He wandered aimlessly through chambers of random thoughts and memories. It took him awhile to figure out why everything felt differently. He finally realized that he wasn’t walking, but floating, gliding effortlessly from one spot to the next. Not slowly, but flitting around quickly, like a Humming Bird, only faster, as though all he had to do was think about where he wanted to be and he was there.
He made an effort to see himself, but couldn’t. He tried to raise a hand, a foot, to get a glimpse of any part of his body that used to exist. That still existed, actually…just not here…not now. What should have been a reason to panic couldn’t shake him from his perpetual state of calm. He knew, without knowing the how or why of it, that his mortal self still existed. His subconscious, or whatever the hell it was, flitted around the chambers until he came across a memory that pleased him immensely.
He and Angelique together, and judging from their surroundings, he’d cooked for her. He’d barbequed some ribs, just the way she liked them, slathered with his secret sauce, and cooked to sticky perfection. The meal was over and she’d turned up her stereo so they could dance to what he knew had to be their song. It was the same damn song he’d been whistling when he left the station. He could hear Jake Owen crooning in the background.
He watched Angelique close her eyes in bliss as his corporal form held her closely and sang the sweet, meaningful words softly into her ear. From this vantage point, he could actually see her face. She was smiling—the beautiful, sincere smile of a woman who was in love with the man who sang to her. He continued to watch Angel’s face as he twirled her around the huge living room, watched the smile light up her face as he sang the last line of the song to her.
But when had this happened? Where had this happened? How was he able to see a memory he couldn’t recall happening? His cop senses kicked in and he began to observe things. Like the room they were in…the furniture and other items…the view from the huge picture window.
He gathered information like so many puzzle pieces. Once he’d collected them all, they flew together in one instantaneous conclusion. The discovery filled him with an overwhelming sense of tranquility that flowed freely over him, an absolute certainty that this particular scene wasn’t a memory after all. But something else entirely.
Wild eyed and frantic with worry, Angelique burst through the doors of Lafayette General Hospital, with her purse in one hand and her phone in the other.
“Angel! Over here!”
She pivoted toward the voice and headed immediately for Red and Tiffany. “Where is he?”
Red greeted her with a hug. “Mike’s in surgery. We just walked in thirty seconds before you did. Luckily, we were in town already when a mutual friend of ours from the department called me for your number. We’re going up to the surgical waiting room.”
They stepped into the elevator. “Are any of your sisters working here?” she asked, stepping back to let someone else in.
Tiffany answered for her. “No, but I know several doctors working in the trauma wing. Mike’s in good hands.” She placed an arm around Angel’s shoulders. “He’ll be fine.”
Angelique nodded, too afraid that if she spoke she’d lose control over her closely tethered emotions.
Hours later, a surgeon walked away from the crowd that had gathered in the waiting room, all there over concern for Detective Mike Harper.
Tiffany pulled on Angelique’s arm. “Sit, before you pass out. You’re pale, Angel. Are you feeling light headed?”
“I’m fine.” But Mike could be paralyzed, or a vegetable, or have permanent brain damage. Her terror intensified with every worst case scenario the doctor had come up with.
“The possibilities the doctor mentioned were just that, Angel—he was only trying to prepare you for what could be, not what is. You heard the rest of it. There are too many miraculous stories to mention when it comes to brain trauma recoveries.”
Angelique paced, feeling unsettled and overcome by the smell of overheated coffee. “What is a medically induced coma, exactly, and how could that possibly be good for him? I thought the longer a person was in a coma, the less chance they had of ever coming out of it. Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”
Tiffany shook her head. “I’m orthopedics, not brain surgery, but I did speak to Tanner while we were waiting to hear something. He’d already listed this procedure as a possibility so I can explain it to you. You see, severe head trauma can cause the brain’s metabolism to be altered…off, so to speak, so that parts of the brain aren’t getting enough blood supply. Keeping him on Propofol for a while will shut down the brain, and slow its metabolism so it uses very little energy to repair itself. Hopefully, by doing that, it can survive without any serious damage.” She placed her hands on Angelique’s shoulders. “In short, it repairs itself faster and with less energy while it’s asleep. When the swelling goes down enough they’ll stop giving him the Propofol and wake him up. That’s when we’ll be able to see if it’s successfully healed itself.”
Angel nodded. “I hear the words, Tiff, but I can’t seem to find any comfort in that right now. I want him to wake up and know me and everyone else, and to be able to speak, and walk, and . . . ” Her voice trailed off as she put the palms of her hands over her eyes. “Oh God, this can’t be happening again.”
Red walked over to put an arm around her shoulders. “Look, this is the second time I’ve had a good friend of mine hurt this badly. Mike is every bit as strong as Jackson was then, Angel. And he’s got as much to live for. He’ll make a full recovery.”
Angelique placed one hand over her eyes and released a long, slow breath. “I’ve got to believe that right now, Red, or I’ll never make it through this.”
Angelique walked to the hospital’s atrium and seated herself on a bench, overlooking a fountain. The warmth from the sun-heated, cast-iron seat penetrated her muscles, helping to dispel the chill of Mike’s private hospital room. Groaning, she lifted her face to absorb the glorious solar rays of the mid-morning sun.
Almost immediately, her phone rang. She lifted it to view the ID of the caller and thumb swiped the screen to answer. “Hey, Liam.”
“How’s our boy, Angel? Any change?”
She stifled a yawn. “No change. I guess that’s good, I don’t really know. How about you? You following doctor’s orders and taking it easy?”
“Hell, I couldn’t cut up if I wanted to. These ladies would tear my ass up faster than you can say Fat freakin’ Tuesday.”
Angelique gave him a low snicker “You’re in Louisiana now, boy. En francaise, sil vous plait.”
“Sorry babe, what is it? Marty Graw?”
“Close enough for a cowboy, I guess. We can’t all be gifted with Cajun or Creole bloodlines. It’s Mardi Gras, by the way,” she said, pronouncing it for him.
“Yeah, well where I’m from we got our own little saying. We can’t all be lucky enough to be Longhorns.”
“True enough, Liam, but I’ve been lucky enough to know two of the finest Longhorns this side of the Sabine River. I’d almost forgotten you both attended U of T in Austin.”
“Both attended—different years, of course, but neither of us graduated. There was a little too much partying going on. By the time I dropped out, I’d already decided it would be less dangerous to join the Navy rather than face my folks.”
“And was it?” It relieved her to talk about something other than the possibility of Mike never waking up again.
“Tough call. My old man was good and pissed, but training for the Seals damn near killed me. It about did my folks in, all that worrying about me.”
“I can imagine how rough it was on them,” she said, head back, eyes closed and feeling a little like a turtle sunning herself on a river bank.
“I’m gonna let you go, now Angelique.”
His unexpected comment had her head snapping forward in shock. “You’re giving up, just like that?” His low chuckle let her know her judgment was off.
“All I meant was that you sound tired, so I’m going to end the call. You need to get some real rest, Angel. I bet you haven’t slept since it happened.”
“Oh,” she said. “I’ve been napping but I’ll admit it’s been awhile. That couch in his room isn’t much to brag about.”
“I wish I could take your place.”
“I wouldn’t let you, just like I wouldn’t let him when it was you in the hospital. Besides, I start at the clinic in Lafayette tomorrow. All day long I’ll be worried sick about him, as well as you and Sarah.”
“Don’t worry about Sarah. Between Mel and me, she’s fine.”
“Who’s Mel?”
“She’s the cop that helps out on her days off. Apparently, she and Sarah got close during her hospital stay.”
She lowered her chin, her interest in the current conversation at an all-time high. “Oh, reddish hair? I’ve met her. Is she good?”
“Harper says she is. I haven’t had the opportunity to see how good she is yet.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she said.
“We haven’t had any incidents to test her skills yet . . . and I mean her police skills. What the hell did you think I meant?”
Angelique remained quiet, biting her lower lip at her second major screw up concerning another woman.
“Angel, you have no reason to be jealous of Mel.”
“I’m not jealous,” she fibbed. “But don’t you find her attractive?”
“Well, sure I do. I’d have to be blind not to see how beautiful she is. But she’s not here for me. She’s here for Sarah and the babies. I guess I should be flattered, but oddly, I’m a little insulted.”
After a moment of personal contemplation, she released the breath she’d been holding. “You’re right.”
“Especially since you’ve got both Mike and me chasing our own tails over you.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
“I am?” He sounded doubtful.
Her own burst of laughter took her by surprise, and Liam joined in. “Yes Liam, I’m wrong…you’re right.”
“Hmm, strangely enough, I find it disturbing that you’re not more upset.”
“I’m tired, sweetie.”
“Maybe. Regardless, I know you’re under a lot of stress over there.”
“Listen, I need to get back to Mike.”
“I know you do. Tell him I said hi, and tell that son of a bitch he better get his ass back up and running soon. There is no honor in winning by default.”
“Winning? I’m not a prize, you know.”
“Hmmm,” Liam said, his voice lowered in a seductive growl. “That’s your opinion.”