Page 58 of Waiting for Him
Eileen stood as soon as she spotted Benny, and he went right to her, hugging her tightly. When he let her go and greeted his aunt, Eileen embraced Kat. “Thank God, you’re okay. I was so worried until Ben called me to say you were safe.”
The day’s stress finally hit Kat as a loud sob escaped her. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“Hush, now.” Benny’s mom pulled away just enough so they could see each other’s faces. The worry was evident in both women’s eyes, but sympathy also showed in Eileen’s gaze. “This is not your fault, Kat. And Rick will be fine—I know it. He’s a fighter, and I know he’ll come through this. We just have to pray until it happens.”
Despite everyone telling her it wasn’t her fault, Kat couldn’t convince herself it was true. Stepping back, she gave Ian and Marco a chance to give their words of comfort to the older woman. Kat had no idea how Eileen was able to stay so calm. Her face and arms still showed the redness where the emergency room staff had removed the duct tape. A pair of scrubs they’d given her to wear covered the same marks on her legs. If their roles were reversed, Kat was confident she’d be hysterical by now. As it was, she was close to it. Not wanting to upset anyone, she took a deep breath and sat in one of the empty chairs, trying to get comfortable for what was most likely going to be a long wait.
* * *
Boomer paced the hallway outside the waiting room, needing to move instead of just sit. Three and a half hours had passed since his father had been wheeled into the surgery suite, and they still had no word on how he was. From what his mom knew from the ER doctors, Rick had needed a transfusion to replace the blood he’d lost, and he didn’t regain consciousness while they worked on him.
What if his dad died? His mother was a strong woman, but losing her husband of almost thirty-five years would devastate her. And what about Kat? He knew she was blaming herself for everything that happened, no matter how often they told her it wasn’t her fault. If his dad didn’t make it, how would they convince her that sometimes bad shit happened to good people, and there was no use playing the “what if” game?
At the end of the hall, a set of automatic doors swung open, and a gray-haired man wearing blue scrubs appeared, walking toward the waiting room. Hoping this was the news they’d been waiting for, Boomer hurried back in time to hear the doctor ask for Rick Michaelson’s family.
The group of six huddled around as Dr. Finkelstein explained what happened. “The bullet nicked the large intestines, but we were able to repair it. The bullet also bounced around and damaged some blood vessels before ending up in the spleen, which we had to remove to stop the bleeding. He was fortunate to have gotten here when he did. Another half hour and he wouldn’t have had a chance, which, as it stands now, is fifty-fifty. I wish I could say it was better odds, but you need to prepare yourselves for the possibility. He’s heading to the recovery room now, and we’re giving him another transfusion to get his blood volume back up. We also have him in a medically-induced coma for now. Once his blood results stabilize, we’ll see about easing him out of it.”
“When will we know if he’s going to make it?” Boomer couldn’t prevent the grief and worry in his raspy voice. Even though he’d thought about it earlier, it wasn’t until the doctor verbalized that Rick could die that Boomer truly believed his mother might become a widow.
“It’ll be at least twelve to twenty-four hours before I expect to see any significant improvement to the point he’s out of danger.”
“Can my mom and I see him, please?”
Dr. Finkelstein nodded. “Sure. I’ll have one of the nurses come out once they have him settled in Recovery. You’ll only be able to see him for a few minutes. He’s got a lot of tubes going in and out, plus he’s intubated and on a respirator, while we have him in the coma, so prepare yourself for that. I’ll be back in about an hour or so to check on him and then send him up to the ICU.”
Boomer shook the man’s hand. “Thanks, Doc.”
Five minutes later, a heavy-set female nurse, with a gentle smile, escorted his mother and him into the Recovery Room. The usual hospital antiseptic smell grew even more potent as they approached the gurney where Rick rested on his back. The doctor was right. There were tubes everywhere—an intubation tube in his mouth, IVs in both arms, transfusion tubing, and wires from a monitor hooked up to the middle finger of his left hand. A bloody drainage bag and a urine bag hung low on one side of the stretcher. The beep-beep-beep indicating his heartbeat did little to reassure Boomer his father would make it. In Afghanistan, he’d lost two friends who he’d been sure would survive their combat injuries, only to have their hearts stop beating due to excessive internal bleeding.
He touched his father’s arm as his mother kissed Rick’s brow, murmuring words of love and encouragement. The man was so pale that he almost blended with the white bedsheets. Glancing at the monitor above the stretcher, Boomer noticed the blood pressure reading—82/40. It was way too low. Hopefully, the blood being forced into his veins would increase the numbers soon.
Leaning down, he kissed his father’s cheek, then straightened and wiped the tears that began to spill from his watery eyes. “Love you, Pop. You keep fighting, you hear me? We still have a lot of fishing and shit to do. I plan on giving you some grandkids one day, and you better be here to spoil them rotten.”
They stayed there in silence, willing Rick to heal and return to them until the nurse kindly told them they had to leave. She would let them know when he was transferred to the ICU. As they left Recovery, Boomer noticed his mother trembling. He took hold of her elbow in support while anger began to overtake his worry. Anger at himself and the team for not foreseeing the possibility of his parents being in danger. Anger at Kat’s father for starting this whole mess. Anger at the Russians who dared to hurt the people Boomer loved. And on top of it all was the frustration of not knowing if his father would live or die.
His jaw clenched, and he could feel the vein in his temple ticking away with every beat of his heart. His free hand was balled into a fist, and he forced himself not to punch the nearby wall.
With a white hospital blanket wrapped around her upper body, Kat stood with Ian in the hallway outside the family waiting room. Unable to control his emotions, he held up his hand to stop her from approaching him. He needed a few minutes to himself to settle down. Otherwise, he would start throwing things, and he didn’t think the hospital staff would appreciate it.
Handing his mother off to Ian in silence, Boomer kept walking to the end of the hallway and slammed the down button for the elevator. A brisk walk outside the huge hospital would help him clear his mind. There had to be a deli nearby where he could get everyone something to eat. He didn’t want to leave the hospital until his dad was awake, and he doubted his mother did either. Some sandwiches would hold them over for a few hours.
The last thing he saw as he boarded the elevator and the door closed was his beautiful Kitten watching him. At least he knew she was safe and back in his arms for good.
Kat stood with Ian in the hallway, with her gaze fixated on the double doors that Benny and Eileen had disappeared through a few minutes ago. She shivered, wondering why it always seemed so cold in hospitals. Her T-shirt and Bermuda shorts, which had felt stifling during her time with the Russians, now seemed inadequate to keep her warm. Every time her father had gone for treatment or been admitted for one reason or another during his illness, Kat always made sure she brought an extra sweater with her, even in the summer.
Ian must have noticed her shiver because he walked over to a door marked “Linens” and returned a moment later with a knit blanket he’d taken from one of the shelves. Wrapping it around her shoulders, he stated, “It always seems cold in hospitals, plus your adrenaline from earlier has worn off, and post-shock has kicked in. This will keep you warm for now. Marco and I will retrieve my truck and the comm van after Boomer and Eileen return. I’ll grab a sweatshirt I keep in the trunk for you.”
She gave him a weak smile. “Thanks. I think you’re right. I’m suddenly exhausted. Once they move him to ICU, I’ll try to nap in a chair for a bit.”
As he nodded his agreement, the doors to the Recovery Room swung open, and Benny and his mother walked toward them. Eileen was paler than before as she wiped her eyes and nose with tissues. But it was the look on Benny’s face that had Kat’s stomach clenching. He looked so livid she half expected him to start yelling and punching things. She’d never seen him so angry, and it scared her.
She stepped forward to hug and comfort him, but he held up his hand, stopping her in her tracks. Her heart squeezed as tight as her stomach had, and she held back a sob of grief. He blamed her. He blamed her for everything. She should never have brought this to his doorstep. She should have found a way to get out of the mess herself, and then, if she was still alive, she could’ve come to him without danger dogging her heels.
Benny didn’t say a word to anyone as he gave his mother’s arm to Ian and then continued down the hallway to the elevator. He punched the down button harder than necessary. When the car arrived, he stepped inside, and her happy future disappeared behind the closing doors.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Hey, Kat. Wait up.”
