The Amendment Page 6

  A chuckle escaped my lips, the effort making me grimace. “Get me home before I hurl in your car, and we’ll call it even.”

  He sped up slightly. “Good plan.”

  Moments passed, the sounds in the car that of the rain beating down and the steady rhythm of the tires spinning on the wet pavement. I drifted, the medication beginning to take the edge off.

  Brad’s loud curse followed by the cacophonous squeal of tires and brakes startled me, and my eyes flew open. The car shuddered as the sound of metal screaming and twisting on impact filled the cabin of the automobile. My body jerked as the car lifted, glass breaking and shattering as we rolled. The airbags deployed, hitting me in the face and chest, the sound of them going off deafening and frightening. Pain exploded—my head, my entire body, screaming in agony as it hit me full force. The car stopped suddenly, teetering on its roof. I groaned, the sound filled with anguish and confusion.

  I tried to open my eyes. To speak. Something warm ran across my face. I attempted to lift my hand to wipe it away, except I couldn’t move. It felt as if my body were locked in a vise that was getting tighter every second, and I struggled to breathe. With an extreme effort, I forced open my eyes, blinking. I was upside down, hanging tethered from the seat belt. The airbag was pressed into me. I managed to look sideways toward Brad. He was unconscious and bleeding. Outside were people—screaming, running, shouting. I couldn’t make out their words because of the loud ringing in my ears. I tried again to talk, to call out, but nothing made it past my lips except another groan.

  “Help is on the way! Hold on!” Voices yelled. A woman shrieked, the sound tormented and painful.

  The car rocked, tilting side to side violently. Pain ripped through me, slicing into my brain and exploding down my spine. Sirens came closer, the noise around the car growing.

  I began to black out, the pain obscuring everything in its path. Like an explosion of shrapnel in my lower back, it radiated outward, unlike anything I had ever felt in my life.

  Excruciating, sharp, and, piercing.

  Images of my girls slipped through my head before I succumbed to the black. Gracie laughing, Heather snuggling into me. My wife holding out her hand as she greeted me. The images wavered, dissipating in a sea of agony.

  One word slipped from my mouth in a long, low groan as I gave in.

  Katy.

  6

  Katy

  I tucked Heather into her crib, brushing my fingers over her fat little cheek. Her lips pursed in sleep, and she looked so much like Richard, it made me grin. She had his eyes, full lips, and his smile, although she was more laid-back like me. Both girls had his cowlick—a fact that he found amusing, knowing how annoying he found it to be. Gracie had Richard’s temperament, although she resembled me more, unless she was frowning. Then she looked like him, right down to the furrow between her brows. I had a feeling they would keep us on our toes for the next twenty years or more.

  I peeked in on Gracie. She was sprawled out on her bed like a starfish, sleeping hard. I glanced at my watch, knowing I had thirty minutes of peace at the most. Probably more like twenty if I was being realistic. Heather would sleep a little longer, but Gracie would be up and raring to go in no time. She had been that way from day one. Down fast, up quick.

  I walked downstairs, listening to the sound of the rolling thunder that had begun a while ago. I had noticed the dullness of Richard’s eyes this morning and made sure he had some pain medication in his pocket. Storms like this always brought on one of his headaches, and with Graham away, he refused to stay home today, saying he would handle it. His stubborn streak was one thing I knew would never change, so I didn’t argue with him.

  I poured a cup of coffee, mentally planning dinner, when the doorbell sounded, and I hurried to the front door before it rang again and woke up the girls, interrupting my few moments of peace. Opening the door, I was shocked to find Graham and Laura on the doorstep.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, stepping forward to hug them. “You’re supposed to be in the Caribbean!”

  Laura chuckled. “We were until someone decided they were done with lazing on the beach and wanted to come home.”

  I studied Graham. He looked rested and relaxed. He met my gaze with a smile. “I had enough,” he explained. “It was time to come home. There’s no point in staying when my mind was ready to get back at it.”

  We walked to the kitchen as the rain picked up again. It hit the windows hard, the sound echoing in the quiet—tiny pebbles of water striking the glass with fury. I poured us coffee, and we sat down.

  “Does anyone know that you’re home?”

  Laura sipped her coffee and shook her head. “We came right from the airport. We knew all the kids would be at work, and Julia is away visiting her parents with the grandkids, so we decided to stop here first. We’ll see Jenna and Adrian tonight. Graham spoke with Adam briefly, and he’s going to join us at the house later.”

  “The girls will be excited to see you when they wake up.”

  “We missed them. We missed everyone.” Laura sighed.

  “How is Richard?” Graham asked. “Jenna said he was burning the midnight oil daily.”

  “He’s been busy,” I acknowledged. “He’ll be thrilled to hand the reins back to you, Graham.”

  “I thought I was going away at a quiet time. I had no idea how many new projects were going to happen.”

  I waved my hand. “Aside from missing his girls, he’s enjoyed it.” I glanced toward the window. “I have a feeling he’ll be home soon, though.”

  Graham tilted his head in understanding. “His headaches.”

  “He refused to admit it, but I think one was coming on today. He had that look in his eyes when he left that he always gets when one is coming on.”

  “No doubt Brad will be dropping him off.”

  I was surprised. “Brad?”

  “Adam told me that Richard had a flat tire and Brad drove him to his meeting. Jenna had checked with him and Richard said things went well, which she passed it on to Adam. If his headache was bad, I’m sure he’d have Brad drive him home. I’ll arrange for his car to be brought home.”

  I smiled in gratitude. Graham always looked after us well. “Thank you.” I glanced at the clock. “Do you know when his meeting ended?”

  “A while ago. Traffic is bad with the weather. They’ll be along soon.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps knowing Richard and his stubbornness, he insisted on going back to the office to debrief. You know how he likes to write out his thoughts after a big presentation—headache or no headache.”

  We all laughed because it was true. Richard kept careful notes on a client’s reaction, good or bad to a pitch, jotted down any information he thought would be helpful going forward, and other things he thought of in regard to the campaign or the people.

  I heard Gracie’s voice over the monitor calling for me, and I stood with a grin. “So much for quiet time.”

  Laura stood. “I’ll come with you.”

  Graham’s phone rang, and I heard his quiet hello as we ascended the stairs. I heard my phone ring, and I met her gaze. “It’s probably Brad and Richard calling to complain about each other.”

  She smiled. “Perhaps.”

  “I hope it’s not someone trying to call Graham about business already. You haven’t even unpacked yet,” I muttered.

  She shook her head. “Probably Jenna. She was going to call to confirm the time for this evening. We’re going to order in some Chinese and relax with everyone. Will you and Richard join us if he is feeling better?”

  Graham’s voice calling me made me pause on the stairs. Laura patted my arm. “You see what Graham wants, and I’ll get Grace.”

  “Okay.”

  I hurried down the stairs, pausing when Graham appeared in the door. He was pale, his face drawn. “Katy, we have to go.”

  My stomach dropped at the tremor in his voice.

  “Graham?” I asked, my voice shaking. The fear and worry in his eyes were blatant.

  He gripped my shoulders. “There’s been an accident. We need to go to the hospital.”

  “The-the hospital?” I repeated, unable to grasp what he meant, even though I had heard what he said.

  “It’s Richard and Brad.” His voice shook. “It’s bad, Katy. We have to go now.”

  My breath stuttered.

  “Now,” he repeated.

  I shivered, unable to get warm. Graham frowned and pulled off his cardigan, draping it around my shoulders. I pushed my hair off my face, trying to gather my thoughts. I barely remembered the drive to the hospital. Laura stayed with the girls until Mrs. Thomas came home. Graham remained calm, taking control when we arrived at the hospital, speaking with the nurses at the desk, who directed us to the waiting room. We were still waiting to see a doctor.

  “How long have we been here?”

  “About an hour, Katy,” he soothed. “The doctors are working on them.”

  The hurried click of heels on the floor caught my attention, and I glanced in the direction of the sound. Jenna and Laura were approaching, Adrian following behind them.

  I met Laura’s eyes. She reached out and pulled me in for a hug.

  “Mrs. Thomas is at the house with the girls. She said she will handle everything, and you be here for Richard,” she murmured. “Oh, Katy,” she added when a sob escaped my throat.

  “I’m going crazy,” I replied. “No one has come to talk to us.”

  “They will.”

  Just then, a doctor appeared around the corner.

  “Mr. Gavin?” he called.

  Graham stepped forward. “That’s me.”

  “I’m Dr. Davenport. I finished assessing Brad. He has a concussion, a broken arm, cracked ribs, and there are a lot of
contusions and cuts from the glass. We’re stitching him up, and we’ll keep him overnight for observation. Luckily, his arm won’t require surgery, but he’ll be pretty sore for the next while.” He drew in a long breath and smiled. “He was lucky. Given how many times the car flipped, he escaped serious injuries. With time, he should heal fine. Once he is done and moved to a room, you can see him.”

  There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone except me. My voice cracked as I spoke.

  “My husband? Richard VanRyan?”

  Dr. Davenport’s eyes were sympathetic as he regarded me. “He is the gentleman who was in the car with Brad?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s still being assessed by the trauma team.” He paused. “That side of the car took the brunt of the accident. It was hit directly.”

  I whimpered, grasping Laura’s hand. Graham wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me upright.

  “We have the best neurologist and orthopedic specialists with him right now. He’s in good hands. In fact, I’m going in to assist. One of us will be out as soon as possible to update you.”

  I couldn’t talk. I heard Graham’s voice speaking to the doctor, but I had no idea what words he uttered. I allowed myself to be led to the chairs, and Graham gently pushed me into one of the hard seats. He kneeled in front of me.

  “Katy, we’re here. Richard is being examined. You need to stay calm.”

  Tears clouded my eyes, panic gripping my chest. The lights around me were too bright, the noises of the busy hospital too loud. I struggled to take in a deep breath.

  Graham grasped my hands. “Breathe, Katy. With me. You can do this. Focus.”

  I shut my eyes and concentrated on getting the air into my lungs. The movement became easier, and I felt the panic ebb somewhat. I gathered my strength and opened my eyes.

  “Graham,” I whispered. “What-what if…” I couldn’t say the words. All my brain could focus on were those words. That side of the car took the brunt.

  The brunt. He was seriously hurt. My Richard.

  Oh God, how hurt? Was he dying?

  Not Richard. He couldn’t be taken from me. It was too soon. We hadn’t had enough time together. We needed decades more time. Our girls needed him. My breathing picked up again, coming out in short pants.

  Graham cupped my cheeks, his touch firm. “No, Katy. Don’t even think that way. He is Richard fucking VanRyan. He’s a fighter and the most stubborn man I have ever met. A car accident is not going to stop him. They are going to assess him and fix him. In fact, he’ll wake up and tell them how to do it properly, knowing him.”

  A laughing sob escaped my mouth. “I have to see him. He needs me, Graham.”

  “Let the doctors do their job, Katy. As soon as we can, we’ll get you to him. I promise. Okay?”

  I met his eyes. His worried, understanding, pain-filled eyes.

  “Be the strong woman Richard knows you are. For him.”

  I nodded. “I’ll try.”

  A doctor appeared a short time later, his face grave. After introducing himself as Dr. Fletcher and stating he was a neurosurgeon, he asked if I wanted privacy before speaking with me.

  “No,” I insisted. “You can say whatever you need to in front of Graham and Laura. They’re our family.”

  He crossed his arms. I noticed the smears of blood on his scrubs, and my anxiety increased.

  Was that Richard’s blood?

  “I’ll make this as brief as I can. After getting the results of the CT scan, I can see your husband has sustained a severe lumbar spine injury, from L3 to L5.”

  “What-what does that mean?”

  “He requires decompression surgery—immediately. We need to stop the bleeding into the spinal canal.” He drew in a deep breath. “The compression of the spinal cord is causing paralysis.”

  I heard the shocked inhale of air beside me. I blinked at the term, unable to speak. Graham cleared his throat.

  “Is that a temporary condition?”

  Dr. Fletcher shook his head. “That is unknown at this time.”

  His words echoed in my head.

  Paralysis.

  “Is he awake?” I asked, desperate. “Can I see him before surgery?”

  “No, he is unconscious. He has sustained other injuries, Mrs. VanRyan. There are broken ribs, lacerations, and contusions—” he paused “—and head trauma. His brain was swelling, and we had to take steps to stop it. We felt it best to induce a coma to give him the strongest chance.”

  “The best chance to stop the swelling?” I asked, my voice quavering.

  “The best chance to survive,” he replied.

  My legs began to shake. Graham wrapped his arm around my waist again, once more offering his silent strength.

  “What are his chances?” he asked, his voice tight.

  Dr. Fletcher dragged in a long breath and scrubbed his face. “He is young, strong, with no other medical issues. His body will heal from the bruises and cuts. We need to get in there as fast as possible and relieve the pressure on his spine in order to give him the chance to recover from the trauma.”

  “Will he recover?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

  He met my gaze. “There are no guarantees, but I’ll do everything in my power to make sure of it, Mrs. VanRyan.”

  Laura spoke up. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

  Dr. Fletcher didn’t answer her directly. “Let’s get him through the surgery first. That is my one goal today. To keep him alive. His recovery will depend on what we find when we go in. I’ll know more after that.”

  “Please,” I said. “Please, can I see him?” I begged.

  He hesitated. “All right—for a moment. I need him in the OR, Mrs. VanRyan.”

  A moment.

  I would take whatever they gave me.

  I stepped beside Richard’s bed, my legs trembling, tears clouding my eyes. I signed the forms where the doctor indicated, anxious to get to Richard. The doctor had explained how much machinery Richard was hooked up to and warned me not to panic. “It’s all there to help him, Mrs. VanRyan. The machines are doing the job his body can’t do right now.”

  I thought I was prepared, but I wasn’t.

  The room buzzed with activity, the entire team focused on getting Richard upstairs to the OR. I knew I had mere seconds before they whisked him away. I stepped forward, laying my hand on his forearm—one of the few areas not covered in wires or bandages. He was cool to the touch…and unresponsive. I stared at him, the tears streaming down my cheeks. His handsome face was a mass of bruises, barely recognizable with the swelling. A jagged cut stretched horizontally over his left eyebrow and disappeared into his hair that had been shaved. A breathing tube was in his mouth, taped across his lower face, and I could see more cuts under the white gauze. Everywhere I looked, there was trauma to him. Cuts, bruises, swelling, and bandages. Machines buzzed and whirred. Bags of blood and saline dripped into his veins, keeping him alive. He was pale and still—that fact unnerving since Richard was never still. I tried to focus on him, not the grisly sight of the room around me that told the story of how hard they had worked at keeping him alive.

  “We need to take him, Mrs. VanRyan,” a nurse informed me, her voice laced with sympathy.

  I leaned as close as I could to him, my voice quivering.

  “Fight, my darling. Come back to me. To us. We need you.” My voice caught. “I love you, Richard, and I’m not ready to let you go. You can do this. You can do anything.”

  The medical team stepped forward, and I clasped his hand in mine, careful not to press too hard with the cuts and bruises forming on his knuckles. “Please,” I whispered, choking. “Come back to me. I’ll be waiting right here.” I rose on my toes and kissed his cheek, my tears dripping and mingling with the streaks of blood on his face.

  They wheeled him out of the room. I followed as long as I could, silently weeping as the doors swung shut in front of me.

  “Please,” I prayed. “Oh God, please.”

  “Katy.”

  I turned to Graham and Laura. They were distraught and pale. Laura held out her arms, and I went to her, sobbing on her shoulder, praying in my head.