The Saint's Wife (8 page)

“Chris?” Joanna touched his face with her free hand. “Can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes and groaned softly.

“I’m going to move you just a bit,” she said. “You need to lie flat.”

He gave a slight nod, though it was possible he was just floating in and out of consciousness. Whatever the case, she put an arm around his shoulders, supported the back of his head with one hand and eased him down onto the tile.

“Hilary, honey?”

“Hold on,” Hilary said into the phone. To Joanna, she said, “Yeah?”

“Give me something to put under his feet.”

Hilary continued talking to the 911 dispatcher, but she brought over a box of detergent from the adjacent laundry room. Good enough. With Hilary’s help, Joanna propped Chris’s feet up on the box.

“He was conscious a minute ago,” Hilary said to the dispatcher. “He seems pretty out of it now.” Her voice was laced with panic. “We need someone here fast.”

Joanna debated taking the phone since she was more clearheaded, but as long as the dispatcher sent an ambulance out, then Hilary’s mission was accomplished. Joanna suspected the poor girl would have an even harder time with dealing with the head wound than the dispatcher, so freaking out on the phone was the lesser of two evils.

Joanna glanced up. There was a small smear of blood on the corner of the island, and a few smears and droplets on the floor beside Chris. He must’ve fallen. Probably passed out, judging by the fever. Or maybe had a seizure. Either way, he probably had an infection, and God in heaven, there was nothing he needed
less
than an infection.

Activity in the driveway sent a rush of relief through her.

“Go let them in,” she ordered.

Hilary hurried out of the room, dress shoes tapping on the tiles. In the foyer, the front door opened, changing the pressure in the house and bringing a prayer of thanks to Joanna’s lips as Hilary said, “He’s in here.”

In seconds, the enormous kitchen felt too small—with a six-foot-two man lying prone on the floor with three medics and his wife kneeling by his side, the expansive room suddenly seemed cramped. Suffocating.

“Does he have any existing medical issues?” one medic asked while the others checked Chris’s vitals and examined the wound.

“He’s being treated for advanced renal cancer,” Joanna said.

“What kind of treatment? Chemo? Radiation?”

“Both, plus immunotherapy.”

The medic nodded. “And what happened here?”

“I’m not exactly sure.”

He leaned a little closer to Chris. “Mr. McQuaid? Can you hear me?”

Chris groaned weakly and opened his eyes. They slid closed, though, and his head lolled to the side.

“Did he faint? Have a seizure?”

“I don’t know. He called me down here, and he was leaning against the counter with his head bleeding.” She looked up. “Hilary? Did you see anything?”

The PA shook her head, hugging herself tight and looking like she was about to throw up. “I was…I was upstairs. I heard a crash, and…” She gulped. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay,” Joanna said gently. “Just breathe, hon.” She shifted her attention back to Chris. “This has happened before. Once was a reaction to a medication. The other was a seizure.”

“He’s definitely got a fever,” one of the medics said. “Let’s get him started on fluids and get him out of here.”

Joanna got out of the way, stepping back to let the paramedics work.

And almost immediately, she started shaking.

Now that the situation was under control—or at least in someone else’s hands—the panic set in. The blood on the counter, the saturated towel, the floor, Chris’s face and clothes, her own hands and shirt—holy shit. She reminded herself over and over that head wounds bled profusely anyway, and Chris’s treatments had probably left him anemic enough that even little cuts bled like he’d hit an artery. It didn’t mean the wound was serious.

He’d be fine.

As fine as a terminally ill man with a head wound could be, assuming that whatever had knocked him off his feet—an infection? dizziness? loss of balance?—wasn’t a sign of something grim. This could be bad. It could be really bad. Oh God. What was happening?

Behind her, someone released a ragged breath.

Joanna turned around. Hilary didn’t seem to notice her—she was focused on the paramedics and Chris. And probably the blood, because there was a lot of it. Her face was almost as pale as Chris’s, one trembling hand over her mouth, and she still looked like she was about to get ill.

“Hilary?”

No response.

Joanna stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Chris and the medics, which seemed to startle Hilary out of her state of shock. Joanna touched Hilary’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Are you going to be okay to drive home?”

Hilary swallowed. “I can, uh, have my roommate come get me.”

“Good idea. Listen to me—this has happened before. It’s, well, it’s kind of par for the course.”

“Will he be okay?”

“He’s in good hands.” She squeezed Hilary’s shoulders. “Go home and relax. I’ll make sure you’re still paid for the whole day.”

The girl glanced at Chris and the medics, and Joanna was sure she lost even more color. “But…”

“Go. I’ll keep you updated. I promise.”

Hilary’s thin shoulders sagged a bit beneath Joanna’s hands, but she finally nodded. “Okay. I’ll call my roommate.”

“Good. I’m going to go with Chris.”

Hilary nodded again, and stepped away as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

Joanna wanted to make sure she was okay, but the medics were already rolling Chris toward the ambulance, and she wasn’t about to make them wait, so she followed them. Outside, she stepped into the ambulance and sat beside Chris, careful to stay out of the medics’ way. She slipped her hand into his, and he closed his fingers around hers. His grip was weak, his fingers somehow hot and cool at the same time, but she didn’t think she could’ve pulled free if she tried. And she wasn’t about to let go anyhow.

With her free hand, she shakily typed out a message to David:
Chris is on his way to the ER. Fever.

Just spelling out the words made her skin crawl. A fever was no small thing with a cancer patient. It could be anything from a minor illness to a massive infection, and no matter what, it would be exacerbated by his compromised immune system. He’d been fine a couple of hours ago, and now this. In another hour, he could be—

Well. That wasn’t something to think about right now.

Her phone buzzed.

Which hospital?

Methodist
.

Almost instantly, the reply came through,
On my way
.

And for the first time, Joanna whispered a prayer of thanks that David would be there.

Chapter Nine

David sprinted from the parking lot into the emergency room. He immediately zeroed in on Joanna—she was pacing beside the vending machines along the far wall, clutching a Styrofoam cup.

“Hey,” he said.

She turned around, and wow, she was pale and shaking.

He resisted the urge to take her arm, just to steady her. “How is he?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She gestured with the Styrofoam cup at the double doors leading back into the ER. “No one’s said anything since he went back.”

“What happened?”

“He…” Joanna swallowed, her eyes losing focus. “He collapsed. In the kitchen. I think he hit his…” She tapped her temple. When she met his gaze, the fresh panic in her expression gave him chills. “He had a horrendous fever.”

David’s heart flipped. “An infection?”

“Probably.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Chris was in no condition to even hear the word “infection”. With his immune system suppressed and his body weaker than he would ever admit, this was…not good. Not good at all.

Joanna sipped her coffee, and her hand was shaking so badly, David was surprised she could maneuver the cup.

He touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

She glanced at him, forehead creased as if in disbelief. Then she nodded. “Yeah. Just a bit, you know, freaked out.”

“As anyone would be. Why don’t you sit for a few minutes? Take a load off.”

She shook her head. “Tried that. I can’t sit still. I’m…I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He gestured past her. “I’ll go rattle some cages and see if I can get an update.”

“Good luck.” Joanna glanced at the nurses’ station. “I’ve been a thorn in their side since I got here, and they haven’t told me anything.”

Funny—Chris had given David a power-of-attorney because he didn’t think Joanna would be clearheaded or assertive enough to handle situations like this. David had to give her credit, though. She kept her cool when she needed to, crumbled a little when she was alone and the pressure was off, and then collected herself instantly when someone needed her to make a decision. She also didn’t take crap from anyone. Whether their marriage was solid or not, Chris couldn’t have asked for a better advocate when he was in bad shape.

David pursed his lips. If she’d tried to get answers already, then he wasn’t going to have any better luck.

“I guess we’ll wait longer.”

“Same shit, different day,” she muttered. “Hurry up and fucking wait.”

David grunted in agreement. He glanced around the mostly deserted waiting area. “Where’s Hilary?”

“Home.” Joanna played with the edge of her coffee cup. “She was pretty shaken up, and I figured there was no need to keep her here.”

“Good idea.” He paused. “She didn’t drive, did she?”

“No, no. Her roommate came and picked her up. She texted me a little while ago to let me know she’d made it home.”

“Got it. Good.” Hilary was probably one of the more level-headed assistants Chris had had aside from Alexandra, but she was still new to the world of cancer disasters. Seeing Chris sick and unconscious must’ve thrown her for a loop.

While he and Joanna waited for word about Chris, David sent a text to Hilary:
At the hospital w/Chris. You doing ok?

She replied almost instantly:
I’m good. Is Chris ok?

David hesitated. She was probably worrying herself into a panic, and he didn’t want to make that worse, but he couldn’t lie to her either. Finally, he settled on,
Still waiting for an update. Will text as soon as I hear something
.

Not very comforting, but it was the best he could do for now.

She came back with a simple,
K
.

Minutes ticked by. A full hour ground past. Joanna paced by the vending machines and went through gallons of coffee. David restlessly gnawed a piece of gum while he alternately sat and stood. His imagination tried to play out all kinds of worst-case scenarios, and thanks to many years watching medical dramas on television, the graphics running through his mind were a little too vivid to ignore. Things like this had happened before, though, and he reminded himself over and over that the doctors were probably just being overly cautious. Isolating Chris because of the infection and his compromised immune system. Running a CT scan to make sure the blow to his head hadn’t done any damage. Pumping him full of antibiotics and God knew what else to bring the fever down. Identifying where the infection had originated.

There was no logical reason why there’d be doctors and nurses running around in blood-splattered scrubs, shouting medical jargon at each other while they forced a tube down his throat, cracked his chest and broke out the defibrillator. No logical reason, but logic didn’t really come into play when your best friend was in such a delicate condition.

“Mrs. McQuaid?”

David and Joanna both turned, and a gray-haired nurse gestured for them to follow her.

She led them through the double doors and out of the waiting area. David’s stomach was all over the place—was she taking them somewhere to break some bad news? Taking them to see Chris?

She took them into an exam room, but the gurney was empty. David and Joanna exchanged uneasy glances—where the hell was Chris?

“Is my husband okay?” Joanna asked quietly.

“He’s stable.”

David released a breath. So did Joanna. The nurse gestured for them to sit. They both took seats, and the nurse leaned against the counter.

She glanced down at the chart in her hands, then looked at them. “He has a moderate concussion, and needed some stitches, but he’s not showing any symptoms there for us to be concerned about. As for the infection…” She looked at the chart again. “At this point, it’s hard to say where it came from, but of course, with his immune system being what it is—”

“It got out of control,” Joanna cut in. “Is it treatable?”

“Yes.”

Joanna continued grilling the nurse for several minutes, making sure she knew every detail about his condition and what needed to be done when he was released. David didn’t catch most of it—he was still reeling from the fact that Chris was stable. Thank God for Joanna. Though he’d often thought she was callous and uncaring, situations like this made it clear that she was, quite simply, the very picture of grace under fire. While David needed a moment to collect his thoughts, Joanna knew exactly what questions to ask. She wanted answers and she wanted action.

“Can I see him?” she asked after a while.

The nurse frowned. “He’s heavily sedated right now, and we’re keeping him in isolation to prevent further infection, so you’ll need to wait until tomorrow to visit him.”

Joanna swallowed hard but nodded. “How long will he need to be admitted?”

“It’s hard to say at this point. At
least
a few nights. I’ll reevaluate as we go along, but… It’s difficult to predict.”

Joanna nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll pack a bag for him when I get home and bring it in tomorrow.”

“Good idea. He won’t need it tonight.” The nurse glanced at Chris’s chart again, then tucked it under her arm. “I would definitely recommend going home and getting some rest. Take care of yourself—your husband is in good hands.”

Joanna smiled, though her eyes didn’t reflect it. “Thank you.”

“Do either of you have any more questions?”

Both women turned to David. He shook his head.

“I think we’re all right,” Joanna said. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. And if you need a moment, you can stay in here. The exit is just down the hall.”

Joanna nodded. Her lips were suddenly tight, her jaw clenched, as if she’d just about reached the end of that grace under fire.

The nurse left, and as soon as the door clicked shut, Joanna leaned forward and covered her face with her hands.

David hesitated, but then put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just…give me a minute.”

“Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

She tensed slightly beneath his hand, and it occurred to him that his presence might not be all that helpful right now.

“I can, uh…I can go if you’d rather be—”

“No. No.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Please stay.”

David nodded. “Okay.”

She relaxed a little. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I guess one of us should let Hilary know.”

“I can do that.” David pulled out his phone. “Just take a breather for a few minutes.” She didn’t protest. He texted Hilary:
Chris is stable
. He couldn’t bring himself to say Chris was all right or that he’d be fine in a few days. He was too sick for promises like that. But stable was good. Stable was the best thing any of them could ask for right now.

Beside David, Joanna exhaled and slowly sat up. “All right. Let’s get out of here. I fucking hate hospitals.”

“You and me both.” David rose, and they left the exam room. In silence, they followed the exit signs back to the double doors and out into the waiting area, then outside.

As soon as they’d stepped through the automatic doors and into the night, Joanna stopped. She closed her eyes.

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

Eyes still closed, she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m…” She straightened a bit and looked at him. “I’m fine. It’s just been a stressful evening.”

“Yeah, it has.” He paused. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Does three or four gallons of coffee count?”

“No.”

“Then…it’s been a while.”

“Come on. Let’s go grab a bite.” He smiled cautiously. “So I don’t get in trouble with your husband for letting you go home on an empty stomach.”

She eyed him, and he thought the joke might irritate her, but after a second, she laughed and shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

David drove them to a dive bar a few miles from the hospital.

As they pulled into the parking lot, he glanced at her just as she wrinkled her nose. “
This
place?”

“Trust me.” He set the parking brake. “The food is great, and the atmosphere is about as far removed as you can get from a hospital.”

That perked her up a bit. “Well, when you put it like that…”

They got out of the car and went inside.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d said this was nothing like a hospital. No beeping machinery, no pungent solvent. In here, the air was thick with fry grease, coffee and stale cigarette smoke brought in on the clothes of the smokers. The lights were dim and warm, with the odd neon sign against a wall or above the bar. Pool balls cracked against pool balls. Voices murmured over the crackly music from the jukebox. David loved this place anyway, but after an evening at the ER? It was paradise.

He flagged down a waitress to let her know they were there, and then led Joanna to a booth near the back. It was a little quieter on this end of the room, farthest from the dance floor’s speakers and the livelier crowd at the bar.

“Will this work?” He gestured at the table.

“Perfectly.” Joanna dropped into the booth.

David slid onto the bench across from her. “You still holding up okay?”

She tilted her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I’m exhausted.”

“Not surprising.”

They pulled a couple of paper menus from behind the salt and pepper shakers, and perused the selection. David had it pretty much memorized, but he looked anyway, if only for something to do while Joanna looked at hers.

When the waitress appeared, he said, “I’ll take an Aspen Jack.”

Joanna looked up from the menu. “Make it two.”

David blinked. He’d never seen Joanna drink beer.

“Two Aspen Jacks. Got it.” The waitress jotted it on her notepad. “Do you need a minute to look at the menus?”

“Yes, please,” Joanna said.

The waitress left to get their beers.

“So what’s good here?”

“Pretty much everything,” David said. “But fair warning—they don’t mess around with their buffalo wings. Those fuckers are
hot
.”

She laughed. “Good to know. I’m not a big wing person anyway.” She chewed her lip. “Man, one of those huge messy burgers sounds absolutely amazing right now.”

He shrugged. “Order one.”

“Hmm.” She shook her head. “My trainer would kill me.”

“Joanna, you’ve had a hell of a night. For God’s sake,
eat
something. Your trainer doesn’t have to know.”

She eyed the menu. “It’s not just my trainer I’m worried about.”

David gritted his teeth. “I won’t tell Chris if you don’t.”

She met his gaze. Half joking and half deadly serious, she asked, “Promise?”

“Scout’s honor.”

That got a laugh out of her, at least. “Hmm…”

He reached across the table and put a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m serious. After the night you’ve had, and everything you’ve been through recently, you need to eat.”

She eyed him suspiciously but then must have decided to take him at his word, because when the waitress came back, Joanna ordered a barbecue bacon cheeseburger with fries. David went for the same thing, even though it sounded like more food than he really wanted tonight. If she was that self-conscious about her eating habits, though—
way to go, Chris
—the last thing she needed was David picking at a salad while she worked up the nerve to eat a burger like that.

Turned out he’d ordered the right thing, though. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until the waitress deposited their food in front of them. They both dug in, and neither said a word until the burgers and most of the fries were gone.

“Oh my
God
.” She licked some barbecue sauce off her finger. “That was amazing.”

“Right? Told you the food here is great.”

“It so is.” She scowled. “I’m going to regret it when I step on a scale, though.”

“It’s one meal.” He gestured dismissively. “And quite honestly, you’re the last woman on the planet who needs to be sweating over what you eat. You look fine.”

She stared at him, eyes wide.

He shifted a little. “What?”

“Are you…really?”