28
Patrick ran around the track, endless circles with no end in sight. Wind and rain fought against him as he tried to reach the finish line. The old adage just when I can make ends meet, someone moves the ends ran through his mind as the finish line seemed ever further and further away. His feet pounded the track, squelching in the puddles, rain seeping into his clothes.
A scream echoed and he tripped over a root. He lay there, unable to get up. Water began to rise around him. He struggled to stay afloat. It hurt to breathe and he sank, drowning.
Voices echoed far above him. Hands reached out, but try as he might they were just out of range.
“He’s fighting the vent. Let’s take him off it.”
“It’s OK, Patrick. Just relax.”
He sank below the water, then suddenly he was above it, gasping for breath. Bright lights on the ceiling blinded him, machines surrounded him, beeping and hissing, and pain such as he’d never imagined stapled him, through his stomach, to the bed.
He tried to sit up. Alarms blared, pain sliced, and hands pushed him back down.
“Don’t try to move just yet.”
“Abbie…” he gasped.
“Abbie’s doing fine. You just need to lie still for me.” A mask settled over his face. “We’ll give you something for the pain.”
“Elle…” His voice sounded like it was coming from a long way off. His throat hurt.
“I’ll give her a call, just as soon as you’ve settled.”
Cold ran up his arm, making him gasp and shiver uncontrollably.
The darkness rose and rushed full pelt to meet him, wrapping him in its shadowy embrace. He fell headlong into it.
The next time he fought to open his eyes, bright sunlight filled the room.
“Hey, you’re awake.” The voice sounded tired, but washed over him like a breath of fresh air.
“Elle…” He reached for her hand, gasping in pain.
Her hand took his. “Don’t move. How are you doing?”
“Sore.” He didn’t want to worry her. “How’s Abbie?”
“Still critical. They’re not going to wake her for a while yet.”
“What day is it?”
She smiled. “Sunday morning. I’m about ready to leave for church. I have something for you.” She slid the scrunchie from her wrist onto his. “Your wedding scrunchie. They wouldn’t let you wear it until you came around and said something sensible.”
He struggled to focus on her face. There were two or three of her. Which one was really her? “I’m sorry…really tired again.”
“It’s OK, love. Sleep. I’ll be here again later.” Her lips pressed against his head, smoothing his way back into the darkness.
****
Three days later, Patrick gripped Elle’s arm tightly and shuffled the short distance from his bed on one side of the ward, to Abbie’s bed on the other. He hated this. He hadn’t had a day off sick in his career. He hadn’t even taken leave in years and here he was, unable to even perform the simplest of tasks unaided. Unable to protect those he loved. Forced to stay in bed or shuffle like an old man.
“Slow down,” he gasped, pressing an arm over his abdomen.
“Are you all right?”
“First time out of bed.” Pain threatened to slice him in half and stars danced before his eyes. “At least we’re on the same ward for now.”
“Yeah. When do they move you?”
He sank gratefully into the chair by Abbie’s bed. “I was hoping they wouldn’t. But probably later today as I don’t need an intensive care bed any longer. Or a nurse solely dedicated to my care.” He closed his eyes.
“Oh, that’s nice.” Abbie’s voice carried more than the normal amount of sarcasm. “You finally get your lazy butt out of bed to come visit and you fall asleep.”
Patrick fought to open his eyes. “You can talk. You snore.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
She giggled. “It’s you that snores.”
Elle looked confused. “Did I miss something?”
“Only him snoring,” Abbie told her. “He keeps me awake.”
“Nope, it’s the bloke in the bed next to you.”
“No, it’s you.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Elle, is she always like this? Or did she hit her head when she fell and change into a monster?”
“Pretty much.”
“Which one?”
Abbie laughed, then cried out in pain. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
The nurse winked from where she sat at the end of Patrick’s bed. “Don’t make me come over there and send him back to bed.”
“I’ve only just got up,” Patrick protested. “Give me at least five minutes.”
Abbie scrunched her nose at him. “Before you go back to bed and snore?”
“Something like that.”
Abbie took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you.”
Elle looked at her. “We all need to talk,” she said quietly. “But is here the place to do it?”
“I want to,” Abbie said. “He said I should.”
“Patrick?”
“No. The man with the sword and shiny shirt that spent the past few nights standing at the bottom of my bed…well alternating between mine and Patrick’s beds. He said I needed to let you explain properly without getting cross.”
“That’s our guardian angel.” Patrick reached over and touched her hand. “I saw him. So did Elle, but he didn’t say anything to me like he did to you two.”
“I was angry you kept something from me.”
Elle took her other hand. “I couldn’t tell you. Even though I wanted to. I made a promise and promises matter.”
“Is that why you never had a boyfriend?”
“Yeah, because I gave my heart to your father and didn’t want to lose what we had.” Elle inclined her head slightly. “I have something to show you. Something you would have needed to see eventually anyway.” She picked up her bag and pulled out an envelope. “Here, take a look.”
“What is it?”
“Your birth certificate. Patrick hasn’t seen it either.”
Abbie read it, then gave it to Patrick. “You listed him as my father.”
Patrick read the certificate, tears filling his eyes as he saw his name, place of birth and occupation on the document. A lump filled his throat and he swallowed hard, trying to shift it. He’d never told her where he was born, she must have found out somehow, because she was right. Belfast, Ireland.
“Why did you put him on it, too?” Abbie asked.
“Because it’s a legal document and because it’s the truth. Because I love him, and because I wanted you to have the choice as to whether you contacted him or not, once you learned the truth.”
“Why?”
Elle reached across and slipped Abbie’s mask back on. “Because, squirt, I love you. And I want you to have freedom to make your own choices.”
“What’s that?” Abbie caught Elle’s left hand, pointing to the ring.
Elle turned to Patrick, a flustered look on her face, that he decided was downright cute.
He squeezed Abbie’s hand. “Things happened really quickly on Thursday, the day you fell off the swing. The fall did more damage to your liver and they had to operate sooner than they planned. I asked Elle to marry me. I wanted her to know I loved her, and I needed to know she’d be looked after should anything go wrong. That you’d both be looked after if anything happened to me.”
“You got married?” Her face dropped. “Without me?” She folded her arms across her chest, winced and pouted.
He nodded. “It was a spur of the moment thing, otherwise we would have talked to you first. We need to get a license and do it again, but yeah, Pastor Jack married us in the hospital chapel. Next time, we want you to be chief bridesmaid.”
“I’d like that. What did you use for rings?”
Elle held out her hand. “It’s Patrick’s college ring.”
“And I got a scrunchie,” Patrick said showing her.
Abbie giggled. “With this scrunchie I thee wed?”
“That’s more or less what she said. But you know what this means? Other than the fact I have to buy her a proper ring soon.”
Abbie tilted her head. “I have a dad. And grandparents. And uncles and aunts…”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah and they are queuing up to come and visit.” He closed his eyes, the pain building to a point where he couldn’t hide it any longer. “But I need to go and lie down for a bit.”
“OK.” Abbie paused. “So do I call you Patrick, Agent P or Dad?”
“That’s up to you. But Agent P is out. That’s a cartoon character.” He paused. He knew what his choice would be, but he wasn’t going to insist on it. “And don’t suggest Agent P to Liam…Uncle Liam either. Agent 3.14 is bad enough.”
Abbie looked at Elle. “And what about you? Ellie? Mum? Oh, how about combining the two words and calling you Mellie?”
Elle poked out her tongue and flicked Abbie’s ear. Patrick concluded that it must be a joke of some kind.
Elle shook her head. “I do not smell, thank you very much.”
Abbie giggled. “Isn’t that what noses are for?”
“I think I’ll leave you girls to it.” He slowly pushed up, stifling a cry of pain.
Elle steadied him. “Easy.”
The nurse came over. “Let me help. We’re about ready to transfer you down to the main ward. They’ve found you a side room. Soon as Abbie is ready she’ll join you. Should be a day or two.”
“Yay, no more snoring spies keeping me awake,” Abbie said, her eyes closing.
Patrick grunted. “Make the most of it, kiddo.”
“That’s squirt to you,” she whispered.
Patrick lay back on his bed. “No need to come with me,” he said to Elle.
“Abbie’s fine for a few. I’ll come see where they put you and pop back up here. And there is something I need to tell you.”
He looked at her. “Luke Nemec already came in and brought me up to speed. I know they’re going to arrest you, but it’s routine. You’ll be out on bail in no time.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He squeezed her hand. “Yes. Talk to Niamh…she works for the CPS. She knows how it works.”
“I don’t want to go to prison.”
He looked at her pale face. “It won’t come to that.”
“But if it does…”
“Then I’ll take care of Abbie. You’re my wife now and she’s our daughter. She’ll be safe come what may, and I’ll be waiting right here for you.” He paused. “Well hopefully not right here in this bed, but…”
She smiled slightly. “Thank you.”