-----The Hospital-----
Everything was supposed to be fine, today was her father's big promotion ceremony. Emmalin had done her hair and make-up all pretty, found a nice formal dress, and wore these horribly painful shoes that matched her dress and made her legs look fantastic. The ceremony was beautiful, everything had gone as planned, all of her family's close friends attended. General Michael Holden looked so proud as he received his second star.
All of Claudia Joy and Michael's most important friends grouped together after the ceremony, laughing and reminiscing, wishing her father many blessings. Emmalin looked over and saw Major Frank Sherwood and his wife Denise, her parent's best friends and Jeremy's parents, they both looked so nice that evening. Mrs. Sherwood was dressed in a silky black dress and wore her dark hair pulled back. They looked so happy, not knowing how horrible that night would be.
It was 10:00 p.m. when her mother came barging into her room, announcing that Denise and Frank were at the E.R., that Jeremy had shot himself, that he was alive and that's all they knew. Everything after that was a blur, she didn't remember putting those horrible painful shoes back on or jumping in the car with her parents, couldn't recall walking into the waiting room. The thing that she knew would never fade from her mind was the looks on Jeremy's parents' faces. Mrs. Sherwood looked like her world had just shattered, she was still dressed in her attire from earlier but now her make-up ran in trails down her face. The normally calm, cool, and collected Major Sherwood was clearly upset, not in the angry way but the 'how the hell did this happen?' way, his hands shaking wildly. Emmalin couldn't keep herself from staring at the dark crimson that stained his previously spotless dress uniform…Jeremy's blood.
"Please. He's okay, right? He's okay?" Emmalin remembered asking, her voice an octave higher and shaking frantically.
"I don't know, I just don't know. Why the hell don't I know how my boy is?" Frank Sherwood whispered, his voice so soft, Emmalin almost had to strain to hear him. Looking him in the eyes, she realized the Army man was crying softly. Emmalin watched as sobs took over Mrs. Sherwood's body, her tall frame shaking violently. More people showed up, Roxy and Trevor LeBlanc, Roland Burton with his daughter in tow, but strangely no Pamela Moran, the close group of Army wives gathered around Mrs. Sherwood, cradling her trembling body. Michael Holden and Corporal LeBlanc tried to comfort the crying Major, but he pushed them away, not wanting their soothing words.
"I knew he was struggling. His best friend died in Iraq, right in front of him. I didn't even try to talk to him about it. I watched while he drank and got in fights, he wasn't dealing and I didn't even try. I could've stopped him. I should've done something." Major Sherwood said, his voice still shaking.
"You weren't the only one." She felt all eyes on her, as she said this, everyone looking at her. "I saw how sad he was, when I looked him in the eyes, I knew…and I tried to talk to him about it, I did but Jeremy wouldn't tell me anything. He didn't want to talk about it. We were in your living room, and you walked in…and…and I could've told you. I should of said something." Salt droplets fell down Emmalin's cheeks, as she looked Major Sherwood in the eyes, both of them chocking back sobs.
"Babydoll, don't blame yourself for not telling me something I should've clearly known. God, all the signs were there, of PTSD, I just didn't want to see them." Frank Sherwood, replied, his hand patting her back gently as her wails grew.
A middle-aged African-American nurse walked up, her blue scrubs wrinkled and stained, "Frank and Denise Sherwood?" she asked as her eyes sought the couple out.
"Yes." Denise said eagerly, torn between dreading and praying for this news update.
"Your son, is out of surgery. We removed the bullet, and he's lucky to get off with only a broken rib. He must've been aiming for his heart and missed, but only just barely. He's okay and he's on morphine right now for the pain, you can see him in a little while. We'll be holding him for at least the next few days." The nurse explained, reading from a chart in her hands, occasionally looking up to make sure her patient's parents understood.
Emmalin released the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Immediate relief washed over everyone in the waiting room.
"He's okay. Thank God." Major Sherwood sighed, happiness evident on his face. Without a doubt this was the happiest she had ever seen the man.
Thirty minutes later, the same nurse lead them down a corridor at the far end of the hospital. The overbearing smell of cleaning products and the too-white walls reminded Emmalin of just how much she hated hospitals, only bad things happened in the medical building of Fort Marshall.
"Now he's on morphine…and a lot of it, there's a good chance he might be out of it for a few hours." The nurse said looking to Major Sherwood, stopping in front of a door almost at the end of the lengthy hallway. Mrs. Sherwood, eager to make sure her son was okay, practically threw the nurse out of the way, forcing her way into the room.
"Well okay then…all of you can follow her." The nurse said, staring after Mrs. Sherwood.
"Hi sweetie." Mrs. Sherwood cooed, smoothing her baby's forehead, tears falling again.
"Ummh. Hey…Mom." Jeremy's deep voice groaned, dazed from the medication. Emmalin strained, trying to see past the nurse and Major Sherwood, who were discussing how the surgery went and what to expect. She couldn't see much, her 5'5 figure could barely glimpse past the Major's shoulder. Roughly, eager to see Jeremy for herself, she pushed her way through the door, as Mrs. Sherwood had previously done.
Emmalin's eyes were momentarily blinded by the too-white walls, her senses attacked by the overbearing smell of antibacterial cleaners. After adjusting, her eyes fell on the solider in the medical bed, laying on his back. The Army Brat was thrilled to find that he still looked like Jeremy, still looked the way he did the last time they saw each other. The pale sheets made his sun-kissed skin stand out vividly, Jeremy wasn't even wearing a standard hospital gown, revealing a tattoo she had never seen before and a cluster of bandages over one of his shoulders and side.
"Shhh…hold still baby." Mrs. Sherwood cooed, examining the bandages on her son's chest. Emmalin saw a hospital gown on the back of a chair pulled close to the bed and realized Jeremy's mother must have taken it off of him, to get a good look at the doctor's handiwork.
" Mmm. Mom, I'm fine." The nineteen year old insisted, still groggy, pulling his hospital gown back on. His mother pulled a chair close to the bed before taking a seat.
"No you're not." Emmalin said her voice trembling, suddenly getting Jeremy and Denise's attention, "you shot yourself, you are not fine." Her eyes were watering again, the loud thumping of the medical machines was making her heart thump loudly, as if a caged bird was fighting it's way out of her chest. She could hear Jeremy's heartbeat on the heart monitor, despite the night's events it's rhythm was steady and strong, her heart instinctively matching it.
Slowly, she pulled her painful, but oh-so-cute, heels off and tossed them at the foot of the hospital bed, hearing a clank as the silver shoes hit the white linoleum floor. The Army Brat's hands fisted in her blue-green dress, pulling it up as she slide on the bed, her knees resting at the edge near his feet, forgetting the older woman watching them. Her amber eyes bore into his dark ones, as she pulled her body over to him, resting on her side with her chest nestled against him, her head resting against his shoulder, petite hands fisted in his hospital gown.
"You're not fine. You shot yourself." Tears pouring down her face now, as she tried and failed to choke back a sob. Emmalin buried herself in him, basking in his body heat, her salty tears drenching Jeremy. Without thinking, Emmalin placed a soft kiss on his neck, she had never kissed him before, her lips felt a small spark as they touched his skin. Her full lips trailed kisses across his cheek and forehead softly, tears spilling steadily, one of her hands running through his buzz cut, the other tangling around his neck. Neither aware of the growing audience.
"Emmalin, stop crying." Jeremy mumbled, one of his hands sliding through her long, thick locks, tousling the curly up do she had spent hours creating earlier. He rubbed her back comfortingly, as she continued to sob against his shoulder.
"You shot yourself. You almost died." Emmalin whispered in his ear, "You almost died, Jeremy." Leaving tender kisses on his shoulder now, inhaling his sandalwood scent.
"I know." He replied gently, Jeremy's dark eyelashes fluttering as he struggled to stay awake. A side effect of morphine is sleepiness, and the solider was slumbering within minutes. The younger Holden following soon after, cuddling against Jeremy's warm body.