Chapter 37
There were people nearby talking, and as faint snatches of the conversation reached me, I heard my name a few times. I didn't recognize the voices, and I stayed quiet and just listened for a few minutes. As I started trying to figure out who was speaking, I grew aware of pain in my arm and my head, and I moaned weakly and opened my eyes, startled to find the bright lights of a hospital room surrounding me.
I heard someone move quickly beside me, and then I looked up and saw a woman in scrubs peering down at me before she turned and hurried away. For a moment it was quiet, and I closed my eyes and listened. Then the door to the room opened and I watched as she, another nurse, and a doctor silently hurried back in.
"Get out," I groaned, but they crowded around me, whispering to each other about me. "Hush," the doctor said, and the others quieted. "Ms. Montgomery, we've been waiting for you to wake up. How are you feeling?"
"Get out."
"I need you to answer some questions for me, okay? How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Why?" I said, and then in an instant memories of the crash came flooding back to me, and I gasped. "Ignazio!"
"Ignazio?"
"Where is he!? Where is he!?"
I started to move, trying weakly to get up, and the doctor hurried to the side of the bed and placed a hand on my collarbone.
"Don't get up."
"No! Where is Ignazio!?"
Pain shot through me as I stirred, and I looked down and saw my arm completely wrapped in tight bandages. I was still wearing my T-shirt and jeans, without the coat, and I was surprised to find that none of the blood had gone beneath it. The rest of my arms were covered in gashes, where Barbara must have seen all the blood she talked about, and my head was spinning.
"Ohh…"
"You're going to be alright. Do you know where you are?"
"Get your hand off of me!"
He did, and I immediately started to get up, prompting the nurses to come closer and pin me down by my shoulders, middle, and legs.
"WHERE IS HE!?" I screamed, and immediately thought I might faint, but didn't. The air seemed pretty thin, and I struggled for breath.
"Your boyfriend is in the waiting room with his friends," a nurse reassured me.
"Let him in! He needs to know I'm okay!"
"Oh, come on, please don't throw a fit like he did," the doctor said, rolling his eyes, and I looked up at him.
"What?"
"He was freaking out because we wouldn't let him in to see you, but we eventually got his friends to calm him."
"Well, I'm awake now! Just let me see him! He just needs to know I'm okay!"
"But you're not okay yet! You need to lie down and quit acting so stupid!" one of the nurses scolded, and for a moment I was still, and it was quiet in the room. I felt their grips on me loosening. Then I thrashed, kicking and swinging my unbandaged arm around to push them back, and I jolted upward into a sitting position. I shoved back the nurse who grabbed me again, and the doctor rushed to the hallway and started yelling something as the nurses starting yelling at me.
"IGNAZIO!" I screamed, ignoring the pulse in my head as I jumped out of the bed.
I felt immensely dizzy and unstable, but when the doctor came back and grabbed me I drew back my hand and slapped him across the face as he cried out in pain and yelled at me.
"IGNAZIO!" I screamed again, turning and stepping toward the door, but I fell to my knees, thrashing and screaming when the two nurses pulled me backwards and pressed me against the cold tile floor.
"LET GO OF ME!" I shrieked, kicking and trying to hit the people hanging onto me despite not being able to see clearly anymore. I struck someone else, and the yelling of the people around me filled my ears and made a sharp pain shoot through my scalp.
There was a scrambling around me, and as I shoved someone back and clambered to my feet there was a sharp prick in my arm, and dizziness overwhelmed me.
"Ignazio…" I cried weakly, shrinking down to the floor and reaching toward the door. "Ignazio…"
I started to cry feebly as I cradled my throbbing, limp arm to my chest, and everything started to spin and then fade away as I pined for him.
Finally, everything was silent, and I was alone in the room, lying still on the bed. Everything was calm and still, and I could feel a blanket over my legs protecting me from the chill of the hospital. I was gripped by the pain, and I quietly lay there, listening to the quiet as I faded in and out of reality.
Then I heard someone moving right outside the door, and I heard it open and then quietly, carefully, it was closed behind the person. I felt weak and dizzy, and I didn't open my eyes. I could feel whoever it was just watching me, and I persuaded myself to speak.
"I want…to see…Ignazio…" I insisted weakly, and for a moment the room was silent again.
"I'm here."
I opened my eyes immediately at the tender cadence of the voice rich with its familiar Italian accent. I looked to the door, where Ignazio stood quietly watching me, looking distressed, his normally bright eyes filled with worry. He was wearing the white button-down shirt and dress pants from the concert, with a different thick gray jacket on, and he looked very handsome, with his hair nicely fixed.
"Ignazio!" I said hoarsely, stirring and struggling feebly to push myself up.
"Don't get up!" he commanded, and I willingly agreed. He stood there for a moment, gazing at me, and then suddenly hurried across the room to the bed and sat beside me on the mattress, taking my face in his hands and leaning down over me.
"Mmmm…" I murmured, closing my eyes at his gentle touch.
He leaned further over me and kissed me tenderly as I weakly reached up and touched his cheek.
"I love you," I whispered weakly when he pulled back, and I wrapped my hand around his sleeve, clinging to his arm.
"I love you too," he said softly, and I could tell by his voice that he was crying as he looked over my slashed and broken body.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my eyes still closed.
He placed his hand gently on my head, where a deep headache was radiating throughout.
"They told me you have two broken ribs, and a concussion."
"Yes…that makes sense…" I whispered.
"And oh, Tamzin, your arm," he said tearfully, looking at the bandages with the shock evident in his voice.
"Please don't touch it," I whimpered when his hand left my head.
"I'm not going to touch it. Oh, Tamzin, Oh my dear…"
I opened my eyes and looked up at him, at his red cheeks and the tears running down his face. It was still a strange sight for me to see him crying, when he was usually so bright and playful, and I started to cry too.
"Shhh…Shhh…You're okay. You're okay now."
I took my good hand from him and made it into a fist that I pressed over one of eyes as I cried.
"It hurts so much, Ignazio…"
He leaned over me and took my hand tightly in his, and he leaned over me and softly kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and my lips.
"I'm sorry," I said, looking up at him, at the tenderness in his dark eyes. "I'm so sorry."
"Shh…Shh… It's okay. Relax. It's not your fault."
He gently caressed my hair and held my hand on my middle. I was quiet, closing my eyes and listening to his quick breaths and feeling his gentle touch.
"Ignazio…I was in the car, going to the concert, and-"
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Barbara already told me everything."
"Oh…good," I sighed gratefully, not wanting to recount the story, and he leaned over me and kissed my cheek, and I felt the tears on his face.
"Where's my camera!?" I asked suddenly, opening my eyes wide, and when I stirred he released my hand and placed his palm cautiously over my middle.
"Stop, Tamzin," he said urgently, "The camera's fine! It's with Barbara."
"Barbara! Where is she!? Is she okay!? Did she wait to tell you until after the concert!?"
"Shhh! She's fine, Tamzin. Not a scratch on her. It was just the way the car hit that hurt you. She told me all about it…and yes, after the concert she told us."
He leaned over me, his cheek pressed sweetly against mine as his fast breathing slowly relaxed.
"You shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have made her wait to tell us! Michele knew too, and he wouldn't answer any of our questions about where you were. Then when we finished, Barbara was backstage, crying and holding your camera, and she told us. You shouldn't have done it. Can you imagine going backstage after the meet-and-greet and learning that the love of your life is in surgery!?"
He sat up, sounding angry, and I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He did look angry, which scared me.
"I'm sorry," I said weakly, desperately wanting that anger to fade, "I thought you would panic and not finish the concert. And I wasn't going to die!"
"Tamzin, you don't know that! You could have died! I could have lost you! Do you realize that!?"
He was angry, but as he said it he started to cry again, and when I mustered the strength to reach up and touch his cheek, all the anger left from his face.
"I thought you would panic and run away from the concert, and I didn't want that to happen."
He sighed, closing his eyes and taking my hand in his to hold it to his cheek.
"You're probably right, Tamzin. But I should have known as soon as it happened!"
"I'm sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes and feeling dizzy again, and Ignazio gently lowered my hand onto the mattress and leaned forward to kiss my cheek.
"Don't worry about it. It's okay. We shouldn't be talking about this right now. You should be going back to sleep, and I should be singing to you."
"That sounds so good," I whispered, and he leaned down close to me, gently stroking my hair as he quietly began.
"Questo amore splendido…Questo immenso senso di felicita…lo devo solo a te…"
I faded in and out of consciousness, with Ignazio sitting beside me on the bed and holding my hand. The pain and the weakness would gradually fade away and then sharply return, and whenever I stirred in discomfort or moaned softly in pain, Ignazio would take my face in his hands and try to soothe me.
"Shhh…you're okay. You're alright," he would say softly, gently holding my face, and I would focus on his voice as I drifted back to sleep.
Time moved so slowly for me, the pain making the seconds long, and despite the medicine the nurses came in to give me, I still hurt. It must have been hours that Ignazio sat there with me, consoling me and getting me to relax.
After several hours of coming to and then fading, struggling with the discomfort and continually reaching out for Ignazio's reassuring voice, I fell into a long, uninterrupted sleep. I was comforted greatly by Ignazio's presence, and he made the horrible hospital room into a place where I could actually rest.
Later I awoke to hushed voices around me and immediately thought of the aggravating group of the doctor and nurses, but then relaxed as I identified the people.
Ignazio was still beside the bed, and I felt his hand tenderly resting on my forehead and smoothing my hair, still comforting me as he murmured something to the group.
Piero and Gianluca sounded as if they were sitting at the edge of the bed, and I could feel the back of one of them against my foot under the warm blanket. Michele was beside Ignazio, and Barbara was on the other side of the bed, and after a moment I felt her soft, cool hand on my cheek.
"There was nothing else to do," I heard her say gently to Michele. "It wasn't her fault."
"I know," Michele replied softly, "I didn't mean that it was. I just think a lot of trouble befalls our girl, doesn't it?"
He rested his hand affectionately on my ankle, and Ignazio caressed my hair as Barbara moved her hand from my cheek.
"Look at her," she cooed softly, "She's exhausted, poor thing."
I wearily kept my eyes closed, listening contentedly as I stayed relaxed beside Ignazio. I loved our group, and I didn't mind having them there in the room.
"So what are you going to do with her?" Ignazio asked Michele.
"You're not sending her home, are you?" Piero asked. "I know she wants to see the end of the Christmas tour."
"No, no, no. She can stay, as long as she understands she must take it easy. You can make sure of that, Ignazio. We're going to be staying here in Sacramento until the tour is over, anyway, so she can just stay here. If she can't go to the concerts, she can stay in the hotel room. Simple!"
"And Christmas break is in a week, so she can go home then," Gianluca said thoughtfully.
"Right," Michele said, "Plus, if I sent her home now, she'd kill me."
"That's right I would," I murmured wearily with my eyes still closed, and there was a pause before they all moved closer around the bed, softly greeting me in pleasantly surprised voices. I managed to open my eyes, and I smiled weakly at them gathered around me. I considered trying to get up, but I knew Ignazio would force me to stay down, so I didn't move.
"Hi," I whispered back to them.
"I'm sorry we woke you, Tamzin," Barbara said, reaching for me.
"Watch the arm, watch the arm."
"Of course," she said, resting her hand soothingly on my shoulder.
"We should go and let you sleep," Michele said. "But you heard the plan, right?"
"Yeah, I did."
"Okay. Keep resting. Ignazio says he'll stay here, and we'll talk to you later."
"We're so glad you're okay, Tamzin," Barbara said, and they all added their agreement. Then Michele squeezed my hand and moved away, Barbara kissed my cheek, and then Gianluca and Piero came up beside me and did the same as Barbara.
Then they all whispered goodbyes and tiptoed out, closing the door quietly behind them as I closed my eyes again.
Ignazio leaned in close to me and kissed my cheek, and then my lips.
"I'm not leaving," he said, "But I wanted to do that anyway."
I opened my eyes and looked up at him, then reached out so he would take my hand.
"Maybe you should, though, Ignazio. You look tired. You should go back to the hotel and take a nap."
"No," he said, shaking his head, "I'm staying here with you."
I didn't argue, closing my eyes again and feeling my hand in his.
"How do you feel? Is the pain any better?"
"It's about the same, I guess."
"Oh, Tamzin. I wish there was something I could do."
Then I was quiet, thinking silently for several minutes. I reflected on the car crash and thought about the flashes of color and shapes I had seen right before all the pain and the blood, and I winced.
"Hey," Ignazio said soothingly, "Are you thinking about…"
"The crash."
"Don't. You're okay now. Don't torture yourself dwelling on it."
"Okay."
But I couldn't help thinking about it, thinking about Barbara leaning over me in the dark freezing grass, telling me I couldn't control if I died.
"If I had died…" I mused.
"Shh...Please, Tamzin, I really don't want to talk about that."
I was quiet for a moment.
"If I would have died," I started again, "It wouldn't have mattered what I chose in August. I wouldn't get to do either of the options."
"Tamzin," he said firmly. "Are you saying you would have been okay with dying?"
"Oh, no! No, Ignazio!" He sighed softly, sounding relieved, and he gently squeezed my hand. "Then I would never get to have either of my options. I never would get to know if my decision to stay was the right one. Although…maybe I won't anyway, because I don't know what would have happened if I went with National Geographic…But at least I would know if this decision was a good one."
"It was, Tamzin," he said softly. "Neither of the choices was bad. But you mean you don't know if the other one would have been better, right?"
"Yes. Yes, right."
We were quiet for a moment, and then he asked softly, "Are you still awake, my dear?"
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Can you…explain to me why you chose to stay with us?"
"Because, Ignazio," I said, opening my eyes and looking up at him. He looked pretty serious, and he looked somberly down at me. "Because I love working with you guys. I have so much fun here, and I love Michele and Barbara, and Gianluca and Piero, and the band and the producers, and you, of course."
"But you know you would have loved working with National Geographic, too, don't you!? It's been your dream to work with them ever since you were little! There's got to be a reason you stayed with us, and not because you love us, because I know you do! What was the specific reason you stayed with us, the thing that held you back from leaving?"
I was quiet, looking up at him in surprise, taking in his observations.
"Well…I wanted to get you your dream," I said softly. "You deserved to get your American recognition."
"But what about your dream!? Why does mine outweigh yours!?"
"Getting you your dream was my project for a long time, and I never quit a project. And I love you so much, Ignazio, that your dream was so important to me, too. "
He was silent, gazing down at me, and then he reached up his hand and placed it gently on my head, slowly smoothing back my hair as he leaned into me and kissed me gently, and I reached up my good hand to touch his cheek as he did.
"Thank you. I love you, too," he whispered when he pulled back.
I didn't feel much like talking, but occasionally I would begin to worry about the concerts I wouldn't be attending, or where my camera was, or if Ignazio should go home to rest. Whenever I stirred and voiced these things, Ignazio would talk softly to me and calm me, and convince me that everything was okay and I should rest. I was very weak and dizzy, and the wavering pain sometimes made me start to cry or feebly ask for relief. Ignazio did everything he could to help me, calling in the doctors to bring me medicine and comforting me as he kissed me and held my face in his hands.
When I awoke in the afternoon I found him sitting in a chair beside the bed, leaning his head back against the wall and dozing.
I lay there quietly watching him, gazing at him from the bed, and I smiled and felt warm inside when he whispered my name in his sleep.
In the evening the doctors fitted me for a cast for my arm and gave me another checkup, and then to my delight decided that I could go home, which meant back to the hotel room.
"Finally!" I said, relieved, to Ignazio. "I can leave this stupid room!"
Ignazio seemed just as relieved, and he called Barbara and Michele to let them know we were coming back from the hospital. Barbara came to pick us up, and after Ignazio had settled me down beside him in the backseat, she took my camera from the floor of the car and handed it to me.
"Oh, my camera!" I cried, reaching out with my one hand and cradling it tightly against my chest. Ignazio insisted I try to sleep with my head against his shoulder, though he seemed exhausted as well. So I closed my eyes and felt his arm around me and the camera against my chest.
I made Ignazio let me walk through the lobby, but I was slow and weak, and he walked uneasily along beside me, waiting to catch me if I stumbled. As soon as we made it to the elevator, he gently picked me up and held me against his chest, ignoring my feeble protests.
He carried me to my hotel room, and Barbara followed behind holding my camera and unlocked the door for us. Then she left us, and Ignazio carried me to the bedroom and laid me down on the bed. He left for a moment and I changed slowly into my pajamas, trying in frustration to navigate around the broken arm. I managed okay, and then Ignazio came back in with sandwiches for dinner.
"Not how I usually prepare dinner," he said, smiling wearily, "But I didn't want to make you wait for me to do something better."
"It's okay, Ignazio. Sandwiches are good."
I could see he was exhausted, and he took off his shoes and coat and we sat together on the bed and ate them, in the dim lamplight of the hotel room. I had a headache, my arm was bothering me, and breathing wasn't very easy, and as soon as I finished I willingly lay down on my back beside Ignazio and closed my eyes.
"Good girl," he murmured, reaching over and brushing my hair from my face. "How do you feel?"
"Not well."
"What hurts?"
"Everything."
He leaned over me and kissed my cheek, resting his hand on my shoulder.
"Just relax. After this week you'll get to go home and rest for a long time."
"I don't want to go home!" I protested suddenly, opening my eyes and beginning to get up.
"Tamzin, lie down! Don't you want to see your parents, and visit Harrison, and be back in Florida for a little while?"
"No! Not if you're not there!" I exclaimed, struggling against his hand on my shoulder.
"Really?" he asked softly, his eyes brightening.
"Of course," I said quietly, looking up at him, and then I allowed him to lay me back down. "Christmas break last year was so lonely without you…I don't want to do it again! I love you! How am I going to be able to stand a month without you!?"
"Actually…" he said, smiling, "I've been thinking about the break in the hospital…And I think I have a plan."
"A plan?"
"I don't want to leave you either. Even though I love my hometown so much, I don't want to leave you to go there. Especially since you're so hurt. Someone's got to keep an eye on you and make sure you do what you're supposed to!"
I rolled my eyes and he laughed softly, then gently placed his hand on my aching head.
"And I don't want you traveling alone like this. I don't want you traveling at all, actually, but especially not alone."
I smiled slightly and gazed up at him.
"So…tell me what you think about this…" He moved closer to me, pushing aside the empty sandwich plate and getting ready to present his plan. "I'll go with you to Florida and find a place to stay for a week or two, and we'll spend Christmas together in Florida with your family."
"But then what about your family, Ignazio!? You won't get to be with them for Christmas!"
"No, but I'll be with you." He leaned over and kissed me, and then sat up again, his eyes bright. "But you didn't let me finish. After Christmas, I want you to come home with me."
"You mean…"
"Yes. I want you to come to Marsala with me."
"Oh, Ignazio! Yes! It sounds so brilliant! I've always wanted to photograph Italy!"
I took his arm and tugged on him eagerly, and he bent over me so I could kiss him.
"So you want me to make the arrangements?"
"Yes! I love this plan!"
"Good! And then you and I won't have to be apart." He smiled sweetly down at me and stroked my hair. "I can stay with you and make sure you're okay."
My heart was racing, and I felt so light and happy inside, knowing that I wouldn't have to part from him, and I beamed up at him. He brightly returned my smile, and then reached out and picked up the empty sandwich plate.
"I'll bring this to the kitchen. I'll be right back."
I nodded, and he turned and moved off the side of the bed, standing up and taking a few steps away. But then he swayed and stumbled forward, dropping the plate and reaching out for the wall to steady himself.
"Ignazio!" I cried, pushing myself quickly up and ignoring the instant light-headedness.
"I'm okay!" he said quickly, thrusting out an open palm. "Don't get up! I don't know what just happened."
"Oh, Ignazio. You haven't really slept in nearly two days. You're exhausted! Forget about the plate and come lie down a minute; then you'll feel better."
He looked up at me and nodded wearily.
"Lie down," he instructed, and I nodded and obeyed as he came back to the bed and gratefully fell into it, moving onto his side beside me. "I'll only rest a minute, though," he said softly, closing his eyes, "Then I'll go pick up the plate and sit next to you and watch over you. How do you feel now?"
"Okay," I said, trying to sound convincing as I smiled at him lying beside me. I knew he'd fall asleep, and I hoped he would. "Thank you for taking care of me," I whispered, "And for being so gentle with me."
"I love you," he answered, and then smiled when I reached out and gently caressed his silky dark hair. I closed my eyes too, still stroking his hair and feeling it in my fingers. His breathing slowed, and after a minute I wearily opened my eyes and carefully reached out to turn off the lamp beside the bed. I lay back down beside him and moved closer to him, and I fell asleep listening to the soft sound of his breathing.