Chapter 27
Paul pushed through the automatic doors of St. Joseph Medical Center just after ten o’clock that night. Although the highway was covered in fresh snow, it was mostly empty. It wasn’t the sort of night you went anywhere, unless there was an emergency.
Susan’s text had gutted him. Not just the news about Matt, although that was terrible, but the raw honesty in her words. I love you. I should have said it sooner.
He’d been protecting himself for so long, keeping everyone at arm’s length, that he’d almost missed the fact that Susan had been doing the same thing. Two people circling each other cautiously, both too damaged to trust that anything good could last.
The waiting room wasn’t hard to find. He followed the signs to the ICU, his footsteps echoing in the too-bright corridor. When he rounded the corner, he saw them immediately: three women clustered together in uncomfortable plastic chairs, their faces drawn with worry and exhaustion.
Susan looked up first, and the relief that flooded her expression made his chest ache.
She stood as he approached, and he didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, feeling her body sag against him as if she’d been holding herself upright through sheer force of will.
“I’m here,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”
For a long moment, she just stood there, her face pressed against his shoulder. Then she pulled back slightly, wiping at her eyes.
“Thank you for coming. You didn’t have to drive all this way.”
“Yes, I did.” Paul met her gaze steadily. “Where else would I be?”
Another person walked into the waiting room, and Paul turned to acknowledge Susan’s friends. Isabel offered a tired smile. Kathleen’s fingers were wrapped around her rosary beads.
“Is there any news?” Paul asked.
“Lynda’s with him now.” Susan’s voice was hoarse. “They let her in about twenty minutes ago. The surgeon said Matt survived the surgery, but the brain injury is severe. They’ve put him in a medically induced coma.”
Paul absorbed this, his mind automatically thinking about the implications. He’d lost someone he loved in an accident. It was different circumstances, different injuries, but the same terrible waiting to see if they’d survive.
“How’s Lynda holding up?” he asked.
“About as well as you’d expect.” Isabel stood and stretched, wincing. “She’s terrified. Tomorrow, we’ll have to talk to her about the wedding.”
The cruelty of the situation wasn’t lost on Paul. In four days, Lynda and Matt would have become husband and wife. That wouldn’t be happening now.
“Does Matt have family we should contact?” Paul asked.
“Stephanie reached his brother in Seattle,” Kathleen said. “She’s been making calls to let the rest of the family know. His brother said he’d try to get a flight out tomorrow. Stephanie arrives tomorrow at nine.”
Paul nodded, then turned his attention back to Susan. Her face was pale, with shadows beneath her eyes that spoke of more than just tonight’s crisis. She looked worn down in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.
“Have you eaten anything?” he asked.
“Kathleen bought me a cup of coffee.”
“That’s not food.” Paul glanced at the others. “Has anyone eaten?”
The guilty silence was answer enough.
“There’s a cafeteria on the first floor,” Isabel offered. “I’m not sure what’s available at this hour, but they might have sandwiches.”
“I’ll go,” Paul said. “Does anyone have dietary restrictions I should know about?”
“Kathleen prefers not to have red meat,” Isabel said. “The rest of us will eat whatever you bring.”
Paul squeezed Susan’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back. If Lynda comes out before I get here, tell her I’m thinking about her and Matt.”
He took the elevator down to the main floor, grateful for a few minutes to collect his thoughts.
The cafeteria was almost deserted. The only people there were a tired-looking cashier and a janitor mopping the far corner.
The hot food line was closed, but the refrigerated case still held wrapped sandwiches and salads.
He selected carefully: turkey and Swiss for most of them, a Mediterranean wrap for Kathleen, bottles of water, packages of trail mix. The kind of food that would give them energy without sitting heavily in worried stomachs.
When he returned to the waiting room, Lynda had emerged from the ICU. She sat between Susan and Isabel, her face blotchy and swollen from crying. Her hands shook as she accepted the water bottle Paul offered.
“How is he?” Paul asked gently.
“He doesn’t look like himself.” Lynda’s voice broke.
“All the tubes and machines. His face is so bruised I barely recognized him.” She pressed the cold water bottle against her forehead.
“They said I could stay as long as I want, but only one person at a time, so I came out to give someone else a chance.”
“You should go back in,” Isabel said firmly. “He needs you there. We’re fine out here.”
“I will. I just needed a minute.” Lynda looked at Paul, her eyes swimming with fresh tears. “Thank you for coming. Susan’s been so strong, but I know this is hard for her too.”
Paul glanced at Susan, who was determinedly unwrapping a sandwich she clearly had no intention of eating.
“We’re all here for you,” he said to Lynda. “Whatever you need.”
They sat together in the antiseptic quiet of the waiting room, picking at the food Paul had brought. Kathleen managed to eat half of her wrap. Isabel finished hers and insisted Lynda do the same. Susan took a few bites before setting the sandwich aside.
After fifteen minutes, Lynda stood. “I’m going back in. They said I can talk to him even though he’s sedated. It might help with his brain activity.”
“Then talk to him,” Susan said. “Tell him about the wedding plans. Tell him about the honeymoon you both planned. Give him reasons to fight.”
Lynda nodded and disappeared back through the ICU doors.
Patrick arrived a few minutes later, and Kathleen sunk into his tight embrace. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner. How’s Matt doing?” he asked.
Kathleen sighed. “He’s still alive.”
While Isabel and Kathleen told Patrick what had been happening, Paul moved his chair closer to Susan’s and held her hand. Her fingers were cold despite the warmth of the waiting room.
“Your text earlier,” he said quietly. “I meant what I said in my response. Every word.”
“I know.” Susan’s thumb traced circles on his palm. “I’ve been holding back, waiting for some imaginary moment when everything felt safe enough to risk my heart again. And then Matt’s accident happened, and I realized there is no safe moment. There’s just now.”
“I’ve been doing the same thing.” Paul hesitated, then decided she deserved the truth.
“After Sophie died and Michelle left, I built walls around myself so high I convinced myself I was content behind them. Then you walked into my restaurant, and those walls started crumbling whether or not I wanted them to.”
Susan’s eyes filled. “I’m scared, Paul.”
“So am I.” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “But I’m more scared of wasting whatever time we have by being too afraid to try.”
They sat in silence for a while, continuing to hold each other’s hands.
Around them, the hospital hummed with its perpetual activity.
There were distant voices moving from room to room, the soft squeak of nurses’ shoes on the linoleum, and machines beeping their rhythmic reassurances that lives were being monitored and maintained.
At around one o’clock in the morning, Isabel was reluctant to leave, but she had to open the bookstore in the morning.
Kathleen looked at Isabel and Susan’s tired faces. “Why don’t you both go home and get some sleep? Patrick and I can stay here with Lynda. When Stephanie and Matt’s family arrives, we’ll see if Lynda wants to come home with us to have a break.”
“I’ll drive Susan and Isabel home,” Paul offered. “That way, you’ve still got your truck here, Kathleen.”
Susan frowned at her friend. “Are you sure you and Patrick will be okay? I’m happy to stay if you’d like the company.”
Kathleen hugged Susan tightly. “Go home. If anything happens, I’ll call you.”
Paul helped Susan into her coat, noticing how stiffly she moved. The adrenaline that had carried her through the evening was wearing off, leaving nothing but bone-deep weariness in its wake.
Isabel hugged Kathleen, then pulled on her jacket. “Thank you for giving me a lift home, Paul. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” he told her.
As they walked toward the parking lot, Susan stumbled on a patch of ice. Paul caught her elbow, steadying her. “Careful.”
“I’m okay,” Susan said. “I’m just tired.”
They reached his truck, and Paul held open the passenger doors. Susan and Isabel climbed in with grateful sighs, buckling their seatbelts as he started the engine.
The highway stretched before them, dark and quiet under a sky clearing to reveal hard winter stars. While Isabel dozed in the back seat, Susan sat silently in the front seat, her forehead resting against the cold window.
When they were halfway home, Paul reached across the console and held Susan’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
“Paul?” she said softly.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for coming tonight. It means everything that you’re here.”
He squeezed her hand gently, keeping his eyes on the snowy road ahead. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
She was quiet for a moment, then added, “I meant what I said about not wasting the time we have.”
“Me too.”
“I don’t want to wait anymore,” Susan whispered. “Life’s too short and too fragile to keep holding back.”
Paul lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles without taking his eyes off the road. “Then we won’t.”