, but she didn’t get the feeling he was pulling away. Nonetheless, she offered, “Bert, you can walk away, you know. The last thing I want is for you to feel trapped—”
He jerked, his brows slamming together. “You think I’d walk away from you?”
She slowly shook her head. “No. I know you have too much integrity. But I have to acknowledge that this is way over what you probably hoped you would ever have to deal with.”
He stood and leaned over her bed, placing his face close to hers. “Baby, I’m in awe of you every day, and allowing me to share in your life is the greatest honor you could bestow.”
She felt the sting of tears just before his lips softly landed on hers.
He leaned back, one hand cupping her face. “We’ll manage it,” Bert said firmly. “Together. You tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure you get it. Pressure reliefs every thirty minutes, skin checks every four hours, helping you reposition at night—whatever it takes.”
Mary felt tears prick her eyes. “You’re signing up for a lot of work, Bert. Round-the-clock care for someone who can’t even feel half the injuries she sustained.”
“I’m signing up to take care of the woman I love,” Bert corrected gently. “And yes, your spinal cord injury complicates things. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you or my commitment to making sure you heal properly.”
Mary squeezed his hand, grateful beyond words. The attack had been terrifying. The injuries were serious. But having Bert beside her, ready to learn and adapt and help navigate the complex medical reality of her paralysis? Suddenly, everything felt manageable.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For not being scared off by all the complications.”
“Takes more than medical complications to scare me off,” Bert said with a small smile. “I’m a former SEAL. I’ve faced worse than pressure sore prevention protocols.”
Mary laughed, which hurt her ribs but felt good anyway. “I love you.”
“I love you back,” Bert said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Now get some rest. Doctor’s orders. I’ll be right here.”
Through it all, Bert couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d come to losing her.
If Frank had been a little stronger, a little more successful in his attack.
If Mary hadn’t fought back so fiercely. If the lighthouse necklace hadn’t allowed Bert to track her level location on the boat.
It ran through his mind that he wanted to develop that level of tracker to replace the ones in the Keepers’ lighthouse tattoos.
Mary was resting when his phone rang, and glancing at the number, he knew he needed to keep Logan informed of what was happening. He had messaged to tell them she was going to the hospital, but he hadn’t called to offer an update. He stepped outside her room and answered.
“How is she?” Logan asked.
“She has two cracked ribs—”
“Fuck!”
Bert realized Logan was at the compound and several Keepers were there, now cursing in the background. Continuing, he added, “Bruises, especially around the neck where he tried to strangle her.”
More “fucks” could be heard in the background.
For Bert, the image of Mary slumped in that closet, the bruises on her throat, and the pain in her eyes would haunt him for a long time.
The knowledge of how close he’d come to losing the woman he loved.
“There’s a shit ton more problems that go along with her paralysis.
But the doctor feels confident as long as we do everything we can to monitor her. ”
Without him saying a word, Logan instinctively knew what he was feeling. “You found her in time. She’s alive… hurt, but alive. Frank is in custody, and the RCMP have been talking to Diane and George Weston. I told them to leave you two alone until Mary is better.”
“Thanks, boss. That’ll be good. She can barely speak now anyway.”
He peeked back into her room and watched her sleep. After disconnecting, he walked back and sat in the chair next to her. He reached over and held her hand, watching her breathe. Each rise and fall of her chest was a miracle, a gift, a promise that she was still here.