He's Captured My Soul (Captured Series Book 3) (37 page)

“She’s still in New York,” Michael tells me, answering the question I can’t seem to find the words to ask.

“Ok,” I tell him. He hands me the phone. “Katherine.”

“Libby, I’ve just heard. I don’t know what to say,” she says in her thick American accent.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“I’m sorry,” she tells me.

“For what, Katherine?”

“For New York, for being a selfish bitch. For not seeing how happy you make him. For not seeing how much you both love each other.” What can I say to that, she’s right she was a complete bitch.

“Katherine, it’s fine. It’s in the past. I have other things to think and worry about just now,” I tell her.

“Libby, can I ask that Michael keeps me updated as to how Alex is? I know he’s not interested in speaking to me, the message has been received loud and clear in the recent months, but I still care about him.”

“Yes, I’m sure Michael won’t have a problem doing that.”

“Thank you. I will say a prayer for him.”

I end the call and hand the phone back to Michael. The room door opens and I turn finding Doctor McCann standing there.

“Mrs. Mathews.”

“Doctor.” She takes the seat opposite me.

“As you know, we took your husband for a scan. As I said earlier we had other tests that had to be carried out, so we could establish the severity of his injuries.” I sit and try to focus on what she’s saying, but it’s hard. “Everything else looks better than I for one expected, considering. There’s no bleed on the brain, which is excellent news.”

“What does that mean?’ I ask.

“Well if there was bleeding, we would have to operate straight away, and that on its own comes with a certain amount of risks.”

Michael takes my hand.

“There’s a little swelling, but that’s to be expected and we will continue to monitor this. He’s had no seizures whilst in our care, which means we don’t need to sedate him. We would only do this to prevent further injury; these are all positive steps.”

“So how long will he remain unconscious?” Michael asks.

“I’m afraid that all depends on him. Some people are a few hours, others can be days or even longer.”

“But he will wake up?” I ask with a shaky voice. I will myself not to cry.

“Yes, he’s a strong healthy man, Mrs. Mathews.”

“Will he have any lasting effects from this?” Michael asks the one question I really don’t want the answer to just yet.

“He might. These can range from poor eyesight, coordination to memory loss. I have to prepare you. We are going to get him settled in the intensive care unit.”

“Okay,” I mutter.

“Mrs. Mathews, you are welcome to stay here and wait, but I would suggest you going home for a bit and have a rest. You have to look after yourself as well.” She smiles and I know she is thinking of the babies. “You will be no good to Alex or those babies if I have to admit you as well,” she says in a sympathetic voice.

“I need to be here. Someone has to be with him.”

“I can stay,” Michael tells me. “You go home, even if it’s only for a few hours. If there’s any change, I will phone you. I promise.”

“I will stay too,” Dad says.

The doctor smiles, knowing that this lot won’t take no for an answer.

“Two hours—no more,” I say giving in.

“I will see you when you come back in,” Doctor McCann tells me before leaving the room.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER I’M HOME.
Mum came back with Joan and Murphy. I’m sure she just wants to keep an eye on me. I sent Kirsty a message saying I was coming home for a bit and I would call her in the morning. She said she was already en route to the hospital, so I told her Michael was still there. I’m sure Michael will be glad to see her. Joan heads off to the kitchen to start cooking; she told my dad and Michael she would send them some proper food. I head upstairs with Mum closely behind me, carrying my shopping bags from this morning.

I decide to run a bath to see if it helps soothe my aching body. I smile as I think of the reasons it aches, Alex and his over use of me. The other reason is sitting around too long in that bloody hospital.

I feel weak and know if I gave my tears half the chance, they would be falling again. But I don’t want to cry. The doctor has said everything is positive, so that’s what I need to focus on.

Mum sits on my bed and watches me as I move around the room, putting my clothes away that I bought this morning.

“Leave those and go for your bath, I’ll put them away,” Mum says, stopping me.

I do as I’m told because, one it’s not worth an argument, and two, it means I will get back to the hospital quicker. I don’t spend long in the bath, because I’m anxious to get back to Alex. I only came home to stop everyone nagging at me. I leave the bathroom wearing only my underwear.

“What are you putting on sweetheart?”

“I think the jeans and a shirt I bought today.” Because I can get away with either trainers or flat shoes with those. I dress quickly and start brushing my hair. Mum takes the brush from me and plugs my hair straightener in. “Mum, I was only going to brush it.”

“It will take a few minutes to have it looking presentable.” I get the feeling she’s thinking about the media. It has already crossed my mind. She starts doing my hair; my Mum’s not done my hair since my early teens.

Five minutes later, I’m all dressed, hair done and I’ve put some face cream on in the hope of freshening up my tired face. I know everyone was wanting me to rest, but I just want to go back to the hospital. I want to be there when he wakes up.

Downstairs, Joan has been busy when we enter the kitchen. There are two plates of pasta on the table and two containers filled with pasta for us to take back into hospital.

I eat mine quickly; Mum just eyes me suspiciously.

“What?’ I ask.

“Nothing. Are you enjoying that?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve eaten that quickly, you can’t have even tasted it.” Mum shakes her head at me.

“Come on. I want to get back,” I tell my mum who is still eating. Joan leaves the kitchen and I can only presume it’s to get Murphy to drive me back. The mail from yesterday is sitting on the table. There’s a lot of it; I quickly flick through it and stop when I see familiar hand writing. Jeff’s. I don’t have time for this. I put the letter in my bag which I’ve packed with a clean shirt, face wipes and hair brush. Just because I don’t intend on coming home anytime soon.

“Give me a minute,” Mum says

“Hurry up, Mum.”

Murphy appears at the doorway.

“I believe you’re ready to go back?” he asks.

“Yes, Murphy.”

I STAND IN THE DOORWAY
of the intensive care room that belongs to Alex for the time being. He looks better than he did earlier when I first saw him. Michael is sitting at the side of his bed, dad is sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. Michael lifts his head and smiles at me. Mum nudges me and I take slow steps into the room.

All the wires are still in place, but he looks more like himself. I’m glad Sarah didn’t have to see him earlier, she’s still going to be upset when she gets here, and that’s understandable.

“Mrs. Mathews.” I turn to face Murphy. “I will go unless you need me just now.”

“No, Murphy. Thank you, go home to Joan.”

“I will and I will pick up Mr. and Mrs. Mathews at the airport. I have their flight number, so I will check and make sure it’s on time.”

“Thank you,” I repeat as he leaves.

“You look better,” says Michael as he moves from the chair. He holds it for me to sit down. I am learning,
just do as I’m told for a peaceful life
.

“I feel better.” I lie, well it’s only a little white lie. “How is he?” I ask.

“The doctor has been in and out and has said he seems to be responding well, although he still looks the same to me.”

“Don’t listen to him,” my dad teases. “He’s doing great. Now would you mind if I take off home, I’m going to take Alex’s first meeting tomorrow for him. I would’ve cancelled, but it’s a bit short notice. Although I can make my excuses.”

“No Dad, you and Mum get home. I know tomorrow’s meeting was important to him. And if you have to work on a press statement, do that as well.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, now go both of you and I will speak to you both in the morning.” We say our goodbyes and they leave although, I’m sure my mum would’ve much rather stayed. It’s now nearly midnight, and Alex’s family will be here in a few hours.

“So what’s in the bag?” Michael asks.

“A few things, oh and this.” I dig my hand in and pull out the letter.

“What’s this?”

“I believe it’s from Jeff,” I tell him. “Open it if you want. I don’t need to know what it says.”

He does open it.

“Fricken hell. Libby can I have the card the officer left?”

“I presume I was correct?” I ask handing over the card I put in my purse earlier.

“Yes.” He takes his phone, the card and the letter and leaves the room.

I take Alex’s hand in mine, and I’m relieved it’s warmer. I talk to him, because the nurse who’s just been in to check on him says it might help. So I tell him about my day, about the email and the letter from Jeff. I find myself rambling to him, because I don’t know what else to say to him.

Closing my eyes, I rest my head on the bed and keep holding his hand. It’s been a long day, and I feel myself drift off to sleep. I only want to rest my eyes, a few minutes should do.

I feel my hand being squeezed. My eyes fly wide open.

ALEX’S HAND SQUEEZES MINE AGAIN,
just as Michael comes back into the room.

“Okay, the two officers that were here earlier are going to come back and take this.” I glare at Michael. “What?”

“He’s squeezed my hand twice now.”

Michael stands at the foot of the bed watching. “You’re right, he’s just done it again, hasn’t he?”

I nod but can’t take my eyes from Alex. His eyes flicker as though he’s trying to open them and I hear him moan. I glance at Michael who looks as relieved as I’m feeling right now.

“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Michaels says. I turn to Alex, who is trying to focus on Michael.

“Well, fuck me. What the fuck am I doing here?” Alex shouts to Michael. Alex’s attention turns to me. I can see the confusion in his eyes as he watches me. But there’s also something wrong with the look that washes over his face.

“Oh you have no idea the amount of times I’ve dreamt about you Miss. Stewart. And here I wake up in this strange room and you’re one of the first people I see.”

I look at Michael, and he stares back at me equally as puzzled. Alex called me Miss Stewart. My breathing is fast. Too fast for my liking. And I don’t like the way Alex is watching me.

“I was going to ask if you’re fucking Miss Stewart, but given the fact that it’s my hand she’s holding, I can only presume not. Where’s Phil?”

Fear and panic start building within me. I look between Alex and Michael, a bit dumb-struck for words. Alex tries to lift himself up, but I see him cringe from the pain.

“Fuck, what happened to me? It feels as though I’ve been hit with something.”

“I’ll go and get the doctor,” I say, pulling my hand roughly from his. I walk toward the door, Michael reaches out and places his hand on my shoulder. I freeze. A thousand things are said between us in our moment of silence. I leave the room and slide down the wall of the corridor. He doesn’t remember. He doesn't remember us. Panic starts to set in.