MOTHER'S DAY
By AJB
CHAPTER SEVEN
When waiting, time was like flowing water. Running over the hard rock of anxiety without pause, eventually the rock smoothed and rounded, losing the rough edges that caused pain. The pain becomes an ache and soon the void left becomes noticeable.
Gathered together in the surgical waiting area, Sam began to notice things that pain and shock had blocked. Lifting her chin, she noticed that she sat separated from the others. Across from her, she finally heard Jack's low phone conversation – and felt the corner of her mouth twitch in amusement when she saw that he sat directly under a sign reading "No Cell Phone Use In The Waiting Area". The red circle-and-bar-slash trapping and bisecting a black cell phone graphic hovered above her boss' head like a perverse halo.
Two seats down, Danny sat with his back angled to Jack and flipped through a golf magazine. "Golf?" He looked tired with his head slightly bowed, but his lazy smile softened the stress lines etched across his forehead. Sam didn't have to guess about whom he thought of – she knew. Elena had that effect on him. His content smile came from his thoughts and Sam wondered if he really saw any of the magazine pages fanning through his thumb. A warm spot that their happiness stoked flickered inside her. She was happy for them, but seeing her partners alone in the waiting area made Martin's absence palatable.
Tears threatened to rise. She held them off with a quick, deep sigh as she pushed to her feet. Ducking her head, the constricting bands around her throat loosened with a cough. Samantha turned aside and felt someone watching her. She raised her head just enough to discover Katherine's tortured, blue gaze fixed on her face. Her heart jolted at the resemblance to Martin and the horrible memory of when she'd confronted him about his addiction. It was the same look. The chairs flanking Katherine were empty because Victor haunted the nurses' station, his fingers tapping annoyingly on the unmanned counter. His sharp questioning had chased away the staff.
Sam found herself automatically moving in Katherine's direction, a thing she'd been unable to do before. Katherine rose to meet her and Samantha reached out, taking the woman's hands.
"How are you doing, dear?" Katherine found her voice first.
Samantha gave her a weak smile. "About as well as you, I think."
Caught, Katherine's bravado crumpled a little, causing her shoulders to droop. "We should hear something soon."
As if on cue, the swinging doors to the surgery area opened with a mechanical groan. A distinguished-looking, scrub-dressed man stopped in front of the doors and addressed Victor.
"Mr. Fitzgerald?" Martin's father stalked toward him. The doctor looked aside to speak to Katherine. "Mrs. Fitzgerald, you and your husband can come with me."
Katherine reached out and tucked Samantha's hand into the bend of her elbow, but did not approach the doctor. Instead, she huddled close to Sam and fixed a determined look on the surgeon. "These are Martin's friends and coworkers. They can hear what you have to say, too."
Victor shot her a look, surprised. By the way Katherine stood her ground, Samantha realized this wasn't the first time Martin's mother called the shots. Behind her, she heard shuffling noises as Jack and Danny took up positions of support. The surgeon understood the winner of this round and spoke to the group in a low voice meant for privacy. The five of them gathered close enough to hear.
"I've relieved the pressure on Martin's brain and everything went smoothly. We drained a significant clot, but I am confident the bleeding is in control and that he will recover. He'll need rest, of course, and we'll keep a close eye on him for a few days. Barring any complications, he should be able to go home next week."
"What kind of complications?" Victor asked, frowning. Katherine released Samantha's elbow and stepped to his side. Victor's arm lifted and wrapped around her narrow shoulders without dropping his eyes from the doctor, the motion automatic and familiar.
"Infection, mostly. That's always a concern with surgery. His other wounds are superficial in comparison. He sustained a couple of cracked ribs and that bullet graze, which should heal nicely, and a severe concussion. He'll be sore for awhile."
"Can we see him?" Even though her eyes glistened with tears, Katherine's voice was even and strong.
"He's in recovery at the moment, so do not be alarmed at the equipment. I'll move him to ICU as soon as a bed is available. It shouldn't be long. Follow me, please."
As fear drained away and relief engulfed her, Samantha found that her feet wouldn't move. Behind her, the bright lift in Jack and Danny's conversation was clear, but the exact words were lost to her. Instead, she watched Martin's parents move away. The surgeon slapped the button that opened the automatic doors and as the hallway opened up before them, Katherine paused and turned from under Victor's arm and found Samantha with perplexed eyes.
"Aren't you coming, Samantha?"
Someone pushed her from behind and an annoyed glance in that direction revealed Jack's familiar smirk and Danny flicking his hand in her direction. "Shoo," he said, one eyebrow angled upward.
"Tell him hello for us," Jack added.
Katherine's warm hand grasped hers and drew her to their side. Victor gave her a sidelong look but did not object. The three of them walked through the open doors shoulder to shoulder.
Her first look at Martin brought Samantha to an abrupt standstill. Katherine swept to the side of the gurney and her trembling hand traced Martin's hairline from forehead to ear. The lightness of her motherly caress froze Samantha in place at the foot of the bed, the cold rail pressing against her stomach like an icy fence.
Martin looked horrible. The livid purple bruising that spread from his temple was the only color against the sheets, the left side of his face swollen to unrecognizable proportions. The right side appeared freakishly normal in its pale laxness. White bandages crowned his head and all manner of tubes and lines trailed from his nose and face like a tangle of fishing line on a white sand beach.
Katherine murmured soothingly from one side of the bed while Victor looked down at his son from the other. Samantha felt herself blink when she read the anguish on Victor's usually stoic face. This was how parents reacted to the trials of their children – Samantha had been witness to this many times in her line of work but this was the first time that the depth of the connection struck her.
Since she and Martin had reunited, she occasionally wondered how his parents acted during his recovery from Dornvald's ambush. She always assumed Martin returned to work so quickly afterward to prove something to Victor or escape the pressure for him to change his line of work. "I was supposed to go into politics," he'd once told her.
What she witnessed now did not fit what she'd assumed all this time. Maybe she was wrong all along, or perhaps Martin's parents finally accepted her and therefore allowed their feelings to show. Whatever the reason, she intended to seize the chance to do what she had promised - and failed to do - after the Dornvald shooting and be there for him.
Victor stepped back and waved in one of the nurses. Samantha edged around the corner of the bed and took Victor's spot at Martin's side and worked her hand through the tangle of wires and lines. She took Martin's lax hand - a little startled at its coldness - and leaned down.
"You can wake up anytime now," she whispered in his ear. "I'm here. I'll always be here." She lightly kissed his temple and swore she heard a soft sigh. Samantha stood a little straighter and squeezed Martin's hand. "Come on, Martin. Open your eyes."
She wasn't imagining it. Martin rolled his head slightly in her direction and she saw his closed lid ripple from the motion the eyeball. She leaned in again and carefully stroked his swollen cheek with her other hand. "That's it, sweetheart," she whispered. "Open your eyes. I'm here."
The heart monitor's beat sped up and Martin's hand twitched. Martin's struggle to consciousness deepened the lines of his face as he frowned. His eyelid fluttered and eventually rewarded Sam with a crescent of hazy blue.
"There you are," she whispered, smiling down at him. She carefully stroked his mottled cheek and brushed his forehead with her lips. Sam found her next words stuck in her throat. Even though banked tears muddled her vision, Martin's response was the best thing she'd ever seen. He blinked slowly and worked uncooperative lips.
"Sam?" Her name was nearly too soft to hear, but loud enough for Katherine to sigh with relief.
. . . And then step back.
The significance of the motion was lost on Samantha because her focus was entirely on erasing Martin's fears as well as her own. She was aware of increased activity in the room but ignored all of it. The confusion in Martin's pained expression melted away with Samantha's reassurances, and the various monitors' dancing lines and erratic beeps calmed.
The surgeon appeared and quickly examined his patient. "We'll move him to the ICU now," he said, waving someone over.
"Excuse me. I'll take him now."
Sam felt a warm hand on her forearm and realized the speaker had repeated the statement twice. Samantha spared the attendant an apologetic glance and straightened. "Sure. Let me tell him what's going on." The two nurses moved in and busily prepared the related equipment for the move.
"I think he's asleep now."
Samantha looked down and saw Martin's closed eye, but she still felt a tremble in his hand. Ignoring the nurse, she bent down amidst the bustle and kissed his cheek. "I'm right here, Martin. They're moving you to another room, but I'm right here."
She stood and nodded at the nurses, but refused to release his hand. Her attitude brooked no argument so the nurses worked efficiently and included Sam in their conversation as they maneuvered the gurney out of the recovery room. She vaguely noticed passing Martin's parents where they stood out of the way against a wall, Victor's arm around Katherine's shoulders, but she didn't acknowledge them - Martin needed her, and it was clearly her place to be right where she was.
Time's flow had worn a new path. The enormity of the Fitzgeralds' acceptance of this new fact escaped her completely.
