Unbind My Heart (23 page)

Several shots rang out as an anguished cry ripped from Lexie. She staggered back against the stretcher, banging against the wall. A searing pain slammed into her chest and abdomen, and her lungs seized as she fought for air. Blinking in confusion, she felt disoriented and the room began to spin.

As if in slow motion, the scene played out before her.  The old man staggered across the room, staring in horror at his son, who lay slumped on the floor, blood from the hole in his chest spurting in an ever-widening pool at the old man’s feet.  Someone had shot him at close range, and he was bleeding out.  Lexie’s eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on the second gunman—the nephew.  Also injured, he lay on his side, a hand to his hip while blood seeped through his spread fingers. 

Beyond all of them, Kyle lay on his side with eyes open, his gun still aimed at the other men.  For a moment, her eyes connected with his and she saw he was fading fast, his pain-filled eyes losing focus.  He opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t manage a word before his face went slack, his head and arm dropping limply to the floor,

Lexie felt her strength waning, too.  Drained, her legs gave way beneath her and she landed with a painful jarring thump on the floor next to Mara. Poor Kyle and Mara, they had both tried to protect her, taking bullets to save her.  She needed to help them but was too tired, so very tired, and she couldn’t understand why.  She’d rest a minute, and then go for help. 

In the distance, she heard the wail of sirens—help was coming—thank heavens.  Heavy-lidded, she watched as the remaining gunman struggled to his feet.  Limping and bleeding, he went to his uncle and spoke to him softly.  The old man nodded, and with one last look at his son, who lay unmoving at his feet, he turned and began picking his way through glass and debris until he disappeared out the front doors.  Too weak to turn her head, she watched out of the corner of her eye as the nephew lurched to the stretcher and scooped up the small boy, IV and all, and left, on the heels of his uncle.  

A sense of dread settled around her as a sob rose from her chest.  That sudden movement sent agony sweeping through her; at the same time, her breath caught, and her heart seemed to splutter painfully. Lexie’s eyes shifted to Kyle, then to Mara.  Their eyes were closed as they lay so very still.  Vaguely, she wondered whether they were still breathing or already dead.  With an aching fear for them both, she prayed the latter wasn’t true. 

Grief burned through her core, staggering in its intensity.  A heaviness settled inside her chest, along with the haziness
in her head.  She raised her hand to rub at the intense pain and encountered a sticky wetness saturating her shirt.  Pulling her hand away, she brought it up to her face and stared in bewilderment at the blood coating her fingers.

That was the last thing she remembered as she slipped from consciousness, fading into the darkness of oblivion

In a complete state of tranquility, Lexie floated weightlessly outside herself.  The only spoiler of her bliss was the constant whooshing and buzzing that was beginning to grate annoyingly on her nerves.  She opened her eyes and blinked. Stunned, she frowned down at herself, her body strangely motionless.  Most confusing was the plastic tube jutting out of her mouth.  Tracking the blue hose attached to the tube, she followed it until she reached the other end, which was connected to a large machine with gauges and dials and—sweet holy crap!—it was a ventilator.  

She frantically scanned the array of wires and tubes. Monitors beeped and flashed: BP, pulse ox, cardiac, and was that really a ventilator?  Holy shit! Dazed, she distantly noticed the milky substance in her IV.  Those were lipids—understandably—with the tube down her throat she couldn’t eat normally. For heaven’s sake, what was going on?  Her eyes continued searching the room for answers.

She looked down on the man at her bedside.  His dark blonde head was bowed over her hand, eyes tightly shut as his lips moved soundlessly against her skin.  Somehow, she knew he was praying.  Still gripping her hand, he leaned back in his chair.  Poor Jonas, he looked tired, his face haggard and drawn.  Dark circles had formed beneath his bloodshot eyes and he had a week’s growth of beard.  He looked exhausted, but was still the handsomest man ever.

The door whooshed open, and Kellie Atworth walked in.  She stood silently for a moment focusing on Jonas before she approached and squeezed his shoulder. “My God, Jonas, I heard they’re talking about turning off life support.”

“Bullshit.  It’s only been a week, Kellie.  How can they say she won’t recover after such a short time?”

“Jeff says the EEG and scans were not promising.”

“How can they know?  It’s so frustrating.  They won’t listen to a fucking thing I say.  I have no legal rights.  It doesn’t matter that we love each other, or that she gave herself into my care.  I’m just glad she has Joanna and Pete.  Otherwise, they’d appoint some stranger to make the call.  It’s fucked up.”

They watched her silently for a moment before Jonas said softly, agony in his voice,  “This is my fault.  I didn’t protect her good enough.”

“You couldn’t have predicted this, Jonas.  It was my clinic and never would I have anticipated such a thing could happen—four people dead, dozens injured and poor Lexie.”

“My God, I couldn’t bear it if they let her go.  I’m not ready.”  His voice broke as tears trickled from his eyes.  As she hugged him, Kellie’s eyes were damp, too. 

Unable to comfort them, she felt helpless, her heart breaking.  As she watched, the room began to dim and Jonas’ voice grew distant as he faded from view. 

“No, don’t go!” she cried out in a panic.  The image of Jonas got fuzzy, replaced by a haze, as if a dense fog was settling over the room.  Looking around in confusion, she saw a figure approaching from the end of a long, luminous hallway.  Dressed in brilliant white, she realized it was a woman and she was actually gliding... or rather she floated above the floor as she came toward her.  Her features became sharper as she moved closer. It was—no, it couldn’t be—her mother? She was dead, did that mean—sweet merciful heavens!—did that mean that she, Lexie, was dead, too?  Jonas!  When she turned back, the thick fog had encompassed the room and obscured the path she had just taken.     

Her mother’s voice drifted toward her, settling around her, a soft maternal hug as cozy as a blanket.

“Mama?”  She hurried forward and, with a joyful cry, surrendered to the warmth and comfort she found in her mother’s arms. 

“Yes, Lexie, it’s Mama.  My, you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.  And what you’ve accomplished… your Daddy and I are so proud.”

“Is Daddy here, too?”

“No honey, just me.  I was sent to tell you not to give up.  It’s not your time.  You have so much more to do with your life.  You and your man, that is.”

“Jonas?  You know about him?”  Lexie breathed as a warmth swept through her. 

“Of course, sweetie, he is part of your plan, after all.” 

“Then He, I mean, God approves?” 

“Yes.  Jonas is your destiny, Lexie, and I can’t wait to see the beautiful babies you will make together. 

“Babies with Jonas,” she sighed dreamily, “that sounds wonderful.”  Looking at her ethereal mother, she asked in alarm, “This isn’t a dream, is it?”

“No, it’s very real, although I’m not sure what you’ll recall when you wake.  What I hope you will remember is that we love you so much, my beautiful girl.  You are loving and kind, and there is so much good in you.  I know you have been let down by those you thought you could trust, but that’s not Jonas, sweetie.  He is a good man and is worthy of your love.  Don’t judge him by that awful Derek.  What exactly were you thinking when you married him, by the way?”

“You know about that too, huh?”  Lexie worried what else she might know. 

“The point is that Jonas loves you, and it’s time to go back to him.  He’s suffering and needs you to wake up.  You also need to show the doctors that you’re a fighter.  Quit lolling around in bed, like a slugabed.  It’s time to get on with your life.”

“But Mama, do I have to go right away?  There’s so much I want to say, to ask?”

“That will have to wait another sixty years or so, my lovely girl.  Now go.”  Her mother then released her and turned to retrace her steps down the long, brilliant white corridor.  

“Mama?”

Her mother, who was as beautiful as Lexie remembered, looked back one more time. 

“I love you, Mama—you and Daddy both.”

“We love you too, sweet baby, but you really need to go now.”  She hesitated a moment before adding, “Lexie.  My old friend, your Aunt Joanna, please tell her thank you for me.  Thank her for rescuing you from your awful Aunt Janice and that horrible boarding school.  And while you have her attention, tell her that if she ever thinks of leaving that gorgeous Peter Davis again, I’ll come back and haunt her ass.”  She laughed and continued down the hall, fading as she went into the fog that followed in her wake.

Lexie was frozen in place.  Stunned, her mind reeled as she tried to separate dreams from reality.  Her mother died when she was five.  How could she know about Aunt Janice or Bellmere?  And what was that about Aunt Joanna leaving Uncle Peter?  Ridiculous, they were the most solid, loving couple she knew.

A pulling sensation startled her as a sharp pain stabbed into her belly.  She moaned.  What was that?  It wasn’t there before.  A jolt pulled her backwards, jarring her body, and she moaned louder as pain speared her chest.  The room around her began to spin, and she could hear muffled voices and the ear-piercing shriek of an alarm.  Suddenly, a choking sensation overwhelmed her and she gasped for breath.  Her hands began clawing frantically at the barrier, gasping, struggling for air, panicking.  Someone called her name; hands held her down.  Her hand grabbed what was blocking her airway.  It was hard and rigid, and she wanted it gone.  Frantically, she pulled until it broke free and she could breathe again.

“Get someone in here, dammit!  She’s awake and pulled out her breathing tube.” 

Strong hands pressed her down.  It was unnecessary now.  With the tube gone, she was able to breathe easier and began to relax.  With no more energy, she was too exhausted to struggle, anyway.

“Lexie… baby, open your eyes and look at me.  Come back to me, Sunshine, please.”

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Her eyes fluttered open and she saw his face, his gorgeous, bearded, blue-eyed, beautiful face.  Jonas stared into her eyes and whatever he saw there must have eased him, as his grip on her shoulders lessened and he let out a long sigh of relief. 

“Dulcedo,” she whispered hoarsely and then promptly fell asleep.

***

Voices, two male and one female, roused her, disturbing her dreamless sleep.  Her eyes blinked open and she looked around a vaguely familiar hospital room.  She lay quietly for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on.  Why was she there?  Following the voices, more like angry whispers, she saw Jonas, Uncle Peter and Aunt Joanna.  Were they arguing?

“Excuse me.”  Her voice sounded unusually harsh and raspy.  “Could you talk somewhere else, please?  I’m trying to sleep.”

Three pairs of shocked eyes swung her way.  Jonas regrouped first and rushed to her bedside.  His eyes gleamed brightly as he gathered her hands into his own.  “Sunshine, you’re awake.”

“Jonas.”  Unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.  “You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping?”

Carefully, he sat on the edge of her bed, watching her closely.  Gathering her hands in his own, he brought them to his lips and kissed them.  Through his shuddering exhalation, he whispered hoarsely, “You came back to me.” 

Lexie pulled one hand free and brushed the soft hair at his temple, then down over the coarse whiskers covering his jaw, before her hand, having little strength left fell back to her side.  “I’ll always come back to you, Jonas.  Where else would I go?  We love each other, don’t we?”

“Absolutely, my love.”  His voice broke with emotion, as he fell forward, burying his face in her hair where it spread across her pillow.  His shoulders shook, and although he didn’t make a sound, she was convinced he was crying.  Confused, she looked toward Pete and Joanna.  Like Jonas, they were overcome with emotion, holding each other with tears rolling down their cheeks.

“Okay, someone tell me what’s going on.  Rossi men don’t cry.  What’s going on?”

Joanna and Peter approached her bedside, her uncle going to Jonas’ side and placing a supportive hand on his shoulder.  Joanna sat on the other side and rubbed her arm, staring at her as if she might disappear at any moment. 

“Please tell me what’s going on, Joanna.”

“Do you remember anything, sweetheart?  Going to work at the free clinic that day or the little boy you helped?”

Jonas sat up, “Maybe it’s too soon, Jo.  Let her rest.”

“Of course, I’m sorry.”

“Joanna, Mama said to thank you and that if you ever leave Uncle Peter again, she’ll come back to haunt you.  I remember that.  Was I dreaming?”

Jo stared at her, and then looked at Peter, stunned. 

“Jonas, thank you for fighting for me.  If the doctors had succeeded in turning off the machines, I might not be here with you now.  I’m glad you didn’t have to let me go because I wasn’t ready either.”  It was Jonas’ turn to stare down at her in amazement. 

“I’m tired now,” she said, her voice fading as her eyes drooped closed.  “I’m gonna take a nap.  Jonas?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“You need a nap too… and a shave.”  She nodded off, practically mid-sentence.

***

The next time she woke, Joanna was dozing at her bedside.  Lexie looked at her beloved aunt, who was actually more like a second mother to her.  At fifty-two, she was agelessly beautiful, her blonde hair still full with a youthful gloss and not a hint of gray.  If she colored it, Lexie couldn’t tell.  Her skin was smooth and wrinkle-free except for a few tiny laugh lines around her eyes.  If she were awake, her blue eyes would dance with her natural exuberance.  She was one of a kind.

As if she felt Lexie’s eyes upon her, she stirred.  When her eyes focused on Lexie, she smiled softly.  “Hey, sweetheart, welcome back.”

“I’m happy to be back, at least until I fall asleep again like an infant.”  Looking up at her IV, she saw it was dripping the same white substance she’d seen in her dream.  “What’s going on, Joanna?  Why am I in ICU and on TPN?  My throat hurts so the dream I had about being intubated and on a ventilator has to be true.”

Lexie saw a flash of concern flicker across her face.  “You were shot, Lexie, don’t you remember?” 

Vague memories trickled back. “I remember Kyle and Mara getting shot.  Please tell me they’re all right.  And the little boy, how is he?  That awful angry man made me perform surgery on him.  I was scared spitless.  I had no idea what I was doing.  At the end, there was an older man.  I remember, he said he was sorry to have to shoot me even though I saved his grandson’s life.”  She frowned. “He didn’t even have a gun—his nephew did—he let him do the dirty work for him.”

“You better wait until I get Peter, honey.  He just stepped out to make a call.  Someone besides me needs to hear this before you fall asleep.”

“Where is Jonas?”

“He had to work today, honey, but he’ll be back tonight.  He stays every night.”

“Every night?  What do you mean?” Joanna wasn’t making sense. “It is Sunday, isn’t it?”

“No, sweetie,” Joanna grasped her hand and squeezed it gently.  “Today is Wednesday, Lexie.”

It took a moment to sink in.  How could that be?  “I’ve been asleep for five days?”

She hesitated, blinking back tears. “It’s been twelve days.  You were in a coma for a week and have been fading in and out ever since.”  She rose and pressed a motherly kiss to Lexie’s forehead.  “Please stay awake while I get Peter.”

Her mind reeled from that bombshell.  She had lost almost two weeks of her life—gone.  How was that even possible?  Looking down at her chest, she pulled out the neckline of her gown trying to locate the source of the nagging pain.  There was a small gauze dressing just below her right breast and another a few inches below on the left side of her abdomen.  That dressing was bigger and bulkier.  There was a drainage tube hanging out with a bulb on the end and she saw a bit of pink, serous drainage.  It was a Jackson-Pratt drain, obviously inserted during some kind of surgery.  She felt like she was still in a weird dream and wanted to wake from it now.